#this is over 7k words. good lord

[twinksrepository]

An afternoon at the Lost Oasis

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Sylus X F!Reader

CW: Smut, smut with Feelings, flirting, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Neck Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm, Hair-pulling, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Big dick, tender Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Finger Sucking, Overstimulation, Creampie

Word count: Roughly 7K

A/N: After a day of letting you use him for lessons as a pretend wander and then using all the water for your shower. Sylus has enough of your teasing, and the man finds he isn't ready to just let you sit back and relax. Deciding it might be time him to be the teacher and giving you a lesson himself.

I needed to write this after that scene in the five star card. Good lord this man is spicy and fine...

Perfer AO3? You can read it here

You gasp as Sylus adjusts the way his arm is curled around you, shifting your legs so he can hold you closer to him with one arm. Forcing you to wrap your hands around his neck to keep your balance, causing him to chuckle as he strides away from the shower. “Sylus!” The fabric of your satin nighty that he had provided is even wetter now, the edge riding higher on your thighs. Feeling the dampness of his skin starting to seep into the material between your butt making you shiver in his hold. 

“I told you the soundproofing here isn’t great.” He still had that edge to his tone just like he did a moment ago. “Or is class in fact over, Miss?” It’s like whiplash how quickly his tone changed back to teasing. He’s so mercurial sometimes, yet the longer you know him the more charming you find it. It also doesn’t help that in the new position his head is just above your breasts, his breath washing over the barely covered skin that has you swallowing while your core clenches. 

You don’t miss the way his fingers squeeze the meat of your thigh through the damp fabric as he walks. “If you mean a class on how to be humble it’s far from over.” Two can play at his game of teasing, and you’re choosing to ignore the fact you might have started it when you were wiping the remaining soap suds from his chest. Dragging your palm down his chest towards the center of his pectorals with just enough pressure to make him wince and make that same groan that makes your belly warm. 

“I had a different lesson in mind.” Pushing a door at the end of the hallway open, you find yourself involuntarily swallowing at the husk lacing his words. It certainly doesn’t have the same opulence you’re used to associating with the leader of Onychinus, but given the location you shouldn’t have expected him to have an entire two floors like he does for most hotels he stays at. Except you don’t get much time to look around from your place held in the air. 

Gasping as you drop from your elevated perch before you’re wedged between the door at your back and Sylus at your front, an adjustment on his part with your legs now on either side of him instead of one side. He has you positioned so you’re level with him and your eyes locked onto one another's. You see the sheer adoration hidden behind that smolder in his crimson orbs, the fingers of his hand trailing along your side and gently dragging the hem of your nighty higher. “What happened Sweetie, cat get your tongue?” 

He’s back to teasing you, leaning closer and ghosting his lips along the edge of your cheekbone until his mouth is right next to your ear. Drops of the water still clinging to his hair fall onto your shoulder causing you to shiver as you try to gather your scattered thoughts to retort. Hard to do when he’s making sure you can hear how ragged his breathing is and the way the moist air seems to envelop your skin.  

“What kind of lesson?” The sureness of your voice from earlier is gone, replaced by a hint of trepidation. At least you’ve gotten better at figuring out when you might have gotten in over your head with Sylus. 

“The kind where a certain kitten learns playing with her claws out has consequences.” Trailing his lips along the shell of your ear before he starts to mouth at the side of your neck. His hips are keeping you in place so his hands can delicately dance upward along your side, teasing your skin in a way that adds to the shivering of your frame in his hold. There’s no doubting how turned on he is, the towel around his hips doing a poor job hiding how hard he is. Well and the fact you can feel the heat from it against your inner thigh. “Like finding out the corvid she thought was tame is, at its core.” Dragging his teeth along the tendon of your neck. “A creature of the wild.” 

“I haven’t been teasing you tha-” Gasping your hands fly to the back of his head and tangle in those damp grey hairs that you had been trying to avoid. His teeth nipping against the pulse point in your neck, forcing the crown of your head to hit the panel of the door you’re held against. Sucking on the area and you can’t hide the moan that slips past your lips, your fingers digging more into the back of his skull unsure if you want to force him to remain in place or push him away. 

Your heart hammering away inside of your chest, the tempo steadily increasing as he sucks harder as if he wants to leave a visible mark that will last for days. A reminder for you that you belong to him, and a warning to others with how vivid the color of your bruise is going to be. A soft noise of contentment that seems out of place as the pressure against your neck decreases, only for you to hiss in pain as his teeth sink into your skin just below your pulse. “Sylus!” Screaming his name as your brain scrambles to figure out what your body wants you to do. 

Sliding his palm across your lips to silence you, his tongue licking over the abused area in soothing passes. “This room is better than the bathroom, but the soundproofing still isn’t all that great.” Tilting his head back so you can look you in the eye once more. “So try not to scream too loudly, Sweetie.” Shifting his hand you glare at him, sticking your tongue out to lick his palm and his fingers as they pass your parted lips. Shaking his head at your action and forcing two of his long digits into your mouth and placing gentle pressure on your tongue. “You’re not doing a good job denying my allegations of teasing too much when you do something like that.” Raising an eyebrow at you before he smirks. “But if you want to use that mouth of yours I can put it to use.” Rolling his hips in a way that you feel his length press harder into your thigh, at the same time his other hand ghosts to your chest and gives one of your breasts a squeeze through the thin red fabric. 

Fine. Narrowing your eyes at him you close your lips and suck around his fingers, finally disentangling your hands from his hair. It’s your turn to do a bit more teasing, letting the tips of your fingers of one hand glide across his cheek and down to the side of his neck. Tracing the tendon as if in a caress, the pressure so much lighter than earlier as your other hand wraps around his wrist. Using it to keep his hand in place as you move your head as if you’re sucking on his cock instead of those long digits. Undulating your tongue along the rough skin as you moan, catching his eyes and sending him your best attempt at a sultry glance with your lids lowered so you see him through your lashes. 

He sucks in a breath in time to the involuntary snap of his hips, a brief chuckle from him that has your insides warming. Trying to roll your hips as well but it doesn’t work because of the angle of your body being held in place against the door by his. “Still teasing I se-” You don’t let him say more, your hand that had been tracing the edge of his collarbone switches from the tender sweep to dragging against his skin. Your fingers move downward over one of his pectorals with enough force to leave a wake of pale skin before the color returns. Hearing that lovely hiss as he inhales through his teeth with his eyes slamming shut. Like early you let your touch grow gentle again closer to the center, using the other hand to tug his wrist away from your mouth. A loud wet pop as his fingers slide past your lips, slick with your spit and a few strands still connecting those lovely digits to your bottom lip. 

“I can’t help myself, you’re just so responsive to my touch.” Your voice has that breathless rasp to it, raising your hand to rest against his neck once more. “I like knowing I can affect you like how you affect me.” You already know you’re in trouble from all your teasing earlier, a little honey lacing your words might save you from being edged several times by the handsome man. 

“ Never.” Placing your hand on his shoulder after nipping the skin of your thumb, that single word makes your face flush and you can feel a dampness forming inside your core. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you during your lesson. ” Trailing his hand down your side to the hem of your nighty and slipping it beneath the fabric and back up your thigh to brush his thumb along the soft skin near the edge of your sex hidden by your underwear. 

The walls of your core clamp down at the soft touch, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you breathe in through your nose to try and slow the hammering of your heart. Moaning when the tip of his finger slips under the band of your underwear, that crimson gaze on his on yours as his face leans closer. “Don’t bite your lip Sweetie.” That deep rumble has you parting your lips, anticipating the incoming connection as your eyelids flicker before closing. The moisture from his breath washes against your face as that lone finger moves closer to your folds. 

Only for both of you to freeze hearing movement beyond the door. Straining your ears to try and pin point the direction it was coming from, it sounds to you like it’s someone walking down to the other end of the hallway. Shuffling along as if they’re carrying something. 

Flicking your eyes back up to Sylus who’s sporting the softest of frowns at the door you find your lips moving, offering an apology without making another noise. The frown on his face was replaced by him raising one of his eyebrows and the corners of his lips tilting to form a devilish smirk. 

Tilting his head and placing a gentle kiss to the inside of your forearm before lifting his hand away from your breast to signal for you to be silent with his finger against his lips. The confusion is visible on your face as you don’t know how you can be any more silent than you already are. Unless he means the pounding of your heart, but that might also just be in your head. 

Still smirking at you, you gasp quickly bringing one of your hands to stifle the noise as he shakes with the force of his silent chuckle. Giving the finger now just past the opening of your entrance a curl, brushing against your damp walls. 

You’re torn between being mad and turning into a puddle. Squeezing his shoulder to let him know you’re not exactly happy with him at the moment. He’s unfazed, which you should have expected. Slipping his finger farther into your slick channel until you feel his knuckle brush your entrance, starting to curl and swirl the lone digit in a way that has you moaning behind your hand. Sylus doesn’t stop, but you’re trying to strain your ears again searching for any indication that the two of you are going to be found out. All you can hear is the haggard breathing that rattles out of him like he wants to do far more than just finger you against the door. 

Arching your back slightly when he adds a second finger, working so the two digits are moving independently of the other. When one curls forward the other shifts back, stretching your walls and tapping the rough tip against any area that has your body involuntary squirming against him. You’re nowhere near your limit but his actions have the ember of arousal in your stomach burning hotter and hotter. As if the added edge of being heard and the potential of being interrupted is adding to the way your body is responding to him. Another soft moan escapes you when one of his fingers hits a spot that has you clenching around him hard enough that he hisses in what you hope is pleasure.

Leaning his head against the side of yours so he can whisper in a voice that sounds like a promise of unimagine pleasure and wrapped in sex that you barely hear. “I want to hear you Sweetie, the way you respond to my touch, my fingers pushing you to the edge.” His lips close enough to your ear that the movement of his lips as he articulates his thoughts tickles the hard inner fold. “But, I want those noises just for myself. I don’t want a single other person to hear how you mewl and pant for me, because of me.” Adding a third finger that has a prickle of tears at the edge of your vision as you bite your tongue to keep yourself from howling at how good he feels. “What a conundrum I find myself in.” 

Pumping his fingers faster now inside of your walls, the sound of squelching seems impossibly loud with the moisture from your pussy coating his fingers. It’s obscene and yet has you even more turned on, the panting and low groans from Sylus right next to your ear like music. The soft gyrations of his hips another indication of how much he’s enjoying the moment, the fabric of the towel has shifted enough you can feel the heat from the head of his cock as it rubs into your thigh leaving a mess of fluid along the skin. 

“Move your hand.” A low command and you shake your head in the negative. He told you to be quiet and there’s no way you can be with what he’s doing to you. “Sweetie.” With the way he says that one word you have no choice but to listen to him, sliding your hand away from your mouth with trepidation. 

His fingers still in your walls, all three are knuckle deep and you take in a deep breath that has your chest expanding to fill the tiny space separating both of your bodies. “Sylus?” It takes effort just to get his name out, like a whisper of a prayer. Maybe it is, a prayer to have him push you over the edge, a prayer to feel his lips along your skin in a way that makes you feel cherished. 

“Not so loud Sweetie.” Trailing the tip of his nose along the shell of your ear before sliding his face closer, his nose pressing along the ridge of your cheekbone a trail of goosebumps following in its wake. “Unless you want to get caught?” Able to see his eyes beneath the mirth shining in those crimson orbs you can see a hint of his adoration. Remember the first time he told you after dragging you to a fight with a gangster how there was no love purer than his. 

“Maybe.” It’s your turn to smirk at him, the smile reaching your eyes as his chest vibrates with another silent laugh. Choosing that moment to slowly remove his fingers from your cunt before slamming them back in with force. You don’t get the chance to scream as his lips slot over yours, swallowing any noises you make in surprise. 

You give up all pretense of being upset with him for all the teasing, you did give it your best attempt at keeping up with his actions. Yet as his tongue sweeps across the inside of your mouth and his fingers pump into you like a machine you’re content to just relax against the wall. Guiding your hands to the back of his neck and up into his hair while he swirls the wet muscle against your own. Playfully flicking the tip to get you to engage with him in a different type of dance. 

His wrist is moving faster, those long digits fluttering along your slick walls that are squeezing around him as if trying to drag them deeper into your cunt. A line of fire starting to race along your spine while your toes curl.

Dragging the edge of your fingernails from the top of his scalp down to the back of his neck, as you coil your tongue with his. Hearing him groan into your mouth has you humming yourself in both satisfaction and pleasure. Your asscheeks clenching as your hips try to roll to chase his fingers, you’re close now. Ready to fall off that edge. 

Sylus is well aware of how close you are if the amount of your slick running down his fingers and wrist is anything to go by. The fluid trailing down his arm in a steady stream before dripping onto his thigh. He wants you, wants to slam his cock into the deepest part of you while you’re against the door and feel you squeeze him. Except that isn’t an option right now. As meticulous as he is with his planning and considerations, he made a small mistake. 

He’d forgotten the condoms. Well forgotten implied he didn’t think about them when the object had crossed his mind. No. He thought that this time he’d indulge in just bringing you pleasure, of making you squirm from his fingers, to twist under the confines of his arms holding you in place while he used his mouth to make you cum over and over again while he drank down your release like a fine wine. To enjoy you like an oasis and him a man that hadn’t seen water in weeks.

He should have known better. You were his weakness and in this moment you were making his resolve to pamper you while denying himself the feeling of being wrapped in your tight heat crumble. The soft roll of your hips following his fingers, the way your hands carded through his hair tugging the strands just enough to make him aware. The dragging of your nails along his scalp had his hips shuddering like he was some teenager getting off for the first time, and your noises. 

Damn, those noises. From the wet squelching of your cunt to those soft little moans and whimpers that were just loud enough for him to hear. He needed you to cum on his fingers. 

Now. 

Now while his mouth is attached to yours, to swallow down your call of his name while you cum. He knew the scream would be loud enough to have someone coming to investigate, assuming there was a danger of some kind. Pumping his fingers faster while pushing his upper body more into yours, sliding his free hand above your head trying to make the space even smaller. As if to make it so you’re both occupying the same space. 

Your fingers start to dig into the meat of his shoulders as he leans more into you, you’re almost there as his fingers pump you faster, the thundering of your heart pounding in your ear as your lungs start to burn. It takes all of your brain cells to still your body and breathe in as deeply as you can through your nose. 

That moment of stillness is what does you in, like you’re hyper aware of the rough tips of his fingers brushing against a cluster of nerves along your walls, of the faint taste of wine on his tongue that you don’t remember seeing him drink. 

Slumping against his body while your hands loosen on his neck, sliding down against the door a small amount so your waist is more in line with his as the liquid pours down your legs and puddles under your feet. 

Pulling his fingers from your quivering core Sylus grins, watching you breathe through your mouth with your eyes closed as he leans back. Raising his hand to see the amount of slick coating his long digits. Smirking as he waited for you to come back to your senses for what he planned to do next. 

You feel like you’re floating with the haze running through your mind from your post orgasm high. The muscles of your body are lax as you take in a long inhale before slowly opening your eyes and sending a soft smirk toward Sylus. You’re sure you look like a love sick fool, but it’s just the two of you here right now and doubt he’d care. If anything he’d take pride at the slack jawed look you’re sporting. Lifting a hand and watching it as if in slow motion before resting it against the side of his neck again. “Was I a good student?”

Sylus chuckles, raising his hand you notice the fluid coating his fingers. Watching him stick out his tongue and lick the inside of his hand from the base of his forefinger to the tip. Humming as the wet muscle slips back inside his mouth. “You mean so far?” Closing his eyes as he shakes his head as if in disbelief his voice still low like he’s worried about being overheard and you remember his comments about how this room didn’t have the best soundproofing either. “I suppose so.” Flashing you a smile that makes your core flutter as the flicker of arousal starts to build in your body again. “Though, we’re far from finished Kitten.” 

Tapping his other two fingers against your bottom lip and smearing some of your release along the puffy skin. “Time for the next part.” A playful whisper to his words and you understand his meaning, parting your lips and shifting your head forward to wrap them around his fingers. The tip of your tongue slips along the edges of his fingers as the taste of yourself floods your senses. “Still a quick study I see.” That deep rasp tells you how as much as Sylus looks unaffected, even as his skin has that flush that he gains when he’s been working out for a while, he’s barely holding himself together right now. 

It just makes you suck all the harder, curling your tongue before flattening it as if scooping every drop off his digits. Humming as you swallow the last of your release from his fingers, at some point you had closed your eyes, slowly opening them to peer up at his face through your lashes. Making a show of pulling your head back so his fingers fall from your mouth with a pop. “I do my best to impress.” Licking your top lip before smirking at him, feeling like you want to try and push his buttons. “Was that it?” A breathy exhale accompanying your words, letting the tip of your tongue poke out of the corner of your lip.

“You say it like you’re not impressed.” Sliding his hands down your sides and giving your hips the slightest of squeezes, hoisting you into the air once more. “I still have another trick up my sleeve for my favorite student Sweetie.” Striding towards the bed that’s against the wall and thankfully far from the door. Flashing you a smile that makes you wonder if you’re floating in a dream after that orgasm or awake. 

At least until he drops you on the bed with no amount of decorum. “Sylus!” At least you remember his words from earlier as you hiss at him with your voice low. “Why are you always dropping me on the damn bed!” 

“A good hunter should expect the unexpected.” Kneeling on the edge of the bed he motions for you to move backwards so you're more in the center of the mattress. Sliding back on your elbows you let your eyes wander down to the towel still wrapped around his waist, hiding his length from view. 

“Well I expect my boyfriend not to throw me around like a rag doll.” Pouting up and him as he shuffles more of his body onto the firm surface. 

“I'll keep that in mind, Sweetie.” Tilting his head so those gray bangs fall across his forehead and briefly hide his eyes. “Now.” Dropping his voice as he lowers himself down with his arms beside the edges of your stomach. “Spread your legs, I want a taste.” His voice is sinfully low and you feel a twinge in your belly as it tightens in response along with your core. 

“What about you?” You're not against him eating you out, more than once now he’s left you an incoherent mess with his tongue curled inside your slick walls. It can do a lot more than just sweet talk you and talk his way out of situations when he doesn’t blast his way out. 

Shaking his head just enough to make his bangs shift once more. “It's not about me right now, I want you to relax. I've missed you these past few weeks.” Sporting a smile as he says it that makes you sink more into the mattress, except you aren’t sure how you feel about his answer.

Pushing yourself up as best as you can using your elbows feeling the press of his arms against your stomach keeping you in place. “Sylus.” It’s awkward as you reach out to run your hand along his cheek, trying to remain upright with one hand. “I’ve missed you too.” Brushing the tips of your fingers along his skin while focusing on his crimson orbs. “I wanna feel you, all of you. Please Sylus, don’t make it about me.” You have missed him and as much as you like the idea of just letting him pamper you right now, you’d rather have both of you enjoying your time together.

Letting out a long exhale Sylus drops his head against the skin of your thigh, his eyes flicking from yours to his hands along your stomach rubbing the thin fabric serving as a flimsy barrier. One of his cheeks is pressed against your skin, distorting his face as he pouts before opening his mouth. “I don’t have any condoms here.” It comes out so flat and low you aren’t sure you heard him correctly at first. 

Furrowing your brow as you blink, trying to understand the problem. “Why does that matter?” The confusion you feel lacing your words as you watch him blink at you in surprise. “I mean I’ve been on birth control for a while.” A thought crossing your mind that you find tumbling from your lips before you can think about it. “Unless you’re seeing someone else.” That has your heart beating painfully in your chest, with all his sweet words and tender actions you don’t like the idea of him dating more than just you. 

“Did you really just ask me that?” Lifting his face away from your thigh and using his arms to slide up your body until he’s towering over you not truly giving you the chance to answer him. “I thought by now, you’d understand I adore you.” Letting his weight settle onto your body his face in line with yours. “There is and never will be, anyone else.” Every time he says something like that it makes your heart race, from the way his voice carries no hint of hesitation and the steady cadence as if he’s stating a simple fact. 

“Sylus.” Your voice sounds soft, even to your own ears as you slide your hands along his shoulder. A hint to get him to move closer so you can kiss him properly. Unlike all the others so far it’s soft and tender, a reminder that his words are true and you love him all the more for it. “Please Sylus, I wanna feel you.” 

Humming as he runs his nose along the side of yours, opening his eyes slowly and you see the burning desire deep in those crimson orbs. “It certainly isn’t what I planned, but you’re hard to deny when you ask me like that Sweetie.” Rolling his back to create some space between the two of you. Grabbing the edge of the towel still wrapped around his waist and tugging the knot loose so the fabric falls away revealing his hard length. 

You make a noise much like a mewl at the sight, reaching out and taking him in hand. Your core clenching as you slide your palm along his velvet like skin, the heat of him sinking into you. The tip of his cock red and weeping, your eyes trailing upward when he starts to chuckle again. “What’s so funny?” 

“Just how eager a certain Kitten is when she wants something.” Tapping your side but not stopping you from giving him a hand job. “Not sit up, unless you want me to rip this lovely little piece of lingerie from your body.” Sighing as his hands hook the hem of the thin nightwear, brushing along your ribs as she moves it higher. 

You have to let him go so he can fully remove the garment, and when he does he’s quick to place his hands over your breasts. Teasing the skin between his fingers with a raised eyebrow. “No matter how often I see these, it’s not enough.” 

“So the leader of Onychinus is a boob man?” A teasing lilt to your voice as you go back to pumping his cock with a twist of your wrist near the head, using the precum seeping from his head as lube. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Leaving the tissue of your chest alone, seemingly happy with the way your nipples have hardened under his touch. “More.” Trailing off until his eyes lock with yours. “I’m a man that knows exactly what he wants, and takes steps to ensure I obtain it.” Using the heel of his hand to push you back into the fabric of the bedspread before hooking a single digit into the band of your underwear and tugging it down your legs, only for part of the material to snag and in his haste force it to snap. He’s as smooth as he can be removing the tattered scrap of fabric and your hand from his cock, adjusting his position to toss your underwear to the floor. 

“Hey!” 

“I’ll get you another pair later.” Laughing at the indignation on your face as your nose quirks at the man. Another adjustment and Sylus pauses, his cock heavy as it rests against your thigh. “Tell me what you want.” That husk is back in his voice and you wonder if he’s wanted to have you with no barriers before now. 

“I want you Sylus. All of you.” Smiling up at him as you place a hand on his chest, adding enough pressure as you drag it along the skin to make him hiss just like when you were both in the bathroom. “I want to feel you deep inside me with nothing between us.” 

“Tell me if it’s too much.” Using his hand to guide his cock between your legs, but he doesn’t move to enter you right away. Sliding his tip along your folds as he gathered some of your wetness, his hand working your slick along his length. Grinning down aware you’re watching him and making a show of tapping his dick against your clit so you let out a soft little gasp as it sends shockwaves through your stomach and your thighs to clench. “Ready?” 

He’s watching your face, waiting for you to either speak or nod for him to continue. After taking a deep breath you nod, trying to will your body to relax for the incoming stretch. You can’t help the long sigh that leaves your lips as he lines the head of his cock up with your entrance and starts to press inside. You gaze firmly on his face now as he stares at where your bodies are joined and watches as his length disappears inside of you. 

“So good.” Panting as he starts to pull back somewhat before plunging forward once more, he’s still not as deep as he can go, maybe a third of his length stretching your slick walls. It’s far from the first time you’ve had sex, even farther from the last, yet it feels so different without that thin layer of latex separating you. Every bump and vein seems more prominent as he splits you open with his dick, his gaze unwavering from where he’s connected to you.

If you weren’t already starting to squirm from the heat radiating into your pussy from his dick you might have noticed the damp skin at the edge of his hairline. Sylus is struggling to stop from snapping his hips forward and slamming his length balls deep, he wants to savor this. The way your slick walls suck him in and how warm and tight you are with that direct skin to skin contact. One word runs through his mind on repeat as more of his dick slides inside of you. 

Heavenly.

You gasp, your hands writhing and you flail, trying to grab something, anything, to ground you. He feels so good, the veins along his shaft rubbing against a bundle of nerves that has your cunt clamping down. The firm muscles of his forearms end up being what you find, grasping them as the tendons shift. “Alright, Sweetie? I’m just past halfway.” You whine hearing that, squeezing his arms a little harder than you meant to. 

“Sylus!” Bawling his name in a whisper, still aware you don’t want to make too much noise even without the door against your back. “More.” Arching your back as you try to spear yourself more onto his cock. “Please.” You’re ready to cum and you want to feel him in the deepest part of you when you tip over the edge. 

“Hang on, I’ll get us there.” His voice sounds clipped, opening your eyes that you don’t remember closing. His cheeks painted a vibrant crimson to match his eyes, and you notice a single bead of sweat form between his brow and trail down to the tip of his nose. “I didn’t think the lack of a condom would have me this close when we just started.” Hooking his arms around your thighs briefly to lift your legs, allowing him to move closer. A few more thrusts before he stops and you start to tremble, the head of his cock just brushing your cervix has your core burning like an inferno. 

Your walls clamped around him tightly enough you could have sworn you felt his heart beating inside your pussy, throbbing in time to the pulse in his neck as he remained stationary. The only part of Sylus moving was his chest as it expanded with the force of his inhales. “Damn Kitten.” Watching you through lidded eyes. “You feel like a vice.” Trailing one of his hands from your hip to the soft skin of your abdomen, placing his palm just above your pelvis. “Just relax, I want this to last.” 

Easier said than done when you’re ready to cum, softly whining as you lift your hands higher along his arms. “Hard to do when you feel so good Sylus.” Reaching his shoulders and giving him a small tug hoping he’d get the idea of what you want. “Wish we’d done this a while ago.” 

A playful smile on his rosy features, Sylus does understand, leaning forward so his upper body presses against yours. Giving his hips an explorative roll as if to ensure he could still move while checking to see if one of you was close enough to reach your orgasm. Letting out a soft whine, the pressure against your body makes you feel even more of him than before. “As much as I don’t like waiting, this might be one of the few times it was worth the delay.” Framing your head between his arms you swallow, the sight of those veins along his upper arms gets you every time. Licking your lips and unaware you’ve relaxed more as you’re distracted by the thought of running your tongue along those veins and the muscles of his arms. 

This close to your face, Sylus starts to rock his hips just enough to move his cock along your walls. The last time he was this gentle when he fucked you had been the first time, and the similarities weren’t lost on him. Just after a few thrusts, he can feel your walls quivering around him, the trembling of your body under his. Closing his eyes as he focused on how you felt around him for a few breaths, listening to the sound of your pants and the hammering of your heart almost lost to the low slap of skin. 

You don’t know how much longer you can last, your fingers dragging down along the muscles of his back as you arch into him. Seeking more of his skin against your body as your breathing becomes more labored, you’re so close. “Sylus.” Trying to warn him of your oncoming orgasm, but it’s too late. Slamming your eyes shut and gripping his back hard enough to leave crescents where the tips of your fingers are. 

“Fuck.” Hissing through his teeth as he opened his eyes to watch your face as you came around him, keeping that gentle tempo as he fucked you through your orgasm. The blissed out expression on your face made him grin, knowing that look was all because of him. 

As the flood of pleasure passed you hummed, loosening your grip on the meat of his upper back just enough to drag your fingers downward. His skin is just as slick as it was when he stepped out of the shower, allowing your hands to ghost over his skin down to the curve of his ass. Grabbing both cheeks and giving them a squeeze, feeling them clench at the sudden grope. Hissing your name through clenched teeth, opening those crimson orbs you can see how much he’s holding himself back. 

“Don-” 

“Where?” 

Cutting you off the way his face is strained makes sense, the way his whole body is taunt as he tries to hold himself together just a little longer and you feel your heart flutter inside your chest. “Inside.” He doesn’t show any sign of surprise at the world, nodding to let you know he heard you. “Don’t hold back.” Saying what you wanted to moments before, it’s like the floodgates are released as he starts to pistol his hips even faster and harder. 

Practically jackhammering inside of your walls, those heavy balls of his slapping against your ass. One of his hands tangles in your hair, tilting your head so he can smash his lips to yours. A messy sloppy kiss that has you reeling as his tongue plunges into your mouth in time to his cock. Groaning into your mouth as he starts to empty himself inside of you, spurting his cum in the deepest part of your sex. 

The sensation of that warm fluid gushing inside of your walls sends you over the edge again, your final movement curving your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. 

Sylus keeps moving, churning your insides as he keeps pumping into you aware of his seed dripping out of your cunt and between your bodies. As much as he’s thought about this moment now that he’s finally having you bare for the first time it's even better than he had imagined. Slowing his hips after his cock is finally done spurting his release, lifting his head and taking in the sight of your bruised lips. You look as exhausted as he feels, tenderly removing your arms from his neck Sylus leans back, licking his lips at the sight of your folds after his softening length slips from you. Your sex is a drenched mess, a steady stream of his thick cum pouring from your entrance and down to your ass before dripping to the sheets. 

Swallowing as his cock twitches, growing hard again. “Sylus?” Moaning his name as you rub your face, pushing part of your hair back away from your slick skin. 

“Yes, Sweetie?” 

“I think I need another shower.” He starts to chuckle, giving his head a shake because you’ve clearly forgotten how you used the last of the water even before he got his shower in. 

“How about a bit of cuddling, hm? Since someone used all the water earlier the best I can offer is a damp cloth in a little bit.” Teasing you as he moves to lay down beside you, aware of the sweat clinging to both of your bodies but wanting to feel your body along his even if it didn’t help him cool down. 

“Fuck.” Sylus just laughs all the harder as you realize the predicament you placed yourself in. 

Later after you’re both dressed again outside on the terrace and you’re tucked against his side Sylus finds himself looking up at the stars while you snore away. Thinking back to the conversation about what he once had been, and how that monster would have never been as gentle as he had been with you today. You don’t belong in his world, but he’ll be damned if he gave you up now. His hand gripping your shoulder a little harder, tomorrow he’ll take you back to the airport with just the memory of this afternoon to keep him going through the coming days. 

Masterlist

[mermaidinn]

Innkeeper Era OFMD Fic Recs

Hey friends, I was organizing my ofmd fic bookmarks and figured I'd throw together a rec list of a few of my favorite post season 2 fics in case anyone is needing this kind of stuff atm. This is by no means a full list of even all my favorites and I'm sure I've missed some good ones, but I've tried to include a good variety of themes and also not make this post extremely long. <3 love you all so much, I don't do much talking in fandom spaces, but you are all incredible and I appreciate each and every one of you

big thank you, obviously, to all the authors of these (and all) fics, y'all are truly doing the lord's work out there

Magpie- 6k, Ed keeps treasures

Cold feet- 1k, Stede gives Ed a gift

Look back- 4k, Stede tells Ed a story

Weathering it Together- 4k, Ed has a panic attack in a storm (there are a lot of fics about this and I always love them, but in the interest of this post not being a mile long I’ll stick with just this one) 

Moving forward- 1k, Ed talks to Stede about izzy’s emotional abuse

Outburst- 5k, Ed tells the crew about what happened with izzy 

Riding Double- 4k, Stede is a horse girl, Ed’s less into it 

Good Bones- 11k, the boyfriends work on the inn, and their relationship 

Breaking & Entrees- 9k, E, Stede and Ed have an adorable date night, and fun and sweet mermaid rp beach sex

Old friends- 6k, crew visits and Ed panics about it

Of few words- 12k, E, Ed gets a new tattoo and tells Stede about some old ones, Stede gets his first tattoo 

Taking it slow- 5k, E, (2.5, 2.6) Ed has some regrets about the phrases ‘take it slow’ and ‘mistake’

A marriage of true minds- 2.7k, Stede and Ed bond over Shakespeare

Lost and found- 2k, Stede finds the cake topper dolls   

By your side until it’s over / to the back of a hand- 5k/2k, E, (2.8) Stede and Ed talk through lingering insecurities and izzy related traumas 

Dear Ed- 3k, Mary’s widow group discovers some of Stede’s love letters

Sailor's delight- 14k, E, 14k words of hot, fun, sweet tentacle porn, you’re welcome. I think this passes as canon compliant even though the magic is a bit more, um, tangibly real than it is on the show 

Guava jelly- 15k, E, Ed working through some issues, sexual healing 

Gone fishing- 6k, Ed and Stede discuss plans for the inn 

Something to celebrate- 1k, the boyfriends try to decide what their first date was

Finding the right words- 3k, discussion of some of Stede’s insecurities 

The thing about snakes- 7k, Archie and Ed have a chat

[readychilledwine]

idk what sort of crack you put in cat and mouse but i’ve read it 5 times now, please tell me there’s more i’m literally so desperate🧎‍♀️ like the way reader was laughing when devlon screamed or the way she said down boy to azriel???? i kinda want y/n ngl👀 ugh i need to see rhys helping her rewire her mind or her accepting the mating bond w az plssss🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

I only purchase the best Crack for my followers 💙

Paradise Lost - Cat and Mouse Prequel Part 1

But part two in the Starwars release sense. Like a prequel.

Summary - After being hired to take out The Night Court's dangerous spymaster, y/n finds herself trapped between a rock and hard place.

Warnings - mentions of rape allegations, attempted murder, mentions of murder, time jumps to try to prevent this from being 4 billion parts, mind control

A/n - sheeeees baaaaaack 💜 the prequel is going to end up being multiple parts. I do not like having my stuff end up over 4k words, I feel like reading that can be difficult, and with modern technology, distractions happen and you accidentally exit and lose your place and you're le sad. If you all disagree and would be interested in a 6-7k part, let me know 💙 p.s. these parts are going to fulfill several anonymous asks, so each one will be under a different ask

Word count - 3511 (not including time jump stamps)

Cat and Mouse Part 2

High profile targets had never scared you.

 

You'd been watching him for several weeks now. Memorizing every step, every habit, what he ate and drank. 

You knew you had one shot at this mission. One singular shot. If you failed, if he got away, you were as good as dead.

Your first lesson when you were trained on the different courts of Pryithian was do not fuck with the Night Court. Missions involving them were in and out while kept clean and untraceable. Their High Lord would find you if you left that opening, and you'd never be seen or heard from again.

The first lesson you had learned on the street was not to mess with the Shadowsinger. The reason the High Lord would find you. The reason you were currently strolling Velaris under the mask of some young fae female one of your, for a lack of a better term, co workers had killed. She had no family, no friends, just a simple life on the poor outskirts of town. She sold her body for food and money. Which was how she ended up in his talons. How all the faces you wore ended up in his talons actually. 

Taking out Azriel was not going to be an easy task, but you had discovered one weakness: 

The male loved a beautiful face. Even more so when he thought she was defenseless.

You also noticed he had a type. Blondes with doe eyes. You could not fake the blonde hair or big lost brown eyes without magic. But a defenseless female in need of rescue was easy, especially since the same co-workers who were more than happy to disguise you would be more than happy to attempt to kill you. 

So you scheduled it. Letting your keeper know what you needed and when. Letting him know specifically non lethal shots on the shadowsinger with faebane would let you have an easier chance at taking him out somewhere privately.

Azriel, despite his intelligence, had fallen for it. And now he sat strapped to a chair in a ran down cabin in the woods with you watching him. You should have ended it instantly, but per the client's request, you were asked for three things, a confession of his crime, one of his hands to prove he was dead, and the pretty dagger you were translating the wyrdmarks off of.

"I know you're awake," you purred to him finishing another character. "You won't be able to contact him. Shackles, little pup."

He scoffed before lightly chuckling. "If you knew I was awake, why are we just sitting here?"

You shrugged. "I was hoping you'd start the conversation first. Or explain to me how you have a Cauldron made weapon in your possession."

"You took me hostage, I believe you should be explaining to me." 

You looked at him, pursing your lips slightly and nodding. "Not much to explain, little pup. I'm getting paid to kill you. Why is interesting, though." You paused, setting the dagger on the table and grabbing the parchment before sitting on the ground cross legged in front of him. He was almost appalled by the action. It was a backhanded way of you saying you very clearly did not see him as a threat.

"Does Princess Alyana of Rusk ring any bells for you?" 

His lip twitched, eyes sparkling with mischief briefly. "Perhaps."

You just nodded. "Can I ask what exactly the thought process behind raping a princess is? Did you think the King wouldn't ask for your head on a pike?"

Azriel looked at you in shock, hazel eyes wide, and jaw slightly opened, "I did not rape her."

You looked at the weathered parchment again, reading the soft swirling letters of the King. Letters beautified by years of practice you'd never be able to have. "According to her story of the night you were caught in her room, you had came in the window, raped her, and only left before killing her because the guards were coming." You bend the parchment keeping all other lines and information secret and showed him. 

His jaw twitched and anger was set in. "I did not harm or rape her. She invited me to her chambers and into her bed. I would never harm a female."

"A lie," you said softly. "I've watched you drag several into the prison and leave covered in blood. Their blood."

"They were spies and traitors."

"I didn't realize an occupation changed your gender. Do your little shadow wraiths know you believe they are not females? How about sweet Morrigan? She is technically a traitor to the Court of Nightmares. Do you believe she isn't female as well?" You rose a brow in challenge. 

Slow realization hit Azriel's face causing you to smile at him. "If you laid a fucking hand on-"

"Relax, pretty boy. I'm only here for you." You stood patting his head, "your special day." 

"What group are you with?" 

You smirked under the mask you were wearing but kept the outside face neutral. "Does it matter?"

"What is your name?"

"No one. I am no one." You answered automatically.

"So the House of the Faceless from the Silent Isles. What happened to the girl you probably murdered?"

"I didn't kill her. Unlike you, I actually do not harm women or females. Do you have a preference on how you die? Poison, stabbing, burning to death?" You looked at his hands. "Probably not that one, huh? Drowning! Polar opposite." He balked at your excitement. "I thought it was a fun option," you crossed your arms. "Been awhile since I water boarded someone."

Azriel shook his head, laughing. "So you won't even give me an honorable death?"

"I'm not fucking stupid enough to fight a Carynthian hand on hand nor with weapons." You could have sworn you saw him smirk. "I'm also not stupid enough to think taking away these," you held up one of his siphons, "means I'm safe if I let you out of those shackles."

Azriel had not even noticed his siphons were gone and he looked down. "How did you know how to remove those?" 

Your brain flashed to a nightmare, one of winged male standing over you. One of pain before you were tossed to your keeper. "Lucky guess," your voice was distant. 

He huffed. "You're illyrian." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "That's why your scent is off. A high fae would not carry the scent we do." 

You felt your world building pressure and rubbed your temples. "Look, this has been fun, but I'm over it." You grabbed the bloodbane you had purchased soaking it on one of your own daggers. 

"If you're going to kill me, at least do me the kindness of getting to see who is actually killing me." You sighed heavily. "Can I give you a word of advice as well? Shackles only work when you aren't dealing with someone who can pick a lock. You also talk way too much."

You had anticipated this, truthfully. You caught his wrist as he went to swing on you and leg swept him to the ground. "The shackles you were in were coated in faebane and bloodbane, torture Master." You straddled his hips as he held his chest to catch his breath. "My hands were also covered in it so you just welcomed it right back into your bloodstream." 

"Go fuck yourself."

"I do nightly," you did something Azriel wasn't expecting then, lifting the skin of the mask off of your face and throwing it to the fire to cancel the magic it also held on your body.

He was right. You were illyrian. An absolutely beautiful illyrian. Long dark hair falling into loose curls, long dark lashes, tan skin, spell binding hazel eyes. "Definitely Illyrian," he coughed out. "At least I'm going to die looking at something beautiful." He had you at the comment. You stilled completely hand barely wrapped around the dagger. "Has no one ever told you that you were beautiful?" He watched you blink, eyes glazing over and shutting as if he had called a painful memory forward. "Can I know your name?"

"No one," you whispered again. "I am no one." You finally looked at him, and you both felt it. You both felt that painful snap. A snap that now shattered your world. You were about to kill your mate. The one thing you'd always hoped would rescue you from the loneliness of your lifestyle. You dropped the dagger, feeling as if someone had just split your world in two. 

"You don't have to do this," he cooed softly to you. "You don't have to kill me. We can talk about this. I can help you. Take you somewhere safe." You stared at him ad he tentatively stepped towards you, hands grabbing your upper arms. "I won't hurt you. No one is ever going to hurt you again."

You knew he meant it. You handed him a vial, the only antidote you had, and then the free faebaned shackles you had also hidden. Turned so he could shackle you behind your back. 

He was so gentle as he did, kissing the back of your head. "You're going to be safe, little hellcat. I promise." 

You heard and smelled them before you saw them. "Well what happened here, Az?" A playful male voice asked. You heard the parchment on the desk moving and closed your eyes as the scent of citrus and sea moved closer to you.

"Hmm. A no one. Who'd you piss off, Azriel?"

"King of Rusk," the playful voice was no longer playful. "The assassin known by the name Eden was specifically requested." It quoted the letter reading the rest of it slowly. "She must be Eden."

You felt the male in front of you trying to rummage through your mind, and looked up at him. His eyes were filled with sympathy and heartache. "You poor creature. I am so sorry, darling." He looked at Azriel. "Put her in one of the nicer cells at the prison until we can trust her." His hand went up as Azriel, as your mate's breath hitched. "She was sent here to kill you, Az. Regardless of the bond, she is dangerous. Ensure she is given real food, she hasn't ate since she came to Velaris almost a week ago. I'm going to need her in better health to untangle the mess they have her in." 

2 weeks later

Rhys sat on the chair across from the small bed he had allowed to be brought into your cell. Watching as you pulled your legs up and hid your face in your knees.

"You should have a camp brand. It would have been done when you were a babe since you are female. Do you have any odd scars?" His voice was always gentle with you. 

"I can't remember," you answered honestly. You hardly remembered Illyria. Hardly remembered you were even Illyrian or what that even meant. "I remember when I was taken to the school-"

"When you were sold like a pig for slaughter to sell swords, darling." He interrupted. "You weren't taken to a school. You were taken to a temple that purchases children they believe have potential to become assassins if they can wipe their memories and humanity well enough. They unfortunately succeeded with you. Every memory you have is locked in a box in your mind."

"They used food," you whispered softly. "If I asked about something, my first punishment was food. First a week, then two. After that it was poisoning."

"Which is why you can touch fae and blood banes." You could sense the pain in his voice. "Are you comfortable taking the dress off for me? I want to see if I can find your brand." You complied, standing slowly to lift the soft cotton dress Azriel had given you off your frame. 

Rhys stood and walked around you in a circle, hand pausing as it grazed over a scar on the side of your hip. "They cut it out of you." You watched him from the mirror as he proceeded to your back, breath hitching and his eyes closing. "Were your wings removed by them or before?" Rhysand watched as your eyes glazed over, as your mind heard a male screaming at you. As your mind heard what he could only assume were your terrified screams from childhood. "Before." His voice cracked. "I know who did, though."

That night in Windhaven, Rhys slammed Devlon's face into the desk. "Who is she?" He forced her to stare at the drawing one of the twins had done of you. "I've heard you screaming at her in her memories. Who the fuck is she?"

Devlon shook his head. "I had nothing to do with what happened to her."

"That's not what I'm asking." Rhys was growling. "Tell me willingly or Azriel will carve it out of you." Rhys held his mind, pulling at it slightly until the male screamed an answer.

"She a bastard of my oldest son." Devlon answered. "He thought getting rid of her would make his and that whore he was laying with lives easier. They sold her. I didn't know."

Azriel growled and lunged. "Her name. What's her name?"

"Y/n," Devlon panted. "Y/n."

1 month later

Countless days were spent with Rhysand in your mind, unwinding memories like a spool of yarn in the paws of a kitten. He had taken mercy on you today after a brutal session that ended with you collapsing into Azriel's arms.

Azriel sat across from you, eating the soup he had brought to share with you. "Rhys might let me move you to the House of Wind," he spoke between spoons. "You'd be warded to a room there between myself and Cassian, but you'd at least have a window and a view." You felt his heart pinch when you looked at him. 

His eyes filled with sadness, with longing, with sympathy. "I know it isn't much. But it's better than here." You nodded, pushing the soup away. "Are you not hungry?"

"I don't like leaks," you responded gently. 

Azriel laughed softly. "I've never heard an illyrian complain about food before. I can have Rhys bring you something else tonight. Is there anything specific you want?"

You were in no position to ask for anything special. Especially not what your mind was trapped on. But you didn't realize Azriel sensed it through the bond and had immediately asked Rhys to go to the bakery you had walked by and almost went into every day. "You aren't our prisoner, little hellcat." Azriel put his bowl down and moved to kneel in front of you. "You are my mate, and I know it feels like an empty promise, but I promise you that once Rhys believes your mind is safe and secure, you will have more freedoms. You're here because we do not know the extent you were controlled at. Surely you know what other organizations do to their assassins?"

You did. Your body shivered at the thought of the spiders they used to turn the fae who worked for them into nothing more than a mindless shell. "Winter has this tea," you started slowly. "I don't remember what it is. But it's sweet but spicy?" Azriel rose a brow. "Not like my mouth is on fire spicy, but.. like… tooth paste?"

He smiled. "I have that at home. I will bring some to you tomorrow." He leaned forward to kiss your forehead and then rested his forehead against yours. "You are so brave, y/n." 

He watched as your eyes glazed over. As your mouth slightly parted and your body stilled.

You were trapped in a memory. A memory of another little male, his wings held high and proud on his back as you two ran and played. He was wearing rags, covered in dirt. You knew this memory, you had dreams about it. "Wait for me!" You heard yourself giggle. "Cassian, wait for me. Why do you run so fast?"

"Because, y/n, I gotta be fast if I'm going to be better than everyone else here some day!"

That bright smile, that playful voice. Rhys was dead silent in the corner, sharing the memory with Azriel. "Az, go get him." 

Rhys sat with you as Cassian entered the cell. He watched as Rhys cradled you to him. "Cassian, can you sit down please?"

The general nodded, continuing to watch. His eyes glazed over as Rhys showed him the memory and the countless others that followed. 

Cassian's voice was choked. "I thought she had died. Her dad came screaming one day his daughter had been taken. Her wings were… they were pinned to his cabin door, Rhys." Cassian felt sick thinking back to his childhood crush's wings hanging limply by the membranes, blood soaking the wood porch and steps. "It Was a few weeks before you came."

"Do you know if they branded her on her hip, Cassian?" The male nodded immediately. 

"You two should talk for a little bit," Rhys cupped your face delicately. "I have to go pick up those cookies you've been thinking about. I will be back in a few hours. If another memory comes, scream for me in your mind." 

Cassian tooks his place, his hands also coming to cup your cheeks. "You are so beautiful. You know that?"

All three of them made it a point to tell you that now. Surely if three attractive males thought you were beautiful, that had to be true.

A couple weeks later

Rhys was in your mind again, digging and digging while you cried. It was painful. So fucking painful. It felt as though you were being pulled into half by two horses. 

Like someone was cutting you limb by limb.

You hated these sessions. Where you had to sit there, gripping the sheets so hard your knuckles had gone white, holding in screams and whimpers, and crying. 

"Found it," Rhys smirked. "It's a spell. A damn good one, but still just a spell. Meaning it can be broken." He was still in the jungle he had begun to call your mind, stopping at another memory. "I was wondering who killed him. A shame, really. I would have paid to watch that in person. Many of us would have."

Rhys wrote down the name of a former hybern General you had slaughtered and hung. He had started keeping track. Every king, queen, general, or fae you killed sat in a pretty notebook. 600 names. 

600 names lined those pages like a bloodstain in white clothing.

You validated it to yourself. Cruel kings. Corrupt queens. Predators. You were only ever assigned to the worst cases, being too skilled to be wasted on petty killings.

"Stop." Rhys ordered softly. "Do not focus on what you have done. Focus on how we move forward, darling. We have a home Azriel and Cassian like to stay in. I'd like to move you there."

Azriel held you close as he walked you into your new room at the House of Wind. "Cassian is directly across the hall, I am right next to you." You nodded, arms crossing over your chest as you took in the room. Guilt sat deep in your stomach. How much had they spent to decorate it? To furnish it? 

You took in the gold hues swirled in with blacks and greys. The wooden desk with hand carved swirls and edges. The couch and chairs. Your eyes locked in on the bed though. A real, plush, 4 poster bed. It would easily fit you and Azriel if you ever desired. Rhys appeared behind you two, his heart tightening at the sentence he knew was about to come out. A sentence all too familiar to him. 

"I've never had one." 

Azriel looked at you, "A room to yourself?"

You shook your head. "No. A real bed. We were not even allowed to sleep on beds during missions. Only blankets." He watched you walk to the bed, gently squishing a beaded throw pillow in your hands. 

"Darling," Rhysand said softly. "I have a friend who believes he can break the spell in your mind. He is concerned about potential consequences, though."

You were too lost and the luxury of the fabric to respond. The silk sheets covering the bed were the softest thing you'd ever felt. Rhysand and Azriel did not say anything, nodding to each other to leave the room with a gentle click behind them.

You pulled the blanket back further on the sheets, and curled yourself into the mattress. 

Your eyes began to flutter shut frequently, mind stilling as you felt a wave of comfort and protection come your way. Soon, the light of the room faded, and you walked into a dreamers pathway of sleep. 

Helion had come to the House of Wind that night. Flown there blindfolded by Cassian. He stood in Rhysand's office, a deep red wine in one hand as he crossed his arms over his pecs. "So she's at least 300 years old and has been held under a mind control spell for the majority of that time?"

The three illyrian males nodded in response. "Breaking it could kill her if it's done in one shot. Unraveling it, though, releasing her piece by piece may be safest." 

Azriel looked down. "How long would that take?"

"Years," Rhysand answered. "Her mind has to heal enough with each break or else her humanity and morals flooding her all at once can have consequences if it doesn't just shatter her mind." 

Helion nodded. "Our mind is a delicate place. Having it tampered with that long is dangerous. For us and her. I would need to see it and feel it to fully determine how safe it is."

Azriel nodded. "I'll go get her."

His footsteps felt heavy and defeated as he moved through the House of Wind. He paused at your door, lost in thought, but shook off his doubt as he knocked.

If anyone would be able to help you, it would be Rhysand and Helion.

[ihavethedreamies]

Up Close | What the Heart Wants (2)

Qian Kun - NCT/WayV

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~7.3k and all of it is smut

Pairing: Kun x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Altered History AU!, Royalty AU!, Smut, No Plot Whatsoever, Self-Indulgent as Hell

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used, Pet Names (Sweetheart, Princess, Pumpkin, etc.), Swearing, Filthy Words/Dirty Talk, Kissing, Hand Kink, Slight Corruption Kink, Praise Kink, Creampie/Breeding Kink, Daddy Kink (obviously), Soft/Dom! Kun, Big Dick! Kun (obviously), Cockbulge, Cockwarming, Hickeys/Marking, Body Worship, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Squirting, Spanking, Just a Bit of Bondage, Breath-Play, Thigh Riding, Hand Job, Fingering/Finger-Fucking, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Intercrural/Thigh Job, Sex on the Stairs, Mirror Sex, Unprotected Sex (Would not Recommend), Kun Being Really Fucking Sexy (as usual) there's so much in this dear lord

Part 1: From Afar - This story can be read as a standalone, since there is no story. I would recommend reading the first part, but you really don't have to.

Disclaimer: I do have the whole cock-bulge thing in this. I understand this could be a bit offensive to some who are on the heavier side (I am in that group as well). Sorry if this doesn't align with your body type, this is just a work of fiction.

Author's Note: Oh Holy Fuck, look at this. I know I said my Good Enough story for Jisung was filthy, nope. This is what I have decided to call a mud puddle because it's that filthy. This is the most self-indulgent thing I have ever written and might ever write. There is maybe two paragraphs of plot at the beginning and end, otherwise its literally 7k+ words of smut.

P.S. Like I said on the last part, Kun is my ultimate bias and so this is my gift to myself.

I split this into two different parts because it would be so long otherwise, plus I wanted this to be independent if someone didn't want to read the first part.

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

The sun was setting by the time all the servants and movers left. It took so long since they had to set up everything, even finish decorating. The wait was killing you, probably Kun as well. With bated breath, you watched the door shut, hearing the click loudly and you dashed forward to look out the side window, watching the last helper walk down the sidewalk. Stepping back, you spun around, your flats let you do so smoothly on the wood floor. You bit your lip playfully making Kun chuckle. Watching, enthralled, he removed his blazer, showing his sleeves up, stalking closer.

"Come here, sweetheart." You met him halfway and he yanked you into him as you giggled. His forehead bumped against yours as you both smiled like idiots and when you opened your mouth, you didn't get the chance to speak, his lips already on yours. You whined, fingers gripping the thin fabric of his white button up. Kun's hand buried into your hair at the back of your head, tilting your head to his preferred angle, tongue slipping its way into your mouth when you moaned at the tug. He pushed your body back with his till it hit a table in the entryway. The wooden vase on the table was luckily filled with fake flowers because it hit the floor as he lifted you onto the surface. Finally, you heaved for air when he pulled back, that sinfully delicious smirk present on his face.

"You need to tell me right now, sweetheart, what I can do to you." He twisted his rings off, letting them simply cling on the floor, then he took his watch off, not caring if it broke when it hit the wall after his toss.

"Anything." Your lips brushed his since he was still so close, your hands cupping his face, thumb running over his jawline. His hands grabbed the hem of your thigh-high socks, pulling them down and removing your flats as well. The gentleness of the action tugged at your heart, but the look on his gorgeous face tugged at your core.

"Anything? You might regret that (Y/N)." Your body shuddered hearing his voice sneak your name straight into your ear as his nose nuzzled the side of your face.

"I promise I won't." Kun chuckled, the sound rumbling straight to your cunt, making you sigh. He toed his own shoes off, kicking them behind him, fingers undoing his belt. The leather snapped as he tugged it hard from the belt loops of his pants and it clattered to the floor as well.

"No? You sure?" His hips pressed against the table under your butt, bringing him even closer. Even through layers of clothes, the heat of his body against yours caught your skin on fire, goosebumps rising all over.

"Please, I want you…"

"Want me? Want me to do what?" You knew he was teasing you, but you didn't care, he was right in front of you, his lips lightly brushing your skin, the scent of his cologne invading your mind, and you wanted to taste him again.

"God, I want you to fucking ruin me." You managed to sigh out, head swimming when he ground his hips into you, and you knew for a damn fact that he wasn't hard yet.

"I think I can manage that." he hummed, "safe word?"

"S-Safe word?"

"Sweetheart, I need one or I'm not continuing." What was he planning? Whatever it was you couldn't wait.

"U-uh, Ceres." The choice made his smirk falter into a soft smile, but he regained his composure.

"There's really nothing you're against?"

"Not like, bathroom stuff…"

"Obviously." Kun huffed, shaking his head, a bit worried that people even did that.

"What do you like, sunshine?" He had straightened up, so his face wasn't at your throat, his hand holding yours, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. The move would be so incredibly sweet if not for the context of the conversation. Before you could even try and think of your answer, he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles, then took your index and middle finger into his mouth, sucking. You shivered, whimpering at the feeling, thighs twitching so hard he could feel it where he pressed in close.

"U-um…your…hands." You were more focused with how his hand seemed to dwarf yours than even your own fingers in his mouth. Kun arched a brow, pulling your fingers away, wrapping his own around the saliva slicked digits.

"Really?"

"Yes." You swallowed, twisting your hand around his and bringing it close to your lips, much in the same way he did. He leered down at you, tilting his head, making the small pendant in his left ear sway. You dazedly looked over his hand, entranced, so he moved the rest of the way himself, thumb landing on your bottom lip. You mewled and eagerly took his thumb into your mouth, sucking around it.

"You're such a good fucking girl." Kun groaned, shifting his leg, trying to ease the pressure his pants were starting to put on his hardening cock. Your other hand came up to hold his, and you pulled his thumb from your mouth, kissing and licking over the rest of his fingers, enthralled with how big his hand was, how long his fingers were. You gasped when he yanked his hand from yours, but it quickly grabbed your hair at the base of your head and he inhaled your whimper. You didn't even want to fight back, just letting his tongue make its new home in your mouth, tasting over every inch. Kun swirled his tongue around yours, and you heaved air in and out of your nose, salivating further at the taste of his own. You nearly had to tap out, needing a higher dose of air, but he pulled back in the nick of time. Not leaving your brain time to recover, he laid searing kisses to the side of your mouth and down your jaw to below your ear. When the kisses finally reached your neck, right under your chin at your throat, he sealed his lips over the skin, sucking hard on the flesh. The pressure near your windpipe made your hips jump and you mewled when his teeth lightly nibbled, tongue working your skin as well. You obviously couldn't see it yourself, but he grinned with pride at the deep purple mark he had left, then dove back down to leave another in the crook of your neck. Kun tried to press even closer, the table knocking hard against the wall, jerking your covered mound against the bulge in his pants. Your eyes rolled back, fingers gripping hard into his shoulders as his tongue ran from the bow of your collarbone all the way to your ear, then ran over the ridge. Every exposed inch of skin not covered by your shirt seemed to burn and throb, the dark love marks branded you as his. You were forced to lean back till your head hit the wall when he kissed you again, your chest pressed to his. Kun snaked his arms around you, nibbling your bottom lip and mapping the grooves of your teeth with his tongue. His hand cast down your bare thigh, mostly revealed by your shorts, and you followed his prompting and wrapped your legs around his waist. Kun left the kiss once more and you traded tasks, starting to litter his jawline and neck with little pecks and licks as he picked you up. He hitched you a bit higher on him, holding you to him as he carried you toward the sitting room, and he swore, your wet was leaking through the thick fabric of your shorts. The room was darker from the curtains being closed, and he sat on the couch, you on his lap. He had no idea how much it cost but he couldn't wait to turn you into a mess on it, and every other surface possible in the house. As you kissed his neck, he reveled in your heavy breaths and little whines, sighing when your soft lips tried to seal over his skin like his did yours. He wasn't sure if you were unsure of what you were doing or just not thinking straight, but he let you leave a few small kiss marks over his collar bone.

"C-C-Can I take this…off…" You mewled when his arm around your back held you in place as he slid a bit further down into the cushions, pressing your hips down so they rolled your covered cunt over his cock. Your shaky fingers messed with the buttons of his shirt, and he hummed.

"Of course, sweetheart."

"Um…" You got the first three buttons undone, then slumped into him, mind running on overdrive just seeing the first inches of his bare chest. You were pretty small, you actually felt so tiny and soft on him, so sweet. It made him want to corrupt any of your hesitant thoughts into the same lust-fueled ones he had.

"What is it, pretty girl?"

"C-can I request a…pet-name?" You whispered the last part.

"Yes?"

"Um…pumpkin…" You were horribly embarrassed by your own request, that much was obvious since you shrunk into him further, cheek resting on his shoulder, so you looked away from him. Kun rose a brow, wondering how you came to decide on it, and why it seemed to fluster you so much. Then something clicked in his mind, but he planned on acting on his idea later.

"Whatever you want, pumpkin." You gasped, whole body jerking when he said it, and how he said it too… He couldn't fight back a laugh, kissing the crown of your head. Managing the courage to sit up, he cooed at your beet red face, tears shimmering in your eyes.

"Go ahead, pumpkin." He grinned like a madman when your shoulders jerked in a flinch, and you continued to undo his buttons, even shakier. You sighed a groan when you finally pulled his shirt open, and he sat forward so you could completely remove it.

"Oh my god." You groaned, diving back down and kissing over his collar bone more, then down the hard plane of his chest. He watched, incredibly amused, as you moved off of him as your lips moved down, till you kneeled on the floor before him. He rested back further, legs spreading wider to give you room and your mouth watered. Kun grunted when your hot tongue landed just under and to the side of his belly button, running a slick trail all the way up to his sternum. Kissing and nipping back down, your gentle fingers ran over the skin of his stomach, taught over his abdominal muscles. Getting up on your knees more, your hands splayed over his ribs, thumbs rubbing at the underside of his pec, lips sealing at the skin just up from his nipple. You felt the rumbling groan he let out with your tongue, index finger running through the ridges of his ribs. His cock was painfully hard as he watched you leave five bigger hickeys on his torso. One under his belly button, right at the edge of the waist band of his pants, one on his left hip, another at the base of his sternum, a fourth creeping close to his side and the final right over his heart, a faint bite mark visible through the deep red mark.

"Get up here, pumpkin." You squeaked when his hands went under your arms, lifting you like you weighed nothing and plopping you down to straddle his thigh. You could feel his cock straining in his pants, still not as desperate to be free as you were to make it so yourself.

"Later. For now…" His hands encircled your hips, pressing you down and leading your motions, "fuck yourself here." You mewled, and immediately did as he asked. Trying to focus on wiggling your hips over the hard muscle of his thigh, another part of him that was painfully delicious, he worked at your shirt. Getting the buttons undone in the back, he removed the black corset-like vest, then nearly popped the buttons of your undershirt off in his haste. The fabric flew somewhere into the room, and he started his kisses again. Another hickey was left on the swell of your right breast, two on the left, and Kun deftly unsnapped your bra. Too busy easily getting close to orgasm by rubbing your covered cunt on his leg, you gasped in surprise when his lips sucked just as hard on your nipple as he had on other parts of your skin, the slight pain slithered into pleasure and went straight down to your core. Your hips stuttered, having a bit of hard time focusing on humping his leg as his teeth nibbled on your sensitive flesh. The thick seam of your denim shorts wedged into your wet folds, his hard muscle pressing it against your clit. Your breath hitched, and every little breath you let out was laced with a whine or moan. Kun sat back, watching your breasts bounce as you did on his leg, hands on your ass and between your shoulder blades to help hold you up.

"You're so good for me, pumpkin. You wanna cum?" He grinned when you nodded, "please!"

"Okay, sweetheart, you've done so good, cum for me." His words broke the dam, and your body went rigid as waves of pleasure hit you like a freight train. You fell forward, forehead to his bare shoulder, body flinching, leaving a stain in your panties and shorts, and even a bit on his leg. You went limp when the waves died, and you were both surprised at the intensity of your orgasm. Then again, it was possible he could tell you in any circumstance to cum and you would, just from his words alone. Turning your head and looking down, you panted, still resting on him, your quivering fingers going to the tent in his slacks.

"You're so fucking big." You huffed and he couldn't fight a breathy chuckle, sighing as your gentle digits pawed at his cock over the fabric of his pants.

"Stand up, pumpkin. Take the rest off." You did as he asked, so fast you stumbled from the head rush when you stood. Kun kissed your bare tummy as you wiggled the pants off and you swore under your breath. Your last articles of clothing fell to the floor, and you shoved them to the side with your feet.

"W-wait, there-" You flinched when his tongue swirled in your belly button, and he literally felt a drip of your slick hit his knee.

"Sensitive?" You could feel his smile against your skin, and you nodded, trembling when his tongue ran the same trail you left on him, but he finished at your nipple. He pulled you back down, your back arched as he nibbled at your peak, and you settled on the couch between his legs. The couch was big enough for you to kneel there between his legs, and you eagerly went for the button of his pants. He pulled back, running his fingers gently over your back, watching as you wrestled to get the zipper down. Biting your lip, you grinned, bouncing in excitement as your hand met his hard cock, flesh hot in your grip. Your fingers couldn't even touch and you pulled his dick out, whining long and low.

"So pretty~" You giggled, and your mouth hung open, a drop of drool falling past your lips, aiding your second hand as it joined. He exhaled, enjoying feeling your soft hands eagerly stroke his cock, hardening fully in your grip.

"Ah!" You squealed in glee when his finger met your folds, and he furrowed his brow.

"You're fucking soaked, pumpkin."

"I have been since you grabbed my face last week." You moaned, twitching at the feeling of his fingers skating through your slick cunt.

"Oh, fuck, yes~!" Your hands faltered, but managed to continue as he buried his fingers inside you, the slight burn fading fast into pleasure. His fingers reached deeper than yours ever could, and even just two spread you further than Yuta's… Scolding yourself, Kun must have noticed your slightly wandering thoughts, crooking his fingers hard against the rougher spot of your back wall, taking your breath away.

"Focus on me, princess." His tone got just a tad sterner, and he huffed in awe as your cunt clenched around his fingers.

"Y-yessir." You mumbled and Kun groaned.

"You're such a good girl, (Y/N)." Your gummy walls pulsed harder, and he loved being able to tell just from your body what his words did to you. When his ring finger joined the other two, wiggling and prodding at your walls your pace halted, eyes closing.

"Keep going, princess, good job." His other hand rested over yours, guiding your movements. Kun's hand was soaked, your wet dripping onto the couch and he couldn't wait to taste you.

"Fuck- wait, fuckfuckfuck." He had added a fourth finger, and you fell onto him, hands stopping entirely, breathing hard to get used to the stretch.

"Sorry, pumpkin. You're too tight right now, I don't want to hurt you."

"You can -oh my god- you can if you want to~"

"We'll see what the night brings." He grinned and as you got used to the stretch, your hands picked the pace up, and his dick pulsed in your hands.

"Just a bit more, sunshine, just…" Kun sighed, and he pressed into your weakest spot, hard, and your grip tightened, falling over the edge. Watching his hand become drenched with your own release, he joined you and you squealed in glee as sticky ropes of hot cum spurted over your hands and onto your stomach. Huffing and panting for breath, heart racing, he stayed just as hard under your hands, like he hadn't even finished. Before he even decided if he wanted to ask you too, you wiped up your stomach, then brought your hands to your lips, licking his cum from your skin like it was honey. Your hips jerked when he pulled his fingers from your cunt, bringing his hand to join yours and you took his fingers into your mouth instead. Cleaning every drop of your own release, he couldn't help but marvel at how you seemed to crave him, even more than he you.

"Hm, how good are you here?" His now licked-clean hand when to your throat, not tight, but his thumb did press against your trachea.

"Can I show you?" You seemed shy to meet his eyes.

"Of course, pumpkin." He let you go, shoving the coffee table hard with his foot so it was out of your way when you kneeled on the floor. His sticky release still stuck to his cock and wiggled your jaw, estimating. The vibration from your lips as you moaned, taking the fat head of his cock into your mouth, made him grunt. Eagerly, thirstily, your tongue drank each trail of jizz, swirling over the head, tasting the precum spilling from the tip. You used to be proud of how far you could open your mouth, the dentist always telling you that you did well, but Kun's cock was that fucking thick. Your jaw muscles protested when you swallowed the tip, eyes rolling back at the thought of his delicious dick splitting your cunt in half. More precum and saliva spilling past your lips, trying desperately to fight your aching jaw and take his dick all the way into your mouth. At the angle, you couldn't press him in any deeper when the head hit your throat, swallowing to fight back a gag.

"You were made for me, huh? Just for me." Kun grinned, fingers gently weaving into your hair, then gripping hard, yanking your head back. His hand gripped your face, thumb on your bottom lip forcing your mouth open. You held your tongue out, a glob of spit falling from his bottom lip and onto your tongue. Kun grinned wide when you swallowed and ran his fingers through your soft hair.  Not too hard, he directed you by the hair to scoot backwards on the floor, then pulled your head back toward his cock. His gorgeous hand gripped his dick at the base, and you whimpered when he rested the fat head on your lolling tongue.

"How long can you hold your breath?"

"Um, a while. But for this…if you give me like six or seven seconds between thrusts, I won't gag…" You were a bit shy that you already knew this, but you weren't exactly inexperienced.

"Hm, that so? You won't be able to talk while you swallow my cock, so tap out on my thigh if you need to stop, okay? Three times."

"O-Okay."

"Hm, my sweet girl, you ready?" You nodded, obediently planting your hands on the floor to stabilize yourself, splaying your legs to get lower. You inhaled deep through your nose, using measured breaths through your nose as Kun eased his cock into your waiting mouth. The taste of him alone made your head swim, let alone when the tip met the back your throat.

"Good girl, my sweetheart." His voice didn't match the debauched grin he had adorned, watching in delight as your lips encircled his cock. Slowly, with each thrust, he buried his cock deeper into your gullet, and you inhaled hard, body jerking when he filled your mouth, pressing your nose to the skin of his groin. Your eyes rolled back, fighting a gag, holding your breath obediently, cunt pulsing in need.

"Fucking hell, (Y/N), you're an angel." Kun’s fingers carted through your hair, holding your head still, pulling his hips back enough to let you breathe. He learned the sound of your inhales and exhales, then began to batter his fat cock into your throat. Drool dripped down from your lips, splatting on the floor, the salt of his precum and the residue of his orgasm making your mouth water more. Only a few tears pricked at your eyes, a soft gag forced its way up every so often. He gave you longer breaks between complete air cut-offs, he had too much stamina, he wanted you to last. One of his hands left your hair, pressing against your throat, feeling the bulge of his cock as it fucked deep. Your vision was blurring, chest heaving, even with the breaks he gave you, your need for air was growing, but the dull pressure of restriction fueled the fire in your cunt. Kun's eyes glanced to the clock, you were a fucking champ, he was shocked you could tolerate swallowing his big dick for nearly five minutes. You were about to learn he had the stamina of a fucking bear, and he was pent up beyond all get out. He had been wanting to ruin you in the dirtiest ways possible for too long.

"You want my cum down your throat pumpkin?" You moaned, hands going to the backs of his thighs and Kun groaned, the sound slightly rising in pitch as he got closer.

"Breathe." He pulled out far, you sucked in a huge breath, and he buried his pulsing cock as deep as he could and came. He was so deep you almost couldn't taste his cum, but your tummy warmed. He came like a bull. You tapped his thigh twice and he pulled back, the last few small drops leaving the tip as it sat on your tongue. He was still half-hard, but he would need a bit more time to recover.

"Can you stand?" He panted slightly, contrasted with your deep and laborious breaths. You just nodded, throat burning from getting hit like a battering ram.

"Here, lets get you something to drink." He helped you stand, leading you to the bathroom that just happened to be past the closest door. You looked at your face in the mirror, red and splotchy, lips coated in drool and cum. You didn't bother finding a cup, you just turned the water on and used your hand to drink. Nearly choking, you hadn't notice him slink out of view of the mirror, and something warm and wet met your cunt. You cripped the counter, head bumping the mirror, shakily shutting the water off as his tongue snaked into your core.

"You taste so fucking good, sunshine." Kun's groan echoed in the bathroom, and he felt your legs weaken. He wrapped his arm around your hips, hand pressed to your lower stomach, the other around your leg to hold you up. His tongue left your core, sliding through your folds, swirling around your clit and you jerked against the counter, the soap dispenser falling over, rolling into the sink itself.

"K-Kun!" You gasped twice, then keened a moan, falling apart on his tongue. Your cunt spasmed, your release squirting over his face and chin and onto the floor, your vision spotted.

"Have you ever squirted before, pumpkin?" He licked at your inner thighs to clean the trails of wet from the skin.

"N-No."

"Good, only for me then?" He hummed in delight, kissing your ass cheek, then stood up. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, fully hard cock pressing into the cleft of your ass. His hug was so warm and gentle, his nose nuzzling your messy hair, a soft kiss pressed above your ear. Grabbing your hand, he led you from the bathroom, into the hall, and then he pressed your shoulders down. Your knees hit the rug at the base of the stairs, your hands catching yourself a few steps up, and he kneeled behind you. Kun fucked his cock between your thighs, more wet dripping down from your cunt already, slicking the skin. Even your thighs trembled at the girth and a thick vein running down the shaft skated perfectly against your clit. Your little button was already swollen, and it pulsed, stinging just slightly at the continued stimulation. Sighing in dismay when he pulled back from you, his cock leaving the soft flesh of your thighs, you instead hummed in delight when he moved the tip to your cunt. Just the very end nudged into your core, your walls already fluttering in shock at the intrusion. It was one thing holding him in your hands, or even in your mouth, he felt like he was hung like a horse as the fat head started to press in.

"Good girl, my love, breathe slow." His hands cupped your waist, thumbs rubbing comforting circles into your back. Was fucking you from behind for the first time the best idea? Probably not, he hoped he didn't go so deep it hurt. Your whole body spasmed alone with your wet, hot core, every little centimeter searing burning pleasure into you.

"Oh my god, Kun~! You're gonna break me~!" You squealed, delighted, his cock only halfway inside before you came again. He halted as your already tight cavern gripped his cock like a vice, another puddle of wet forming on the stairs.

"Already?" He huffed, waiting for the waves to die before continuing to press in.

"I-Its because it's you. Fuck, your finally inside me…I'm gonna-!" You gasped, your fading orgasm cresting back up, and he took the chance. Kun snapped his hips hard, burying in all the way, head pressing against your cervix, forcing your next climax from you. Your pussy walls, clit and nearly entire lower half burned from overstimulation, the sting quickly growing painful, before dulling into just a buzz, pleasureful once more. Kun saw you white knuckling the bottom of the banister, shoulders jerking, and he leaned down over you, pressing his chest to your back.

"Need a sec…" You whispered and he hummed, kissing over your back and shoulders.

"Your sweet pussy is so good around me, princess, you feel so fucking good-" He paused his words, not wanting to go overboard.

"Yeah?" You whimpered and he chuckled.

"Of course, pumpkin. You're taking my cock like a queen."

"Oh, god, it’s the best, your cock is so big, fuck, Kun! Just fuck me already!" You cried and he exhaled hard.

"You want my cock, pumpkin? Want me to ruin your tight little cunt? Mold it to my dick till no one else could ever compare? Make your body mine?" He let his words go, and he was glad he did, your core fluttering and leaking at each sentence.

"Please! Please, Kun, please, da-" Your words cut off as you moaned, all air and sanity being pulled from you as he pulled his cock out just an inch.

"I'll give you it, pumpkin, take daddy's cock." He was too intuitive for his own good, and he rolled his hips, fucking back into you hard and shallow, your breath hitching with each pound.

"Yes, daddy! Fucking fuck, ruin me, please! I'm yours, only yours…" You were rambling, words slurring, body dropping on to the stairs. The slight thrusts had so much power behind them, every ridge of his dick perfectly running over your weak spot, making your brain short circuit. Sweat dripped down both of your foreheads, a drop running down his neck, chest, stomach and his thigh, more dripping onto your back, meeting your own and falling to the wood below. Kun started to leave more sucks on your skin along your spine, large hand splayed over your stomach right under your breasts, the other meeting yours, fingers weaving between yours.

"(Y/N), I love you. Fuck, you're so perfect for me, sweetheart. Damn, I wished I could’ve had you sooner."

"I…love-! Love-!  You too! Holy fuck, daddy, I'm so close!" You giggled like a fool, squeaking as his thrusts built power, pulling out not even quite hallway before slamming back home.

"You're so fucking wet, pumpkin, your making such a sweet mess." He huffed, looking down to see the shine of your slick all over your thighs and ass, and gleaming on his cock, groin and down his balls and inner thighs.

"Wanna cum? Cum while daddy's cock makes a mess of you?"

"Yes, please? Can I daddy?"

"Yes, sweetheart, go ahead, my good girl." He stopped his movements, cock head pressing hard against your womb and your cunt wept, burning from overstimulation but you needed more.

"No! Nonono!" You babbled when he pulled out, your sticky release coating his dick, dripping to the floor.

"Ah, wha-?" You yelped as he wrapped and arm around you, spinning you and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of rice. Trying to balance yourself with your weak muscles, Kun moved down the hall toward the master that was luckily downstairs, arm around your thighs to hold you. When you wouldn't stop wiggling, his other hand came down hard on the flesh of your ass, a red welt instantly forming, and your babbling stopped with a choke. Slick drooled onto his shoulder from where you rested on it and he kicked the door closer, stalking to the bed. Nearly dropping you onto the mattress, he flipped you on to your stomach, smacking your ass again.

"Move up." You scrambled to do so, peaking behind you over your shoulder to watch him drop his pants, fat cock standing proud against his stomach, coated in your wet. With bated breath you watched him open a dresser drawer, pulling a red tie out, then he joined you on the bed. Kneeling next to you, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you further up, shifting the blankets under you. Kun wrapped the soft red material around your wrist, then looped it through a gap in the headboard meant for securing the mattress. Finalizing the tie around your other wrist, you gently tugged, not really wanting to even try and resist.

"Okay?"

"Y-Yes."

"Good." You felt a little nervous to, but glanced behind you none-the-less, and not even ten seconds later, his hand landed on your right ass cheek. You gasped, the searing heat jolting straight to your cunt, and he marveled at your reddened skin.

"You're such a good girl, pumpkin, but I also like your little noises-" smack, on the left, "when I do that, plus," smack, right, "you like it too, hm?"

"Yes, daddy!" You yelped as his hand landed on the left again, before the next landed right in the middle. Your pussy wept, his fingers sliding against your cunt, and you spoke, a little scared.

"J-just don't hit me there, please." You wiggled your hips, his finger running through your folds.

"Okay, pumpkin, I won't. You're so good for me." He kissed your shoulder again, and you sighed when the head of his dick met your core again. His thrust shifted you up the bed a bit, the stretch still burning a bit.

"Hold on here." He helped you wrap the slack of the tie around your hands, then you grabbed the edge of the mattress. You sucked in air at the feeling of him pulling back, leaving just the head of his cock inside you, then back in slowly. Disappointed and relieved at the same time, your cunt pulsed and twitched, trying to accommodate his fat girth. With each movement of his hips, it got a bit harder, and you bit the pillow your face was buried in at a good time, because he snapped his hips, starting a brutal pace. You nearly screamed into the pillow, and he forced it lower so you couldn't muffle your sounds.

"I want to hear you, pumpkin. Want everyone to. Hear your mine." He chuckled darkly, grunting, the smack of your skin on his carrying through the room. Each impact of his hips and pelvis against your backside made the hand-marked reddened skin sting deliciously.

"(Y/N), my sweet girl, I'm gonna cum, cum inside you. Hmm, you want me to fuck you full?"

"Oh, fuck, pleasepleaseplease, yes, god, Kun!" You froze, twitching, shuddering when he filled you, tip pressed into your womb, painting your insides white. Heat spread from your core up to your heaving chest and down all the way to your toes. Globs and streaks of your combined releases dripped onto the brand-new covers, spilling from your spasming cunt where he split you open. He watched with a smirk as your pussy spasmed, milking his cock for every drop.

"How the fuck are you still hard?" You managed to whisper out and he chuckled.

"Do you know how long I've wanted you, sweetheart? Too long. Plus, I need to fuck any memory of anyone else from your body, every cell. You're mine."

"Oh~" You sighed at his words, watching him untie the red fabric. Gently, he pulled out, globs of jizz spilling from your cunt and he just smiled, flipping you over. Hitching your legs up to wrap around his middle, even if he was still a bit sensitive himself, his dick slid inside you once more.

"So tight, my love." Kun licked his lips, and your body shivered at the feeling, the different angle hitting new spots inside you.

"Oh, look, pumpkin." He hummed, sitting up, hand on your lower stomach, hiding the subtle bulge evident beneath your skin. When you worked up the strength to look, he moved his hand and the sight made your head swim, gummy walls clenching even harder.

"You're so small, but you're taking me in still, this sweet cunt’s just for me."

"Yes, your fat cock is- oh, fuck, god it's so good!" Your own hand pressed on the bulge, head tossed back, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. You didn't have the strength to hold your own legs up, and he moved your legs from resting over his elbows, to pressing your thighs to your chest. Your eyes widened, knees at your ears, his cock bottoming out.

"Damn." Kun hummed, loving how easily your body folded for him. He started with the same shallow, hard thrusts as he did on the stairs, picking the pace up some, holding your legs with his chest, ankles by his ears. One hand landed on the headboard to support his weight, the other cupped your jaw. The soft gesture changed as his palm slid down, thumb pressing on the other side of your wind pipe, and pressed slightly. Your air only felt the slightest bit restricted, but where he pressed made his grip feel tighter.

"God, fuck! Daddy~!" Your hands went to his wrist, holding it there, body jerking under his from his fervent pace. His own peak was rising faster than he anticipated, and you felt his cock pulse inside you.

"Cum in me more, please! Want your cum!"

"Hm I can do that. Fuck you full, make it drip from you for days, fill you with me." Kun leaned close to your ear, kissing under it, then sucking on your ear lobe. One, two, three more thrusts and he fucked even more cum into you, already stuffed full, spurts of hot sticky white oozing out and your vision spotted, cunt stinging as you fell apart as well. Your consciousness was fading, exhausted, and you felt his hand leave your throat before you slipped into a light sleep.

~~~

You must have slept through the night since you could see light fading into the room through the curtains, the sun had been setting when you and Kun first started…well, fucking. No way to romanticize it. You were sore beyond all get out, but somehow not satisfied. Neither was Kun it seemed, because he held you to him, both of you completely naked, his hard cock wedged between you two.

"Oh, god." You had nearly forgotten how big he was, the soreness making sense. Small points all over you were sore too, the little hickeys and bites he littered you with. Your ass stung as well, but the most overwhelming feeling was how nice it felt to be surrounded by him. He easily wrapped around you, your body fitting perfectly in the curve of his own, really making you feel made for him.

"You too sore, my love?" His voice made you flinch, not from startling you, but it was deeper and rougher from his sleep.

"I don't think so." You mumbled, throat protesting at you speaking, "though I think I'll be bedridden for the next week." You huffed and he hummed, nuzzling behind your ear.

"Let's start slow." His arm around your middle left, the one under your head curling around your shoulders, pulling you back toward him even more. Shuddering as the head of his dick once again found its home inside you, your pussy jerked in protest, but the slick heat of your walls sucked him in desperately. Bottoming out, he nestled even closer, kissing your head, stilling almost like he fell back asleep. Slowly, the sharp sting faded into the same tingling burn of pleasure, and you experimentally clenched around his cock. Kun huffed in amusement, proving he was still awake, and you felt yourself wake up further as well, nerve endings firing up from the warming feeling spreading from inside out.

"What round will this be?" Kun hummed at your question, thinking.

"Not sure, not enough though." You felt and heard the sucking noise his dick made as it left you, your vision whirling as he flipped you over. Your arms shakily held you up on his chest, his hands on your hips holding you up, hovering over his cock.

"You control the pace, don't want to overdo it." Using his arms to help you ease down and not just drop onto his fat cock, you eased him in, shivering when your clit met the slick you left on his groan, panting, trying to get used to him once more. The idea was good in theory, not great in practice though. You were tired and shaky, so as you started to rock and bounce on his dick, your thighs yelled at you. Still, the pleasure you already felt building spurred you on, almost like an adrenaline rush, but you couldn't keep your pace consistent. You were getting frustrated, and he could tell, hands still at your waist holding you to stop.

"S-sorry."

"Oh, pumpkin, that's fine. Let's do something different." He sat up, helping you dismount, and you whimpered at the loss. Kun kissed quickly and softly all over your face, and you giggled, bowing your head to escape the ticklish onslaught. He scooted back so his back rested against the headboard and he had you face away from him. Easing back down, you straddled his legs, and resting against him when he filled you back up. Moving his legs under yours, he brought his knees up and you were forced back against him more, his legs spreading yours further. Sighing, shakily, you rested your head back against his shoulder, hands falling on his arms around your middle.

"Look, there, pumpkin." He nodded forward and you shifted to do so, finding your reflection in the mirror behind the dresser.

"Did you have them put that there on purpose?" You yiped when his hips jumped, and he hummed coyly.

"I have no idea why it's there." Kun tried not to laugh, and you felt his body stiffen under you. Using his feet as leverage, he started to jerk his cock up into you, quick and deep. You were held up entirely by him, back pressed to his chest, legs over his. Already your clit stung, but you needed him one more time, just one more before you would be satisfied. It seemed he didn't need long either, the same familiar pulse thrummed from his cock and through you. His cum from the day before had still been leaking out of you, formed a ring around where he entered you, mixed with is pre and your slick. You watched enthralled in the mirror, amazed at the ease in which he fucked up into you, and how much of a mess you were.

"Fuck, (Y/N), come with me pumpkin." His hand fell to your clit, flicking it just twice before your body seized, cunt spasming hard even through the soreness and you managed to keep your eyes, watching his release spill from you. As you lay on him, both of you panting, he nuzzled your ear.

"I love you, (Y/N)."

"I love you, too." You mumbled, exhausted already.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

You dozed while he prepared a bath in the jacuzzi of the master suite. With soft and loving movements, he washed your hair and body, massaging away some of the soreness.

"You don't have to wash me too, sweetheart." He chuckled when you lathered up the loofa again. You sent him a playful glare and he sighed, letting you eagerly run the scrubber over his skin before you ditched it in lieu of stroking the soap over him with your hands instead. You looked like you were on a mission, focused, face red with excitement.

"You're so cute." He cooed, brushing a strand of damp hair from your forehead, his own wet hair slicked back.

"And you're the sexiest thing on the face of the earth." You copied his same gentle tone, and it made him laugh. That was the best sound you've ever heard. When he helped out of the bath, legs still shaky, he wrapped his robe around you, going for just a towel around his waist, and you swam in it. It was so nice and soft and smelled like him.

"This is mine now." You declared, shuffling into the bedroom from the bathroom and he laughed again. He cooked you breakfast as you sat on the counter, a pillow under your sore butt, legs swinging. As he waited for the pan to heat up, he nestled between your legs, brushing your nose with his. You had never felt sure pure and gentle love before. Despite neither of you being able to be with each other for so long, you were close enough to fall for each other. At first you thought it was irrational, infatuation, but looking at him before you, with the same loving look reflected in his eyes, you knew that he was yours, and you his. Something you could only really see from up close.

Part 1: From Afar

Master-Master List

NCT Master List

[violettavonviolet]

Merlin & Gravity falls fic recs

all fics are finished and fantastic! the word count goes up progressively, I've noted the ratings but do check the tags!

all fics marked with a star haven't left my brain since I read them.

Merlin

A Future Lined in Gold

predilection

Summary:

Gwaine's soulmate has magic. He knows this because his soulmark glows.

This wasn't as much of a problem until he started spending more time in Camelot where magic is banned, and where even someone catching sight of his soulmark could have him beheaded.

(A Merlin/Gwaine soulmate AU.)

6k gwaine/merlin teen

Secret Whistle

thenerdyindividual

Summary:

Merlin can't understand those stupid complicated hand signs Arthur uses on a hunt, but they figure out another way to communicate.

or: 5 times people were confused by Arthur and Merlin's secret language, and 1 time everyone understood.

6k merthur gen

Secrets

platonic_boner

Summary:

In which everyone gradually finds out that everyone else knew all along about the magic.

7k teen merthur

Co-Dependent

vintagemocha

Summary:

And then it hits Uther, like a fork of lightning: "Fine, then, no Merlin for a week."

"Oh, no," one of the knights, Sir Leon, gasps.

Arthur, whose jaw has been hanging open this entire time, finally regains his abilities of speech. "What?" he says. "No Merlin?"

+++

As punishment for Arthur's disobedience, Uther bans all contact with his manservant for a week.

It works out about as well as you could expect.

8k humor gen

The Authoritative Guide on Being the Bloke

writeonclara

Summary:

In the four years he and Merlin had been together, Merlin never so much hinted that he had a blog.

Well, at least not to Arthur. Everyone and their dog knew about it, except Arthur.

Arthur sighed and clicked Previous 10 Entries. It was a little like reading a biography about all of the things you would never, ever want to share with anyone.

ON SHAGGING THE BLOKE

Sort of like that.

OR: Merlin has a blog. Arthur finds out about it.

9k Merthur modern

Loyalty Before Royalty

CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Summary:

"Where did you get that?" Arthur asked, but he already knew the answer. 

"Gwen."

"...and the horse?"

"Gwen."

"What about the-"

"Gwen." Merlin interrupted. Arthur nodded. At this point, he wasn't sure why he even bothered to ask. He was pretty certain his wife was going to knight Merlin any day now. He looked Merlin up and down for a few moments before accepting it all with a sigh.

"As long as you get my armor to me tomorrow...I don't care." He finally said, turning away. Merlin cleared his throat. 

"Gwen gave me tomorrow off."

"For the love of God." 

Or

I hate that Gwen and Merlin's friendship kind of withered away in the later seasons so here's a oneshot about her and Merlin abusing her new royal powers because that's what happens when your best friend becomes queen.

10k gwen& merlin gen

Good Fortune

platonic_boner

Summary:

Arthur makes Merlin a lord, and Merlin does an astonishingly good job of running a village.

11k merthur gen

Guarding the Guardian

CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Summary:

“Mordred, right?” Arthur asked, kneeling in front of him. The boy nodded, eyes wide as he looked at Arthur as if he might bolt at any moment. “What are you doing back in Camelot? My father won’t like seeing you again.”

“He’s hurt.” Mordred whispered and Arthur glanced over at where Merlin was unconscious. A sudden realization dawned on him.

“You healed him,” He said slowly “With magic.”

Mordred nodded. Arthur’s mind raced – thinking of all Merlin had survived in his encounters with bandits and sorcerers. Before he could ask if Mordred had been responsible for all of it, there was a groan as Merlin shifted, eyes flickering open.

“Arth – you!” He choked, sitting up quickly to grab Arthur’s arm as if he could yank the prince away. Mordred grinned.

“You’re awake!” He beamed and launched forward to hug him. Arthur watched as Merlin stiffened at the action – eyes widening before desperately trying to push him away.

“Arthur. Arthur, get him off of me-”

Or

After sneaking Mordred out of Camelot, he occasionally returns to make sure Merlin is doing okay. Arthur isn’t sure why this child is so concerned about the wellbeing of his servant… Nor Merlin's vehement attempts to ignore it.

16k gen humor

Whispering Your Name *

CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Summary:

The Dorocha. They are the voices of the dead, my child. And, like the dead, they are numberless.

Or

A different take of the dorocha. Instead of them being faceless screams that attack you, they are actually figures of the dead. Merlin doesn't quite realize how much death affected him until him and the knights go to close the veil.

22k angst gen

Thick as Sorcerers

CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Summary:

Arthur watched, unable to fully comprehend the events that had seemingly just crashed and burned in front of him rather than calmly unfold. He turned to look at the other knights who only shrugged as Mordred sank lower into his seat, lips pressed into a pout as he picked at his food. 

“I…” He started and paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts “Why do you want Merlin to like you so badly?” He finally sighed. Mordred stopped playing with his food, glancing up before looking at the door the servant in question had exited through 

“Because he’s Merlin.” He said as if that provided any sort of answer. 

Arthur didn’t deserve this. He did his best to be a good person. Maybe this was some kind of divine intervention saying he needed to up his charity game. He needed to give the lower town a bigger tax break or something. Perhaps ride out and save three more damsels than usual. 

"He has a point," Gwaine piped up as he inhaled another mead "He is Merlin."

Or

Merlin hates Mordred and Mordred is determined to put an end to that. Arthur is convinced that this child is after his man.

23k merthur merlin & mordred

um, excuse me? i was dying *

great_stone_dragon

Summary:

Gideon is a fourteen year old boy who wants to know the real tea. Camelot has a lot of secrets to offer.

1. The prince's manservant has magic and everyone knows (except the prince)

2. The prince is in love with his manservant and everyone knows (except the manservant)

OR

The Office if it was merthur in Camelot

30k humor gen

How to kill a king

Naelyn

Summary:

"That is how you deal with your problems! By politely stating your aim and waiting for your turn to come, instead of coming here with your weapons and no word of warning! D’you reckon it’s easy for me? Not only do I have to deal with the mess he,“ Merlin pointed at Arthur with his chin, “leaves behind him, but now I also have to deal with unplanned assassinations? This world has become a crazy place, isn’t that right, Gwaine?”

or:

Arthur's assassins seriously lack style, and Merlin tells them as much. The knights are stunned. So are the assassins. Also, Merlin's mad at Arthur, and so he is determined to ruin his day as much as possible. In the meanwhile, Gwaine's just living his best life (isn't he always?).

38k merthur crack

Next to You (It's the Rule)

LunaMyLove

Summary:

Arthur and Merlin have a special relationship. They always have, even when they were prince and servant. While many question it when first noticing, eventually it becomes an understanding in Camelot—and even among some other countries—that where there is Arthur, there is Merlin. And, where there is Merlin, there is Arthur.

Or

Arthur and Merlin's relationship as witnessed and explained by others.

Also, or

Five times someone realizes that Merlin is the Queen, one time Merlin realizes it himself, and one time he owns it.

62k merthur crack gen

Canary in a Cage

CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Summary:

“Lady Morgana,” The lord said, his brows furrowing as he took a step back “Pardon me for the assumption, but I was told the king’s ward never left the East tower?” He asked and gestured vaguely around the gardens. Morgana smiled and Merlin smirked from his hiding place as he watched Arthur consider swooping in to save the man, but clearly thinking better of it. 

“Ah, of course.” Morgana said “You must be confused. There are two wards of the king. I’m afraid you won’t be able to meet Merlin today.” 

Or

Uther took in Balinor’s child as a baby and claimed him as his ward. Merlin thinks he’s being held hostage, but whatever.

108k merthur

Gravity falls

to you, who bears my name

masterdipster

Summary:

In a world where most people have names printed on their wrist, Dipper Pines is born with a cipher.

22k Billdip teen and up

Five Minutes Older

thesnadger

Summary:

Mabel ends up trapped in 1979, without her brother and with a broken time machine that she can't fix herself. Luckily, her Grunkle Stan is there. Of course, he's a lot younger now...he has a mullet, he's living out of his car and he doesn't know he's her Grunkle. But he's not planning to let this weird, sparkly little girl end up alone on the streets.

27k time travel

Five Years Older

Nicnac

Summary:

When twenty-seven year old Mabel Pines stumbles across a banged-up time tape in the park, she tells herself that she's much too mature and responsible now to use it to go on a crazy adventure through time. 

Hahaha, yeah right.

46k time travel

The Small Things

Nicnac

Summary:

Stan had definitely showed up empty-handed, but he somehow ended up leaving with two five year olds in tow.

Eh, he'd been to worse memorial services.

55k series

The Whole of Us (is greater than the sum of our broken pieces)

Nicnac

Summary:

Stanford Pines was going to make his legacy by becoming the man who changed the world. Children weren't really part of the plan. 

At least, they weren't supposed to be.

144k teen and up

[la-bruja]

╔═════•●•══════╗

Fanfiction Reccomendations

╚═════•●•══════╝

hi im a little insane and i read way too many fics 💖

here are some fics I've enjoyed this week! so far it's mostly batman, danny phantom, and crossovers between those two! haha I need some variety I swear.

everything under the read more because I have fifteen (15) listed! <3 okay thanks for checking out my recs!!

(if the formatting is a little ugly, it's because i did this on the app on my phone <3)

(tumblr (app) is a peice of shit and deleted some of the fics i had on here. aaaaaaaaa) (i will try again next week)

»»———-DPxDC-———-««

Wait, I'm a What? by @atiyasnake

based on a tumblr post

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 31k+ Words. Last Updated June. 5k+ Kudos. Misunderstandings. Ghost King Danny. Accidental Crime Lord Danny. Cryptid Danny. Sentient Gotham.

He kept taking the cash from the assholes (and damn there were a lot of assholes near where he lived) messing with the residents who lived in the area. He kept accepting their offers of food. So because of this new routine that kept him able to afford to rent out his shitty (and possibly illegal) apartment and the hunger pangs sufficiently satisfied, rumors grew.

Like and Survive - Phantom’s Guide to Young Hero Survival by @robinasnyder

based on a tumblr post

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 73k+ Words. Last Updated July. 3k+ Kudos. Youtuber Danny. Ghost King Danny. Adult Danny. Good Parent Clark Kent. Therapist Jasmine Fenton.

Phantom is considered an old timer who deals with a small city and nowhere else. When he begins uploading videos with advice for young heroes, he hopes a few new heroes might avoid some of the pain he went through. He's shocked at just how popular his advice suddenly becomes.

Bus To Nowhere by @precarious-hermit

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 98k+ Words. Last Updated July. 20k+ Kudos. Ghost King Danny. Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton.

After being on the run from his parents and the government for a couple of months, moving from town to town, Danny ends up in Gotham City and decides to risk staying in Batman's territory. He'd take the wrath of Batman over live vivisection via beloved parents or being studied and torn apart by the government. Besides, he's not a meta. Being dead is a medical condition.

The Firstborn Son by @faeriekit

Complete. Two-Shot. 7.5k Words. 1k+ Kudos. Ghost King Danny. The Infinite Realms. Dimension Travel. Accidental Child Acquisition. Child Endangerment. Mind Control. Horror.

Danny Phantom, a somewhat established ruler of the Ghost Zone, has unwittingly acquired a baby.

And. Well. He can't exactly keep it in Pariah's Keep. He's no parent, not to mention the huge problem of how the air and sky destabilize human cellular structure. There has to be a way to prove that the man is safer than the home the baby comes from.

...But the man has his own ward.

Hm. Danny can exploit this. What's an assessment without a little test?

Amity In The Ghost Zone by @ghostboybrainrot

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 7k+ Words. Last Updated March. 1k+ Kudos. Good Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton.

The city doesn't return on its own after Pariah Dark is defeated. Without knowing how to get the whole city back to the living world, Danny tries to evacuate the residents but most Amity Parkers don't really want to leave. Some people do, but many decide to stay. After all, Amity Park is their home, and the idea of having to start over somewhere new isn't very appealing. So the town, for the most part, continues on like normal.

Holding Me Now In Hand by @disillusioneddanny

Completed. Multi-Chaptered. 67k+ Words. 4k+ Kudos. Death Defying. Dick/Danny. Ghost King Danny. Teacher Danny. Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton. Miscommunication. Identity Reveal.

After Tim Drake tells his family about his new insane chemistry teacher, Dick Grayson decides to do some investigation himself.

What he wasn't expecting was to instantly fall in love with the chaotic science teacher.

Our Empty Graves by @nabtime

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 63k+ Words. Last Updated July. 3k+ Kudos. Graphic Depictions of Violence. Dead On Main. Jason/Danny. Slowburn. Bad Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton. Hazmat AU. Mute Danny. Hurt/Comfort.

They say that Red Hood has a loyal mutt. The man rules his territory in Crime Alley with an iron fist and a guard dog at his side. No one's ever heard him speak. Anyone who's ever seen him says he looks like an experiment gone wrong, that Hood picked him up somewhere unspeakable. They say he'll do anything Red Hood asks of him and he'll do it well. Rival gangs say he's vicious, that he'd sooner rip your throat out than let you go.

death echoes by @redskyeatnight

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 38k+ Words. Last Updated June. 9k+ Kudos. Account Locked. Ghost King Danny. BAMF Danny. Creepy Danny.

Cold air on the back of his neck. Skeletal fingertips skittering up his spine, barely there and yet pressing so hard they would surely leave indents. A sound like an iceberg cracking apart echoing in his ears and through his head, pain following in its wake.

His throat went cold, his tongue suddenly numb.

And for a second - just a second - he smelled nothing but the stench of death.

"Oh My God, I'm Becoming My Father." by @fanfiction-artist-prototype

Incomplete. Three-Shot. 22k+ Words. Last Updated June. 1k+ Kudos. Account Locked. Misunderstandings. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. Blood and Injury. Accidental Child Acquisition. Implied/Reference Underage Prostitution. Protective Jason Todd.

Dani needs money, there's only so long her human body can last without food, and she lost the credit card Sam gave her when she crash-landed in Gotham city bay. So, she decides she's going to go the one guy she knows exists in Gotham that will help a kid down on their luck no questions asked - Red Hood.

Last time she'd seen Danny, he'd told her that there were rumours the Red Hood was undead, so he was the safest option for a halfa like her.

Hatred At First Sight by Sagoberattare

based on a tumblr post

Complete. One-Shot. 1k Words. 4k+ Kudos. SoulHate AU. Danny Phantom is a Little Shit.

Until the Joker looked at the skrunky kid in a ratty hoodie that looked like he could be a Wayne adoptee. And they both froze for a good minute.

And like some kind of demented switch got flipped the kid snarled and (still with his hands tied behind his back mind you) launched himself at the Joker.

Back to the World, In the End by @akela-nakamura

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 9k+ Words. Last Updated June. 800 Kudos. Halfa Jason Todd. Heavy Angst. Supernatural illnesses. Jason Todd is Not Okay. Eventual Comfort.

Jason's been sick for weeks and nothing he does seems to help. He's not ready for his confrontation with the Bat. He's not ready for his plans to fall apart when they've barely begun.

But his illness isn't stopping. One warm Gotham night, he hits a metaphorical wall.

Nightwing finds Red Hood on a rooftop. It's been a long night, but it might be looking up. After all, finally capturing the Red Hood will make Gotham that much safer.

Inquisitive by @oliveofvanders

Completed. One-Shot. 1k+ Words. 2k+ Kudos. Journalist Danny. Danny is a Little Shit. Damien Wayne Loves Animals. Crack Treated Seriously.

Damian has a very specific way of dealing with reporters – show them the animals, that usually scares them off.

Danny, however, has seen weirder shit in his lifetime.

Like Betta Fish Do by @clockwayswrites

Incomplete. Multi-Chaptered. 48k+ Words. Last Updated July. Updates Bi-Weekly. 7k+ Kudos. Dead On Main. Jason/Danny. Ghost King Danny. Halfa Jason. Canon-Typical Violence. Jason Todd Needs a Hug. Danny Fenton Needs a Hug. Lazarus Side Effects. Identity Reveal.

Danny had ended up trespassing in Jason's haunt. He didn't mean to. Total accident, he swears. (He blames Johnny.) So he bought the other halfa a basket of bathbombs and chocolate as a 'sorry, please don't disembowel me' gift. It was the proper thing to do, alright?

Everything was going to be just fine.

Then things got a little out of hand.

»»———-Batman-———-««

Send To All by @cairoscene

Completed. One-Shot. 3k Words. 5k+ Kudos. Emails. Epistolary. Poison Ivy Adjacent.

I, _____________, hereby acknowledge that this form represents my wishes should I contract phytoaphrodisiac-induced delirium (hereafter referred to as “PAID”) during engagements with or while apprehending Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley (“Poison Ivy”).

»»———-Danny Phantom-———-««

and they were roommates by @captainbrookeworm

Completed. One-Shot. 9k+ Words. 400 Kudos. ChatFic. Humor. Memes. Crack. Crack Treated Seriously. Post-Canon. Identity Reveal.

Mr. Lancer’s English Class Group Chat

Wes Weston: FINALLY

Wes Weston: INDISPUTABLE PROOF

Tucker Foley: For the last time the moon landing was NOT faked!!!!

》 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。 。° 。。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。 。°《

[smolvenger]

The Battle of Agincourt (Henry V/fem! Reader Oneshot)

Word Count: 7K

Summary: As his wife and queen, you follow your husband, Henry the Fifth to France for his battles. It is the morning of the battle of Agincourt, and you don't know if he will make it out alive. You spend one last moment of passion together.

Warnings: NSFW 18+ SMUT! SMUT! (We get TWO smut scenes in one onshot! P in V sex, missionary, doggy style, edging, medieval dirty talk, praise, slight degradation and edging breast play, degradation, bits of power play, doing the deed standing up-legit one of the filthiest things I've written in a long time!). Mentions of war and brief mention of sexual assault and death. Lots of angst, but also some fluff.

A/N: Based off of a dream I had. Enjoy!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract (you can just skip the wedding night and barn scene and you will be good, bestie) @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner@littlespaceyelf@superficialdomina @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr

You never forgot the day you were introduced to the man you loved.

You were sent there to the castle. An alliance between your father and the new king of England was being considered. Nothing confirmed, you were told by your father. Only consideration.

“He is a single man. And young. He needs more for his army, his lands…and that is secured with a marriage,” he told you.

 The one key to sealing it.

You.

A marriage between you and this king. Many men in his army sealed with one woman being brought to his bed. And it might be you.

 You had heard he was a wild boy, Harry Monmouth, Prince Hal. But everyone assured you that he had somehow matured. No sooner than his father died but he had been far calmer, more responsible. He spent his hours studying rather than drinking.

But you were still nervous. When the day arrived for this alliance to be discussed, your father asked you to dress in your best. Looking in the mirror as you squeezed your mother’s hand, you wondered; am I good enough for a king’s glance? Perhaps if you had more jewels and walked in with the richest silks like a shining diamond, then he would take note. Still, bedecked in your finery, you headed off and were greeted at the castle. You were stopped, awaiting the signal.

“If the king decides he would like to meet you…then be ready,” he warned.

It might not happen at all, you wondered.

You did hear voices outside the thick door. Seeping through. No doubt there would be advisors and other lords to talk to the king. But there was one voice-he sounded young, indeed. He had a resonant, powerful voice- rich and commanding. But smooth too. The sort to command a legion but could also whisper gentle words to his lover.

 As you stood, wondering how long you both could wait, the door opened, and you jumped.

“His Majesty, King Henry the Fifth, would like to meet you,” the servant announced.

Just for consideration. Nothing permanent. Not yet, you thought. You were grateful your dresses were long. They would hide your shaking legs. You nodded, remembering basic etiquette as you gripped your father’s arm.  

The door opened and you both walked inside, your steps echoing throughout the stone castle. You took in your surroundings despite the air in your lungs almost stopping. The high windows with the orange sunlight. The long candles for light. The weaving of Saint George on the back wall. A wooden throne with tall, stone steps. There, you saw your father. A few lords in the back-old men with scarves for hats and long cloaks.

And in the center of it, turning towards you, was a young man. A young man with a crown- Henry the Fifth. The young king.

Extremely handsome. A head full of his auburn curls, his small, neat beard. His blue eyes were soft when he looked at you and a red leather doublet framed his lean body well. There were chairs about and you were led to sit in a chair some distance away.

Your father and the king began to talk. Keeping an appropriate distance. But you couldn’t help but admire the handsome, young king. If he were just an ordinary man going down the street, you would have indulged in ogling him. But you could not, you felt yourself get warm as you kept your eyes demurely on the floor when he caught you watching. Their voices became murmurs. Then the king turned to you.  

“You are the Lady Y/N…” he began.

He gestured to you to rise from your chair, you gave him a curtsy.

“I am, your grace,” you replied.

He walked up closer. You could hear his footsteps. You made your own breath slower. You could feel yourself sweat like it was July in Italy. You forced your eyes down, feeling your shaking going to your hands.

“You need not be shy, my lady,” he said.

You then looked up. Eyes onto him.

“Could you take two steps closer, my lady?” he asked.

You did. He walked around you in a circle, seeing all of you. You let him, though your heart was roaring in your ears. Feeling his eyes all over his potential bride- you. Once he stepped out, completing his circle, your eyes met his. Perhaps that was bold, considering his position- your lord and sovereign of your country. But nothing in him deterred.

“Are you well?” he asked.

“Very well, your grace.” You replied.

Henry turned to your father, looking at him, but only taking a step back.

“Sir…you have not offered me some mortal woman…” he began.

You folded your hands and did your best to mask your dread. Oh no, was he about to Call you something bad? How would you endure the humiliation of being not only rejected but insulted by the king of England mere minutes of meeting him!? You would have to spend your life under a rock in the woods to save your dignity. You looked up to him with big eyes and felt your body brace itself. To hold in the tears and anger of such a moment with as much false calm as you could. Awaiting the blow of the king's insult.

But no blow arrived.

Henry then smiled, eyes turning between you and your father.

“Here before me is an angel from heaven! A woman too lovely for us mere men!” King Henry the Fifth announced.  

One did not recover from such a statement quickly. "Shock" was not quite the word fitting for how you felt. No, it was this. Utter and pure delighted surprise. Your breath quickened. You felt a smile grow on you. Your heart picked up again as he walked closer to you.

“Thank you, your grace…do you fear blasphemy from such words?” you asked.

“Not if it is the truth, just as scripture is,” he added with a wink.

Your mind went blank at his wink, his smile. Hot and your mind spinning. Your mouth kept running from the excitement. But still polite.

“You are generous, your grace.”

He went up to you.

“Could you…call me Henry? Or Harry? Hal, even?”

“I could…Henry,” you replied.

 You watched Henry turn to your father and shake his hand. The alliance went through. With a flourish, he signed the treaty and the agreement to marry you.

“Ah, my lucky little girl…now about to be queen of England!” your father would say later, kissing your cheek.

Henry (for now he was more than just the king, but your intended!) would often invite you to visit. Giving you tours of every room and corner of the castle.

“After all, it’s going to be your home!” he would claim.

Or, to the most shock of anyone, he would visit your home himself to see you. Fine dinners would be served, and he would sit by you as you sewed, smiling like a schoolboy just to be beside you.  

A chaperone was always present, but quiet in the back. A smiling shadow upon you two. Henry wrote you numerous letters and you wrote back to him when he was away. It was easier to like him the more he spent time with you. If not, be infatuated with him. Maybe even love him as the months to the wedding passed. He showered you with gifts and lovers’ tokens. Little ribbons and pieces of jewelry and belts and scraps of paper with love poetry.

The first time he held your hand, you thought you saw him tremble a little. His thumb went over the skin of yours. He was very soft- not pressing or squeezing your own. You felt as if you could float.

The first time he kissed you was the day before the wedding. You were both walking in the gardens. With the sun gentle and the flowers in bloom, it was just like a dream. Your chaperone was in the back, her arms folded before her. Then Henry stopped his steps and turned to you.

“Could I kiss you…on the lips, Y/N?” he asked, his eyes hopeful like a puppy.

You didn’t have the heart to say no. How fortunate that you wanted to. You felt yourself swallow hard and then nod your head.

“Yes,” you answered.

 He tipped your chin to meet him and kissed you. It was gentle.  Chaste, even. You felt his soft lips and nothing else.  But it was…loving. Your knees wobbled again. You felt the breath from his nose. He was so close. So, so close. He felt…good. He let go, the lips clicking as they retracted. Both of your eyes were still closed. When you opened, he relaxed and let out a smile. You opened your mouth a little but had no words.

“Your kiss has a power to it, Y/N,” he whispered.

“I will use them with caution, then,” you replied teasingly.

You then returned to wrapping an arm around his and continuing walking. Both you and your chaperone shared a look, giving an appreciative nod. Something was growing inside you for him. Something…more.  

 You couldn’t deny that Henry was the most handsome man you had ever lain eyes on. His broad back and his slender waist. His winning smile, large, gentle hands, cheekbones, tall height, soft blue eyes- all beautiful.

And desirable.

He was lean and strong-what did he look like beneath his leather and velvet? If you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t wait for your wedding…and your wedding night. You often indulged in secret glances at his codpiece and his behind whenever he turned around-his pants flattered him. And both sides were something to see. The beautiful curls- a mix of red and blonde that he combed back. You wondered what it would be like to touch. Even pull! That was from what you learned from others of what happened between a husband and wife before the big day. Henry’s beard made him look mature and dignified. Not some pranking, whooping boy- a man. A man who knew how to take care of a woman in bed.

Even among your tours of the castle, he never took you to your private chambers. But whenever you passed by the hall with those large, wooden doors right at the end of a small passageway, you couldn’t help but grin.

Already tingly and titillated at the thought of the night, you kept your smile when they dressed you on your wedding day. It was joyous. Your gown was made with the finest while silk with little pearl embellishments and a jeweled belt. No one would doubt you were Queen of England already. Your father led you out. When you were placed on Henry’s left at the door of the chapel, you could see his smile on you- already bedecked in red with his crown. The ceremony felt far too long. But you held yourself together like a giddy child on a festival. The mass and prayers came and went. Henry made his vows before an altar as did you. Then the priest made the sign of the cross over you two.

It was done. You were married to him now. The second the priest let his hand down, bells all over the city- no, not just the city, England itself it-chimed out. Flower petals were tossed your way as you both walked out through the city, presented to the people as a couple.

There were enough guests that it seemed like half the world’s population was there at the feast. Your friends and family, those you loved dearly, were invited.  A thankful distraction from your growing physical desire for your husband (to think! Henry was now your husband!!). They embraced you and wished “Y/N, oh much congrats!” to you. You never felt such beaming love from everyone you cared for as that day. You hugged and chatted and celebrated with the people you loved. Henry smiled at you and kissed your hand with such tenderness your heart could burst. The feast tasted sweet, and the music played even sweeter.

 The room became darker, and servants lit more candles. Guests were leaving. It was announced that there would be a bedding ceremony. It was finally time, you thought with trepidation. Musicians played songs as the party led you to Henry’s chambers through those stone halls. Henry was adorably nervous. You saw his hands twitch and when you brushed close to him. Oh, no doubt you were nervous too. Any rational person in your situation would be nervous. You considered yourself such. But you were also…excited. Ready.

You entered the bedroom. It was large. Fitting for the king. Once it was your father-in-law’s room- the late Henry the Fourth. Now it was your husband’s. It was full of lit candles with tall stained-glass windows, and a white stone floor with black squares. A large bed with a dark canopy full of gold-colored fleur-de-lys patterns, cream pillows, and thick, dark blankets.

Servants undressed you from that beautiful wedding dress. They undressed Henry too until both of you were in your shifts. You couldn’t help but notice how the collar peeked at a beautiful, broad chest-just open enough to see a peek. It seemed as beautiful as you imagined. It made more shivers of desire run through you. You were given a cup of spiced wine that you both sipped from. It felt as sacred as a Eucharist- he looked at you as you drank and as he drank. An offering of something shared-how now you would be joined as one. The bed was now an altar and lovemaking a rite.

 After the bishop blessed the bed, Henry dismissed every courtier. He thanked them for celebrating with him but insisted on privacy. They bowed and left. For the first time, you both were truly alone. He then turned to you.

“How are you, your Highness?” he asked, noting your new title, he took your hands, running a thumb over them.

“It was a long day…but a happy one. I’m a little tired…. but I’m well…,” you answered.

“I’m glad you are, Y/N…” he replied.

Smiling at him, You cupped his cheek and moved his arms to embrace you. He blinked in slight surprise.

“You can hold me…husband,” you said, relishing the taste of the word.

The most you did throughout your betrothal was hold hands. But he obliged and put his long arms around you. He smelled of wine and a bit of incense from the ceremony at the church. With his thumb, he gently traced your face.

“If Satan himself would look at you, he would weep and confess for forgiveness at once…Y/N, Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Yes- please kiss me,” you replied.

Then he kissed you. But you kept him there. Pressed against you. God’s blood, that beautiful man right near you, against you, on you- feeling his warmth, his body on yours. You wanted more. You then grabbed him and kept kissing him again and again. He felt so warm and soft…except for one part of him you could feel against you. And no codpiece to cover for it. You bit back a giggle at the new feeling, knowing that he really felt the same despite his wide eyes and blushing cheeks. And your body replied in turn. It was as if lightning was coursing through you.  It made you wetter than the sea. Preparing yourself for him.

Oh, and you were more than ready. And this was a perfect time for it. You grabbed onto him. Then began to lead him to the bed with a smile, walking up two little elevated steps that led to the bed strewn with flowers and ribbons for this night. For this moment. For this act. Then right before the bed, your fingers went to the strings of your shift on the collar that held it together-the only layer over you.

Henry’s jaw dropped a little, looking down and then back up to your face. Even if you saw an outline of his desire through his shift, his eyes grew wide.

“Y/N …are you…sure?” he asked.

You undid the tie, showing the valley of your cleavage. You felt his eyes flutter down then forced back up at yours.

“Henry…I want you to take me. Make love to me- make love to your wife tonight!” you insisted quietly.

“I did not wish to…to push you to…to…uh, consummate the marriage before you...you wanted to…” he replied meekly.

The most powerful man in the world and here he was at a loss of words. To think this was once the tavern boy caught with prostitutes!

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Henry…I want you…take me on your bed…you are my king….rule me and have me here then….” You whispered.

You led his hands to push the rest of your shift off. Leaving you bare before him. His eyes finally drank all of you in.

That was enough to persuade him.

He pushed you down and was on top of you.  Like an animal released from his cage, his kisses had a little more fire to them. His hands began to roam greedily over your body. Down your chest, feeling one of your breasts as he kissed you. Then down your stomach, over your hip bones- feeling each bit of you. He began to pant heavily, his eyes full of eager joy and a playful lust in his smile.

Then you helped to take off his shift. You nearly forgot to breathe at the sight of Henry’s naked body. His strong abdominals and arms. His large chest with a few black hairs. Of course, his own cock was so hard and large you bit back the urge to gasp at the sight of it.  You laid down on the bed, smiling at him.

“Please, Henry…I ache for you…” you urged. Splaying your body before him on his bed. Feeling like a siren. Only he was no hesitant prey.

He pulled himself over you, taking one hand of his to position your legs to open, shifting his weight on top of you.

“I always wondered what this night would be like…what it would be like the moment I saw you…” he whispered.

He looked at you, cupping your cheek. Seeking permission as he settled himself, his tip just at your entrance’s beginning.

“Henry…I’m ready…” you urged him.

Not wanting to keep you waiting any longer. Not able for himself to wait any longer. He then positioned himself. Slowly, he entered you. Inch by agonizing inch. You writhed beneath him, moaning as he got inside.

“Oh! Oh-oh God!” you cried. He was big. You could feel him creeping in deep, almost like your stomach could be penetrated from his largeness. You clung onto the sheets tight, and his own hand went over yours.

He himself let out a grunt when he finally shifted all his cock inside you. There was a little pain, but it fizzled out. You were full-and it was heavenly You held onto him. He pulled his hips back and began to slowly enter you again and again. You groaned with each delicious thrust of his.

“Yes…nrgh-my wife-you-gods-my wife-my sweet wife-“he whispered with each snap.

You opened your arms as well as your legs, holding onto him. He repeated your name again. Kissing you tenderly on the side of your head when he could. A mess of groans and kisses and praise was all the king could say. His arms stretching around to keep you in his embrace.

Then he used one hand and lifted your legs up to a new position- a little deeper. Your knees went up. You let out little cries with each slow, sloppy movement. Each welcome intrusion of him to your insides. You had never known pleasure as much as this.

“Yes…oh gods…Henry…Henry I…oh!” you breathed out.

Your head lay on those cream pillows. Soft as clouds. With the dark bed canopy and the roaring fire, the rain outside pattering the windows, there was never a lovelier, more peaceful night. His curls fell before his face. He kept at it- thrust, thrust, thrust. His shallow breathing above you, and the moans that escaped you that were far from maiden modesty.

 He held you. He gave you an open kiss as he thrust forward for one. He began to mutter more.

“Yes…nrgh- yes, -my little queen…doing so well…”

More little noises came out of you. And you heard his voice get only a little higher in pitch. And yet he continued, only barely picking up the pace. You wrapped your hands to him and ran one through the curls on his head- how soft they felt, like little auburn feathers.  How soft the bed was-a feathered mattress against your bare skin as it slide back and forth slowly against it with each snap of his kingly hips. Henry slowed one thrust but would give you a little kiss- your cheek, the side of your face.

“God’s blood-my wife-nrg-sweet wife-oh-yes-taking-taking me…”

He kept at it. Then he reached down. He found your entrance, the very beginning where your lips and walls. He talked softly in between thrusts.

“I’m…I’m close, and I think….I think you are too, my little wife- I…yes…come undone, come undone with me…”

 He reached inside and you gasped from the feeling. He found your bud, his finger curling with it, stroking it with each thrust. You let out another gasp. He smiled.

“Let go wife-nrgh-let it…let it-“

 He began to strum it. Then everything overwhelmed you. You were spinning higher and higher. His kisses and hands already felt your bud and with his playing. You felt yourself winding up, curling up inside. You shook so hard. You wondered if you were going to die from the overwhelm, from the rising feeling, the intensity. His thrusts picked up the pace, you felt it growing, growing, growing.

Then finally, something hit you so suddenly, so hard-your body clenching and releasing all at once you let out a loud cry as the sensation hit you like cold air.

“Ah!”

A last thrust, the king of England came undone and let out his own small shout of pleasure. Then he stopped his thrusts. He stayed inside you, letting his seed rope itself. Then he held you, held you tight as he came inside you. It seemed as if the world itself stopped.

 Once it was done, he pulled out but kept close to you. Caressing your cheek. Panting hard, his broad, strong chest rising with his breaths.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I feel…I’ve never felt so good, husband,” you replied with a giggle as you pulled him forward to wrap your arms and kiss him until both fell asleep.

He did turn out to be a good husband. Always listening, gentle, and enthusiastic about his role. He listened to your own advice and always took you seriously. He was aggressively faithful, shutting down even the idea of a mistress if any lord was foolish enough to suggest it. He spent time with you. There were so many times you would hold him to your chest and hum, playing with his curls. You learned from each other and challenged each other to do better each day. Be it in a game of chess or in court. He made you feel…safe. Wanted. Loved, even. Not to mention he was a passionate lover in bed. If your one duty was to bed the king, then being queen was quite a simple task indeed. And a duty you loved to fulfill again. And again. And again. And again.

You managed your own life as queen well. adapting and figuring it out. Attending parliament by his side.

You were sitting by him when the fateful day came. It was found out he had a claim to France. And the French ambassador mocked him by giving him the gift of a box full of tennis balls. Furious at the insult, Henry declared there and then he would begin an invasion of France.

 He’s going to leave. He’s going to be gone to war. And who knows how long, you thought sadly. You went to your chambers and began to sob. Then the next day, all were discussing logistics. You sat on your own throne, contemplating it all as they talked.

“Yes, my brother- John shall stay. He will lead…” Henry announced. “And by this day, we will gather the army and set sail for France.”

You couldn’t take it. You sat up at once.

“And I will go with you!” you insisted.

The men’s heads turned to you.

“What?!” cried one lord, stepping forward.

The advisors went around you.

“Your Highness…it is not safe!” advised another.

You walked forward, looking down at the table with the map on it. Then you looked at them and addressed them.

“My husband is a warrior. And when we were married, we were made one. This means I am a warrior too, in my own way. And where he goes, there I must go too- his battles are mine as well. Then I say- I will go with him!” you declared, slamming a firm hand on the table.

There was a second of silence. Then your husband took your hands.

“If we can make it safe for her, she will go with me,” he said.

You went off to France with him. You braved the rollicking ships. You both shared a little cot bed as the ship heaved back and forth at night. One night was a storm and the thunder surprised you so much in your bed, you clung to him. He only laughed a little, rubbing your back in comfort.

“It’s only the voice of God, my dove, He is on our side…and protecting you,” he assured, kissing your forehead.

It was not long before it arrived and the army began to set forth. You traveled through forests, riding your horse by your husband’s side through villages and countryside for entire days.  You were a little nervous being the only woman surrounded by men. But they knew how precious a queen you were to their Harry of England, their sovereign. If any of them dared to lay a hand on you, they knew they would face a quick and bloody end on their king’s sword. So, they kept respectful, always greeting you with bows and soft voices.  You would set up camp and then live in a tent rather than a palace.  Some hours you would give your own counsel as you stood by him for planning the army’s next move. When there was an attack, you were put in a safe place with many guards so none would dare hurt the king’s beloved. Other times, you would volunteer with the food or help with medical needs- helping with injuries, cooling warm foreheads with cloths. You saw this fiercer side already of him. He shouted bold, encouraging speeches as they went and attacked towns.

Though you scolded him for the speech he made to the Governor of a city called Harfleur. When they arrived, to your immense shock, Henry coldly threatened his army would pillage the town, set their infants on spikes, and ravish the village women. That was enough to persuade the governor to open the gates and peacefully let them go through without one shred of violence. But his words still rang and made you see red with anger.

You met him in your tent later, and he jumped at your frown. You crossed your arms.

“Henry- you dare to have your men do these unspeakable things to women! You know better! Have you considered I am a woman as well?! And that is our worst fear!”

“I only wished to scare him. I knew it would move him, my dear. And it does happen during wars…”

“You will not let that happen! You will not let the soldiers force themselves on civilian women-or I shall never speak to you, and you won’t be allowed in my chambers either! I’ll sleep in another tent and not allow you to lay a hand on me!” You chided.

It was a threat which, like his to the governor, worked well. He never made a spoke like that again. And you forgave him.

The many ups and downs.  The army was too depleted to move onto Paris so all of you went to Calais. You stopped and fled further realizing the French army was chasing everyone down. You arrived at the small town of Agincourt. The French army had now surrounded you. The Dauphin arrived one cold night. And it was decided-there would be a formal battle tomorrow.

Now here it was- a decisive battle. Only a small handful of soldiers could get a full night’s sleep and Henry himself stayed awake to talk to them. But in your tent, you tossed and turned in your makeshift bed under many blankets. You awoke and then fell again. Your worries had haunted you.

They were going to fight the Dauphin’s army. And the Dauphin’s men outnumbered Henry’s. Five French soldiers for every English.

You awoke shivering and dressed. You gathered your cloak for it was a cold day. Opening the flap of one tent, you saw him. Henry. A small distance away, kneeling in the grass. It was so early that the sky was still grey, the sun barely peeking. You could hear his prayer.

“Lord…strengthen my soldier’s hearts…I’ve made my repentance to Richard and his grave…. please strengthen them…and me…”

Five to one, your mind kept repeating to yourself. Five to one. Five to one.

You wondered at the white horse he brought with him. It was with the others chewing on grass in ignorance of what was about to happen. Why would your husband need it? It would be as if he was a target for their practice! A surefire way to signal this was the man to kill.

How fragile he seemed as he kept praying. He was human. Your husband’s mortality dawned on you. His racing heart could stop. His warm skin grow cold. And his shallow breaths of his anxious prayer would end and there would be none anymore. He dressed in a red doublet- red as the blood threatening to spill from him.

You approached him, noticing him making the sign of the cross to end the prayer. He turned his head to see you.

“How are you?” you asked.

“Only as well as I can be…” he asked.

He easily got up from the grass. Then he went over to a of his lords and guards already armored. He whispered something to them. Nodding, they turned back to camp. He then returned, his gloved hands taking yours.

“I’d…I’d like to spend some time with you…. before…before it starts,” he said.

“Of course, dear husband,” you answered with a smile.

Both of you walked into the woods. It was peaceful- you heard the leaves beneath your shoes and the birdsong. The rustling of trees and the mist as gentle as his kisses at your wedding.  Disguised in your cloaks, you could have been any ordinary pair of lovers wandering in the forest. Not a king and queen of a whole nation.

“Y/N…do you see that? In the valley?” he asked, pointing at a hand.

It was a barn and An old house. The house was abandoned and burned to where the walls were only halfway stood beside it. The barn was intact. He led you inside- the wood creaking and the wind whistling through it. There wasn’t one living life around. No horses. No pigs. Not even an ant.

“We’re a distance off…are we still safe?” you asked.

“It’s alright- you know the path- find the oak tree with mushrooms and keep walking north…Y/N, I asked the guards to leave us alone for a little. I wanted to…to be with you.”

There were no animals around, much less people.  Only you two. Even the sky itself seemed unreal. It was nothing but the grey light of dawn over a cloudy sky. So early, it felt cold. And it was misty and grey.

It was dark and musty in the barn. You saw a wooden bench and stables and troughs. But it was mostly hay- so much hay that there were still tall stalks around the barn.

He then turned to you and kissed you. He took you in his arms. He touched your face, and you realized a tear was rolling down your cheek.

“Y/N…I want this…if this is our last moment together…I….” he began.

He held you closer.

“Yes, Henry….”

He took a deep breath. Then kissed you again, only leaving a trail down your neck. Your heart picked up and you warmed up quickly. He then returned, cupping your face again and looking directly into your eyes, so close. So, there was only him.

“The camp is far off. They won’t disturb us. They won’t hear us. Y/N I… I…I love you….”

“I love you too,” you replied. You kissed him again. You shivered from feeling the cold. And the growing desperation on his face.

“I know this is not the most romantic place. This is not the most beautiful speech I can think of. But…I say it again because it is simple. It is true- I love you, Y/N. And should I die, I want you to know that…”

He paused. Then blinking back a couple tears, he continued.

“If…If this is the day, I’m killed…it is a prayer for you that will be my last word…I’m glad I met you. I’m glad I married you. I have so much shame, so much regret…but you- you were the best choice I made as king. To choose to marry you, love you…”

You cupped him and kissed him again. You felt him press against you. His hands went from your back to your sides. His gloves went up and began to bunch your skirt. Already, you felt yourself grow wet for him. Feeling the bit of cold air on your skin.

“The guards are away…the army is away…they’re far…my wife…please…. here…. love me one last time, lie with me here-so I can feel you-know it is like inside you, to feel your pleasure one more time…”

You grabbed onto him. Feeling his skin, his breathing in his body-his life. His fire.

“Yes…take me. Henry- use me now. I know you feel so much. Take it out. Take out everything on me…just love me…make love to me, husband. Strongly. Strongly as you feel,” you pleaded.

He gave a small smile, giving a last kiss with tongue. Tasting him. He pressed you close.

“You will?” he asked.

“I will,” you answered.

 Then he pushed you roughly and you and you landed with a small laugh against a haystack. One so high it was taller than yourself.   He then backed you to the haystalk in a second. His kisses on your neck had added teeth. He was leaving marks against the skin of your exposed neck.

“Do you like this, little wife?” he asked.

“I do!”

He chuckled lightly.

“Gods, you torment me. Each time you are there in my tent, every meeting you look at me and smile, I imagine you without your gown on. If could, I’d have you over that very table the second they left every meeting…”

Then, his hand turned to a grip. He grabbed onto you. You began to grind naturally against him. He gasped at the feeling but kept talking.

“Perhaps I could grab you and have you on the grass. And have every soldier who leered at you to watch. To have them watch as I take you like a beast. So, they know none of them can make you cum like I can.  Until your name is all you can say on your lips. So, they all know you are mine.”

He found the blouse of your dress. Desperately, he pulled down the overdress’s shoulders. With one tug, he undid the strap of the shift beneath and pulled it down. Your breasts exposed. He cupped and kissed it. He kept a hand, pinching your nipple as he went to your ear. Then he began to make more biting kisses on your neck You embraced him- touching what you could, kissing what you could.

“Henry…I love you, I love you…” you repeated.

“I love you, and be ready, little wife. You’ve wanted fire-now you have it.”

He lowered his mouth to kiss your breasts. Then he used teeth and tongue. He bit your breasts, licked your nipples, and then used his teeth. You began to moan. It was so loud, that you were grateful not even animals could hear you now.

Then he lightly tossed you around. Then he turned you around, pushing you so that you leaned over a wooden bench that was kept there. Your hands braced onto the wood. He then lifted your skirt up to your hips, your bum exposed to him. He gave you a small smack on your behind. You let out a cry.

“I remember your chiding at Harfleur. That’s what you get, little wife, when you disobey your king. You get punishment.”

He began to undo his pants with a quick click of his belt. He began to thrust into you there- hitting this new angle. It was so obscene; you couldn’t help but give into it. Your own filthy moans and his grunts right behind you.

“There-nrgh-yes-I-I-I-take you, like-like a whore-“

You were moving along, feeling your own body shake with each fast, deep thrust. You let out shouts as he got over. The spinning feeling, coiling in your belly, rising from the delicious degradation.

“Oh…oh gods-Henry-I’m-I’m going to-to cum, I’mgoingtocumI’m-“

Then he stopped. You heard his voice behind you.

“Not yet…. you won’t release yet. I’m not done,” he announced.

He turned you around. His large hands almost ripped off your cloak, and then your dress so it pulled down. If he could rip your dress to shreds, he would. But he only roughly put it all aside. You were fully naked, and he was still clothed. He smiled and licked his lips, his curls freed from his head.

“This- seeing this again- I would fight a hundred battles to see your bare breasts and feel your sweet warmth around my cock again.”

He picked you up. You held onto him. With one hand, he pulled down his pants as you held tighter. Released, his leaking tip is already teasing your entrance. Then he backed you up against the hay. He hooked your leg up to be around him. The hay was so high and sturdy that it held you up.

“My queen among people, but my whore in this barn.”

You gasped a little as he entered you. He was fast, desperate. His thrusts wild. He even freed one hand and slapped your breasts, and you let out a cry.

“How can I not touch these breasts? You make me too hard to even think in this army. Riding my horse when I want to use you like a mare beneath me.”

“Hen-Henry-I-I-“ the words left you.

Your breasts began to bounce with his movement obscenely. He grunted more like an animal. You wrapped your arms around his still-clothed shoulders, trying to keep up.

“I love-love-nrgh-you so much-gods-yes, I love you-nrgh-you’re all I could think about-yes-do you understand-ah!- how hard -yes- it is to speak diplomacy-nrgh- with the French when your cock is raging hard seeing your wife?”

He thrust into you again and your own voice was getting a little higher. Hard, rough, desperate.  The spinning, the rising was happening. You held onto him. Then one glove began to reach down and circle your clitoris, you gasped- letting it out. The hard leather on your wet folds, on your bud was going to break you. You heard his words. You bit on, to fight the rise, to not release yet. Hearing each thing he said.

“If I live- I Want you in my tent. On my bed, over the blankets. I want you naked -and I want your legs spread wide for me-so I can ravish you like this again when it’s done. Do that-do that for your king,”

“Yes, yes-I will!”

“I-I-am-nrgh-your king, am I?” he asked as he thrust.

“Y-yes! Yes, you are!”

“Who is your king?”

“Henry! Henry’s my king!”

He then continued at another violent, rougher pace. You wondered how much of this you could even take.

“I want to take you-nrgh- scream-nrgh-so all of France know who belongs to you-you-yes-NRGH- are mine-as-as as France as mine.”

He began to thrust harder. You gasped, as he kept at it.

“Oh-Oh my god-oh god- it’s-it’s happening-Henry I’m-I’m I’mI’mI’m-“

“Yes-Yes-you’re there, little whore-cum-cum for your king-cum for your king-cum for your king!”

Finally, you did too with a last scream. It echoed across to where the sound pattered through the woods. With a breathy, struggled shout he released as well. He kept thrusting, but slower. His hot speed shot forth and went inside you. Both of you panting wildly- you could see your chests heaving. He then held you, shaking a little as he caught his breath.

“Y/N….darling…thank you…I love you…so much…”

He kissed the side of your head as you nestled together. He kissed your cheek and his grip softened.

“Are you hurt?”

“No…I’m not…I have never felt better…” you said.

He helped you back up. Though you felt a little dizzy from the intensity. You could feel his seed inside you-dripping a little down your thighs. You wanted it to stay. Perhaps you would have a child from this and you would have to one day tell them they were conceived on the morn of a battle. Your legs shook. He picked up your discarded clothes and quickly helped you dress back into them. You combed you both wiped the hay off of both of you.

“That was…that was incredible…” you sighed as he clasped the cloak around you.

“And I must agree with you…” he replied.

You walked out soon. Still holding hands. He blushed bright red and there was a prance to his step. Confidence. Even if he was defeated, he would not go down easily. Not without a fight. The sun was now rising higher. The time was approaching. You watched as he was fitted back to his armor by his servants as you stood and watched. Exchanging small looks between you. But before he faced his men, he went back and gave you a passionate kiss. The deepest, and most loving kiss you ever felt him give you.

“Should anything happen to me- the Dauphin out of mercy he shall make sure you are safely brought home to England as an act of diplomacy. I made him promise. And the remaining soldiers will guard you, as well as my uncle.”

“But if…nothing happens to you…” you asked hopefully.

“Then…you remember your promise…” he said with a grin.

“I will see you in our tent…”

He smiled, then he went down and kissed your hand. Tears in his eyes.

“I never knew one soul like yours. Your courage, your kind heart, your wisdom…the greatest of all queens in all nations, and if I had my choice of every woman, it would still be you…”

You embraced him a last time.

“I love you, Y/N. And you will always be loved by me. Thank you…thank you for everything…”

“I love you too, Henry…”

Sharing a brief last kiss on your forehead, he went on his white horse. You felt tears streaming down your face. Then off he went with his men to battle. You never felt prouder of him. Though you felt yourself crying, you were smiling as well. Proud of your king. Your lover. Your husband.

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 10 - Let's Dance

📝 Okay, Peeps! This is pure fluff with some spice! I also love this song, so please check it out!

Speaking of songs, I made the official playlist for this fic! Not sure if you guys listen, but it's linked in the master list if you guys want to check it out!

18+ minors DNI. Ageless and blank blogs are blocked without warning.

❗+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, original child, sexual themes (I mean Smut, so get outta here if you ain't +18), mentions of a stalker, grieving, and shitty family dynamics.

#7k Words

Part 9 | Masterlist | Part 11

You never expected Jake to want to take you to the annual state fair for your first date. It seemed out of character for someone like him. Then you realized it didn't seem that farfetched. If he grew up on a ranch in Texas, he probably went to these all the time.

You had been at the grocery store when his text came through. Jake had sent you the flyer, along with a message.

You. Me. Saturday + Dinner ;)

And before you could reply, there was another text. 

Penny was going to take Sadie sailing away.

While some part of you was slightly surprised he followed through on his ask, you had to glance down both ends of the baking aisle to make sure you were alone before squealing and jogging a little on the spot.

It had been a few days since the hallway. Jake and you spent at least another half hour tied up in each other's arms, and you practically had to peel yourself away from him. You were so giddy the rest of the morning, and then some, after you had forced yourself to go back to bed, trying to stay as still as possible with Nat still asleep next to you.

Sitting across from him at breakfast, he acted as if nothing had happened between the two of you, that he was just friendly Jake, leading you to believe maybe it had all been a fever dream caused by the discomfort of the storm.  

But when he went to place his glass in the sink while you were washing the dishes, he slyly touched your hip, letting his fingers slide across the fabric of your jeans just below your waistline, whispering, "Thank you, Darlin'" roughly into your ear before he returned to the table. 

Yup, definitely not a dream.

So while you were working with Penny the day before the date, she didn’t waste the opportunity to grill you about it. Hard. 

“You have a date.” 

You blushed. “Penny..” 

“Where is he taking you?” she pressed.

“He didn’t tell you, seeing as you're now his accomplice?” you countered, trying to finish mixing a cocktail someone ordered.

“Tell who what?”

Your head shot up to see Phoenix leaning up against the bar. "When did you get here? Why are you here?"

“I’m helping Penny with something. Now spill…” 

Penny beat you to it, leaning over the bar and resting on her elbows when she told Nat, “Liz has a date. With Hangman.”

Nat smirked. “Oh, so him pressing you up against the wall in your hallway didn’t do it?” 

“Elizabeth Beck!” Penny gasped.  You squealed, dropping to the ground behind the bar, Phoenix laughing at your antics. “I can’t believe you saw that.” 

“I had to go to the bathroom,” Nat said like it was obvious. “It’s not every day you see your best friend getting rammed up against a wall like that.” 

“Oh, good lord.” 

"Get back up here," Penny tapped your leg with herself softly, you standing up with a blush overcoming your face. She wrapped her arm around your waist, pulling you into her side.

"Tell us," she tried again. "We aren't judging. We just want details."

You relented, quickly sputtering, "He's taking me to the fair."

They oo'd in response, making you shy away from Penny and reach for the drink you made, walking over to the person who ordered it sitting on the other side of the bar. 

Nat followed you, quickly asking, "What will you wear? Something sexy?"

You glowered at her once you placed the drink down. "It's the fair, Nat."

Penny wasn't that far behind, bumping you on the hip. "There's nothing wrong with showing off."

You stuttered, trying to come up with some response that wasn't your usual reply of, 'I'm not like that,’ until someone shouted for Penny, distracting the three of you. She pouted, realizing the conversation would continue without her before leaving you and Phoenix alone. 

“I’m just teasing you,” Nat offered. “I said I would back you up with this, and I will.”

You paused, gripping the edge of the bar. “Does the rest of the team know?” you asked hesitantly. 

Nat shook her head. “I think Coyote knows something. He’s the closest with Jake.” 

It struck you momentarily that this was the first time you heard Nat refer to Jake by his first name. It was always Hangman or Bagman. His last name was even rarer. It might have been a small change, but it showed you Nat was serious about this. It brought a small smile to your face. 

“As for the others, Payback and Fanboy are off in their own world half the time to notice, and Bob is too shy to let on. I can’t say anything about Bradley, though.” 

You frowned. This wasn’t the first time you thought about Bradley and what he might say or do if he found out. He was so heated on New Year's. If he reacted that badly, what would be his reaction when he found out his claims weren’t exactly untrue?

"Can we not tell Bradley? At least for now?” 

Nat shot you a look. “Really?”

“I’m serious, Nat. He was so angry on New Year's Eve. It was scary.”

"Maybe he has a crush on you."

You wretched, the action making you hack. “Ew, no way. He's like a brother to me.”

"Then you should really tell him."

You shook your head. "It's just one date, Nat. I have no idea if anything will come of it."

She slapped your forearm, exclaiming,  "We both know that's not true. You so have it for Hangman. It's not funny."

"It's one date. Besides," you shrugged before saying, "I think it has to do with Sadie."

“Those two have a professional rivalry,” She said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s extending over to whoever is the better uncle.” 

“God, I hope not,” you shuttered. It was one thing to argue about who the better pilot was. It was another to include Sadie into the mix.

At the mention of Sadie, you looked up at the time, realizing you were five minutes over your shift and late to pick her up. “Shit, I'm late. I gotta go pick Sadie up from Soccer practice.”

Natasha leaned back from the bar, ready to return to what she was helping Penny with but not before saying, “Just think about it, Liz. It should come from you rather than anyone else.”

Saying a quick goodbye to Penny, you clocked out and gathered your bag. But as soon as you walked out the doors, that damn white car was the first thing you saw.

This car always seemed to be there - it hadn’t done anything but park in the Hard Deck parking lot and was driving you insane. You strangely found yourself looking for it when you drove around town. Or in the parking lot of Sadie’s school. You thought you saw it once parked outside of your house but played it off as being paranoid. 

You usually weren’t this suspicious or obsessive about these things, but it was enough to make you feel concerned. Turning on your heel, you marched back into the Hard Deck, Penny frowning from behind the bar when she saw you. 

“Have you seen that car before, Penny? The white one with the spoiler on the back?” 

You could tell she was thinking about it, pinching her eyebrows together before finally recalling, “Oh, it was a nice young man looking for a surf spot. He came in one day asking, and I told him about the overnight rule.”

You heard nothing beyond young man. “You remember the night I closed? You told Jake I was closing by myself?” 

She nodded. “Yeah, that was a little while ago.”

“That car was there then. It would have been too early for surfers.”

But she only shook her head. “With everything that's happened with CPS and that letter, I’m sure you're just being paranoid, Liz,” she said before walking over to the other side of the bar with a drink in her hand.

If you could only believe it was just paranoia.

__

Jake was going to pick you up at 11, and it being 10:30, you were still stressing over what to wear. Your bedroom looked like the morning of the hike. Clothes flung in every corner, hangers hanging off random hooks and knobs.

Everything you held up against yourself to look at in the mirror either felt too plain or too out there for a state fair. You needed help, and you needed it badly. You pulled out your phone, scrolling down your contacts, stopping when your fingers hovered over Ridely's number.

But then, instantly, you remember you couldn’t call her. You slid down the footboard of your bed, back hurting with the effort as your phone dangled from your fingertips, your head hung low between your legs. 

She would always ask you when you called if you had met anyone, if you had gone on any dates, teasing you and telling you repeatedly that you needed someone in your life. But now, you couldn’t even tell her you were going on a date. You couldn’t call her afterwards and talk about it like sisters could. 

She’d never get to meet Jake. To give him a shovel talk like you did with her dates. The two would never sit across from each other at the dinner table, bickering with each other like you were sure they would, their personalities clashing hard. She wouldn't have approved of him initially, much like you hadn't. But she would have warmed up to him by knowing how good he was with Sadie.

But then you spiralled, admonishing yourself for thinking that far ahead. It was only a first date. By the end of today, you might come to find you had a horrible time, and any chance at any type of relationship with Jake would be ruined.

It was only a first date.

And you couldn't tell her.

The sobs worked their way up your throat before you knew you were crying, begging to be let out and heard. Tears streamed down your face, the drops pooling on your bedroom floor.

But then Sadie’s voice carried from your front door, shouting out that Aunt Penny and Nat were here. You scrambled to get up, reaching for the closest piece of clothing to put away. 

Penny appeared in your doorway as you wiped at your face, attempting to fold up a sweater. She carefully walked up behind you, placing her hand on your shoulder. But her touch was too much, and you turned, pulling her into a hug, the tears you tried so hard to stop refusing to listen to you.

"I'm so sorry, Penny," you wept into her shoulder. It didn't help when you opened your eyes over her shoulder, the shoebox was the first thing you saw sitting up on the top shelf.

Penny hushed you, her voice wavering as she stroked your back soothingly, "Nope, you're not apologizing for that. Let it out, Liz." 

"I just..." you gasped as another sob wracked your chest. But Penny pulled back, taking your face between her hands, her thumbs wiping away your running mascara. 

"You'd don't need to tell me. We all know you miss her."

Penny let you cry into her chest for a few minutes, her own tears starting to mix with yours, before pressing a kiss to your forehead and reaching for a button-up blouse lying on your bed.

"Now, come on," she sniffed, holding it up for you. "We will find you the best first date outfit amongst this mess."

She did. Just in time for Nat to fix your makeup and for Sadie to snap a few photos of you with her Polaroid. And right at 11, you opened the door to a bouquet blocking Jake’s face. 

“You got me flowers?” you said, greeting him with a smile when he lowered them to reveal his face. Jake carefully placed them into your outstretched hand, grinning when you immediately brought them to your face to smell them. 

“I’m sorry they're not tulips.” 

You shook your head, smiling into the bouquet. “It doesn’t matter what they are. Thank you, Jake.” 

And then, in something that made you smile, he pulled out a single flower wrapped in a bow from his back pocket. “I figured I should keep with tradition.”

You stepped forward, hand pressing to Jake's shoulder as you pressed your lips to his. Letting Jake deepen the kiss, he wrapped his arms around your waist, mindful of the flowers in the crook of your arm. But you pulled back when you felt his hands sliding down your back towards your ass. 

“We have eyes and ears on us from the living room,” you warned him, jerking your head towards your hallway. Not that Penny or Nat would let Sadie see anything untoward from their hiding spot behind the wall. But you could do without the teasing from them afterwards.

Jake grinned, leaning over to call out, "Bug!"

Turning to face your hallway, you spied Sadie stumbling out from behind the wall like she had been pushed. She huffed at someone, probably at Nat, then comically straightened her shirt before making her way to the door.

"Hi, Uncle Jake," she greeted him, though her voice lacked the usual cheeriness it always had. Jake let you go to kneel in front of her, holding out the flower. "Miss Sadie, will you accept this flower so I can spend the day with your aunt?"

Sadie's face remained stoic as she reached out to take the flower from his hand, bringing it up to her face as she twirled it once. Jake stood up, slightly worried about her non-reaction. But you knew exactly what she was doing, and Jake was falling for it hook, line and sinker.

In Sadie fashion, she finally grinned at him, holding her free hand up to her forehead in a salute, cheekily saying, "Have her home by no later than 11!"

You laughed when Jake saluted her back. Sadie, content with the reaction, ran back inside to find Penny so they could put her flower in some water.

"Was I just given a curfew by a ten-year-old?"

"Yup."

---

The benefit of getting to the fairgrounds a little bit earlier, you didn’t have to wait in line for rides. And boy, were you surprised when Jake dragged you around to a bunch of them. Teacups, bumper cars,  going down those super long slides in a potato sack more than once, you plastered up against his chest. If the two of you could go on it, Jake ensured you did.

A part of you was slightly pleased he wanted to. It helped with the slight nervousness in your stomach, both from this morning and from being with Jake in this context. You had to remind yourself time and time again that Jake was the same as he had always been. But it became easier with each ride, the two of you laughing way harder than you should for a Saturday morning. 

It took your stomach rumbling loudly enough for Jake to kiss your cheek and drag you to the food stands. After asking what you wanted, he told you to find a seat, saying there was no possible way you were paying for yourself. You had huffed at him, but he only pecked your forehead before gently turning you by your shoulders and sending you on your way.

You found a picnic bench away from the stands under a tree. It was the perfect spot, away from other seats, for you and Jake to talk. He found you easily enough, handing you your corn on the cob on a paper plate before placing his hot dog down on the table and climbing over the bench to sit next to you.

But it occurred to you, as you started to nibble on the cob, you didn’t really know that much about him. Sure, you knew he was a fighter pilot, from Texas, from a big family with troubling dynamics. He grew up on a ranch. He was a few years older than you. He had a reputation. 

But you didn’t know the other important stuff. 

“What’s your favourite colour?” you asked, breaking the silence. 

“What?” 

“What’s your favourite colour?” you said again, laughing. 

He shot you a look. “We’re really doing this?” 

“You're the one that wanted to take me out on a date,” you shrugged, taking another bite of your cob. “So spill. What’s your favourite colour?” 

“Orange.”  He admitted after a second. "You?"

“Blue-Green. But not turquoise,” you were quick to correct. “The blue-green you see out in the sea.”

Jake nodded thoughtfully but didn’t say anything.

“This is the part where you ask me a different question,” you roughly whispered, leaning over to tease him.

Jake chuckled, making a show of needing to think about his question before finally asking, “Most embarrassing moment?” 

You giggled at the memory. “When Sadie was born. I was rushing to leave the hospital cause I was late for my shift. The nurse told me I could use the stairwells, but I triggered the emergency exit fire alarm on the door instead.” 

Jake snickered with a mouthful of his hot dog. 

“Hey, they tell you you can use those doors. I was misinformed.” 

Jake shook his head fondly. "Okay, your turn."

“Did you always want to be in the Navy? Flying planes?” you asked, sobering the conversation. Jake looked at you for a minute before staring down at his plate. “Remember how I said my future was more or less planned out?”

You nodded, taking another bite of your corn on the cob, listening as he continued. “My grandfather served in the Navy. He saw how much I didn’t want to follow in my brother’s footsteps and started talking to me about his deployments.” 

Jake grabbed a napkin off the table, wiping away a speck of mustard from the corner of his mouth before explaining, "My dad had been pressuring me throughout college to come home and take over the ranch since I put my foot down about football. I spent a summer with my grandfather up at a Navy base in Fort Worth, learning, watching, and taking everything in. I got to see a little bit of everything, but the fighter squadron... there was something freeing in seeing them up there."

You could tell he was lost in his head, reminiscing about a time when he was trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, away from people's impressions and opinions. If you ever met Jake's dad, you'd make sure he knew what you thought about the treatment of his youngest son.

"Then he asked if I wanted to join when I graduated," He shrugged. “One of the best decisions I’ve ever made. He passed five years ago.” 

Listening to Jake recount his story made your heart ache, knowing he would have been expected to live out a future somebody else had carved for him had somebody not shown him a different way. Though it brought comfort to know Jake had somebody in his corner, two people looking out for him if you considered his sister. You reached out, letting your hand graze up and down his forearm in comfort. 

“He was looking out for you,” you offered kindly.

“He would have liked you,” he wondered aloud. “And he would have spoiled Sadie to no end.”

You let the silence stretch on, knowing Jake would need a few seconds to regain his composure. But then he suddenly said aloud, “You said Ridley sent your college admissions for you. What did you study?” 

You swallowed hard at the mention of Ridley, a queasiness settling in your stomach as this morning was still too fresh on your mind.

“English,” you managed to say. “The bookcase in my family room wasn’t a dead giveaway?”

“Anyone can be a bookworm,” he remarked, the look on his face indicating he expected you to continue.

“I wrote a lot in high school,” you shrugged. “Fiction, poetry… short stories. Ridley found them one day after we moved, submitting a couple to a few English and creative writing programs.”

Jake took another bite of his food before asking, “You’re a writer?”

You nodded. “Trying to be.”

“Anything I can read?” He asked playfully, knocking your shoulder. You smirked, pushing back into him as you said, “Maybe one day.”

You didn’t know if asking something like this on a date you thought was going well was proper. But you were curious anyway when you casually said, “Your first kiss?” 

But Jake wasn’t ashamed to answer, not that you expected him to be. The man oozed confidence. “Highschool. After my first touchdown. One of the cheerleaders at the side bench. The worst experience of my life.” 

“I knew you were a jock,” you snorted. 

“What about you?”

“I was a geek - in the library most weekends.” 

“No, your first kiss.” 

“Oh… um..” you hesitated before finally admitting, “You.”

You may as well have sucker-punched him in the gut. Jake turned to face you,  shock then confusion covering his face, as if you didn’t just admit to him the kiss at three AM in your hallway was the first time you’d ever been kissed.

His reaction made you look down into your lap, blending the edge of your paper plate back and forth, before giving into the urge to fill the silence. “I’ve gone on dates. But they never went past the first one. Either things didn’t work out, or I got ghosted. It made me wonder what I was doing wrong.”

Jake cleared his throat. “So you’ve never…?”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to know what he was asking. You shook your head, your blush spreading down your neck. “Does that surprise you?” 

“Someone like you, how didn’t anyone..?” 

“I’ve never trusted someone enough to do it with,” you shrugged. You felt embarrassed, not that you should have been. But it was a well know fact Jake got around. That he was, for lack of a better word, experienced. 

It wasn’t like the opportunity didn’t present itself while you were at college. But the parties and causal thing just wasn’t for you. And all the guys seemed like walking red flags. Your insecurities also didn’t help. But they weren’t as bad back then as they are now. And then Sadie came along, and you put any thought of dating aside. 

“Does that bother you?” you asked meekly, scared of his answer. 

Jake turned, his knee knocking yours as he dropped his plate to the bench, wiping his hand on his shorts before reaching out to stroke the outside of your thigh. His voice was firm when he answered, “Absolutely not. I’m just surprised.” 

You didn’t know you had been holding your breath when you found yourself letting out a sigh of relief. 

“Though I can’t lie, I’m thinking about all the ways I can corrupt your innocent little soul.”

You smirked, shaking your head. "You're a menace."

He returns your grin, unfazed by your response. “Now, what else did you want to ask me? Since we are doing the question thing.”

You thought about it for a second before asking, “What were you going to tell me on New Year’s Eve?” 

But rather than freeze up like he did the other times you asked, Jake smiled fondly at you, hand still stroking the outside of your leg. “What? Me giving you the best first kiss of your life in your hallway at three AM wasn’t enough? Clearly, I didn’t do my job right. ” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but Jake leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before leaning back. “I was going to ask if you wanted to start the year off by going on a date with me.” 

You gulped. “You’ve been thinking about this awhile then?” 

“Since Sadie invited me on the hike.” 

The uneasiness in your stomach disappeared with the mention of Sadie, and you squeezed his wrist in silent thanks before reaching for your food. But then Jake said something that made you pause.

“I think she’s trying to play matchmaker with her subtle hints and pictures…” He froze, realizing what he just said out loud. You dropped the cob from your mouth, looking over at him in shock. 

“She didn’t!” You exclaimed, catching on to what he didn’t say. “Oh, that insect! I knew she sent you something suspicious with those photos!” 

“Hey, I promised her I wouldn’t say anything,” he said, sounding guilty for breaking his promise. Then your mind flashed back to the video chat you had with Jake. “Wait, Coyote… at the end of our call..” 

Jake closed his eyes, tilting his head back to the sky as you exclaimed, “Was I the photo in your cockpit?!”

___

Jake told you he wanted to take this slow. 

You had agreed to the both of you taking it slow. 

Hell, it was your first date. 

But damn, he was not making it easy.

After lunch, Jake wanted to take you to the arcade on the other side of the fairgrounds before the two of you had dinner. Buying a bag full of coins, he placed them in the palm of your hand, telling you to pick whatever you wanted. But you wouldn't have that, telling him the two of you would take turns deciding what to play.

But no matter what game the two of you decided on, you were sure he was purposely trying to mess you up by making himself as distractingly attractive as possible.

It all started with the air hockey table. A few occasional glances here or there as you knocked the puck back and forth along the table. Then it was the flirty trash talk, a playful diss being said when one of you would score against the other, leading you to shout out, "Bite me, Hangman."

But he smirked and cockily replied, "I have."

The blush that came next could have rivalled Rooster's angry face.

Next came the basketball hoops. Jake went first, and despite you standing in his line of sight, leaning up against the machine to the side, Jake didn't break his focus as he made every shot. You knew it was a failed attempt from the start anyway, given how focused he would have to be flying an F-18.

Unfortunately, you didn't have much luck when it came to your turn. He came up behind you, his hands on your hips, pressing kisses to your cheek and neck, hoping it would distract you enough to miss your shots and allow him to win the game, which he did.

And out of all things, they had axe throwing. If this man could throw a dart with that much accuracy, he had no trouble with the axes. Watching him toss the axe from over his head, muscles bulging, the look of concentration on his face.

The next time you needed firewood for the pit in the backyard, you would ask Jake for some help splitting it, maybe on a hot day.

It got so bad you had to pull him back by his hand, holding on to yours, right in the middle of the crowd as he was leading you to another game, only to grab him by the back of his neck and lay one on him.

But what really got you was when it came time to redeem the tickets, Jake asked if the two of you could pick something out for Sadie - the Navy-themed teddy bear was looped tightly around the straps of your bag as the two of you walked to one of the pop-up restaurants the fair was hosting. 

Jake went to find a table as you went to find the bathroom. You stared at yourself in the mirror, realizing your worries this morning and even your vocalizations to Jake in your hallway had been for nothing. 

Deep down, you knew Ridley would tell you to stop being so anxious about this and go for it. Jake had already proved, each and every time, he was nothing like the guys that ghosted you or the guys you encountered at school—more than the cocky aviator type you painted him for looking for a good time. Even your lack of experience didn’t phase him and you being the photo in his cockpit? Where did that come from? 

And it suddenly struck you that you were doing the same thing you had ratted the squad out for, what his father had been doing to him. Jake was more than what others painted him for. Sadie had realized it long before anyone else did. Before you did. And it took her inviting Jake to a Saturday night and on the hike for you to realize. 

Who cares about what he did before he met you? Or what everyone believed he should be doing. He was here, with you, and wanted to be in Sadie’s life. 

You were done worrying about what-ifs. Come what may, you thought. You trusted Jake, and you wanted to be with him. In telling yourself that, you realized it was time you allowed yourself to believe in what you refused to admit. 

There was nothing wrong with being in love with Jake Seresin. 

Walking back, you searched the crowd for Jake, finding him seated at a table, speaking with a waitress. You stepped forward, but out of the blue, somebody checked your shoulder, making you stumble forward. Catching yourself on a nearby empty table, you turned around, angrily calling out, “Watch where your going, Asshole!” 

There was a man in a white sweater with his hood up. He didn’t turn around at your voice. Instead, he continued walking down towards the way you had come. You scoffed, adjusting your bag hanging off your shoulder before going to find Jake. 

“And here I thought you might have escaped through the window.” He joked, watching as you approached. The waitress was gone, and in his hands were two menus. 

“As if I’d leave you now,” you scoffed, placing a hand on his shoulder to balance yourself as you climbed into the seat next to him. Once you were settled, you hooked your arm through his, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“What?” you could hear the smile in his voice as he asked, holding out one of the menus to you. But you could only shake your head, smiling fondly into his sleeve as you grabbed the menu from him. “Nothing. I’m just having a good time.”

After ordering and while waiting for the food, you learned Jake was a natural-born storyteller. The minute you asked him about what life was like growing up on a ranch, he launched into multiple stories of shenanigans he and Janet got into, one story in particular almost making you fall out of your chair laughing - Jake telling you he got drunk on a bottle of Rye in high school and ended up walking home, only for his family to have found him passed out in a hay bale in the field the next morning. Or the barn dog everyone hated, a grumpy thing whose bite was worse than its bark. 

"And right there, under all those blankets and saddle pads, was the damn Jack Russell, snapping away and chasing us outta the barn at our heels."

Laughing into your glass of wine, you relayed your own story about how Sadie came about her nickname, bringing ladybugs in from the backyard an empty water bottle and how she forgot to screw the top on. Jake fell into your side, laughing when you explained you couldn’t stop finding ladybugs for weeks afterwards. 

The conversation continued throughout dinner, Jake learning you broke your wrist skating when you were 15. You learned exactly what his father had planned for him until his grandfather stepped, only furthering your dislike for the man. While you already knew both of you had the same taste in music, you weren’t surprised Jake had a soft spot for country music.

And when your meal was finished, Jake led you out of the makeshift tent; his arm lopped through yours as you snuggled happily up against his side. When you moved towards the parking lot, Jake tugged on your hand, pulling you back into his chest, saying, “I have one more thing planned.”

Yet, when he dragged you over to the line for the Ferris wheel, you felt like you were going to throw up. And you tried, you really did, not to let on that you were terrified to go up in the air. This date was going wonderfully, and you didn’t want to ruin it with something so trivial as this.

So you waited in line with him, listening to him continue the conversation about how he realized he wasn’t meant for football like his brother, even though he loved to watch. But every time the machine stopped and the seats, carts, or cars, whatever they were called, swung with the momentum, you had to force yourself not to jolt.

When your turn came in the line, you tried not to grip Jake’s hand tighter than you should when he helped you into your seat. To loosen your shoulders from being too tight and slouch your back when it was too straight. And when it started to move, you shot your hands out wide, one going for the bar in front of Jake, the other to your side of the cart.

When it stopped, you swallowed hard. Jake looked at you, amused, before finally stating, “You’re afraid of heights.” 

“Not really…” you said, looking over the side, wondering how quickly the maintenance crew put up the blasted thing and if they had any missing blots or screws afterwards. 

“Come now, you can tell me,” he leaned forward, placing his hand on your wrist of the hand gripping the handlebar. He pressed his nose against your ear, his voice buzzing as he said lowly, “I won’t judge.” 

Something metal creaked beneath you, making you jolt, your hand now covering your heart. “It’s not really heights.” 

“No?” he murmured lowly. You knew what he was doing, the cocky fucker. No amount of distraction or persuasion would get your mind off the empty space below you. Or get you to admit something you knew he would most definitely take some sort of defence to. 

Or worse, try and fix it. Which he was capable of doing. 

Jake suddenly rocked back in the seat back, hard. You squealed, plastering yourself into his side, gripping his body tight as you exclaimed, “Flying! I have a fear of flying!”

His hand slid down from over the back seat, finding your hip bone and gripping it tight, tugging you closer. “Now, was that so bad?” 

Hiding your face into his shoulder, you replied, “Yes, especially after what you told me. And you're a pilot.” 

“A pilot who could help you get over this fear.” 

You shook your head against his chest. “Nope. I’m not stepping foot in that thing.”

“You wound me, darling,” he said, exasperated. “Truly.”

“It’s not that I’m against it,” you replied, adjusting yourself against his side, Jake’s hands making sure there wasn’t an inch between the two of you.

“Mav’s offered countless times when he takes Sadie up … I don’t know,” you finished lamely. “I just can’t stand the thought of no ground beneath my feet.”

"I bet I could change your mind."

“Not going to happen,” you challenged back. 

“Nope, I guarantee you, I will get you into a plane."

You laughed hoarsely at his words. “Jake…” 

“You and me, our next date. I’m calling it.” 

“Maybe I’ll sit in it. But that’s it.” 

“Nope. If you’re dating a pilot, you must take advantage of that.”

“What about you?” you asked, hoping to get him off-topic. “What are you afraid of?”

But Jake’s laughter died down, his eyes unfocused stared off into the distance. It wasn’t that he didn’t know - The same fear had followed him since high school, on deployments and in the quiet hours when nobody else was around. If he said it out loud, it would, without a doubt, give it power. 

And if it had power, it would ruin his chances with you.

You gave him a few minutes, figuring he needed time to think about it. “Is it a hard one?

“Look,” he jutted his head forward. You sat up, turning your head to look out over the field, expecting to find something weird. But you didn’t need to search the crowd or look through the stands. It was obvious what Jake was pointing out to you. 

“Whoa.”

Even if it freaked you out, Jake timed the Ferris Wheel perfectly. The sunset was gorgeous, with streaks of soft pastel yellows, pinks, and even hints of purple. The blue was even gentler than the bright hue of the everyday sky. 

“It’s so….” you started, but couldn’t finish. You were too in awe of the sight in front of you. 

“Beautiful,” he finished for you. It certainly is, you thought. But when you glanced over at him, you caught his eyes on you.

“You’re not watching the sunset, are you?” 

“Nope.”

You blushed, deciding to press your cheek back into his chest and gazing at the sky. You could get used to this, you thought, as Jake grabbed the junction of your knee, pulling your legs over his. 

With the movement or sounds of creaking metal no longer bothering you, you felt content to snuggle into Jake’s side as the Ferris Wheel swung you both forward again. 

He pressed his lips to your forehead, murmuring, “I’m still getting you on a plane.” 

“Jake…” 

___

The sun had set when Jake and you got off the Ferris wheel. He led you back to his truck with an arm around your waist, content to press the occasional kiss into your hair as the pair of you navigated the crowds.

Jake guided you to the passenger side when you reached the truck. The both of you were hidden out of view from any on-lookers who were heading home. You pressed yourself up against the side as he reached for the handle, ever the gentleman, to open the door and help you up into your seat. But as he turned his head to look at you, you held your head up to look at him with a shy smile. 

That shy smile, and the way the light hit the corners of your eyes, had him sucking in a sharp breath. His hand lost its grip, sliding along the side of the truck as he slowly stepped toward you. Watching as he approached you with a heated gaze, you timidly bit the bottom of your lip.

You couldn't see the stars behind his head, nor the lights from the fairgrounds or the warm glow of the string lights making up the parking lot. You could only see him towering over you, his arm stretching out to rest above your head, cocooning between him and the truck. His other hand landed on your cheek, his thumb softly stroking the skin, then gently releasing your lip from its hold before replacing it with his lips.

Moaning against his mouth, you slid your hand up his chest. It was a slow kiss, Jake's tongue tracing the inside of your mouth as if the two of you had all the time in the world.

Jake's hand slithered down your side, finding a grip on your leg. The heel of your boot caught on the step of the truck at his touch, allowing Jake the space he needed to situate himself between your legs, pinning you up against the frame. He nibbed at your neck, teeth working on marking up the opposite side of his handiwork from the hallway. There were bruises, much to your pleasure or displeasure, and you had spent at least half an hour each morning since covering it up. And Jake clearly wanted to add more to it.

But it didn’t stop you from attempting to return the favour, as your mouth managed to land on Jake’s cheek, working down towards his jawline as he tilted his head back. You felt the small spikes of a five o’clock shadow under your soft lips, pressing kisses to his skin. Then in a tiny spark of confidence, you closed them around a patch of skin.

“Fuck Liz,” he growled out, hand tightening on your thigh. “We need to go slow. What happened to not putting out on the first date?”

You let his neck go with a sharp intake of breath. "This is slow."

"Slow is driving you home, walking you to your front door," rasped after a kiss, diving back for another one before adding, "Kissing you goodnight and asking when I can see you again."

“Then why were you teasing me all day?” you gasped out. “I’m just following your lead.”

Jake pulled sharply back, the hand above your head thumping hard on the metal. “I’m not taking you up against my truck in the middle of a dirt parking lot for your first time.”

"Stereotypes are overrated."

Jake growled. You were driving him crazy, testing his resolve, especially after what you admitted to him earlier. It only confirmed he needed to take this slow with you.

Then again, another part of him was elated that he'd be the only one to have ever touched you like this, to feel you like this. That the sounds rising from your body were only because of him.

After securely wrapping your leg around his waist, Jake went for the center of your blouse, fingers single-handly making quick work of the small buttons.

"You would, wouldn't you?"  He groaned, fingers searching underneath the helm for the top of your bra before giving a sharp tug down, exposing your nipple to the air. You gasped at the action, the night air caressing your skin. 

"Let me do this to you out in the middle of nowhere," he murmured against your skin in between kisses, working inch by inch down to your breast.  "Where anyone could walk by."

In three seconds, Jake had your entire breast in his mouth, jaw tense as he sucked hard, his tongue toying with your nipple. You mewled, not used to the sensation.

"Fuck Jake," you whimpered, your head hitting the door as you looked up to the stars, blindly raking your fingers through his hair. 

He let it go with a pop. "Pay attention, darlin'. My eyes are down here."

Dropping your chin to your chest, you got a close-up view of Jake staring up at you, lips enclosing around the peak of your breast to work the bud between his teeth lightly. A wail caught in your throat at a particular tug, eyes still focused on his face as you attempted to bring him closer to your chest.

He pulled back, voice husky as he said, "Good girl."

You heaved at the praise, a flush of heat shooting down your body. You started to rock your hips against his, desperate for pressure, friction, anything to soothe the burning sensation in your core. Your jeans prevented you from feeling anything as Jake continued to suck around your nipple.

"Or you'd let me do this."

You moaned, a long yearning sound echoing between the space of the two parking spots when Jake slipped his hand down between your bodies and cupped your core, his thumb pressing on your clit through the seam of your jeans.

"Or this," he chuckled when you bucked your hips off the side of the truck, you seeing more than the stars littering the sky as he rubbed at you with the pad of his thumb. But his hand was gone as quickly as he touched you, leaving you aching and whining for more.

Jake could only think about how beautiful you looked, panting hard and skin flushed, just as affected as he was.  He was in awe of you, of how well today went, how you care about him and refuse to believe in how everyone else sees him. He may have needed to assure you you were worth the risk of a broken heart, but he was grateful you were willing to take the chance on him. 

But then you fucking sidelined him; your voice was quiet and raspy as you said, “I trust you.” 

It was three simple words. And you probably didn’t understand their weight in your frenzied state. Or maybe you did. You told him you didn’t trust many people with this part of you. Perhaps you were telling him he was that person. 

Either way, they meant everything to him.

“I want to do this right by you,” he gritted out through his teeth. “But you are making it hard.”

You didn't mean to, but your snicker escaped before it was too late, causing a series of giggles to wrack your chest.

Jake instantly caught on to what you were laughing about, the heat building between you both starting to die down as he softly laughed with you, body shaking as he pressed his forehead into the center of your chest.

"Liz, don't you dare."

But you couldn't help yourself. "Pun intended?"

He went for your sides, fingers poking and scratching at your stomach as you let out a screech, failing to escape his wrath before you finally called out for mercy. Pulling your bra and blouse back over your breast, Jake sighed affectionally, pressing his forehead to yours. "Where have you been all my life, darlin'?"

You didn't know what to say, so you pressed your lips to his, content to simply be in the moment, even if the two of you looked like horny teenagers at a school fair.

Thank god nobody could see the two of you like this right now.

But you were seen. 

From the driver’s seat of a little white car with a spoiler on the back, parked three cars down on the opposite side of the lane. It’s passenger watching you and that man, doing whatever the fuck that was, up against that specimen of a truck.

He could hear your laughter from this distance, watching as the man picked you up, you clinging to him all arms and legs as he opened the door and set you inside, closing it before jogging around to the other side. 

Watching the truck drive away, he couldn't help but feel some sort of pleasure in the fact he would see you soon. At the place where you were the most vulnerable. When none of those glorified uniform-wearing servants would be able to stop him.

Yes, he would see you soon.

And he wouldn’t leave this godforsaken state without what he came for. 

Shit hits the fan from here on out... 👀

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@brooke-stinson

Part 11: Dream On Coming Soon

Wickett ;)

[lady-of-imladris]

CHAPTER 3 - SWEET DREAM

Synopsis: Thranduil finally gets to take his lady home with him. The rest is just smut

Word count: 7k

Pairings: Thranduil/OC

Warnings: smut. A lot of smut. Loss of virginity, 18+ minors DNI

Link to the chapter overview

All that bloodshed, crimson clover Uh-huh, sweet dream was over My hand was the one you reached for All throughout the Great War - The Great War (Taylor Swift)

The next morning, Anarríma awoke early, feeling warm and very comfortable. Last night’s events slowly made their way back into her brain and she suddenly realized that she was not alone. She felt his hot breath on her neck, his naked, muscular chest pressing into her back, his arms around her. Ana became aware of two more things. One of his hands was gently cupping the underside of her breast over the shirt she was wearing. The other thing was something hard pressed up against her ass.

Ana was not completely naive, she knew what that was. It was a strange feeling, but to her surprise, she did not find it uncomfortable. She shifted slightly, trying to make the encounter less awkward for Thranduil, but she only succeeded in waking him up. The first two things Thranduil realized when he woke up was that his cock was hard and that he was not alone. He tried slowly shifting away from Anarríma without waking her up, realizing, mortified, that one of his hands had moved to her breast in his sleep. Thranduil tried carefully lowering his hand so that it would rest against a more appropriate part of her body, but he could not. One of Ana’s hands was on his arm, keeping him locked in place.

Ana knew that if she removed her hand from his arm, he would know that she was awake, and Thranduil knew that he could not remove his hand without waking her up. They were at an impasse. Thranduil was silently hoping that Elrond would interrupt them again, but on the other hand, he really did not wish for Elrond to see him in such a state. Ana was equally overwhelmed with the situation and felt really stupid for thinking such a thing. They were courting after all, she would be far more intimate with him than this. She summoned all her courage and let go of Thranduil’s arm, turning to face him in the process.

She looked up into his eyes. He looked slightly startled, half expecting her to be angry at him for touching her in such a way. “Good morning”, she said softly and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Her soft lips felt heavenly on his bare skin, causing a shiver to run up Thranduil’s back. He smiled and kissed her head. “A very good morning indeed.” He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her closer. As he caressed her back, Thranduil discovered that the shirt he had given her to sleep in slid up during the night and the hem had moved to just above her waist. Now that she was awake, he grew bolder and slid his hand further down slowly, never breaking eye contact with her.

She could see the arousal in his eyes as his hand slowly slid over her ass. Thranduil gave it a firm squeeze, making her gasp in surprise. The bastard was smiling! “I have wanted to do that the entire time we were dancing”, he confessed to her. She giggled, having seen many couples dancing like that the previous night. In fact, she had seen much more than that and was certain that an unprecedented number of babies would be born soon. Anarríma gave Thranduil her best look of complete innocence. “Were there any other things you wanted to do to me last night, my lord?” Thranduil’s hand kept stroking her ass as he smiled down at his lady. “Many.”

Anarríma propped her head up on one arm and wrapped the other around Thranduil, moving closer to him. “Like what?”, she asked, making him blush lightly. The tips of his ears gave him away, she noted. “Well for one, I thought that your breasts looked very inviting in that dress. I wanted to pull your bodice down and touch them.” He noticed that she was looking away from his eyes as he was speaking. Thranduil lifted his hand away from her ass and up to her waist, slowly pushing her to lie on her back. He caressed the exposed skin of her stomach and Ana was suddenly aware of what might occur if she let him continue.

“Thranduil, I-”, she trailed off nervously. He looked at her knowingly. “You have never been intimate with another before?”, he guessed. She nodded. “I have no idea what to expect”, she confessed to him. Thranduil gently took her hand and lifted it up to his face to kiss it. “We will not do anything you do not feel completely comfortable with, meleth nin. We do not have to do this and we can stop at any point.” She nodded and put his hand back on her stomach. “You may continue”, she whispered and tried to relax her body.

Thranduil took his time, watching her every reaction as he slowly moved his hand further up, and under the hem of her shirt. “Is this okay?” Anarríma nodded and Thranduil gently brushed his fingers against the underside of her breast. His touch was addictive. It felt like the rush before going into battle, like the relief that came after, like the warmth of the sun on her skin and the bite of frost all at the same time. He felt her shiver underneath his touch. “Your skin is so incredibly soft”, he whispered into her ear, brushing his thumb over her nipple, feeling it harden at his touch. Ana let out a shocked whimper that went straight to Thranduil’s cock.

“Aran nin”, one of his guards called from outside the tent, “we are ready for departure at your command.” Thranduil groaned inwardly and tore his hand away from his lady. “We depart within the hour”, he called back, “prepare a horse for the lady Anarríma and collect her belongings from her tent.” He heard the guard’s footsteps as he left. He leaned over Ana and kissed her, slowly and passionately. “I require my shirt back, my lady”, he said seductively and pulled her into a seated position. “I have nothing to wear”, she responded. “If we did not have to go outside I would welcome that very much”, he teased her and walked off to find her something to wear, picking up some breakfast along the way.

She was wrapped fully in his cloak when he returned, his shirt hanging over a chair. Thranduil handed her the clothes he had brought her and held a piece of lembas up to her face. Wordlessly, Anarríma opened her mouth and let him feed her. Her lips closed around his fingers, licking them clean of any crumbs, smiling at him seductively. “I will need my cloak back”, Thranduil remarked and lightly tugged on the large piece of fabric. “Then I suggest you turn around”, she replied.

Thranduil turned around slowly, smiling to himself. Soon he would have her in his home. Just her and him, alone in his chambers. He allowed himself to daydream for a while, about the life they could have together. When Anarríma had finished dressing, she slowly approached Thranduil and turned him around, gently grabbing his arm. Thranduil took his shirt from her outstretched hand. “You have to put this on”, she said. Thranduil nodded thoughtfully. “I have to put this on.” She took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and leaned against his naked chest, breathing in his scent. “I don’t want you to put it on again”, she murmured. Thranduil chuckled and ran his free hand through her hair. “You can help me take it off again as soon as we get home, meleth nin.”

Anarríma took a step back and smiled at him dreamily, watching the flex of his muscles as he raised his arms and put his shirt on. She was lost deep in her thoughts, thinking about how he had referred to his palace as home. Her home now too. She was wondering when it would fully sink in that she was his now. His people were her people, and someday, she would marry the king and become their queen. Somehow, it did not feel strange to her, but almost natural, like it was her destiny to rule at his side. The shirt smelled like her, Thranduil happily noted. Of course he could have worn any other shirt, he just did not want to.

Thranduil noticed that his beloved lady appeared to be deeply in thought. She was absentmindedly biting her lip and fidgeting with the end of her sleeve. “Something on your mind?”, he asked. Ana looked up at him, jumping slightly as she was ripped out of her thoughts. She shrugged. “You are going home, and I am coming with you. Home. To a place I have never been before. I have no idea what to expect, and I haven’t even told anyone yet.” Thranduil nodded understandingly. “If you require more time, I can wait. However long it may take.” Ana stared at him in shock, shaking her head immediately. “No. I don’t want to wait. Elrond can tell Brí and Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn-” She stopped suddenly. What if he was dead? What if the closest thing she had to a father was dead? “I need to see Elrond”, she murmured and pushed past Thranduil and out of the tent.

She did not hear what he shouted after her and she did not turn around. The camp was a mess. Some were preparing to depart, others were still drunk, many were too wounded to leave yet. Somehow, she found Elrond in one of the tents where the wounded were taken care of. “Elrond!”, she shouted from afar. Elrond motioned for her to come over. He was working on some healing potions. “Ana, did something happen?”, Elrond immediately noticed how on edge she was, tears threatening to fall soon. She shook her head rapidly. “Celeborn? Where is he? Have you seen him? I did not see him yesterday and I am worried, Elrond.” Elrond stepped around the table and grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. “Ana, he is fine, I saw him earlier today. He is preparing for departure.”

Anarríma took a deep breath and almost broke down crying out of relief. “Goheno nin”, she said, “I do not know what came over me.” Elrond gave her a reassuring smile. “There is nothing to forgive, mellon nin. Now go to Thranduil and let him help you find Celeborn. He looks quite worried.” Elrond pointed over to the entrance of the tent, where Thranduil stood. He had followed her. Anarríma left Elrond to his work and approached Thranduil, embarrassed by her outburst. “Are you alright?”, he asked. She nodded. “Will you help me find Celeborn?” “Of course, darling.” He took her hand and led her through the camp. He had his suspicions about his kinsman’s whereabouts.

Thranduil was right, of course, Celeborn was helping prepare the horses for their departure. He hadn’t known that Celeborn would depart with him and his retinue, but he welcomed his company, nervous as he was about telling him that he was in love with Ana. Celeborn looked over at them as they approached him, dropping the bridle he was holding when he spotted Anarríma. He wasted no time and ran to her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. “Anarinya [MY SUN]”, he whispered, “my child.” Tears were streaming down Ana’s cheeks. “Ada I was so worried. I did not see you yesterday and I did not know where you were and if you were even still alive and I was so worried.” “I’m so sorry, I’m here now. I’m here.”

When they finally let go of each other, Celeborn chuckled, seeing his Ana stand next to Thranduil. “I have to confess”, he began, “I was in attendance yesterday evening. But I did not want to disturb the two of you. You looked too happy.” Ana decided that he had to get it over with. “About that, Ada. Thranduil and I are courting. He asked me to join him in Lasgalen. I said yes.” Celeborn raised an eyebrow. He gave Thranduil a very stern look. “Lothloríen is not far from your kingdom, Thranduil”, he remarked, “I am keeping an eye on you.” “Ada!” Celeborn shrugged. “Be glad your mother stayed home and does not know where you slept last night.” Both Anarríma and Thranduil turned red. “Celeborn, nothing happened, I promise”, Thranduil hastily choked out. Celeborn merely smiled and gave a dismissive wave.

And so they began the journey back from Mordor to Lasgalen. Thranduil and Celeborn each only brought a small party. The armies would start their journey the next day and it would take them much longer. Anarríma and Thranduil were riding side by side, talking on occasion. Celeborn was constantly near them, and it made Thranduil nervous. He was relieved when they finally parted ways after over a week of traveling. Celeborn took Anarríma aside to talk to her. She did not tell Thranduil what he had said to her, but remembering what Elrond had told him of Galadriel and Celeborn’s reactions when he and Celebrían had announced that they were courting, he was certain that it was better that he did not know.

“Anarinya, you can always come back home to us”, Celeborn said, hugging Ana one last time before getting back on his horse, “we will meet again soon”, he added, in a voice that made her think he had some sort of premonition. “Namarië, Ada.” Anarríma mounted her horse and they continued their respective journeys. It would only take them a few days now to reach the halls of the elven king. Half an hour later, Thranduil had still not stopped grinning. “What is it?”, Ana asked. “I half expected Celeborn to come with us to my halls and insist on sleeping between us until we are married.” Ana laughed, as the image made its way into her mind. “I must confess”, Thranduil began, “I have been thinking about that a lot.” “My ada living with us?”

Thranduil laughed. “No I do not mean that. I have been thinking whether or not to give you your own rooms. The royal quarters have a second private study attached, for the queen, but there is no second bedroom. I could give you a guest room, but I do not want you so far away from me. So I was thinking that maybe I could have the study converted into a bedroom for now.” Anarríma had not given it much thought. She had not thought about anything these last couple of days. Her mind had finally been able to rest a bit. “We have shared a bed already”, she stated. Thranduil nodded. “Yes, but I did not want to assume anything.” She smiled at him. “But you would not be against it?” “On the contrary, it would make me very happy to have you in my bed.” She blushed. “Our bed.” Thranduil smiled to himself.

Many of Thranduil’s people had gathered to witness the triumphant return of their king. The last time they had seen him, he had still been their prince, departing with his father, to come to the aid of Gil-Galad. Thranduil was their king now, and they bowed as he walked past. The first to actually greet him was his butler, Galion, Ana learned. Thranduil told him that he wished for something to eat for them both, their belongings were to be brought to his chambers and then, all staff, including the guards, was to retreat. He wanted them out of his hair for at least one night. Anarríma was shaking nervously when Thranduil kissed her hand in front of all these people, and led her to his chambers.

The food had already been served and Ana had not seen anything that looked remotely as good since the beginning of the war. Thranduil pulled out a chair for Anarríma and poured her a glass of wine. They ate in silence, both deep in thought about what might happen next. Ana was sure he had dismissed his guards for a certain reason, and she was feeling both nervous and excited. The last remaining servant took away the dishes after they had finished eating. “Aran nin, we will be retiring now. If there is anything you should need, the nearest guard is posted at the entry to the library.” Thranduil thanked him.

He took Anarríma on a tour of his chambers. Their chambers. There was a living room, the king’s study, the queen’s study, the dining area, which doubled as a room for private meetings, and a closet room. Ana was surprised to see some of her own clothes there. Thranduil’s staff must have brought her belongings up already. Next he showed her their bedroom, guiding her with his hand on the small of her back. “And this is where we will sleep”, he said, “among other things.” Ana blushed as she pictured them, their bodies pressed closely together, on the huge bed in this room. Her mind went back to their last morning in the camp, to his large hand under her shirt.

Thranduil’s voice brought her back to the present. “One of my favourite rooms is the bathroom”, he explained, leading her there, “the bathtub has been enchanted by Radagast. The water is always clean and it always has the perfect temperature. It is marvelous.” Ana gasped out loud when she saw the bathtub. It could probably not even described as a bathtub. It was more like a small pond in the middle of the huge bathroom. She knelt down and stuck her hand in the crystal clear water. It was nice and warm, just the perfect temperature.

“You may remember our conversation from the morning of our departure”, he stated. She looked up at him, slightly confused. What was he referring to? Thranduil motioned to his shirt. “I believe you wanted to take this off.” Anarríma rose and took a step towards Thranduil. Her hands went to the hem of his shirt, dragging it up slowly, revealing his muscular torso, but she soon ran into a problem. “I cannot reach. You are too tall”, she complained, the shirt only halfway over his head. Thranduil knelt down, letting her pull the shirt over his head and toss it into a corner of the bathroom. “Come bathe with me.” Thranduil almost looked like he was pleading with her, on his knees before her.

Ana hesitated for a while, just looking into Thranduil’s bright blue eyes, her thoughts straying back to that morning in the tent. His touch had been so gentle, making her feel so good. She wondered what he would do to her in that bathtub. Smiling at him, she nodded slowly. “Yes, I will bathe with you.” The king’s eyes were full of desire. “Then let me help you out of these clothes”, he said, his voice low and full of lust. Still kneeling before her, he unlaced her boots and tossed them into the corner where his discarded shirt lay. Slowly, he ran his hands up her thighs, unlacing her pants. He looked up at her for consent.

She nodded once, and he pulled her pants down, letting her step out of them. He tossed them away and rose to his feet. Anarríma had taken off her outer layers when they had sat down to eat dinner, so she was only wearing a simple shirt. Thranduil’s hands went to her waist. “At the risk of sounding like a horny young ellon”, he chuckled, “I cannot wait to see you naked.” Ana felt her heart beat a little faster as Thranduil slowly raised the shirt. “Arms up, darling.” She raised her arms above her head, feeling the cool air on her bare skin and she heard the sound of her shirt landing somewhere on the floor.

Instinctively, she covered her chest with her hands, standing before Thranduil almost completely naked. Thranduil grinned and put his hands on her arms, gently pinning them down to her sides. He did not look, she noted. “Come closer and put your arms around my neck”, he said, “I will not look until you are ready.” Ana put her arms around his neck, leaning against his naked chest. Thranduil could feel himself getting hard at the sensation of her breasts against his body. He unlaced his pants and removed his underwear, never stepping away from his lady. Finally, he let his hands rest on her hips. “May I take that off?”, he asked, and ran his fingers over the sides of her underwear. Ana pressed her face into his shoulder. “Yes please”, she whispered quietly.

Thranduil hooked his fingers into her panties and slowly pushed them down her legs, letting them fall to the floor. Anarríma kicked them away. She rose up to her toes and kissed Thranduil passionately. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. She broke away with a gasp, when she felt his cock press against her stomach. “I am so sorry”, Thranduil hated himself for not having his body under control. Ana shook her head slightly. “No, it just startled me a little, that’s all. It’s not like you can control it. Besides, I think I should feel honored.” Her words made Thranduil feel better. He regained his confidence and pulled her closer to him again. This time she did not break the kiss.

Thranduil kept taking small steps backwards, down the stairs and into the warm water until it reached up to his waist, distracting Ana with deep kisses. “I will sit down now”, he said after breaking away from her, “and I would like to look at you.” Anarríma nodded and let go of Thranduil’s neck hesitantly, taking a small step backwards as he lowered himself to sit on a ledge. When he looked at his lady, her eyes were on him. She felt her heart beat faster as his eyes roamed over her naked chest. Thranduil was taking in every centimeter of her beautiful breasts, thinking about how nicely they would fit into his hands, how he yearned to feel her rosy nipples harden under his tongue.

“You are so beautiful”, he spoke at last, his voice almost a whisper. Ana blushed, her ears turning a bright pink. “Would you like to sit on my lap?”, Thranduil asked, the desire to be close to her outweighing all rational thought. She nodded and he pulled her down by her waist so that she was straddling him. It felt strange to her, to sit on top of him, completely naked, legs parted, feeling his hard cock against her. Thranduil kissed her jaw, making her gasp. She could feel him chuckle against her skin and it sent a shiver up her spine. “Tell me when you want me to stop”, he instructed, and kissed his way down her throat.

Ana did not want him to stop. Thranduil did not. Slowly kissing every last bit of her neck, before continuing with her shoulders. Anarríma arched into his touch, whimpering softly whenever Thranduil dragged his teeth across her skin. When he reached a point just above her breasts, Thranduil kissed her more intensely there, sucking at the skin with the intention to leave a mark. She moaned at the unfamiliar sensation and wrapped her hands around Thranduil’s neck again.

When he was satisfied with his mark, Thranduil let his face hover between her breasts for a moment, waiting for her to give her consent before bringing his mouth to her left breast, sucking and licking and kissing all over. Ana was moaning loudly as she felt his hot tongue press down against her nipple, before sucking on it lightly. She felt incredibly aroused by Thranduil’s actions, and his gentleness. He removed his mouth from her body and used his hand to gently wipe his saliva from her breast. “Did you like that, my darling?”, he asked, looking deeply into her eyes. She nodded eagerly. “That was amazing, my love.”

The king chuckled and kissed her softly one more time. “I want to show you so many things, pleasure you in so many ways.” The intensity of his gaze made her shiver. “Why don’t we get cleaned up properly and I take you to my bed?”, he suggested. “Our bed”, Anarríma corrected with a smile on her face. Thranduil grabbed her by the waist and dipped her back, submerging her hair fully in the warm water, his hair tickling her stomach as he leaned over her to kiss her throat. “Our bed”, he whispered seductively, “My queen.”

He pulled her back up again and poured some soap into his hands, emulsifying it before gently massaging it into her scalp. Ana hummed contently, Thranduil was making her feel so loved with his every action. When he dipped her back again to rinse her hair, Anarríma wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him down with her, capturing his mouth in a kiss. “Now you”, she said, when they came up again, Thranduil’s beautiful hair soaking wet. Ana mirrored Thranduil’s motions from before. The king took a few steps away from his lady to rinse his hair, giving her a perfect view of his muscular back.

“Why don’t you come over here and let me properly clean the rest of you?”, she could tell how smug he was looking just from the tone of his voice. She approached him slowly, kissing his back between his shoulderblades. Thranduil gasped at the sensation. It seemed to him that every time her lips touched his body, it felt like a warning, like doom itself. As if some higher entity was telling him to stay away from her. But he couldn’t. Not when he craved her so much. He turned around and revealed a washcloth in his hand, gently running it over the arm she presented to him, over her shoulders and neck, down her other arm.

Thranduil was washing Anarríma’s body with devotion, his movements slow and soft. Ana had not expected him to be so gentle with her and she was not sure it would last. She hoped that once they had engaged in certain intimate activities, he would let the rough and dominating elven king show. The wicked king from all the stories she had heard about him. Thranduil was running the cloth gently down her leg, stopping at her ankle. “Spread your legs for me, darling”, he instructed, making her blush fiercely. Did he also intend to wash her there?

Thranduil did not give her time to follow his command, continuing his path up the inside of her calf, stopping at her knee. He changed to her other leg and mirrored the path he had taken earlier, stopping at her knee again. He had now washed her entire body, except the place she most wanted him to touch and was the most anxious about him touching at the same time. Thranduil passed her the washcloth. “You may return the favor now if you wish.” Anarríma took her time on his back, watching the flex of his muscles as he adjusted to her touch.

Thranduil turned around after a while, having realized that she would happily do this all day. He took her hands, placing them on his chest and flexed his muscles, a certain smugness on his face as he watched her eyes widen. Ana certainly took her time on his back, Thranduil thought, but her slow movements with the washcloth over his chest were a different sort of torture. The urge to pick her up, wrap her legs around him and fuck her senseless grew with every passing second. Taking action before his cock took over completely, Thranduil snatched the washcloth out of Anarríma’s hands, handing her a clean one. She understood well enough what he expected her to do and she never took his eyes off him as she spread her legs wide and cleaned herself thoroughly.

Thranduil tried his best to compose himself, trying to focus on washing himself instead of staring at Anarríma as she washed herself. Ana walked out of the bathtub, giving Thranduil a nice view of her ass before wrapping herself in a robe. Thranduil was behind her before she could turn around, wrapping his arms around her waist, burying his face in the collar of the robe. They stayed like this for a moment, both content in their embrace. “Do you want me to fetch you a nightgown?”, Thranduil inquired. “Why? You would tear it off my body again in minutes.” Thranduil let out an agreeing hum. “Not minutes. Seconds.”

Thranduil slowly untied the belt of the robe. He eased the garment off Anarríma’s shoulders and quickly dried himself off with it before tossing it to the ground. He picked Ana up, carrying her like he had done the day she got injured. It had felt incredibly intimate then, when they were both fully dressed and in their armor, him carrying her being a necessity. But now? Now they were both naked and she was perfectly capable of walking on her own, and the tension was unbearable.

Thranduil sat down on the bed, Ana comfortably resting in his lap. “What do you know about laying with another?”, Thranduil asked, lazily raking his fingers through her wet hair. Anarríma cleared her throat, unsure how to answer. “I- I have been told that- it is supposed to feel good?” Thranduil hummed in agreement, nodding his head at her, encouraging her to continue. “But it might hurt the first time? Which I would assume is true because judging from what I have felt, I don’t think it will fit.” She spoke fast, the nerves getting to her. Thranduil gently grabbed her jaw, turning her head to look at him.

“I promise I will not hurt you. I will not lie to you, it may be uncomfortable, but I want you to tell me if it hurts and we will stop immediately. As for your other concern, I will get you ready for me. Trust me, it will fit.” Ana looked at him curiously. “Do you have a question, my love?”, Thranduil was eager to teach her, somehow her lack of experience turned him on. “I’m not really sure what you mean by that”, she confessed, looking away from him, embarrassed. Thranduil’s removed his fingers from her hair and settled his hand on her hip instead. “Why don’t I show you?”

Ana found herself being flipped around, her back against the headboard, Thranduil sitting on the bed before her. “If you want me to stop, you will tell me immediately”, he ordered, waiting for her to acknowledge him verbally before putting both his hands on her ankles, gently pushing them closer to her ass. Anarríma kept her knees together, unsure of what Thranduil intended to do. He caressed her thighs, gently pushing them apart. She obeyed, trusting him fully, eager to learn what he wanted to show her.

Thranduil licked his lips at the sight of her. “Such a pretty cunt”, he purred, “and all for me.” Anarríma’s face went red. She felt the heat in her cheeks as she looked at him, staring between her legs. “Let’s see if you taste as delicious as you look”, Thranduil murmured. Did he intend to? No, surely not, why would he do that? Ana’s thoughts were stopped by Thranduil’s lips on the inside of her thigh. He was slowly kissing his way up, sucking hard enough to leave a trail of little bruises. She could feel his breath against her cunt, bracing herself for what would happen next. He looked up at her, waiting to give her consent. Anarríma reached down to stroke Thranduil’s cheek and nodded. That was all it took for him to lose it.

Anarríma gasped loudly as Thranduil’s tongue pressed against her clit. He chuckled and pulled away, causing her to whine. Why did he stop? “So responsive”, Thranduil praised and returned his lips to her cunt, lapping up her juices, pushing his tongue between her folds, earning a series of loud moans and gasps from his lady. She threaded her fingers into his wet hair, not wanting him to pull away again. Thranduil sucked on her clit as if he were starving. One of his hands, previously splayed against her thigh, wandered to her cunt, stroking her folds as he pleasured her with his mouth.

Ana’s moans and gasps became incoherent and slurred, being replaced with high pitched whines and exclamations of “Thranduil, please”. She truly did not know what she was begging for, she just knew that she needed. Needed more. Needed him. The sounds he was drawing out of her spurred Thranduil on, licking her entrance eagerly, slowly letting his fingers wander to her clit. She moaned his name when he started circling it with two of his fingers. Anarríma felt something build inside of her rapidly. “Thranduil”, she gasped, “I- I need to-”. “Come for me”, Thranduil encouraged her, briefly removing his head from between her legs to look at her, “I want you to come on my mouth.”

Thranduil would have loved to draw it out. Make her beg him for an orgasm after hours of pleasure, but he did not want to torture her so just yet. He proceeded to kiss and lick and suck, his fingers against her clit, restraining himself from pushing them inside her wet cunt. Anarríma was panting and gasping, throwing her head back in pleasure and she came, screaming his name. Thranduil kept caressing her with his hand, slowly guiding her through her orgasm. “That’s a good girl”, he praised, pressing little kisses all over her body, leaving a trail from her hip to her throat.

Her chest was heaving and her face was flushed as Thranduil laid down beside her on the bed and pulled her into his arms. Ana looked down at his cock properly for the first time. The king was indeed very well endowed and he was hard. “Does it hurt?”, she asked Thranduil after a moment, motioning toward his cock. “It is uncomfortable and I am yearning for release”, he confessed, “but I can wait.” Anarríma gently ran her fingers down his stomach. “You know, I spent the last 12 years surrounded by mostly male soldiers, right? I have seen enough to know how to relieve this certain ache.”

Thranduil was curious. “Do you want to?”, he asked. Anarríma nodded and slowly crawled down the bed. “Will you let me suck your cock?” Thranduil did not need to be asked twice. He nodded eagerly and sat up against the headboard, wanting a perfect view of his lady pleasuring him. Ana positioned herself between his legs and slowly kissed her way down his stomach until she reached the tip of his cock. Thranduil groaned loudly when she began sucking and licking his length down to his balls and back up again, taking him as far into her mouth as she could.

Thranduil could not contain his groans of pleasure, even if he tried to. He could feel himself slowly coming undone with her soft lips around his cock. Anarríma felt her hair being pulled and she looked up at Thranduil through her eyelashes. He had reached down and wrapped her hair around one of his hands, gently guiding her movements. “Ana”, he panted, “if you don’t want me to come in your mouth you have to stop now.” She released his cock, sliding her mouth off slowly, watching with great interest as Thranduil wrapped his hand around his cock and continued to pleasure himself.

Ana laid her hand on his hip, stroking him softly. “Keep going my love, you’re almost there.” Her words of encouragement combined with the touch of her fingers on his body made Thranduil see stars as he groaned loudly one last time and spilled his seed all over his stomach. He did not rest for long before grabbing a towel off his nightstand, or hers, they had not chosen sides yet, and cleaned himself up, discarding the towel and looking up at Anarríma, who was lounging next to him, eyes fixed on his stomach.

“Now back to you, my lady”, Thranduil stated, “that is, if you wish to continue.” Ana kissed him in response, letting the king pull her closer and push his tongue inside her mouth. They had never kissed so deeply before, Ana thought, relaxing into Thranduil’s arms. He broke the kiss and let his hand gently caress her hip. “I am going to use my fingers on you now”, he explained, “stretching you so you can take me later.” Ana felt herself get even wetter at his words and she eagerly spread her legs for him. Thranduil gently pushed one finger into her wet cunt, feeling her contract around him.

Ana moaned at this foreign sensation and Thranduil took that as a sign that she was alright. He began slowly moving his finger, curling it against a spot inside that made her gasp and whine every time he brushed against it. Thranduil slowly added a second finger, adjusting his movements so she could get used to the stretch. Ana released a high-pitched whine that made Thranduil stop. “Are you alright?”, he asked, concern clearly visible on his face, “you must tell me if I am hurting you.” “I am fine”, Ana replied, “this is all just so new. Please don’t stop.”

Thranduil continued the slow movement of his fingers inside her until Ana was reduced to a moaning, whining mess. He moved up to her face and gently cupped her cheek, making her look at him. “I think you can take one more”, he told her. Anarríma stared at him in disbelief, her eyes widening as she felt another one of his fingers slowly being pushed inside her cunt. She was whimpering quietly as she felt herself being stretched open wide by the king. “I know”, he whispered, “but if you want to take my cock later, I need to prepare you properly.” Ana nodded and Thranduil kissed her cheek. “That’s my girl.”

Thranduil’s movements became faster and rougher over time as Ana slowly relaxed and neared another climax. This time she saw stars as she came, clutching at Thranduil’s back, leaving red half-moon shaped marks where her nails dug into his skin. She felt strangely empty when Thranduil withdrew his fingers, slowly sucking them clean, one by one, making sure she was watching. “What position would you prefer?”, he asked her, caressing her thigh with one of his hands, “would you like to ride me? Or do you want me to take you from behind? Or would you have me on top of you? The choice is yours.”

Ana considered all her options. She thought she would feel more nervous, but now that Thranduil had made her feel so good with just his fingers, she felt at ease. “You have taken care of me so well, meleth-nin”, she answered him, “I want you to take charge and be on top.” Thranduil bent down for a long and passionate kiss. “I will gladly do that, my darling.” He carefully aligned himself at her entrance and parted her wet folds with his fingers. The king looked up at his lady for confirmation. Anarríma nodded.

He pushed his cock inside her slowly. Ana was whimpering and moaning at the intrusion. While Thranduil had inserted three of his long, skilled fingers just before, his cock was significantly bigger. Thranduil kept going slowly, pushing himself all the way in before stopping and looking at Anarríma again. “Are you well, my love?”, he asked, a look of adoration on his face. “You- You’re so big”, she choked out. Thranduil chuckled. “Thank you for the compliment, my love.”

He started thrusting, his movements slow and shallow. “More”, Anarríma suddenly demanded, and Thranduil complied eagerly, pulling out almost entirely, before slowly pushing himself back in, only increasing the power of his thrusts when his lady was ready for it. “You are taking me so well”, he praised, as Anarríma lay beneath him, panting, her nails now drawing blood on his back. Thranduil moaned loudly, a combination of pain and pleasure, his favourite, sinking in. He moved one of his hands to Ana’s clit, slowly massaging the swollen bundle of nerves, and simultaneously returned to licking and sucking and kissing her breasts all over.

Thranduil felt his orgasm draw closer. He had not been able to endure long, it had been some time since he had last been with a woman, and the fact that he loved Anarríma so very much, desiring above all else to fill her with his seed and see it drip out of her cunt, as she lay there, panting, shaking. The mental image of her cunt covered in his seed, claiming her fully as his, pushed Thranduil over the edge. He groaned loudly and his cock grew soft inside her. Ana could feel his seed filling her up, and she threw her head back, the sensation triggering another orgasm.

They lay beside each other, panting, Anarríma’s head resting on Thranduil’s chest. “Are you well?”, Thranduil inquired, as his breathing normalized. She smiled up at him. “I have never felt better. You?” Thranduil kissed her forehead tenderly. “I feel like I have missed something all my life, and just now found it”, he whispered, “and I will never let you go.” Anarríma felt a shiver run down her spine. The king’s words sounded both like a gentle and loving promise, and a threat. He will be your doom, the voice in her head told her, and Ana was ready for it.

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I DID IT. After two weeks in hell (university), I am finally back to writing. Note to self: never write smut at 5am when you're tired, you'll have to rewrite half of it lol.

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[chunkypossum]

Embers in the Wind

Ch 3: Rocks Under Tide

“A secret at home is like rocks under tide.”

— Dinah Maria Murlock Craik

Nesta X Cassian x Eris for @polyacotarweek

DAY 3: Secrets

Ch 3/4

7k words

READ ON AO3

Hiding this massive secret nearly becomes more trouble than it’s worth for all of them. What Happens when the bubble finally bursts and they are forced to deal with everything they have been trying to ignore?

Snippet under the cut.

“Are you two finished?” Rhys said from the sidelines, nearly bored to tears.  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Azriel said roughly as he and Cassian got back into their beginning sparring position. “Is our poor little High Lord getting tired sitting over there on his ass?”  Cassian let out a dark chuckle, not taking his eyes off Azriel.  “What I’m getting tired of is watching your foreplay.” Rhys countered, yawning.  “Here I thought you might be more interested in sparring seeing as how you have that post baby softness to your middle.” Cassian teased. He and Azriel began circling one another.  “I will have you know that my mate is a big fan of that softness.” Rhys winked sliding a hand over the front of his shirt. “Mor says Feyre calls it your sympathy pudge,” Azriel smirked and Rhys growled behind him. Cassian would give anything to see the look on Rhys’ face at that comment but Azriel was baiting him just as much as he was baiting Rhys. Azriel was too good, the second Cassian looked away, the bastard would strike. Cassian wasn’t going to let him win. 

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[seokiloquy]

Let Me Live - Semi Eita

Soulmate Au: First Words, Timeskip

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader, swearing, innuendos,

Word Count: 7k

“Don’t forget, we have to be there by 7!” Masaki sends to your phone, reminding you about a concert you’re supposed to go to in the evening. 

A thump rings through the wall.

You groan, setting down your pitcher of steamed milk to glare at the wall behind you. Music from the club next door rattles the shelves, causing some plates to clink together. It's not even noon yet, and the band has started warming up, much louder than anyone could appreciate. 

Cheery Cafe and The Local easily juxtaposed each other.

From the back kitchen, your boss emerges, rolling his eyes. "Already?" 

"Yup!" You call over a particularly loud strum that rumbles the walls.

Coming from downstairs, your coworker emerges with an armful of coffee beans and a grimace painting her face. "I swear they have a speaker pressed against our wall." She joins you behind the counter, dropping into a low square to slide the bags into the open shelf space behind your legs.

"I wouldn't be surprised." You huff. "The owner's an ass."

"Watch it, kiddo." Your boss huffs a laugh.

"You said it first!" You shoot back, but he walks out without a response. Mina follows behind with an empty pitcher.

"Wait! Can you make a note?! We're low on flour!"

"Got it!" You grab a pen and notepad just as another blast of guitar rings through the walls.

A customer enters. Hands over their ears.

"Hi, your ears okay?" You laugh slightly as the door shuts behind them.

“I may go deaf.”

“Join the club.”

“Already a part of it, sadly.” They sigh, taking out their earplugs.

You lean against the counter. “Ah, part of the enemy. Which are you, staff or player?”

“Roadie.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Laughing, the roadie brushed a hand through their grown-out buzzed hair. “This is the loudest they've been all tour. They're finally home, so it's all out for friends and family.”

The shelf rattles again, and you quickly spin to catch a cup before it falls to the floor. “Glad to be a part of the experience.”

“Sorry, I’ll tell them to tone down, but I can’t promise they will.”

“I don’t expect much. Anyways, you’re here for a reason. What can I get you?”

“I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do to you.” They wince.

You sigh, hands on the counter. “Please don’t say it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Please just be quiet.”

“Sorry.” They place a piece of paper that was ripped from a notebook on the counter in front of you. 

You stare helplessly at the text-filled sheet before groaning and calling back toward the kitchen. “I’m gonna need help out here!”

Kaziyoshi emerges, with a concerned look on his face, quickly followed by Mina. Kaziyoshi glances at the paper. “Oh lord.”

“I hope you’re not paying for this yourself.” You sigh, taking it with you to check out. “There’s even specialty drinks on here. Did you look up our menu?”

“Some people are very picky. It’s on the business card, though, so it's all good.”

“Well, you may as well sit down and enjoy the scenery.”

“Will do. It’s very cute here!” 

You laugh, “Very different from next door. Now sit. This is going to take a bit.”

“Do you need help taking these over?”

Six full trays, with four drinks each, there is no way this roadie is going to be able to carry them over on their own.

“I’d actually appreciate that, ya.” Nagawasaw tucks the list into their pocket before reaching for a tray.

Mina takes over the counter as another group of customers enter, and Kaziyoshi goes back into the kitchen. With three trays in your hold, one on each hand and the third balancing between your wrists and chest, you follow the roadie out of your cute little pastel cafe and toward the dark, towering club next door.

The Local, a black-painted two-story brick building, has been there for as long as you can remember. Opening at 7 p.m., you’re generally lucky enough to be off-shift and not have to deal with the lines of people waiting around, save for their cigarettes left behind on the sidewalk. But, despite the door only being open to the public at seven, artists, their teams, and available families are able to enter so long as an employee is present.

The roadie pushes the door open with their back as a blast of guitar threatens to burst your eardrums. You groan and follow in to put the drinks at the bar counter. The lead singer, with ash hair and dark tips, sings loudly with his eyes shut while his fingers expertly strum over his guitar strings. Your arms tingle as you set the drinks down in front of the barkeep.

“Hey, Nagasawa! You got it all!” You can recognise the owner’s rasper voice from anywhere. 

“Oh, and you’re one of the baristas from next door. Thanks for helping bring this over.” He reaches over your shoulder to grab a black 16 oz coffee and chugs it.

You rub your arms, nodding. “No worries. Hey, do you mind turning down the volume? We know the band needs to practise, but we’re having a hard time hearing anything over there.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Kiddo. Everybody! The drinks are here!” He walks away and not toward the soundboard. You sigh.

A girl, maybe 14 years old, rushes over. Grabbing the only strawberry milk and a double espresso before rushing back for the stage.

“Isn’t this place 18 and up?” You ask openly to the air.

“She’s the singer’s little sister. The bar isn’t open right now anyways, so it’s not like she can grab a drink.” Nagasawa sighs with a shug. “Anyways, Thanks for the drinks. The band’s playing for four days, so you can probably expect more requests from us.”

“Cool. I should get back. The name's (L/N) (Y/N), by the way. Nice meeting you.” You're about to bow but instead wince as the band plays all at once. “See ya.”

"Wait!" Grabbing a cup sleeve, Nagasawa pulls a pen from their pocket and writes. "If you need anything, shoot me a text."

Blinking, you grab the brown paper and bow. "Thank you." 

The customers that had entered when you left were seated at a table, happily chatting, and Mina was free. She furrowed her brows after getting a look at you. “What’s up with your arms?”

You freeze next to the counter and look. “The fuck?”

“Do you have a soulmate mark?”

“No!”

“Well, you do now!” She shrieks, making the customers, only a few metres over, turn around.

Vibrantly coloured letters glow on your arms, covering every inch with a stroke of bright paint. Nothing seemed to be untouched. You lift your pant leg to find the same pattern. They stayed for a moment before fading away into nothing.

Mina was jumping on the spot, fanning her cheeks with excitement. “Do you know what this means? You have a soulmate!”

You hiss, “Ya, and it was someone next door!”

Mina freezes. “Oh, shit. Do you know who?”

“Well, not Nagasawa or Mr. Takumi. I would’ve noticed earlier, and I’ve spoken to the owner before.” A blast shakes the side wall again, “Asshole didn’t even bother trying to turn it down.” You join Mina behind the counter.

“No other clues?”

“Everyone was talking, and the music was so loud. I didn’t talk to anyone else either.”

“Was the music good, at least?”

You give Mina a sideways glance.

“Right, never mind.”

“I’m kidding. It was… fine. Just very heavy… and loud.”

After a break from the boom drums, the door opens, and the same young girl from before enters, a towering figure following behind. “Eita, come look, it’s so cute!”

She lets go of the guitarist's sleeve and runs to admire the wall plushies across from the counter. She squeals, jumping up to reach a cat on the top shelf.

Eita rushes over, catching the line of stuffies that nearly come tumbling down with the giant cat the girl snatched. 

"Watch it, Hanako. You're going to break something." Eita pushes the toys back onto the shelf and glances around with a twitching nose. "It's… cute."

You glare, ignoring the blur of Hanako as she excitedly rushes around, the giant pink cat in her arms, to look at all the other shelves.

He glances around the pastel-painted walls before catching your eye. "Aren't you a ray of sunshine? What's with the storm clouds?"

You feel the muscles in your forehead tense more, "Sorry, what was that? My ears are ringing from the constant screeching next door."

The tall guitarist scoffs before getting distracted by his sister running to the counter. And dropping everything on it. "Can I also have a strawberry milk with boba!!" 

You smile at the girl. She's decked out in fun colours and cute accessories and a long swaying skirt to match. The exact opposite of her brother. "What did you pick out?"

"The cat, a Sanrio blind box, the My Melody headband, this keychain, th—”

“How are you paying for this?” Eita asks behind her, making Hanako look over her shoulder.

“Who said anything about me paying for it?”

You huff, slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the laugh that threatened to escape. Eita glares before pulling out his card with a sigh, letting his sister swipe it from his two fingers.

“Oh, you’re just wrapped around her fingers, aren't you?” you laugh, placing all of the girl's items in a bag.

“Ha, ha.” He reaches for the completed bag and grabs his sister around the neck with his elbow, escorting her out and messing with her hair as they leave.

“Ah! Eita! Stop it. Let me go! I’m gon—” The door shuts behind them.

Your hands push into the counter, creating a line where the heel of your palm falls off the stone. The guitarist walks past the window with a bored but snobbish expression as if a young girl wasn’t dragging him around. While carrying a wild exterior, you could feel the “I drink black coffee” attitude radiate from him and infect everyone in his vicinity. His sister seemed to stand alone, luckily, not caring for the glares he sent towards all the cute merchandise or sweet drinks and snacks you had in store.

A scoff boils out of you as they finally fall away from view. At least Hanako was cute, if she weren’t, you couldn’t imagine the amount of remarks he would send your way. You could hear it now: “Who would want this stuff,” “Seems weird,” “People actually buy these?” all with a tone that sounded like slime stuck between toes in a sweaty shoe. You shiver, dropping onto your elbows, only to notice that the words have re-appeared, only this time, one in particular stuck.

“Aren't you a ray of sunshine?” You read aloud. “Fucking hell.”

“Watch it!” Kaziyoshi appeared from the kitchen. 

The rest of the colourful lettering quickly dissipates, fading into the natural shade of your skin beneath them as if washing away in non-existent rain. But the six words, one sentence, remained prominent and bright on your forearm. You swing it behind you, hiding it from the view of your boss.

“If you saw who had just been in here, you’d say the same thing. At least the sister managed to get his card out of him.” You gesture to the register for Kaziyoshi to take a look. As he does, you rush to grab an extra sweater tucked in the far corner beneath the counter and slide it on.

“Oh ya. Good for her. Shika will be happy to see that.” Shika, his wife, was in charge of inventory. Kaziyoshi leans away from the register to look at you. “Cold?”

“Only a little.” You smile, already feeling the sweat start to build on your skin. 

“I’d say turn the AC down, but it’s pretty hot in the kitchen right now.”

You knew that the heat easily spread to the front, and while the smell was excellent, it was torture during the summer months. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.” You already regretted the decision.

The letters beneath your skin seemed to tingle. Annoyed, you scratch at it until Mina appears again, allowing you to run off and distract yourself with another task.

The day continues as mundanely as before, occasionally being visited by those from next door. Why the owner endorses your cafe despite being a grotesque man in general, you’ll never know, but you hope he just likes the coffee. The thumping only stops two more times throughout the day, the last of which happens an hour before you close, and the line outside begins to build, running across the cafe’s window and door.

You just finished mopping when the door opens again, and Mina curses. “I forgot to lock.”

Luckily for you, though, you recognise the face standing on the mat. 

“Masaki? I thought I was meeting you at the venue?”

Mina sighs in relief, handing you your things before gathering her own and heading for the lights.

“Well, I was waiting in line with Hiro and thought I'd just come get you. Hiro’s holding our spot anyways.”

You blink for a second, wondering why Masaki would abandon their spot in line and come travel to get you when that effectively doubles the distance travelled.

“Besides, it’s not like I had to walk far. Come on!”

Behind you, you hear Mina say bye to Kazioshi (and Shika, whom he was on the phone with) before she comes back and pushes both you and Masaki towards the door.

“Not far?” Your feet freeze, leading Masaki to drag you outside. Mina waves goodbye as she locks the door, before walking in the opposite direction that Masaki is leading you. “No.”

You freeze just outside The Local, where Hiro waits in front of a security guard with his hair perfectly shagged and styled. 

Suddenly, it’s like your eyes give up on you. A dark vignette takes over your vision as you realise just who you’re about to see in concert. And that you will be sticking out like a sore thumb in periwinkle and white clothing, while everyone else is wearing black, and leather.

You don’t look like you belong in The Local. You look like you just walked out of the cute cafe next door. Which A. everyone just saw happen, and B. everyone inside knows too.

You lift the hood up of your borrowed sweater, tucking your nose behind the zipper and tighten the hoodie string as much as possible. The fabric is pink, which, while very cute, does not help your situation. You groan, regretting that you were born in a world where sweaters don’t eat people alive. Why did they buy this ticket, again?

“Ending tour sale.”

You further bury your nose.

Eventually, the security guard asks for ID and tickets with the help of one of The Local’s staff members, whom you give coffee to regularly, and you’re in.

There’s an artificial breeze inside as the building’s old AC works its hardest, which you appreciate from under your sweater before being dragged to the base of the stage. You, along with Masaki and Hiro, stand before the stage, looking at, or for them, admiring, the set-up from the perspective of an ant. 

Nagasawa, the roadie, appears on stage, guitars in hand that they place on stands. Catching your eyes, they nod, before walking off, shoes appearing and disappearing across your line of vision.

More people pile in, and Hiro offers to go get drinks for the three of you at the bar before too many get through the doors, and manoeuvring becomes impossible. You nod along with Masaki’s enthused reaction, thinking about being trapped at the front back of the room, far away from any exits, while being pressed up against the stage where that wannabe miscreant of a guitarist that you now have to call your soulmate will be able to stare you down for two very long hours. You shiver.

Hiro returns quickly, the bar hands are well-trained and speedy, and you down your cup of alcohol before even finding out what it was.

“You good, Hello Kitty?” Hiro asks, taking the empty cup back.

“Fine, just feeling the desire to jump in front of an oncoming train.”

“Oh? Which one?”

“Hiro!” Masaki smacks his arm.

“I didn’t bring it up!” He defends, Shifting his body weight when he notices people trying to shove you three out of your spot at centre stage.

Masaki sighs before looking your way with pinched brows, a silent question.

You just shake your head. “It’s not worth getting into. Not right now.”

Still, with a concerned face, Masaki nods and turns toward the stage.

After they both finish their drinks, the club space is packed, and people are already trying to shuffle by in a tight line to get toward the bathroom. The AC, while on, has already failed at keeping the large number of bodies in the space cool (go figure), and you are already regretting your decision to take the sweater with you instead of leaving it behind.

You stare down toward your feet, trying to see them in the dark to calm yourself down and not overheat, and then the crowd screams.

The group, which you don’t even know the name of, enters from stage left. A drummer with characteristically long hair that's ready to swing to the music, a pianist with the most toned-down style amongst the group, a bassist with and guitarists both with layered, torn and strapped up clothing, and the lead singer, Eita. He wore more extravagant clothes than before, somehow. Leather studded boots, ripped jeans with hanging chains, a loose graphic muscle tee underneath a leather jacket with fur trim, the last of which he had been wearing throughout the day.

Eita scans the crowd with a lopsided smile before landing on you with a tilt of his head. You were going to suffocate and die. The following words out of everyone's mouth had no meaning as you stared at the right-angle corner of the stage and gripped it.

The music plays on, not caring for your drum-altered heart rate or battered eardrums.

The crowd behind you screams, and something grabs your chin, forcing your head to tilt back despite the tense muscles in your neck. Eita stares down at you with a hiked brow, face entirely shadowed by the stage lights.

You try to scramble back and tear away his grip, but you find your back forced to stay still by the pressure of a thousand bodies wanting to clamour closer to the men on stage. You're trapped as you feel every word your soulmate sings begin to dance on your skin.

Eita winks before rising fully to his feet again, and Masaki lands a slap against your arm.

You're free from his hold but still trapped in his presence as the next two hours are filled with blaring rock and tingling skin. He doesn't look your way the rest of the night. You're thankful.

As soon as the show finishes, you rush to the door, not caring to stick around for the band's pandering for their fanbase. You escape, ears ringing and slam your back against your cafe's door as your breath tries to acapella and not return.

Overheated, you rip the sweater off your shoulders and toss it to the ground. How Eita managed to play a whole concert in a leather jacket with a fur trim, you wouldn't understand. But, then again, he likely didn't have anxiety pumping through his views like you had, freeing him from the fate of being an overcooked slab of chicken. 

Gasping for breath, your mind jumps to his calloused fingers on your chin. So tight, as if he could have grabbed you by the neck in a second and carried you over like a hen ready for slaughter.

Mind now on chickens, your breathing slows, and you melt onto the concrete ground in front of the Cheery Cafe door.

"Hey, why did you run— Oh shit!"

With tired eyes, you see Madaki and Hiro staring down at you. 

Hiro chuckles, "You kinda look like part of the Yakuza."

Your arms, your whole body really (not that they could see) were covered in lyrics. Words dancing and wiggling around as though the music was still playing on your skin.

"Just kill me now."

The Semi family invited the band over for a late dinner and a chance to sleep on actual beds, but so had the rest of the bandmates' families. Instead they went to a group dinner before parting ways for the night. Eita was just relieved to not be forced onto the couch in exchange for the drummer, the youngest's, comfort.

Walking into the family home, with his parents in front and Hanako at his side, Eita quickly reached for his jacket the moment they stepped through the door, arm swinging over his sister's head.

"Watch it!" She cried, smacking his jacket to the floor as he tried to toss it onto the clothing rack.

Eita stared down at the cloth. "Seriously? Pick it up."

"Hmm, no." Hanako grins, kicking off her shoes before stepping onto the leather coat and into the living room.

Eita huffs, stripping off his baggy tank top to toss onto her head before she turns the corner.

"EUGH! This reeks!! Mom!! Eita is stripping in the living room again.”

Peeking out from the kitchen with a glass of water, their mother sighs.

"It's been two minutes, can't you two… EITA IS THAT A TATTOO?!"

Her water nearly spills as she rushes over. Hearing the commotion, their father appears from the hallway with a fresh t-shirt and pants.

"Eita got a tattoo?"

"HE BETTER NOT HAVE!"

"Oooooh, you're in trouble!"

Eita glares at Hanako for her teasing tone before facing his concerned mother. "I didn't get a tattoo. What are you talking about?"

She rushes forward, glaring despite Eita's denial. Prodding his stomach, just above his hip bone, she huffs. "Then explain this!"

He looks down and sees a messily scrawled line running along the curve of his skin. "Huh, that's new."

"NEW?! Taiko, look at this."

Sighing, his father walked over, passing Hanako, who eagerly followed along.

He stared for a moment before pushing up the glasses on his nose. "I believe that may be your soulmate mark, but I can't tell what it says. Did you meet anyone new today?"

"Tons, Dad, I'm a touring artist."

"Right, stupid question. Well, unless you can decide what it says, you're a bit out of luck unless they've noticed it too, or there's another piece going on."

His mom sighs in relief before hugging him lightly and whispering a small “Thank god” before ushering him and his sister off to bed, as if he wasn’t an adult and she wouldn’t stay up late anyways. Eita was tired, though, but despite his body’s desire to sink into the bed, he grew up with and found most comfortable. He couldn't help but sit at his desk chair, with a moderately sized mirror on a stool that his sister likely shoved in his room and stare at the black text that was inked onto his skin.

He trailed his fingers over the lettering, hoping that every swipe would reveal something new, a clue to understanding what it said. 

It was 3 am before he realised the time and decided to go to sleep.

"What does this say?"

You stare at the sticky note Shika holds out to you. "Uhh, I can't tell."

"But you wrote it?"

"Doesn't mean I can read it. Hold on." You grab the sticky note, looking for the pad it came from and the pen you used.

Finding the pair, you retrace your steps in reverse. "OH, FLOUR. Right, we're low on flour."

"Thanks for the translation."

"Sorry."

Shika laughed. "Would have been worse if you weren't here. Thanks for covering today."

"Not like I had anything else to do. Besides… wallow?"

The door squeaked, and Shika sighed, “Well, back to it for now.”

You try not to let your knees buckle at the sight of the man walking through the door. Eita is dressed casually, a regular baggy shirt hangs off his shoulders. The simplicity haunts you though, and it takes everything not to duck and hide from view.

"Oh it's Sunshine. Why are you here?"

You level him with a sigh, "I wonder why. Possibly because I have a job. That doesn't explain your sudden appearance, though. Where's Hanako?"

Turning you back to him, as if not caring for his presence, you immediately let a silent scream escape, forcing every emotion out of you.

"She's sleeping. Stayed up too late last night. By the way, could you draw a map to the nearest café? I need some caffeine."

He's smirking at you when you glance over your shoulder. But with a shrug, you grab a napkin and a pen, scribbling on it before sliding it over with a perfectly practised smile. "Here ya go."

"Hmm," he sighs, glancing at the drawing. "Not the customer service I would hope for. An ass? Really? Oh, wait, you serve coffee. This must be a self portrait."

You're boiling, skin scorching and arching to jump off your body. "Oh, absolutely, my butt is the perkiest around." It comes out in the singing tone you use later in the day when the customers are in a rush.

"Hmm, you'll get there eventually."

You want to throttle him.

"Oh, thank you for the encouragement. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Hmm, do you remember the orders from yesterday? I'd like all those again."

"Hmm?" You want to scream. "Do you have the list?"

"Oh. No. But you can do it. It is your job, after all." The eyes are pinched together with cunning mirth.

Forget throttle; maul him. You want to maul him. Soulmate or not.

"Alright, I'll get right on it."

Eita gives you a smile before turning to wait in one of the plush seats. Comfortable, as if he'd won the battle. Annoyingly, you can see your handwriting peaking through the bottom of his short-sleeve. 

You growl to yourself before pulling out your phone, and shooting off a quick text.

Nagasawa is quick to reply, and eager to be a bother to the artist that they were working for. You open the sent image of the list and get to work.

You're halfway through when the rocker feels the need to bring your attention back his way.

"I'm not paying for you to be looking at your phone," he huffs.

You give him a glance before returning to your espresso shot. "Luckily for you, you're not paying me at all."

"Good, I don't want to pay for this kind of service."

"Oh, that's too bad. Here's your bill." You walk out from behind the counter to hand him the machine. His eyes bulge for a second before sighing and pulling out his card.

You skip back to the counter and finish off the drinks. Tying one off with a cute pink bow.

"What's that for?"

"This?" You fluff the ribbon uselessly, for show. "It's your sister's order, I wanted to make it special for when she wakes up. Be a dear and put it in a fridge for her, will you?"

Eita rolls his eyes before getting one of the trays to rest on his elbows.

"Will you need help getting those over?"

Eita huffs to himself before nodding, "yes," he groans.

"Better call for some help then!"

Eita leaves with a grimace cut into his face.

Once the door closes behind him, you lift your sleeve to find the whole conversation painted on your skin.

"Why are you always here?"

You raise a brow at the question, turning to face the rocker while shaking together another customer's order.

"Hmm, have you developed dementia? Did you know that it could be connected to your hearing? You must have gone deaf from all the blasting music."

"...what?"

You smile and turn your back to him.

He waits for a moment. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You mean, why am I always here? Cause I work here. Duh.” You finish off the mix in your hands before walking it to the end of the table where the previously mentioned customer is waiting with an amused grin. “Here ya go.”

“Thanks.” The woman gives you a teasing smirk before ushering herself to the door.

Eita, annoyingly enough, has your full attention again. “Why are you always working?”

“Because I like my job? Because I need the money?”

“Because you have nothing else to do.” You squint at Kazioshi as he appears. “You aren’t even supposed to be here today.”

“Are you going to kick me out?” you huff.

“No.”

“Then don’t complain.”

Kazioshi shakes his head, grabbing the metal tray he needed from the counter, before heading back to the kitchen.

Once again, Eita has your full attention. “Bad social life?” He asks as a cocky smile appears on his face.

“I’m talking to you aren’t I?” you mirror him. “If you’re not going to order something, take a hike. I have things to do.”

“Oh you’d love for me to get lost in the mountains, wouldn’t you? Nah, I'm here for that order again.”

You perk up, “Is your sister here?”

“Not yet.”

“Shame, she’s the better sibling.”

You don’t stay to see how he reacts to the comment. There are drinks to be made, and a boy to charge for them. At least there is some joy in emptying his wallet.

“Hmm well, she isn’t the one you paid to go see in concert.”

The momentary joy you felt was immediately washed out.

Day four. The final day. One more concert and you were free from the torment. The thought was probably the only thing getting you through the day, knowing that after tonight, you could be free of Eita’s presence. So long as he continues to wear long sleeves.

It was a pleasant thought. Being free. Sadly everything else seemed to want to bring down your mood. Your phone didn’t charge last night, meaning that after your endless scrolling, it had died on your bedside table, and didn’t ring in the morning. So, you were running late for the one time you were actually scheduled to work. Then, while rushing out the door, a downpour started and ended in the time it took you to bike to Cheery Cafe, soaking you to the bone. A customer yelled at you for making their “mocha caramel hazelnut latte” too hot, despite them requesting it as such. Then while mopping up said “Mocha caramel hazelnut latte”, You slipped and knocked your head against the sharp edge of the counter. The receipt printer disconnected. The wifi went down. You burnt your thumb while steaming milk. Lunch can’t be eaten off the floor. And finally, the band started playing.

You groan, rubbing the back of your head where a bump has quickly grown. It seems to pulse every time the drum hits.

“You good, kid?” Kazioshi comes back with a fresh bag of ice.

“No, I’m in hell.”

“Well, that's not supposed to be the mood of this place. Do we need more pink?”

You chuckle, quickly wincing as the action shoots a pulse right into the back of the head.

“Just a couple more hours, and you’re free.” He sighed, having already given up on sending you home early. “You’ll get through it.”

The door opened with a squeak.

“Hi!”

Hanako is in the doorway subtly smiling as you meet her eyes. It's hard to tell if the bright light that follows her is a side effect of just how endearing she is or a concussion.

“Hi, Hanako. How are you?”

Her gentle grin quickly switches to a frown as she approaches. “Tired. Eita has been playing nonstop for the four days he’s been here, and I’m tired of it. I can’t even be in there when the concert starts.”

“Same here, kiddo.” You wince as another loud strum rings through the wall. Being later in the day, with the sun going down, there was no one coming into the cafe for an 8 p.m. coffee, unless they worked at The Local and everyone there had already gotten their fill. “Come on, let's sit on the couch.”

Hanako swings her skirt around, letting it flutter around her ankles as she follows you to the plush seat. 

“So, you’re here because you’re tired of listening to your brother’s music?”

Hanako grabs the ends of her hair, playing with the dark tips. “Pretty much. It's the same thing for two hours, four days in a row. I just wanted to have a nice dinner with my family, but he has to work, and my parents have to attend because they have to support him. And UGH I just want a burger or something.” Her head swings as she talks. “I don’t even like rock music.”

“Really? Eita must hate that.”

“A little. But I can at least annoy him about it.” She kicks her feet a little, and you begin to copy her, making the girl giggle. “He’s been on tour for a year. I just want it to be over already.”

“Isn’t this the last concert?”

“Ya, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. It was supposed to be only two days but they decided to extend it because of high demand, and then they made a sale, which was totally fake, the tickets were all the same price. So they got to play two more days.”

“My friend bought me a ticket because of the sale. So I'm going to tell them that it was a scam.”

Hanako chuckled cutely. “Buy two get one 50% off as if the two tickets weren’t priced higher.”

“Oh, that’s evil.” You chuckle, adjusting your ice pillow.

“Ya, it was my brother’s idea.”

“Ah, I knew there was something off about him, a con artist he is.”

“Wooo celebrities. Ugh, I’m just tired of it.”

A prolonged silence filled the air, before you could think of something more to say. Not that it was anything useful. “Sorry if I seem out of it. I took a fall earlier and bumped my head.”

“No worries. I am too,” she yawns. “I just want to nap.”

“Go for it. I won’t stop you.”

When you’re tired enough, the consistent drum beats from next door can act as a calming rhythm to lull you to sleep. You sigh, sinking into the couch’s backrest. Sadly, you can’t sleep on the job, so through bleary eyes, you keep an eye on the open door, as Hanako’s head falls onto your arm.

Eventually, the concert ends, and finally there's calm in the cafe once more. You watch silently as the concertgoers walk past the cafe door, leaning against each other and blabbering in slurred words. 

“HANAKO!”

The calm didn’t last long. Eita stomps through the door, face coloured a bruising red in contrast to his hands, which were clenched so tightly that blood seemed to not go to his fingers.

“HANAKO!” The girl shot awake, hand jumping to grab onto your arm. “Why are you where? You were supposed to be in the back with Mom and Dad!”

“I got tired of your shitty music!” She whined, hiding behind your shoulder.

“HANA! You left on your own you could have been kidnapped, do you realise how stupid that was?!”

Your head throbbed at the squabbling. “Gah, Shut up! Don’t yell at her. She’s safe, she knew where she could go.” Palm to forehead, you stood up and let the icepack fall to the seat cushion behind you. Hanako picked it up. “Is your throat not sore after being used all day? Be quiet already. I’m sick of the noise.”

Eita’s eyes were blown out in a broad glare, face only seeming to turn purple. “Excuse you? My throat? What about you? Aren’t you the one that needs tips to get by?”

“I don’t think I need any tips from you, thanks. Any advice from you would get me stuck in a gutter.” You’re hardly looking at him, or maybe you are. It’s hard to tell how tired and dizzy you feel. Everything seems hazy, but you can differentiate the dark shadow of Eita from the pastel background.

“Your head is already in the gutter!”

“My head is perfectly fine. No complaints. 10/10. Only raving review—”

“God, just be quiet! My sister is here!”

“You’re the one yelling.” You point out, and reach behind you until your hand lands on Hanako’s soft hair. The girl takes the motion as permission to latch onto your leg from her seated position, you feel the ice pack she’s holding against your knee. You hum. “And Hanako came here because she was tired of your music. You do realise for the four days you’ve been in town, you’ve only spent 10 hours each day with your family, and I bet most of that time was spent sleeping, or hanging out with your bandmates.

“And how do I know this? Because I’ve been here every single day. I know when concerts at The Local end, and I knew when you and your team got here each morning. I made you guys drinks. I dealt with your blasting music for hours on end. You know, you don’t have to rehearse at full volume day in and day out. The whole neighbourhood knows your setlist by heart.”

You don’t notice Kazioshi peek out from the kitchen with a frown before he sneaks back to his quiet space.

Eita glares. “So you’re a stalker.” His voice is finally toned down.

“An observer.”

“Every time I've gone in here, you’ve only ever been standoffish. Could you stand to be a bit nicer to customers?”

“I’m standing right now.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Do I? Sorry, between smacking my head on a marble counter and dealing with your music all day, I’m kind of not in the right space. I can’t even remember what you said five seconds ago.”

“You—” Eita sighs, hands unclenching. 

You take a second to rub your drooping eyes. “You got something on your face by the way. Did someone marker you?”

Hanako is giggling against your leg, gripping your pants with all her grip as she tries to stay up.

Eita pauses for a second, thinking about how ridiculous he must look with something smeared across his face. “Do you have a bathroom?”

You point at the door in the hallway before the kitchen. He stomps off and you flop back down.

“He’s not normally that emotional.”

“He was only worried about you. Can’t blame him for that.” You rub her hair a bit before combing it back into place, you think. It’s a bit hard to see. “I think I might really have a concussion.”

“Shouldn’t you, like, lay down or something?”

“Later.” You huff, pulling the girl close into a hug. “First, I have to hug a cute little bunny!”

“Yah! Stooooop!” She manages to push you off, giggling all the while.

The giggles outside the door seem to fall on deaf ears as Eita stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. Words, scribbled in what he could only describe as a child’s handwriting, trailed up his neck and onto his cheek. Words he now knew came from you. He knew there was more, so in a quick fashion, he strips down behind the locked door of the bathroom. He hoped he wasn’t scarring the cute cat sticker that was stuck to the mirror in the process.

The words continue, circling him like a python, and he struggles to catch his breath. Cheek to ankle, he’s covered in black and red letters. It hits him. Just outside, in the cafe, is his soulmate, who he yelled at. He can feel his heart pick up its pace, fighting against the constricting that the written words on his skin are causing as they slither around. 

There’s a knock on the door. Eita forces another breath, throwing on his clothes and opening the door.

Kazioyoshi blinks. “You good?”

“Ya. Fine.”

“Good. I need to get in there.”

“Right, right.” Eita side steps as the taller man enters the bathroom.

“You’re shirt’s on backwards, by the way.” The door shuts.

Still, in a haze, Eita pulls his arms in to spin the shirt around.

“Eita! Hanako! There you are!” His parents are in the cafe now sighing, and short of breath. “We’ve been trying to call. Nagasawa suggested you might be here. Thank goodness.”

Joining them, he glances at the couch where Hanako sits, and you’ve passed out.

His parents glance at the barista. “What happened?”

The two siblings speak at the same time.

“Concussion.”

“Soulmate.”

The two adults blink at each other.

“What?” Kazioshi says from the hallway, before rushing to the couch. He sighs. “At least we’re closed now… I told them to go home.”

Waking up the next morning (mid-afternoon) on Masaki and Hiro’s couch, in a dark room with all the lights off and curtains drawn was an unexpected experience. But was quickly overshadowed by the pounding in your head.

“You’re on bed rest for two weeks. No phone, no laptop, no tv. You can listen to a podcast or something, but you are staying in the dark and quiet as much as possible.” Hiro lectured you.

Apparently, stimuli of any kind can prevent recovery from a concussion (Probably shouldn’t have stayed at the cafe). So, due to your (unwilling) bed-ridden state, your friends, with the help of your co-workers, were taking care of you. Demeaning really, you felt like a baby, but at least you caught up on sleep.

When you were finally able to leave the house it was with sunglasses and a headset, and of course, you immediately went to the cafe.

“Seriously?” Shika scoffs when you enter, “Do you ever stay away?”

“Not unless I’m being restrained. Which I technically was.”

“You’re not working.”

“You can’t stop me.” You join her behind the counter, adjusting your sunglasses. “Go take a break I can handle it.”

“I'm not sure about that.”

“At least sit down for a bit?”

“Fine. But if you even get a bit tired, you call me.”

You nod and shoo her off, chuckling as she flops onto the couch and opens her laptop.

It's quiet, calm, the most peaceful it’s felt in a while. There is no shaking coming from the bar next store, The Local is empty and Cheery Cafe finally feels like it’s name.

You sigh happily.

“Hey.”

The cloud comes right back. Eita stands in front of the counter, hands in the pockets of his baggy sweater, it’s the most casual you’ve seen him. You glare.

“Why are you here?”

“To tal—”

“He’s been coming everyday,” Shika says from the couch. “Loverboy couldn’t understand that you were resting.”

Behind your glasses, you glance at the ash-haired man. “And you called me a stalker.”

“Hey. We have something to talk about. And you wouldn’t pick up your phone.”

“Who gave you my number?”

“Your boss.”

You glare at Shika. And the woman shrugs. “He was desperate.”

“I couldn’t use my phone, I’ve been recovering.”

“That bad?”

“Every concussion is bad.”

“I— right.”

There's a tight silence and you see the beginnings of your words appear above his collar.

“So. Soulmates.” You say. “Gotta admit. Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“Your handwriting is atrocious. How was I supposed to figure it out?”

Kicking the floor you pursed your lips. “I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t”

“Hey!”

“But you did and now I'm stuck with you. Aren’t I?”

Eita glares, straightening his posture. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is, I’m stuck with your loud music. At least you come with Hanako. She’s the better sibling.”

“Again… Hey. I’m your soulmate.”

“Do you want me to insult you again?”

“Not really.”

You lean against the counter, moving as close to him as possible while keeping the built in table between you. You look up at Eita as he tries to keep his chin up. “Then plan a date to take me out already. You know I have no social life. I’m free all the time and need something to balance out the torture that will be your music for a lifetime.”

His eyes shut, cheeks becoming rosy. “Again… Hey.”

“Eita. What are you doing?”

The volleyball player turned rock star lazed across the cafe’s couch, taking a selfie with one of the large plushies. The big teddy bear didn’t seem to enjoy it.

“Taking photos.”

You blink. “Why?”

“To send to Hanako.”

“Again. Why?”

“Cause she’s at school and not here. So she’ll be jealous.”

Rolling your eyes you return to cleaning your cup, “You’re cruel.”

“You love me.”

“I love Hanako more.”

He glares, “Hey…”

Working non-stop all summer to jump right into non-stop school. A break was nice but I already haven’t drawn in nearly a year, I don’t want the same to happen to writing. Save me. - Bacon

Posted: 28/08/2023

[cliffdivingsblog]

I could be your King

Update

Chapter 27 • Rated E • 7k words

“You are right …” Disa comments, her eyes narrowing in calculation as she notes which Dwarf Lords immediately flocks around Borin as he takes his place among them. “This political stalemate, with the King too ill to reign on his own but Durin not equipped with all the power he needs, is not good for our people.”

Her eyes find his once more.

“Borin is already using the situation for his own advantage. There are those who say the Balrog only appeared because Mahal is punishing us for reaching beyond what the gods have decreed. The fact that we mined deeper than ever before has not gone unnoticed.”

As if Aulë should criticize anyone for daring too much, Saurin thinks petulantly. After all, the very existence of the Dwarfish people is proof of his former master’s own rebellious nature. Disa’s next words make him startle in surprise though.

“It would be of tremendous help if you could join me today when we sing to the stone to welcome those we have lost,” she says, her golden eyes gleaming as brightly as the metal her people mine in these mountains. She smiles. “And if something extraordinary would happen it would help even more.”

While her trust in his powers is quite flattering, he has no intention to use those specific abilities today. Or on any other day. That part of him died a long time ago.

“Your highness, I don’t know how I could help you…” he tries to feign ignorance.

Only to freeze at the Dwarfish princess boldly reaching up to splay her hand over his chest, her touch warm even through the well-made woolen tunic he is wearing.

“Do not try to deter me,” her eyes are full of challenge. “The stones speak to me. I can feel their melody in you,” her fingers press against his flesh relentlessly. “It is in every breath you take, in the very blood running through your veins, whatever pretty human guise you may have chosen.”

Sauron bares his teeth at her, all pretense at charming chivalry gone now he feels backed into a corner. “You have no idea what you are asking for,” he growls at her, more than a touch of his power darkening his voice dangerously.

And to his astonishment Disa meets his ire without flinching back, her golden eyes calm and untroubled.

“There might be falsehoods in words,” she says, not relenting even a little. “There is only truth in stone.”

[saintsenara]

the three sisters bellatrix black & andromeda black & narcissa black gen | 7k words

but cygnus merely laughed. ‘i have no need of a gift from you, my lord. i have three priceless jewels waiting for me in my house. they are my three daughters, and they are already the most beautiful women in the land. and they shall grow up to be rich and powerful, and their vaults will overflow with gold.’

once upon a time, there were three sisters. and death.

this piece was written for @womenofthehouseofblack, [you can find the other fics in the collection here].

it was the result of an extremely exciting prompt by @broomsticks on the relationship between the black sisters and the deathly hallows, which, naturally, inspired the part of me which loves a good fairytale. [the three sisters is the latest in cautionary tales for young witches, my series of folktale and fairytale retellings in the harry potter universe.]

author's notes under the cut

the idea of the black sisters as the equivalent of the three brothers from the tales of beedle the bard makes perfect sense to me. they map perfectly onto the brothers of the story: bellatrix, the warrior, who would wish for an unbeatable wand; andromeda, the wanderer, whose loved ones are taken from her and would wish for a way of getting them back; narcissa, the dreamer, who wishes to protect her family from harm.

and, lurking over everything, lord voldemort as death.

this piece has much in common with two others i've written for this fest - nor all that glisters gold and other women and of purer blood [author's notes here and here] - not least in the characterisations of the three girls, with bellatrix chafing against gendered expectations, andromeda being brave and cheeky and striking out on her own, and narcissa finding herself under pressure to conform all the more when her sisters refuse to.

but also in the description of the blacks' house, with its garden full of elders [unlucky], hawthorns [a harbinger of death], and guelder roses [which line the bridge which connects the living and the dead]. the house is - in fact - a reference to a real place: dunluce castle [which is indeed on the road between portballintrae and portrush] in county antrim. the castle, which hangs right on the edge of the sea, looks like a ruin to muggles, but that's just due to its clever enchantments...

[esther-dot]

Hi Esther! Sorry for not replying earlier to your question. Work piles up and it makes me forget all about my favorite fandom for about 16h/day (lol, I only check for updates after midnight). So now I am finally fed up and decided to take a little break.

Your question was what I thought about Jon and Sansa in a romantic relationship and about the heirs of the North. My reply to this depends on the political plot of ASoIaF.

Once I thought that there is no way, because of the ridiculous book foreshadowing, that Jon and Sansa do not end up together. After the multiple and in depth on line discussions and analyses in the aftermath of the disaster that was 8.6, and after I was convinced (you did that!) that what we saw on the show was as close to the book ending as it could get on screen, I started thinking about it on different terms.

In the beginning I believed firmly that Dany's "betrayal for love" would be Jon. In this scenario Dany would realize that Jon would never love her; that he loved another; that he was more popular and wanted than she would ever be (also foreshadowed). And for this she would burn KL in revenge, thus realizing her father's threat about the "let him be king of the ashes". And that Jon would kill her after everything, as if for punishing her. This was my old theory. Simple and straightfarward (but M. does not do simple and straightfarward).

Now I am not so sure about all that, especially the details. The reason is that the political plot does not require a romance between Jon and Sansa to happen for betraying (: killing) Daenerys. Jon will already have many reasons for doing that: first and foremost that he will be in danger himself if she lives (his life will be dependent on her good will); second, that the North will never be freed if she is on the throne because the secession of the North could bring the secession of the Riverlands and the Vale (: Robb's example). The show gave us another reason: if Sansa truly discloses Jon's true identity, let's say for political reasons, meaning that she believes that the North would be freed with Jon on the throne of KL, and for personal reasons, meaning that it's the only way to get rid of Tyrion (and Dany's domination over the North via his potential role as lord protector), then Daenerys' assasination will have been for protecting her from Daenerys' wrath. Again, no romance is needed here.

So I started thinking, if this is so, and the foreshadowing is still there for all to see, then what place does a romance have in the story? The answer I have given is a tautology: that's exactly it, it's the absence of any political consequence that makes this romance as pure and genuine as it gets. Jon and Sansa do not need to be together for the political benefit, but they will choose to be together because they love each other. Sure, if this gets known (as in the first scenario), others will definitely see their romance as a political threat, because Jon is a Targ and Sansa brings three kingdoms with her. If Jon's id becomes known and has the backup of three kingdoms because of Sansa, then he will be immediately set up as a potential king of the 7Ks (and his Targ id makes it imperative for Dany to take him away from the Starks, as in the show). However, a romance between Jon and Sansa brings nothing new to the North, because their common goal will be (as I think) that the North is freed from the southern yoke.

In other words, there are no political advantages for Jon and Sansa, and this conclusion goes well with my theory that Jon forges his own kingdom and Sansa is queen in her own right. In all aspects, Jon and Sansa will choose what they will become, and they will choose each other too.

Now, after some point, there is a lot of foreshadowing about a baby that may be born out of wedlock. I am not so sure this will play out on page. If things will go as I speculate (it is only an estimation based on what I personally see in the books), why would the author tarnish this story with a bastard baby, thus returning to the beginning of the book? If Sansa indeed has the equivalent role of a fairytale princess, why would that princess have an illegitimate child? And why would the hero of the story be forced to assume the role of the absent father? It seems to me an unnecessary torment and inconsistent narrative at that. The ending must contain at least some purity for allowing for hope in all that blackness that is the culmination of the events.

However, because of the foreshadowing, I do tend to think that Jon and Sansa might have a romance (but no baby at this point), and it might be consummated on page, because of narrative reasons: Sansa's mismemory problem needs to be resolved, because Tyrion will claim that he consummated his marriage for imposing himself as lord protector and thus imposing the alliance with Dany, while Sansa will be saying the opposite for the opposite reasons. Finding out the truth will deepen the rivalry between Jon and Tyrion that is heavily foreshadowed (indeed in Jon's first chapter!!!!).

But, I am obliged to underscore that, as I said above, there is no need for a sexual relationship either. For maintaining one part of ASoIaF as a fairytale, we can only have the romance that remains secret and unconsummated, which would only increase the tension. Whenever M. chooses to finally unite these two in marriage, either after the dust (the ashes!) has settled down, or after the five-year gap, will be ok with me. But I am confident that it will be there for both of them, they will both have feelings for each other and they will both be aware of them. It will happen.

(continuation of this convo)

No explanation/apologies necessary! We all have real lives, and I take my sweet time getting around to asks too. Thank you for coming back to chat more!

"In other words, there are no political advantages for Jon and Sansa, and this conclusion goes well with my theory that Jon forges his own kingdom and Sansa is queen in her own right. In all aspects, Jon and Sansa will choose what they will become, and they will choose each other too."

This is so beautiful! Love that. I always have the urge to apologize when people say I convinced them that GoT is kinda/sorta/pretty much the ending. It's much nicer to not believe that, but your spec makes it okay, so I'm absolving myself of my crimes. :)

thus realizing her father's threat about the "let him be king of the ashes"

That's a great point. For some reason, I still always think KL burns when she's fighting Aegon, but this is delicious. I think because of Aerys description the fandom has the tendencies to not pay enough attention to the Dany/Aerys parallels, so this is making my brain happy!

it's the absence of any political consequence that makes this romance as pure and genuine as it gets

<3 <3 <3

Sansa's mismemory problem needs to be resolved, because Tyrion will claim that he consummated his marriage for imposing himself as lord protector and thus imposing the alliance with Dany, while Sansa will be saying the opposite for the opposite reasons.

I can't understand the timeline at all, but it does make sense for Tyrion to be a pain about his marriage. Boo. :(

What I've really developed a taste for is the idea of Jon and Sansa having a secret wedding while she's still technically married to Tyrion. Scandalous!!! But I came to that conclusions because a while ago I had a series of asks about Sansa & Lyanna parallels and how the Targ stuff can be Jonsa clues but it can also be Rhaegar references to assist the revelations of Lyanna's story/R+L=J. The idea of a secret Jonsa wedding as a parallel to a secret Rhaegar/Lyanna wedding became quite likely to me. I mention all that because that would allow for a Jonsa child to simultaneously be a "bastard" and also, not. Here are two posts about the Jonsa secret wedding idea 1, 2 in case you’re interested. And the Rhaegar hovering around in Sansa’s story post is here.

Thank you for humoring me. I'm enjoying your thoughts so much!

[middleearthpixie]

Promise Me ~ Chapter Eight

Summary: Friends since childhood, Gabriella has long held back her feelings where Boromir is concerned, as she did not want to risk losing his friendship if he didn't feel the same. But, then he is summoned to Rivendell, and the night before he is to leave, he stuns Gabriella by confessing his feelings for her as well. 

But, war is coming and he cannot put off what he knows must be done. All Gabriella can do is wait for him and pray for his safe return. 

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Gabriella

Characters: Ava, Gabriella, Boromir

Warnings: unprotected intercourse, some fluff, too, though. 

Rating: M

Word Count: 7k

Tag List: @sotwk @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell @glassgulls

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

The battle might have ended, but there was still so much work that needed to be done. Scores of wounded flooded the infirmary, seriously straining the already limited resources. No matter how she tried, Gabriella simply could not control her penchant for nausea at the worst time. The gore sickened her time and again and she spent more time hunched over a basin than she did actually helping anyone. It finally came to the point where Ioreth ordered her out of the infirmary all together. 

With nothing else to do, she made her way back to the stewards’ House of Healing, stopping at the door to Faramir’s chambers. It was slightly ajar, and when she peered around, it was to find no one there but Faramir.

The door opened silently. He did not stir as she approached him. Gabriella couldn’t recall a time where Faramir was so still. Like his brother, he was a force of nature himself, and to see him so still, so quiet… it unnerved her.

Five years separated Boromir from his younger brother, and yet they were incredibly close. Boromir always looked out for him, was the first to tease him about something, but also the first to defend him should someone else make the unwise decision to tease him. And she knew that no matter what he did or how hard he tried, Faramir could not measure up to his older brother in their father’s eyes. She’d seen for herself Denethor’s favoritism, had seen how uncomfortable it made both Boromir and Faramir. In some ways, it always made her thankful to be an only child. All that was expected of her was to inherit and run the tavern one day. Her parents never pushed her to marry, or to give them grandchildren, and it seemed as if any time she brought a would-be suitor home to meet them, they found a reason to not like him. 

All except for Boromir. They made no secret of their fondness for him and she’d always put it down to basically having an in with the Steward, but now she wondered if they’d seen something beyond friendship between their daughter and Denethor’s heir. 

She came to stand at Faramir’s bedside and without thinking, reached down to stroke his hair, which was only a shade or so darker than his brother’s. The resemblance between the two men was striking, they had the same coloring, the same nose, same jawline. Both were too handsome for their own good, and yet seemingly obvious to it. 

“She cannot figure out what is wrong with him.”

Gabriella jumped at the unexpected sound of Ava’s voice and at Ava’s equally unexpected presence. “What?”

Ava nodded. “She does not know what felled him or how to bring him back. I heard her telling one of her underlings there is naught to be done by the let nature take its course.”

“Oh, no,” Gabriella murmured, turning back to Faramir to take his hand between hers. “Has anyone told Boromir?”

“I expect Ioreth will. Or she will ask you to. You told him of his father’s passing, did you not?” 

“I did, yes. But, how do I tell him he might lose his brother as well?” She looked over at Ava, shaking her head. “That news will kill him.”

“But, he will have you to lean on,” Ava pointed out. “And that will soften the blow.”

Those words surprised her, for she and Ava had never been close friends and in some ways, Gabriella always felt Ava resented her relationship with Boromir and his family to a certain extent. But now? Now, there was no hint of that, or of the tension that had persisted between them in the days between Boromir’s leaving Minas Tirith and his return. 

“Soften it, perhaps, but it will not take it away entirely.” A soft sigh followed Ava’s words. “He has always been a kind man. I’m certain I am not the only one who is genuinely saddened by this.”

Gabriella nodded slowly. Both men were held in high regard by their people, and she didn't doubt any grief that would come would be genuine. A soft sigh rose to her lips. “Will you stay with him? I am going to go see if Boromir is awake and if so, will bring him down.”

Ava nodded. “Of course.” She offered up a hint of a sheepish smile. “Ioreth told me in no uncertain terms I was only in her way.”

“It’s an unpleasant feeling, being useless.”

“It certainly is.” Ava gestured to Faramir. “Go and fetch Boromir. I will stay with him.”

“Thank you.” 

Ava bobbed her head and Gabriella made her way back to Boromir’s chambers. But as she crossed the threshold, she saw his bed was empty, the linen and quilt bunched down at the foot of it. 

Her first instinct was to go and find Ioreth and ask her where he might have gone, but then, as she stood there a moment to think on it, it came to her.

At the far end of the corridor, was the steward’s chambers and when she gently pushed open the door, she saw Boromir, dressed in loose-fitting trousers and dark gray tunic, hands clasped behind his back, staring at the catafalque bearing his father’s body.

“Boromir?” 

She’d barely whispered it, but he started as if she’d shouted at him. Without turning to her, he said, “I had to see for myself. My mind refused to believe it otherwise.”

He spoke so softly, as if in a state of disbelief, and for a moment, she felt as if she’d intruded on a personal moment. 

“Do you wish me to leave?”

He shook his head. “That isn’t necessary.”

“But would you rather I did? It’s all right if you do, you know.”

“No.”

She moved to stand beside him. “As I said, he was devastated by the thought of having lost you.”

“He still had my brother.”

“He did, but—” she hesitated, then finished with a lame, “true.”

“Faramir could never measure up in his eyes,” Boromir said, his voice flat and void of emotion. “No matter what he did, our father found fault with it. Faramir did everything he’d ever asked of him, and without complaint. And yet,” his powerful shoulders rose in a shrug, “it was never enough.”

“He isn’t like you.”

“No. He isn’t at all like me.” A wry, humorless laugh came to his lips. “And I always thought that was a good thing. He had little interest in war and weapons and the like, and he was Gandalf’s greatest audience, always willing to listen to his stories and lore. That drove our father mad. He felt it made Faramir soft. Above all else, a son of Denethor was not supposed to be soft.”

She glanced up at him. “And yet, you can be.”

“He never knew that, though. As far as he knew, I was made of stone.”

“I’ve never seen you that way.”

He peered down. “What?”

“As stone.” She shook her head. “I mean, I know you’re a warrior and all that, but… I don't know if I can explain it… I always thought that, under the right circumstances…” 

She scowled as she tried to find the right words, the best way to phrase what went through her mind. “What I mean is, I don’t see gentle as being soft. And I have seen your gentle side. I know it exists and I think, if Denethor saw it, he—”

“He would think me soft as well.”

“It isn’t soft and even if it was, why is that so terrible? Should men be made of stone? Should they never admit to feeling anything that isn’t anger or war-like? I find that ridiculous.” 

“He wasn't always that way,” Boromir said, reaching out to rest his hand against the flag covering his father’s body. Her throat tightened as he brushed his thumb along the fabric and his fingers tightened about it just so. “Before my mother died, he was… oh, he wasn't so dour and gruff. He laughed more easily and told us fanciful tales at bedtime, regaling us with the glories of those who came before us, fighting to keep Gondor, to keep Rohan and Eriador safe. Those tales were what guided me to be a soldier, what had me dreaming of being the Captain-General of the Guard. Faramir loved the wizard’s magic and lore and I loved hearing Denethor’s lore.

“But then my mother died and it all changed.” He withdrew his hand from the flag and lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “He grew bitter and withdrawn and there were no more tales of gallantry or heroics at bedtime. He spent more time hidden away in his study, and aged before our eyes. And nothing made him happy where Faramir was concerned, because Faramir was not like I was. Faramir was not, in his eyes, enough of a man.”

“I think he might have proven himself to Denethor after all,” she broke in quietly. “For he was distraught over losing both of his sons.”

“I hope he found peace in his last moments,” Boromir murmured, his voice cracking slightly. “For he had so little before then.”

Gabriella turned her gaze back to Denethor. Because of the extent of his injuries, Denethor had been wrapped in a shroud of white linen, and draped with the flag of Gondor. Despite her sympathy, she found she was angry with him as well—he’d failed his sons, he’d failed his people, and when push came to shove, he took a coward’s way out. She couldn’t imagine Boromir setting himself on fire and throwing himself off the tower. No, he would stay and fight until he was the last man standing. Of that she had no doubt. The enemy would have to cut him down before he cut himself down.

Boromir shifted then and she bit back a smile as he caught her hand in his and linked their fingers. His thumb lightly grazed hers. She gazed up again to find him still staring at his father’s body, his eyes red but dry. With a soft sigh, she leaned her head against his shoulder, and as always, it felt right. 

“He approved of you, you know,” he murmured after a few minutes of comfortable silence. 

“What?”

“He did.” He pressed a tender kiss into the top of her head, one that she felt clear through to the center of her being. “He thought you would be a fine influence.”

“Over you?”

“For me? No.” He shook his head and offered up a bittersweet smile. “For Faramir. He saw you with him instead.”

“What?”

“Do not ask me to explain it, for I cannot, but he did.” 

“And who did he think would be a fine match for you?”

He let out a wry laugh. “He did not think marriage would suit me, that the Guard would become my wife. And for the longest time, I thought he was right. There had to be a reason why any woman I thought might be the one I’d ask never turned out to actually be the one I’d ask.”

Her heart sank at his words, but she tried to keep it from showing on her face. “I suppose.”

He turned to her then, catching her other hand in his free one. “But then I realized something, as I read your letter for the tenth time in Lothlórien.”

Now her heart sped up as his green eyes softened and his thumbs swept lightly along hers. “What was that?”

“It wasn't marriage that wouldn’t suit me, but rather, it was the woman to whom I thought to propose it.”

“Is that so?”

He nodded, leaning toward her. Her belly fluttered, her heart sped up, just as it had the first time he’d kissed her so many weeks earlier. And when his lips met hers, she clasped his hands more tightly.

He released one of her hands to bring his to her cheek, his palm warm and rough as it curved against her face. His lips parted, his tongue dipped between her lips to caress hers in a warm, teasing stroke that made her head spin and her blood rush through her veins. 

His mouth moved gently against hers, and when he slowly pulled away, she whispered, “Take care, Boromir. I might think you’ve gone soft.”

“I don't mind if you see me that way,” he admitted, his voice a husky whisper. “You never need fear me, you know.”

“Why would I? I know how gentle you can be. I’ve seen it, have experienced it, for myself.”

“I know, but sometimes circumstances change abruptly,” he drew back, clouds gathering in his eyes, “and you find yourself doing things you never thought you would.” 

She didn't miss the darkness woven into his words, a darkness she’d never heard from him before, and it had her peering up at him as she weighed both what he had just said and what she was about to say.

“Boromir, when you were with fever, you rambled on about many things. You were searching for someone. Afraid they would think you would harm them. Someone called Frodo?”

The clouds dissipated, and a darkness slid into his eyes as he shook his head. “I know not what you are talking about, Gabby.”

“Who is he? Why would he think you would harm him?”

He stepped back. “I should tend to my father’s funeral, so I—”

“Wait,” she moved in front of him, a hand against his chest, “why won’t you tell me? What happened that you do not want me to know about?”

“Gabby, you need—” He paused, his gaze rolling up towards the ceiling as his lips disappeared into a thin white line. He drew in a deep breath, releasing it slowly before continuing, “Frodo was one of the halflings in the Fellowship. There were four of them and they were more trouble than they were worth and if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not discuss them.”

“Boromir, I—”

“I have things needing my attention,” he muttered, stepping around her to stride from the chamber. He slammed the door behind him, the bang echoing mercilessly about the room with enough force that she actually winced from it. 

She stood there, staring at the closed door, for a long moment. Halflings. He’d spoken of them in his delirium, had calling for the one called Frodo, insisting he wouldn’t harm him. What had happened that he was not telling her? What had he done that this halfling needed reassurance Boromir wouldn’t harm him?

What had happened?

Her gaze went back to the catafalque. It was refrain that kept spinning through her mind. What had happened? What had happened to Boromir from the time he’d left Rivendell to the time he’d staggered across Pelennor Fields? 

Boromir strode down the corridor toward his personal chambers, up in the area known as the Citadel. Well, perhaps strode wasn't quite the right word, since he limped more than anything. His left leg throbbed with each step, and if the sutures held, it would only be a testament to Ioreth’s skills, for he was not at all gentle with himself.

He knew Merry was there, in Minas Tirith. As was Gandalf and Pippin. But where were Frodo and Samwise? And Aragorn? Or Legolas and Gimli? What had happened to the remaining members of the Fellowship who hadn’t been felled by fool arrows after attacking one of their own?

Hot shame poured into him as he reached his apartments and threw open the door. Sunlight splashed into the sitting room through the draperies of scarlet and midnight blue, which were his colors. Normally, his chambers were his sanctuary, the one place in all of Minas Tirith, in all of Gondor, actually, that he found peace and where silence didn't unnerve him.

Until now. 

He limped over to the sofa and sank onto it, letting his head fall into his hands. Grief swirled through him, billowing outward like thick black storm clouds. He’d lost his father. His brother hovered in the gray area between life and death. And Gabby—

He swore softly. He’d lashed out at her as well. He couldn’t possibly tell her what happened at Amon Hen. He couldn’t tell anyone. What sort of Steward would he be, if word came out that he’d betrayed one of the members of the Fellowship? No one would ever possibly trust him again, and rightfully so.

But he would never have actually hurt the hobbit. He simply wanted to protect his people.

At least, that was what he told himself.

The truth of the matter was, he wanted the Ring. He wanted to be the one to destroy Sauron. Wanted to be the one to bring peace to all of Middle Earth. 

He wanted the glory and wanted it all for himself. 

How did he tell anyone that?

He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead with one hand, trying to blot out the image of Frodo staring at him with wide-eyed fear. Frodo was genuinely afraid of him at that moment at Amon Hen. It mattered not how he had looked out for the halfling before that, carrying him through the snow on Caradhras, through the mines of Moria. All that mattered was in his one moment of weakness, Boromir attempted to snatch the Ring away from him to use himself. 

His wounds ached, especially his thigh. More than anything, he wished he’d simply kissed Gabby again when she’d teased him about being soft. He didn't mind her seeing that side of him and now, more than ever, he needed her to know that she could trust that he would never show any other side to her. She needn’t fear him. Not ever. He didn't mind being soft with her. She brought it out in him and always had. 

Absently, he scratched at the bandage on his chest as he sat there, staring at the windows along the far wall while seeing nothing beyond them. As he’d been on his knees amidst the crushed leaves and debris of the woods surrounding Amon Hen, staring up at the arrow that Lurtz was aiming to put between his eyes, all he had been able to think about was Gabby. All he’d wanted was to finish what he had to do with the Fellowship and return home to her.

Now, he was there, and he was fairly certain he was on the verge of ruining everything with her. 

It would serve him right, actually. He didn't deserve her.

The gentle knock at the door made him jump, and he planned to simply ignore it as he got up to go into the kitchen, only to have his unwanted visitor knock again. 

“Leave off!” His voice echoed throughout the apartment and the knocking ceased immediately.

“Boromir?”

He paused halfway to the kitchen at Gabby’s silvery voice. With a low sigh, he turned to go back to the door, and when he opened it, she said, “If you wish me to leave you in peace, I will, but I’m worried about you, is all.”

“You needn’t worry about me,” he told her, more gruffly than he’d meant to. “For I am fine.”

“Are you, truly?” She looked up at him, her eyes swirling pewter as they met his. “Because you are not yourself, you’re not the same as you were the last time I saw you.”

“No,” he shook his head, “I’m not, Gabby. Nothing is as it was and why would you expect me to be as I was before all of this happened?”

As soon as he’d said the words, he wished he could take them back as her face fell and she just stared up at him for a long moment before saying, “I—I don't expect that. But you… you…” she paused, then drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and said, “If you wish me to leave you be, as I said, I will.”

As she turned to go, he lunged for her, caught her by the wrist and said, “No, I don't want you to go, Gabby. Please…”

She glanced down at his hand about her wrist, and then back up at him. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine. Or, I will be, in time.” He gave a gentle pull on her arm. “Come in.”

He drew her into his apartment, pushing the door shut behind her with his free hand. She gazed up at him, her eyes wide and silver now and he was powerless to resist her. He bent to her, capturing her lips in a fiery kiss as he pressed her up against the door.

She melted against him, winding her arms about his waist, her hands coming flat against him, her fingers splayed across his back. Her lips parted at his urging and when her tongue grazed his, he shivered against her. He couldn’t hold back the ferocity in his kiss, and he didn't even try. He needed this with her, needed to feel her against him, to feel her lips against his. Death and destruction were all around him. He desperately needed the contact, the reassurance that life did go on and was not about to leave him behind as well.

Perhaps she felt the same, for she slid her hands along his sides, around to the leather lacings of his tunic, and with a not-so-gentle tug, loosened said lacings. Her fingers curled into the lower half of his tunic, the backs of them brushing his skin as she yanked it upward, the air cool against his bared back.

Gabby melted against him once more, her arms tight about his middle, her hands beneath his tunic, splayed against his shoulder blades. Her fingernails just grazed him, but his response to her touch was both swift and powerful. A shiver raced along his back, his blood raced lower still. Everything inside him tensed, twisted into fiery knots that had him arching against her, his hips rolling slowly into hers. He heard her breath hitch, felt her body tremble against his, and it spurred him on. 

He broke the kiss sharply to sweep his lips along her jaw, down the soft creamy expanse of her neck, which bowed beneath his caress. Her pulse beat faster beneath his lips, and when he gave into the urge to gently nip her, her fingernails bit into his back. The sting swirled through him, urged him to rock against her once more, that gentle, increasing pressure enough to offer a hint of relief to the desire billowing through him.

Her sigh was a caress against his ear, growing heavier and lustier as he slid his hands along the curve of her waist, to the hem of her tunic. She offered no resistance as he slid it upward, and whisked it over her head. 

He drew back then, smiling as he let his eyes feast on her. He knew she’d be beautiful, but had no idea how hard it would hit him until that moment. She wore no corset, but only a chemisette and heat swept through him as he caught the pale blue ribbon lacing it and tugged.

The linen bagged away from her and when he gazed back up, it was to find her watching him intently, her silver eyes almost sparkling as she whispered, “You’re staring.”

“I cannot help myself,” he whispered back, hooking a thumb into the chemisette’s neckline to draw it to the side. Heat filled him as he leaned close to sweep a kiss along the slope of her neck, then down across the skin he’d just bared. A hint of lavender rose to tease him, and as he drew the chemisette further to the side, he got his first glimpse of her bared left breast and the sight stole the breath from his lungs. 

He smoked a kiss along that inner curve, smiling as she slid an arm about his neck and thrust her fingers up into his hair. Those fingers twisted. Tugged gently. He pulled away just long enough to carefully whisked both tunic and chemisette over her head, but then bent to her once more and kissed his way toward the tight bead of her nipple. When he reached it, he paused to sweep his tongue over the nub, then closed his lips about it to draw it deep.

Her gasp was music to his ears and made him forget every last one of his discomforts. They receded to the furthest depths of his mind, his blood smoking through his veins to ignite his arousal, to set a spark to kindling in igniting a desire so fiery and powerful, all he could think about was making her fingers twist harder into his hair and wrap her body completely around his. 

He swirled the tip of his tongue about that taut bead, drew it deep into his mouth. He teased it, using her sighs as his guide. And as he did that, he cupped her free breast with his free hand to knead, as he’d imagined doing so many times before now. His name rose in a breathless whisper on her lips, her fingernails just barely danced along the back of his neck, but it was enough to make him sigh against her as he moved lower. He swept down, feathering kisses along her belly, and gingerly sank to his knees before her, feeling only a slight twinge in his left thigh as he did so, and that twinge was nothing compared to what whipped through him as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. Silver locked with green and Boromir found himself struck dumb at the sight of her. She was just so utterly beautiful to him… and he was so utterly unworthy of her. 

Her hand curved against his cheek. “What is it?” she whispered, her thumb sweeping lightly along his skin.

He couldn't possibly tell her what he was thinking and so shook his head as he replied, “Nothing. I suppose I’m waiting for you to tell me to stop.”

A hint of apprehension fluttered across her face. “Do you wish to stop?”

“No.” He shook his head, reaching for the lacing on her trousers. “That is the last thing I wish.”

“Then continue,” she said with a smile.

That was all he needed. He leaned in to brush a kiss along the soft curve of her lower belly as he unlaced her trousers and hooked his thumbs in the waistband. 

The fabric skimmed along her legs, his blood bubbling hotly through his veins as he drank in the sight of her. She stepped out of the trousers as if without a care and he could barely breathe as he let his gaze roam over her. 

He smiled and rose to lean into her. As their lips met, he forgot his pain, forgot his guilt, his shame. All that mattered was he was there with her at last. Her hands slid lightly along his back, sending a rush of tingling heat through him, more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before. And when she dragged her fingernails back down over his skin? He shivered from the sensations she sent rippling through him. 

She slid her hands up again, this time dragging his tunic up in her wake, which suited him just fine, as the room seemed warmer than it had only moments ago. The breeze wafting in through the windows was anything but warm, as winter still stubbornly clung to it, but as it swept across his overheated skin, he welcomed the caress. 

Her hands came around to his stomach, where she gripped his tunic in both hands and pulled. He broke the kiss, smiling as she smiled and whispered, “Help me?”

He carefully dragged the garment over his head and let it fall atop his bed, then looked down to find her gazing at him, her eyes silver and wide as they moved slowly over him. “What is it?” he murmured as her gaze met his. “Is something wrong?”

Slowly, she shook her head. “Not at all. I—I’ve thought of this moment so many times since you left, but I never thought it would actually happen.”

Without thinking, he caught her face in his hands. “As did I, Gabby.”

To his surprise, her eyes grew shiny and red. “I thought I would never s-see you again, Boromir.”

“I am here now, and I am not going anywhere.”

Her eyelids lowered and her bottom lip trembled. He let his thumbs sweep against her cheeks, then tilted her face to his and brushed a kiss over her lips. “I promise you, love, I am not going anywhere.”

She nodded, then opened her eyes. “I feel as if I’m dreaming, that any moment, someone will knock on the door and this will all dissolve before me.”

“It’s neither dream nor nightmare.” He slid his hands along her neck, down to her shoulders, and then around behind her, to the ribbon holding her hair back in its plait. Her hair was like spun gold silk, soft as gossamer as he unwound her braid. Her hair spilled free, tumbled almost to her hips in a wavy fall and just as he’d imagined so many times, he gathered the thick mass in his hands and savored the feel of it against his skin, the scent of lavender familiar and erotic to him now.

He pulled back to drink in the woman who stood before him and his mouth went dry at the sight of her. She was stunning. Absolutely, utterly stunning. If someone had asked him his name right then, he’d have been hard pressed to remember. He had imagined this moment for so long, only to find it was far better and ever more breathtaking than his mind could conjure.The light danced along her hair as it tumbled about her shoulders, over her flawless pale skin. He let his eyes feast on her, on breasts that were far fuller than he’d ever imagined, just large enough to fill his palms, on the soft stomach with its adorable curve, on her tapered thighs. She was far more beautiful than he’d imagined. So very beautiful, indeed.

“Boromir?”

Her soft voice broke through his reverie and he started, laughing when she did. “I beg your pardon, of course, but you are just—” he brought his gaze back up to meet hers—“you are so very beautiful, Gabby.”

Her smile grew shy, her cheeks flushed as she dipped her head. “Thank you.”

He stepped closer, catching her beneath the chin with one finger to tilt her face to his. Then, he leaned in and captured her lips in a soft, lingering kiss that quickly deepened. He couldn’t help it, could no longer resist her and did not wish to try. 

Her lips parted and as her tongue swept along his, every fiber in his body tightened, flooding with heat that had him rolling his hips slowly against her. He couldn't help it, instinct demanded it and he was powerless to resist, just as he was powerless to resist her. He released her chin to wrap his arms about her and as their kiss deepened, he took a deep breath, braced for the pain, and carefully swept her up into his arms.

Perhaps it was the fiery desire billowing through him that made her seem almost weightless. Perhaps it was the delicious pleasure of her warmth cradling him that made him impervious to any pain. He neither knew nor cared. All he knew was that was her legs closed about his waist, fire shot through him the way the orc’s arrows did, only this time, there was no pain at all. She was so light in his arms, felt so perfect wrapped about him the way she was, that all he could think about was spiriting her to his bed, only steps behind them. 

So he did just that.

She clung to him as he bent to press her down and as she sank into the featherbed, he settled perfectly between her thighs and couldn't hold back his low moan as they made contact. 

“Boromir?” She broke the kiss with her breathless whisper. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, love,” he whispered back, a smile playing at his lips. “That was not pain. Trust me.”

She returned his smile. “If you’re certain?”

“I am.” He bent to her again, captured her lips in a fiery kiss, and carefully settled against her. Tension wound through him now, his blood almost boiling as it swept through his veins to rush south. His trousers grew tighter as his body responded to hers, and he ignored the twinges in his chest, his thigh, as she slid her fingers into his hair and her tongue into his mouth and sighed so softly as he gave a slow, steady thrust against her. 

As he did, her fingers twisted harder into his hair and her hips arced toward his, the pleasure hot and sweet as it swirled through him. It chased away any and all remnants of pain and left only sparkling pleasure in its wake. He’d waited for her for so long now, and for the first time in his adult life, he knew he was with the woman he was meant to be with. 

He broke the kiss to sweep his lips along her jaw, down the front of her neck, down along the soft skin of her upper chest. He kissed along the inner curve of her right breast, toward the enticing bead of her nipple and when his lips closed over it, her gasp was the sweetest music he’d ever heard. 

He teased her. Swirled his tongue about the hard nub, caught it with gentle teeth to flick his tongue against. With each caress, she rocked harder into him, her breathing ragged about the edges, her fingers twisting harder in his hair. 

A hint of lavender teased his nose, as heady as any musk, since he would forever associate the scent with her. It fired his lust even further, and he moved lower, feathering kisses down the middle of her stomach, to the fluff of pale gold between her thighs.

He trailed his fingers along the curve of her waist, her skin soft and supple beneath his roughened hand. He moved down over her thigh, smiling as her breath hitched and looked up to find her just watching him with silver eyes and a slight smile on her lips. 

“I love you,” he whispered. “I have always loved you, Gabriella… that’s what kept me from giving in, what kept me moving when I thought all was lost. I was keeping my promise to you because I have been in love with you since I was sixteen years old and it took me this long to work up the courage to finally tell you.”

“You saw me as only a friend when you were sixteen.”

“Because you were too young for me at the time, if I recall.”

She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, drew it away from his face in a gentle stroke. “I was thirteen. You were too old for me.”

“Not any longer, though. And we have much time to make up for,” he whispered, unable to get his voice any higher than that. He’d waited so long to tell her how he felt, to be able to share this moment with her, and the enormity of it washed over him like a mighty wave. “I love you.”

With that, he dipped his fingers into that pale gold fluff. Her eyes softened, her teeth catching her bottom lip as he slid a finger inside her and bit back a sigh of his own. The dampness of her arousal made each stroke silken and so he took his time exploring her, teasing her, watching her pleasure play out on her face, in the way her eyes grew heavy-lidded and how the flush in her cheeks spread through her entire body. Just the sight of her was enough to make him ache with desire, with wanting her, with needing her. 

She reached for him, slid a hand down along his chest, over his stomach, to the fastenings of his trousers and he tensed as she opened them and eased a hand in. 

He sucked in a hard breath as her fingers curled gently about him and she offered up the most silken of caresses. He shivered at her touch, his eyelids heavy, his heart racing, his breath even harder to catch now.

He bent to kiss her once more as her fingers tightened about him. The sensations were fiery and sweet as they ribboned through him, his head spinning as the need for release took root. Heat filled him, gentle at first, but then sharper and far more demanding and he had to catch her by the wrist and draw her hand from him before she sent him over the edge.

He carefully pulled away and rose to shed his trousers. She watched him the entire time, and he thought he might actually melt at the sight of her. He’d never seen a woman as beautiful as his Gabriella and as he covered her once more, she whispered, “I love you, too, and I am ever so thankful you’ve come home.”

Their lips met and he reached down to position himself. Then…

He couldn't hold back his moan as he filled her. She was tight and hot and slick and wonderful and as she yielded to him, he thrust. And that was it.

Her legs tightened about him and she moved with him in perfect rhythm. He gazed down to find her still watching him, and he smiled as he moved inside her, each thrust more powerful than the last. That heat grew, created knots of sensual pleasure that twisted deep inside him. Gabby hummed around him, her thighs tightened against his sides, and then he felt it—she tightened about him, as if afraid he’d pull free of her. As if he’d be so stupid. 

He caught her hand in his, lacing his fingers with hers, and pressed it into the bed as he bent to capture her lips once more with his. The end bore down on him now and there was no slowing down, no going back, there was only surrender. 

The knots grew tighter, urged him to thrust harder. Faster. Deeper. The choice was no longer his, as fiery pleasure tore through him. Everything tensed in the most delicious way. Gabriella’s head fell back, his name a breathless cry on her lips that spurred him even harder. White lights burst before his eyes, thunder rolled up from the depths of his being and he teetered on the precipice between reality and madness.

He went over the edge engulfed in flames, his body cradled by hers, his climax mingling with hers as she pulsed around him and her fingernails dug into his shoulders. He arched hard and white starbursts of light erupted before him as he surrendered to the fiery bliss that refused to be ignored. 

His head spun as he shuddered against her, and when peace reigned again, he sank against her, his head cradled by one of her perfect breasts, and he fought to ignore the burning pain that returned to scorch through him once more. Sweat prickled along his back. His eyes refused to remain open. His breath refused to be caught. 

Gabby wrapped him in her arms, her fingers moving gently over his hair as she whispered, “Boromir…”

His heartbeat slowed to its normal rhythm and without thinking, he brushed the inner curve of her breast with a gentle kiss. Nothing could have prepared him for this moment. Nothing at all. There were no words to describe the peace he’d found with her, the sanctuary he’d discovered in her arms. There was where he belonged and there was where he’d stay until his days drew to a close. 

“Are you all right?” she murmured, pressing a kiss into the top of his head. 

“I’m fine,” he managed as the spinning in his head slowed as well. He lifted it, gazing down at her and smiled. “Are you all right?”

“You’re here, alive and in one piece,” she whispered, her eyes growing shiny again. “So, yes. I am wonderful.”

He shifted, easing from her, and carefully stretched out on his wide bed. Then he reached for her, gathering her in his arms as she came to lay alongside him. “I am not so sure I’d describe myself as in one piece just yet.”

She snuggled against him, tucking her head in the apex of his shoulder and chest. “You are, mostly.” Her hand came to rest on his chest, just below his wounds. She traced small circles across his skin.

“What is it, Gabby? What weighs so heavily on your mind?”

“Nothing, really. I simply… I still feel as if this is a dream, as I said before. That I will wake up to find you really are gone.”

“This is no dream, love,” he told her softly, tightening his arm about her shoulders. “I promise you, it isn’t.”

They lay quietly entwined, the sunlight splashing across them and for Boromir, he’d never known a moment as perfect, as peaceful, as this. The rest of Middle Earth could burn, for all he cared.

Gabby’s breathing slowed, a deep, peaceful caress against his bare chest and he peered down to see she’d fallen asleep. Little by little, that tranquility, the one he so desperately sought and fought to hold onto, slipped away. The guilt returned. The anger returned. The peace shattered even as he gazed down at the woman sound asleep in his arms, the only woman he ever wanted to sleep in his arms, and he wanted to savor this peace for as long as he possibly could. 

[100lxtters]

The green armoured Daimyo

CHAPTER 4 / THE NEW NORMAL

!! THIS STORY IS FOR 18+ VIEWING ONLY, MINORS DNI !!

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Boba Fett x f!reader 7k words What had that night meant? Did it really mean anything at all? But now Boba feels the need to teach you a few lessons Dom! Boba Fett x sub! Reader Chapter warnings: Degradation, safeword established, ass slapping, fingering denial (is that thing?), Boba is a moody ass, dubious consent, choking, face slapping, face fucking, oral (M and F) but rough (M) receiving, hair pulling, praise, finger fucking Mando'a translations: cyar'ika - darling/sweetheart Haar'chak! - Damn it! ad'ika - little one

...........................................................

The alarm went off so long ago, but you were just staring at the ceiling, not yet getting up.

Well after all you were told you had this morning off.

Oh maker, what exactly happened last night?

You swore it was just a dream when you woke up in a haze but the sudden coldness against your bare skin was the harsh reminder, it was not a dream.

Last night with Lord Fe- Boba really did happen.

Boba.

It took you by shook that he told you to call him by his actual name. You think about the look on his face when he told you, how beautiful his smile was.

Time just passed by, you allowing yourself to replay the events of the night before.

The feeling of his cock sliding through your lips felt so good, you had imagined how it would've felt and it was better than you dreamt. He was also thicker than imagined too. You remember staring at the way he sat on his throne, thinking about taking his cock whilst he sat there, thinking about how big he would be. Then thinking how you stared at his fingered gloves, and how thick they looked.

And you were right about both of them.

Even though you deep down hoped he would try something with you, how when you touched yourself it was only over him, never did you think anything would actually happen. Not that you were complaining! It just still felt like a dream.

But how do you go about it now?

You still had a job to do, you still lived in the same Palace as him.

His Palace.

Then you think about how he said he 'can't wait ruin you one day' and you start to blush. Did he plan to do more than what happened last night?

Oh how you couldn't wait to feel his length inside you, how much he would stretch you. Wanting to know exactly how he would ruin you. How did he exactly fuck, what he enjoyed whilst doing it.

You stop your thoughts, bringing yourself back to right now. First off you needed to get up as it was getting closer and closer to lunch time, and secondly just because he said it last night doesn't necessarily mean he meant it. Maybe he just said it in the moment to excite you.

Taking a deep breath in as you sit up, shaking the overthinking thoughts away.

Just because Boba gave you this morning off didn't mean you had the whole day off, you needed to get ready for work. Praying that whoever did the dishes this morning didn't ruin everything, or maybe it was one of the old cleaning droids who did it.

As you drag your legs over the bed you notice your green dress discarded on the floor, right at the foot of your bed. You giggle to yourself when you see your underwear half way across the room. Damn, Boba really was eager too then.

A thought then pops into your head, you were completely naked and exposed in front of him last night, and yet he wasn't. Somehow you found it both a bit embarrassing for yourself, but so hot on his end. Maybe the power dynamic didn't worry you as much as Garsa thought it might?

However right now you needed to move, so you push yourself off the soft mattress and start getting ready. You grab a piece of Meiloorun fruit as you pull a pair of black pants and a long sleeve red top over your body, relaxing as you ready for the day ahead.

***

Two days, you didn't see Boba for two days.

It was mainly you trying to avoid him a little, scared to be face to face with him again after what happened. What if he wasn't really interested? So you saved yourself the embarrassment.

But now you felt stupid, you didn't want him to think you weren't interested in him. You'd finished with your overthinking and worrying, it was time to make him aware you want him.

The last couple of days you still dipped your hand between your thighs, replaying the night on repeat. Wanting more from him.

The shift this morning flew by, but now it was nearing lunch time and you knew Boba was holding court, meaning he was going to be in the throne room most the day.

You smirk to yourself as you see one of your short skirts in the closet, thinking about maybe teasing Boba a bit. The skirt sat just under your ass cheeks, it covered you completely fine until you bent over a bit and your whole ass would be on show.

The reason Boba decided to hold court was due to him wanting to keep it peaceful with Mos Epsa and reassure the people there. You assume it would also carry on with what happened the other night at dinner, even though you weren't sure what fully happened there and what was being discussed.

As you get closer to the throne room you dare to sneak up the steps and peak in, the room hadn't been this busy since the party. Guests drinking and quietly chatting between themselves, some sitting in the booths just staring at Boba. Everyone clearly having their own opinions on the current events, and you were unsure if this was safe.

Could any of these people be trusted?

You look over to the throne and see Boba is sitting in his same usual position, one hand on his thigh and the other on the armrest, listening to the person who is stood in front of him. Wondering what they are talking about, it was hard to tell as his helmet was on.

But like always Fennec was hanging around the throne, staring down at the crowd, making sure it would be safe. Her eyes shot over to yours, clearly confused by your sudden appearance. Her eyes soften for a moment as she gives you a small smile and then returns to scanning the room.

You take one last look at Boba, how beautifully he sat in his throne. Knowing how handsome he was under that helmet, how thick and heavenly his cock was, how beautiful he sounded when you took him in your mouth.

Oh maker you needed to go otherwise you'd climb up to that throne and beg for him to take you now.

So as you turn back around and head into the kitchen, you pull your hand under your skirt hoping it went up enough to give him a show. Smirking to yourself as reach the bottom of the stairs. Just as you're tying your apron the droid appears with the dishes.

It wasn't too bad of a job today, however the morning you were off, thanks to Boba, was a nightmare. When you had gotten in for the lunch shift that day the dishes from that morning were still slightly dirty, meaning you had to do the whole job again. You did need to talk to him about hiring more kitchen cleaning staff.

As you clean though you think about how beautiful he looked sitting there, how powerful he was.

The man knew how to assert dominance in a room and it was something you hoped to see up close, in private with him. Or even not in private, liking the idea of him bossing you around when others are near. Just so they know you're his.

You wish he would make an extra step with you, showing you more interest. You already showed him you submitted to him the other night, hoping he knew that it meant you wanting to submit to him more than just that one time. Always willing to submit to him if he asked.

Finally though the dishes were almost done. You were drying off the last couple of cutlery now, placing all your dried dishes off to the side to keep the counter in front of you clear.

Then the sound of spars is slowly creeping up to the kitchen door. You don't turn around as a small smirk crawls back onto your face. Knowing he was coming in here. He was making his was in, getting closer and closer to you.

There is a moment were it's silent, causing you to be unsure where he was exactly. But you still didn't dare to look, finding it amusing to ignore him almost.

A pair of hands land on both sides of your waist, gripping you tight. Hot flush travels over your body, the feeling in your lower stomach appearing. Dropping the towel as he pulls your body closer to his, his cock resting against your ass.

''Were you trying to show everyone your ass, or just me?'' Boba says in such a beautiful tone, the power and amusement visible through the helmets modifier.

The smirk on your face stays as you say ''I have no clue what you're on about.''

Then he thrusts his pelvis against you, pushing you into the counter. ''Oh really now?''

Your hands are resting on the top of the empty counter to give yourself balance from his unexpected thrust, as you feel wetness slowly drip out of you.

''Because I saw a little slut poke her head into my court and as she left gave me a wonderful view of her ass'' he says, pulling your hips closer to him. A heavy breath leaves your lips, you weren't sure if it was his touch on you or the degrading name, but you were finding this so attractive.

His grip on you tightens, causing a quiet moan to escape your lips. ''Such an eager girl, bet you even wore this skirt for me.''

''Maybe I did'' you whisper back, causing him to bend your body over the counter and putting your whole ass on show. You can feel one of his hands leave your hip to lift your skirt up, placing it under his other hand, and then rest it on your ass, stroking your ass cheek.

''Hmm, so you suck my dick once and suddenly you start to tease me? Start acting up?'' Boba says. His hand still stroking your ass check, unaware where his sight was.

Then his cold helmet rests next to your ear, ''do you have a safe word, cyar'ika?''

Your mind goes blank, you'd never needed one before, which caused you to become aroused and excited. Did he intend to be really rough with you? Is this what he meant by ruining you? So you try to think of a word quickly, one that wouldn't come up whilst fucking. ''Meiloorun'' you say, thinking of the fruit you enjoyed from the market the other day. He hums and removes his head from next to your ear.

Next thing you know a burn crawls across your ass cheek and your body is pushed into the edge of the counter. It took you a moment to realise what happened, he had slapped your ass hard whilst still wearing his mainly leather gloves. The action did hurt, but caused so much pleasure that you didn't care.

''Little sluts who decide to tease me get punished, so I'm going slap your ass 5 times and let the sound of it echo through the hallways. Making anyone able to hear me teaching you a lesson.''

You let out a little moan, it's like he knew what you were thinking the other night with Fennec, about the whole 'teaching you a lesson'.

''You got that?''

''Yes, sir'' you reply, awaiting his next slap.

Luckily you don't wait long, this time was a little harder. You wonder if the first slap was to test if you were okay with it, him needing some idea on if you enjoyed it. And you did, you really did. You were sure he could probably seeing you slowly soaking your underwear.

You also wonder how much he must enjoy this, his breathing was deep behind his helmet, and every time he spoke there was an amused tone. If this is what was to come by interacting sexually with this man, then stars were you excited to find out what else could come.

Another slap follows and he praises ''you're taking your punishment so well, like a good girl.''

Once again letting out another moan, it accidently being louder then you meant for it to be.

How had he managed to make you so desperate for him so quickly? Like sure you had wanted him for weeks, had imagined how he would be with you whilst you touched yourself. But him doing it all now, doing more than you had imagined?

It still felt like a dream.

But again the feeling of the fourth slap reminded you this was real.

''Do you want everyone to hear you?'' he teases, ''want everyone to hear your moans as I slap your pretty ass?''

You felt the need to apologise, feeling a little embarrassed by the idea of someone hearing you.

''Or do you just want to flash your ass to everyone again and they can see someone has already claimed it?''

A heavy breath leaves your lips, with a slight moan. The idea of people knowing you were his turned you more and more on. Wanting everyone to know you had his hands on you.

How you want him to claim you.

Your body was on full alert, wanting more. Needing the ache in your underwear to be fixed.

Then the last slap hits, you couldn't tell if it hurt more as it was stronger than the others or if it was due to your cheek being so sore. Your face was red, your underwear was soaked, and you were so incredibly aroused.

Boba's hand stroked over your ass cheek again, causing you to shiver and flinch away. Maker, your ass was sore now, but the coldness of his glove soothed it a little. ''You took that so well'' he praised.

''Thank you, sir'' you whimper out. Heavy breaths still leaving your mouth as you smiled to yourself a little, it was a good job you wore the skirt then.

His hand wanders down, further between your legs and pushing them apart. A gloved finger pushing over your soaked underwear, ''oh, you enjoyed your punishment then?'' the smirk still heard through the words like always.

''A little bit'' you say softly.

The finger raises and starts slowly massaging you through the underwear. You let out a quiet whimpered moan, you could get used to this type of teasing from him. ''You want more?''

You nod quickly, practically ready to beg for him to do more.

But then he removes his hand and pulling your skirt back down. Then he pulls your body back up straight, your back resting against his chest. ''Shame. I've got a job to get back to, and I don't think you've learnt your lesson yet'' Boba states.

You turn around quickly to face him, staring right into his dark visor. ''Please, that's not fair'' you say, your breathing still heavy.

The palm of his hand rests on your chin as his index finger and thumb grip each of your cheeks, ''I don't care. I'm in charge here little one, maybe next time don't tease me. Or if you do, you'll get worse then that.''

The pool in your stomach grows, your pussy clenching around nothing, and your knees daring to drop.

''Be good, and maybe I'll reward you later'' he says, that smirk still there. So you nod in response and he lets go of your face. Then he turns to leave the kitchen, but before he does adds ''oh, and don't you dare touch yourself before I get my hands back on you.''

And then he headed back to his throne.

This man, oh how you needed him so badly!

It annoyed you and also aroused you that he left you like this. But you also hoped he would keep to his word and 'reward' you later.

Now the kitchen was silent, heck the Palace seemed quiet. Which caused embarrassment to cover you, if it was this quiet did everyone hear what just happened?

You don't dare wait around for people to investigate and hurry back to your quarters.

But in your rush you bump into Skad, he was staring at his datapad not looking where he was going as you sped around the corner. ''Oh sorry mate'' he apologises.

''No, sorry, that was my fault. I shouldn't be rushing around like that'' you awkwardly laugh.

''Everything alright? You seem flushed and like you're running from something'' he states, looking down the empty corridor like it would give him the answer of if you were being followed.

You shake your head and say ''no, no. Nothing like that, just want to go rest until my next shift.''

It was so odd, him seeming worried something happened. You'd not really spoken to him, you hadn't seen him since the night Krrsantan broke in to be honest, Boba kept sending him out on far patrols. ''Alright, I'll see you around then'' Skad gives you a small smile and wanders off, back to being glued to his pad.

So you carry on heading back to your room. Once you shut the door behind you you let out a deep breath. How did you manage this?

Like a few weeks ago you were so angry and also scared of this man, scared of what he would do to this planet and if he started a civil war. You couldn't have imagined leaving the Sanctuary and working here, if you told yourself a few months ago you'd be working in the Palace you'd never believe it.

Yet this was your life now. Working for the Daimyo, whilst also having him slowly claim you.

It felt so unreal.

Later on you hang around the kitchen awhile after you finished the evenings dishes, waiting for Boba. You felt silly waiting, but you wanted to see what he meant exactly, about 'rewarding you'.

It had been almost an hour before you saw anyone.

''Hey, what you still doing here?'' Drash asks breaking your boredom. She was stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorframe, looking very confused to see you still here.

''Oh, just making sure everything's okay in here'' you lie, you couldn't exactly tell her you were waiting for the boss to come touch you again.

She gives you a more confused look and says ''well you best go to bed, the Daimyo isn't in the best mood and everyone is staying clear of his path.''

As she turns to leave you quickly catch up to her and say ''what do you mean? What's happened?'' You start to become worried. Was Boba okay? You hadn't heard anything, nothing that made you worry.

''He was off on his training with the rancor when 8D8 informed him we can't find many re-enforcements to help him out'' she shrugs, ''guess that's what happens when you've outlived most your friends sadly.''

She was right in that sense. You weren't sure exactly how old Boba was, but the tales and rumours of him had him old enough that yeah he wouldn't have many alive friends anymore.

''The only person they knew for fact they could count on apparently has no real way to be reached since they don't have a ship anymore or something. So he's not in the best mood, if I was you I'd just go to bed and avoid the throne room for a bit'' Drash adds.

So you nod and she heads back towards the garage, most likely to tinker with her bike or something. You just stare at the steps to the throne room and shiver, you weren't one for confrontation, and you hated being near others when they were in a bad mood.

Part of you wanted to go in and check he was alright, but then you remind yourself that you didn't really know this man. You imagined he wouldn't be nice around when annoyed, and you wouldn't even know how to comfort him.

So you don't, you go back and hang your apron up, then rush out the kitchen for the second time today.

''Haar'chak!'' You hear Boba yell from the throne room as you pass the stairs. Your feet halter and stare at the stairs listening, waiting to see if you could hear anything else. As much as you didn't like these situations you still wanted to know what was happening in the place you lived and worked in. Wanting to know what your boss, who you've got something going on with, was doing.

''Boss, come on, calm down! We'll get hold of Djarin and maybe he'll have some contacts too'' you hear Fennec say.

''And if we don't? We're kriffed Fennec!'' Boba's voice was deep, almost scary. That voice belonged to a man that people feared, the one you knew the rumours of. ''I refuse to be pushed out without a fight, but we cannot do this alone. We've already lost!''

You hadn't met this side of him, in the weeks you'd known him he seemed nice enough, there was still a clear indication of power and leadership, but nothing 'scary'. But this man you overheard right now? There was anger behind the words, more than just 'not getting his own way'. You can imagine this voice belonging to a man who hunted down people as a job, this was the Boba Fett you'd been told about.

''Listen to me Boba, everything's going to be fine. Just go rest, then carry on your training tomorrow. Let me and that dumb droid sort this'' Fennec sighs.

It goes quiet, and you're just standing at the bottom of the steps, almost stuck in fear. You weren't sure on any feelings for this man in terms of trust, but this was making you question a lot. He had made it very clear to you that he respected trust a lot and how much it means to him, but what about the other way around?

How were you supposed to trust him? How were you supposed to trust him with your body and allow him to do what he wishes to you?

''I'm going to bed, it's pointless just standing here stressing all night over nothing'' Fennec scuffs, ''it'll be sorted one way or another.''

You hear footprints move around and assume she's gone to her room. Maybe you should do the same?

So you do, you finally pick your feet up and turn yourself back around towards your quarters. You are so deep in thoughts you didn't hear the feet approach the top of the steps. ''Ad'ika'' you hear from the throne room steps. Once again your feet halter and you slowly turn back around to see Boba standing at the top of the steps.

He was still in full armour, helmet on. His hands were at his sides, one seeming to be curled into a fist.

''Evening sir'' you say trying to hide any nerves, from both listening when you probably shouldn't have and from being uneasy about him right this moment. His posture seemed tense, the anger you just heard was still radiating off him.

''What are you doing? Your shift ended a long time ago'' he was still at the steps, but the weight of his words made it feel like he was right in front of you.

''Oh, I was just... cleaning the rest of the kitchen.''

You knew it was a very obvious lie, but you didn't want to sound desperate. Not wanting to admit you had been waiting for over an hour for him to come and touch you more.

Boba then signals with his fingers to come to him, and you hesitantly move towards him. Heart beating out your chest the closer you got to him. As you stood at the bottom of his steps you could feel his imposing power, feeling so small and insignificant to him.

Once you reach the top of the steps his hand reaches out and grabs your neck, pressing it slightly to cause your legs to press together. All worry suddenly gone, for a moment anyway.

''What did I tell you about trust? How I don't like liars'' he says, his voice still in that deep tone.

The worry flooded your body, realising he might have thought you were over listening, which you were, but not intentionally. ''I'm sorry Boba, I wasn't trying to listen. I was just passing wh-''

A smack hits your face causing all words to stop. You move your face back to facing him as he presses a little harder on your throat, a heavy breath leaving your opened mouth. These actions shouldn't be turning you on so much, but yet they were. Moments ago you were uneasy about him, and now you'd do anything for him to keep degrading you.

Just wanting something from him.

''Using your pretty mouth for lies when you could use it for much better things. Maybe I need to teach you another lesson.''

Then the hand leaves your throat and he grabs your hand, pulling you into one of the booths at the back of the empty throne room. Ironically the same one you sat in when you signed your contract.

''Kneel'' Boba demands, and you quickly obey.

You weren't worrying as much anymore seeing as he didn't actually seem angry. You hoped at least. Hoping he wasn't just using you to get his anger out.

Your eyes were currently facing his crotch, it being level to you. A hand places under your chin to force your head to stare into the black visor. Even with the visor you could imagine how he might be staring at you, how his gaze would be.

''If you want to me to accept your apology maybe you should earn it, show me why I should'' he says with a deep demanding tone as he lets go of your face.

So you reach your hands out and pull the zipper down on the front of his crotch, ignoring the belt hanging right above, just dealing with it. Managing to free his cock without any real trouble and massaging it with your hand at first, making it to its full length. As you feel it harden under your hand you then feel his gloved hand on your head, clearly indicating to you to take it into your mouth.

And so you do. You lean forward and push his cock between your lips, wetting it completely as it slowly makes its way to the back of your throat.

For a moment you just kneel there with his full length in your mouth, in the middle of the throne room where anyone could walk in.

Then before you can fully brace for it Boba's hand tightens in your hair and he pulls his dick back a bit, before shoving it right the way back in. This caused you to gag a little and then you heard above ''remember to tap my thigh if you need me to stop, and use your safeword if needed.'' Which helped you relax a bit, because regardless of him 'teaching you a lesson' he was still making sure you were comfortable.

Your thighs pressed together, oh the bare minimum can do so much to a girl.

The feeling of him just thrusting into your mouth made you feel used, but in such a good way. His thrusts were slow but long, taking his time to use your mouth in the way he wished.

The hand in your hair pulls a bit as he says ''look at you, taking my cock so well. Maybe I should haven given you this lesson earlier too, maybe then you wouldn't need a second one.''

Him recalling earlier today made your pussy clench, thinking about how your ass was sore for a good few hours after he was done with you. You were still in the same clothes so you wonder if he could see where he marked you earlier.

But now you think you've lost any chance of a 'reward' from Boba, seeing as he is teaching you another lesson.

A deeper thrust causes you to gag again, but not enough that you felt the need to stop or pull back.

''See your mouth can be used for better things than lies.''

Part of you wishes his cock wasn't in your mouth so you could explain to him that you weren't lying really, that you were just waiting for him until Drash spoke to you. So you groan again his dick to indicate that you didn't really agree with his statement.

''Oh, do you wish to say something little one? Or should you just keep taking my cock and I'll reward you in someway?'' He asks, it was in a mix of a teasing and demanding tone. He had stopped thrusting, he was staring at you with his hand in your hair, waiting for a response.

So you move your head forward and take his length back in, you wanted that reward. You needed it!

All day you had been stuck horny for him, not allowed a release due to promises of him doing it for you. But you so badly wanted it, it was driving you insane as you felt your underwear continue to be dripped into.

''Good girl'' Boba says as his thrusts start again.

You try to close your mouth a little, to add more tightness for him but also in hope it would stop your jaw from cramping, as it was starting to.

Then you feel spit and droll start to run down your chin, feeling it run onto your clothes. You didn't really mind, finding it amusing that there was visible evidence of what happened tonight.

His grip loosens and he readjusts himself then he starts thrusting your mouth quicker. Tears start to fill your eyes, this felt so good.

This was now the second time you'd taken his cock in your mouth, and both times it made you feel slightly overstimulated in the best way, and now both times it worried you how you'd ever be able to be fucked by him.

His length was so thick and he very clearly knew how to use it in the best ways possible, and if he was to fuck you then he really would ruin you. Just like he said he wanted to.

''I'm gonna cum down your throat, okay princess?'' he grunts, so you hum around him as a response.

A few more fast thrusts and the salty, musky taste of his cum hits the back of your throat. You close your eyes in pleasure, enjoying knowing your mouth made him do this.

He rides his orgasm out, his hand now just slightly placed on your head. So you decide to pull your head back and run your tongue over his tip, making sure to clear his cock as you swallowed his cum.

When you completely pull back you look up at him to be greeted with the emotionless helmet. After he tucks himself back away he runs his thumb over your chin and says ''oh, did my girl make a mess down her face?''

'My girl'?

You felt like you were on fire, your underwear was slowly soaking and you let a little whimper out your mouth.

Boba's other hand reaches behind him to grab the end of the fabric that hung off his back, pulled it round to the front of his body and brought it up to your chin. The fabric was rough, but his touch under it was gentle. You're just staring at him in awe, it felt nice to have someone clean the mess they caused up.

''Do you think you deserve some reward now?'' He asks almost softly, his hand now resting on your dry chin, ''since you took me so well, and I have accepted your apology.''

You just give him a simple nod, scared that any words that left you would just be a mumbling mess.

He offers you his hand and you take it, he slowly helps you up. Maker, your knees were sore. They felt bruised and burnt from the rug slung over the stone flooring.

You are now face to face with his helmet again, your bodies so close to each other. Using one hand to stroke your cheek whilst the other travels under your skirt to grab your ass.

However you flitch a bit, apparently still sore from earlier. Boba must have gathered so he let go and just stroked it instead saying, ''did I go too hard on you earlier?''

You shyly shake your head, feeling a little embarrassed by just how much you enjoyed it.

That same small chuckle emerges from behind his helmet, ''such a dirty girl'' he mutters.

For a moment you both just stand there in silence, scared he could hear your pussy clenching round air, scared your own wetness would be able to be heard due to how quiet it was now.

He then moves his helmet to the other side of your head were his hand isn't and says ''do you wish to go back to your quarters or stay here for your reward?''

''My quarters'' you whimper out.

''Oh so she can still speak?'' he clearly smirks, ''thought I had broken that pretty mouth for a minute.''

Before you can react his hand on your faces leaves and the one on your ass lowers, and then suddenly your body is thrown over his shoulder. You let out a huge breath as you realise how easily he picked you up, and the action makes your pussy once again clench.

This man can overpower you so quickly, taking you with ease.

''Let me reward my good girl then'' he states and then starts leaving the throne room. Watching the room backwards as it leaves your view, ascending down onto the corridor.

You pray no one was around as your whole ass was now on show, your underwear may as well not even be there due to how soaked they were.

It felt almost like you were being paraded around to an invisible crowd. Honestly the thought of him parading you through a real crowd seemed exciting, knowing everyone would look and them knowing you belong to him. Knowing they can't have you, that you're only his.

Seeing the Palace from this view was throwing off your location a bit, even though you knew the ways to your own quarters it was still odd. And before you knew it you were back at your room.

Like he did the other night he unlocked your door and walked in with you still over his shoulder, only putting you down on your bed.

You're laying back, your skirt completely flashing him, staring at him completely speechless.

Watching as his hands reach up to his helmet, pulling it off to revel his handsome face. You hadn't seen it in days, almost forgetting just how beautiful he was. Boba then places the helmet down on the end of the bed, staring down at you with hungry eyes.

He pulls your legs up so your feet are resting on the edge of the bed as your knees bend in the air. It takes you a moment to realise he is removing your shoes, and once he does he spreads your legs more and steps between them, caging himself in with your knees either side of his torso.

The feeling of his gaze is melting you, so many emotions visible through his eyes and yet none at the same time. Mainly just lust.

A hand moves down your body to where your soaking underwear is. Watching him remove his gloves, then feeling his bare fingers stroke the inside of your thigh, a small whimper leaves your lips.

Slowly he then starts to remove your underwear, exposing your soaked pussy to him. Feeling them be discarded off your body and probably thrown to some random location in your room.

Then Boba gently runs a finger through your folds causing you to almost jump at the touch, so desperate for it. You had been waiting all day for this, and needed this release.

''Maker you are one needy slut aren't you?'' he says as you pushes one finger into your pussy.

''Only for you'' you whisper as your eyes roll back and a moan crawls out your throat.

A groan leaves him and you feel a shift in the bed. Then you feel a slight bite on your thigh causing you to whimper with pleasure. ''Good'' he praises and then leaves a couple of kisses on your thigh around where he just bit.

You then feel him pull his finger out of you and your eyes shot open. Using your elbows to lean up to see what was happening, but before you can say another his mouth attaches to your mould. Your elbows give way and you fall back into your bed as a heavy moan leaves you.

Stars, his tongue was talented!

His tongue traced inside your folds, like he was trying to take you all in. It felt so good, oh how much you were already enjoying this reward.

Your hand goes down to grip onto his hair before you remember he doesn't have any, so you move your hand and grip the bedsheets instead. Needing some way of steadying yourself.

One of his hands travel up your body, pulling your shirt up and starts playing with your nipple between his fingers. It was so different to when you played with your own nipples, it's like his touch made the pleasure last longer.

This was so much. How were you so overstimulated again already?

Then his tongue enters your hole, causing your hips to raise against his face as his nose knocks your clit, which then makes you gasp out a loud moan. He obviously realised what happened and uses his free hand to grip onto your hip to grind your pussy against his face.

If he carries on like this you won't last much longer, so you mutter out ''I'm g-getting clo-close.''

Which then his grips tighten on your nipple and hip, trying to bring you closer and closer to that release. This was the first time you'd ever gotten so close so quickly, but him teasing you earlier and then making you suck his cock just got you so horny, you had been waiting to cum for hours at this rate.

''Cum for me, cyar'ika'' he mumbles against your core, the vibration of his voice just made you closer.

Once his mouth returns you cum almost instantly. Your eyes roll back as you see fireworks, your hands tighten on the sheets, your thighs begin to clamp around his head but he doesn't seem to mind.

He keeps eating you out through your orgasm until your legs begin to shake from it being too much, ''Boba, pl-please'' you plead. Unable to form a real sentence as your body was tiring itself out, but he just kept going.

Was he trying to make you cum twice?

You weren't even sure if you could, you'd never been able to cum that quickly after.

But then he moved his head up to catch your dazed gaze, his chin and nose shiny from your release. ''What's the matter babygirl? Too much for you?''

His teasing made you weak, in any other situation you know your legs would press together, but instead you just felt your arousal return.

''Can you cum one more time for me?'' Boba asks, his fingers already playing with your hole again, ''your pussy is just too good for me to only make it cum once tonight.''

It was almost like he was begging you, and you really wanted him to. So you nod, awaiting for him to move back but he doesn't, instead his gaze is still locked onto yours as a smirk comes onto his face.

''Use your words, princess.''

''P-please sir, make me cu-cum again'' you plead, your voice so small and out of breath still.

He then leans down and places a kiss on your lips, the taste and smell of your own release filling your senses as his tongue enters your mouth for a moment. ''Good girl'' Boba says before returning back to between your legs.

This time though he mainly focuses on just licking and sucking at your mould as his two fingers slowly fuck your hole. You moan heavy, your body still sensitive from before.

Your hands are starting to cramp from gripping the sheets, but it was just so good how you felt right now. ''Fuck Boba'' you quietly moan, which causes his own mouth to vibrate against your clit.

Once again your hips raise, but this time he lowers them. His two fingers curling inside you as his tongue attacks your clit.

You were a mess under his touch, maker you couldn't wait for the day he fucks you. You felt so full from his fingers so you just know his cock will complete you.

''C-close'' you mutter to him.

Boba's tongue is removed as he says ''then cum for me girl.''

His fingers curl again as his tongue reattaches to you clit, and your eyes slam shut. Cumming harder than you did the first time. A loud moan escapes, not really caring how embarrassingly loud it was right now. Again your thighs clamp around his head, this time shaking as your orgasm rippled through you.

Your hand slightly shaking as you tap his arm, hoping he'd understand you needed him to remove his mouth, and luckily he does.

He looks at you again with shine round his mouth as he praises ''so good for me.'' Grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss on it.

Watching as he ascends off the ground and hoovering over you, then placing hands either side of your head. He leans down and places another kiss on your lips, again all you can taste and smell is yourself.

One of his hand cups the side of your head, stroke your head through your hair. All the worry from earlier felt so stupid, the worry of trust was gone, almost anyway.

In this moment you felt safe, you felt like he would never hurt you.