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luvly-writer · 1 month ago

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Aretia: Light of Mine

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

It had been hours of relentless combat. Y/n was close to burning out—her muscles screamed, her vision blurred, and yet the venin just kept coming. Wyverns tore through the skies like shadows with teeth.

There had been a time when everyone believed only Violet could kill venin after the events at Resson. But that changed during one particularly risky patrol—when Y/n’s light had sliced through a venin cleanly in two. Since then, she and Violet had fought side by side, developing a deadly rhythm. Lightning and sunshine.

Violet struck with fury from above, riding Tairn as if he were forged from storm itself. Y/n followed her lead, cutting down the dazed creatures with crescent-moon arcs of golden light, sharp as blades and gleaming like the sun at dawn.

Y/n’s whole body was trembling. Her fingertips burned like live coals, and her veins pulsed with searing energy. Sweat poured down her temples. Just a little more.

To her left, Violet shouted from atop Tairn, voice ragged with urgency, “Two more! Take them down, and the rest of the wyverns fall with them. We need an opening!”

Y/n met her eyes and nodded grimly. She knew what Violet was asking.

“Come on, girl,” she murmured to Tiamat, her sweet and loyal companion, “One last show.”

Tiamat launched upward, slicing through the air like an arrow loosed from the heavens. The higher they climbed, the harder it was to hold on. Y/n’s legs strained with the angle, her body screaming in protest. But finally, they reached the altitude she needed—the apex of power.

Eyes shut, she summoned calm. Her mind drifted to the tide pools of Ceaelyn—home, peace, stillness. She let go.

The light answered.

It surged through her like a flood breaking a dam. She raised her arms, summoning the brilliance into a pulsing sphere between her hands. It burned, but she held firm, circling her arms to contain it until it was ready.

Then—she snapped her wrists outward.

The sphere exploded into the air.

A supernova of gold erupted, blinding the battlefield below. Even the sun dimmed in comparison.

Violet, prepared for the blast, seized the moment. With a scream of fury, she hurled a bolt of lightning straight into one of the venin generals, her body crackling with raw energy.

At the same time, Y/n gathered a final arc of golden light, her arm trembling as she pulled it back like a bowstring—then let it fly. It sliced through the air like a divine judgment, striking the second general with precision.

Silver and gold clashed in the sky like gods at war.

The remaining wyverns shrieked—then dropped from the air, lifeless.

Silence fell.

For the first time in hours, nothing moved.

Hovering in the stillness, Y/n and Violet looked at each other across the battlefield.

Tears streamed down their soot-streaked faces. Their chests heaved. They smiled.

They had won.

The battle had finally ended. The air was heavy with the weight of the victory and the lingering tension of what they had all just survived. The battlefield, once a terrifying place of chaos and bloodshed, now felt eerily still, save for the sounds of victorious shouts and the slow creaking of broken armor. The venin were finally defeated, and for the first time in years, it felt like the world could breathe again.

Xaden stood in the midst of it all, his body covered in grime, dirt, and blood. His chest heaved with exhaustion, but his heart was pounding with an emotion that he couldn’t quite contain. He scanned the field, eyes searching, until they landed on her.

Y/n.

She was standing near Violet, her face streaked with dirt but still glowing with something fierce and beautiful. The moment their eyes met, Xaden didn’t think—he just ran to her. His legs carried him over the battlefield with a force and speed he didn’t know he had left, all the way to her. He couldn’t stop himself; he needed her in that moment, needed to feel her alive, needed to feel the warmth of her presence after everything they had just been through.

When he reached her, he didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms, and their lips met in a desperate, fervent kiss, not caring about the blood or grime that coated their skin. It was a kiss filled with relief, with all the fear they had buried, and all the love they had been fighting for. They were alive. They had made it through. And now, they could finally breathe without the looming threat of war hanging over them.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless and laughing through their exhaustion, Y/n’s eyes were shining with tears. “We made it,” she whispered, her hand still gripping his like a lifeline. “We’re alive.”

Xaden smiled, his face soft with emotion. “We’re alive,” he echoed. His fingers brushed her cheek, almost as if to remind himself that she was there, real and warm in his arms. “And we’re going to live.”

Her gaze searched for her twin, Ridoc, and when she spotted him, she rushed over to him. He opened his arms, and she fell into them, her body shaking with the release of the tension she had been holding. They had both made it. Their home, their family, still stood.

And then, one by one, her squad joined them. Rhiannon, Violet, and Sawyer appeared, grinning, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off their shoulders. Y/n pulled them into a group hug, laughing and crying at the same time. They had all made it. They had survived.

Xaden looked over to where Bodhi was, and without a word, he ran to him, pulling his cousin into a fierce hug. He felt the same overwhelming relief in Bodhi’s embrace—the war was over, and they had both made it through. Garrick, Imogen, and Quinn were next, and they all shared a moment of joyous release as they gripped each other, all of them alive.

Xaden looked back at Y/n as they all huddled together, their squad now a tightly woven family. Her eyes were shining, her smile wide and full of joy. She was so much more than the woman he had first met—so much stronger, so much braver, and now she was here with him. They had made it, and nothing would ever take that away.

As the noise of celebration and victory began to spread through the field, Ridoc, ever the energetic, yelled, “Let’s get this wedding season started!” And in that instant, everyone erupted into laughter. It was a moment of pure, unbridled joy—a reminder that even after everything they had been through, they still had something to look forward to.

Xaden pulled Y/n close once more, a grin spreading across his face. “You hear that?” he said, his voice low, teasing. “Wedding season.”

She laughed, her arms wrapped around his neck. “It’s about time.”

And as they all stood together, surrounded by their squad, their family, and the remnants of a war-torn world, they knew that this was only the beginning.

Moments during preparations...

Just a few sweet moments The table was covered—towers of tiny cakes, delicate tarts, and rows of cupcakes in every flavor imaginable. Rhiannon was already halfway through a lemon tart when she groaned in delight. “This one. This has to be one of the layers.” Ridoc, licking frosting from his thumb, shook his head. “Absolutely not. The chocolate hazelnut one is divine. If that’s not in the wedding, I’m boycotting.” Bodhi leaned back, grinning. “I say have five layers.” Y/n laughed, brushing a crumb from Xaden’s lip. “You all realize it’s our wedding, right?” Xaden, surprisingly serious, turned to her. “Let them squabble. I already have what I want.” Everyone groaned and pretended to gag as Y/n blushed and kissed his cheek anyway.

It started small—a letter from the florist in Ceaelyn offering blooms from their garden. Then a baker from the coast of Navarre sent a message with sea-salt caramel favors as a wedding gift. Soon, they received dozens of letters from both towns: offers to decorate the courtyard, to weave silk ribbons for the tables, to carve centerpieces from driftwood. In Tryrrendor, tailors offered to alter gowns, and the women who had once kissed Y/n’s cheeks in admiration now sent bolts of fabric for the celebration. The wedding was no longer just theirs. It had become a celebration for everyone they had helped keep alive.

Y/n sat cross-legged on the floor, parchment scattered around her and ink stains on her fingers. “Do we send one to that grumpy fishmonger in the Ceaelyn market?” she asked, pen poised. Xaden, lounging behind her, said without hesitation, “He once gave you a free trout. That earns an invite.” She grinned, elbowing him gently. “You’re soft.” “Only for you,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to her shoulder. Their stack of invitations grew steadily—each one sealed with their crest and a pressed flower, sent to two villages that once stood worlds apart and were now, somehow, one.

The sun had long set, and they were both stretched out in bed, her head on his chest, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the curve of her shoulder. “You okay?” he asked softly. Y/n nodded, then whispered, “I’m happy. Overwhelmed. But happy.” He turned slightly so he could look at her, brushing her curls back. “We could run away. Skip the big wedding. Just you, me, the ocean.” She smiled. “I want the chaos. I want the cake tasting and the dancing and your squad being dramatic. I want my people there.” “You want the life we’ve built.” She kissed his chest gently. “Exactly.”

The Morning Of The sunlight poured in gently through the sheer curtains, painting the room in hues of soft gold. Y/n stirred first, her hand still draped across Xaden’s chest, their legs tangled beneath the light covers. The scent of salt, pineapples, and warmth clung to her skin—and he was utterly intoxicated by it.

Xaden cracked one eye open as she shifted, brushing her lips lazily against his shoulder. “Morning,” she whispered sleepily, voice raspy from sleep.

“Morning, wife,” he murmured with a grin, still half-asleep, refusing to open his other eye.

She snorted. “Not yet.”

“Technicality,” he said, rolling to tuck her closer. “I’m not letting you go today. They’ll have to pry you from my arms.”

As if summoned by prophecy, there was a rapid knock on the door.

“Y/n!” Rhiannon’s voice came, muffled through the wood. “Don’t make us come in there, we will drag you out if we have to!”

“She’s mine until the bells ring,” Xaden growled lowly, tightening his hold.

Y/n giggled. “They’ll riot if I’m late.”

“Let them. You’re worth the wait.”

Another knock. “Y/n! We brought the juice you like and the rolls from the market! Get up!”

Groaning, Xaden threw his head back dramatically. “Traitors. I fed them. I protected them. And now they’re stealing you away on our wedding day.”

Y/n kissed his cheek before sitting up, the sheet falling to reveal the faint marks of his fingertips on her hips. “You’ll survive.”

“Doubtful,” he muttered, but he sat up, trailing his fingers down her spine one last time before she stood. “You’re going to be the most radiant bride the world’s ever seen.”

She turned at the door, silhouetted by morning light, eyes soft. “And you’ll be waiting at the altar, yeah?”

He smirked. “Try and keep me away.”

The door opened, and Rhiannon and Violet squealed, pulling her into a flurry of silk robes, scented oils, and laughter. Xaden groaned again as the door closed behind them, collapsing back into the bed, a grin tugging at his lips.

“We’re getting married,” he whispered to no one, hands covering his face in disbelief and joy. “She’s going to be my wife.”

And stars, if the day wasn’t already perfect.

The Bride The room smelled of wildflowers and sun-warmed citrus. Rhiannon was the first to speak as Y/n stepped out from behind the privacy screen, holding the sides of her shimmering gown, breath caught somewhere between joy and disbelief.

Her wedding dress was stunning—an elegant basque waist gown with a skirt that cascaded like liquid starlight, catching the morning sun in silver and gold. The bodice hugged her softly, the neckline graced with delicate embroidery that echoed the Tyrrish runes and coastal waves from her village.

Her dark curls had been pinned in an intricate updo laced with delicate blossoms—Tyrrish gold violets, pearls from her coastal home, and small white blooms from Ceaelyn. A few tendrils of hair curled naturally around her cheeks and nape, softening the look with a touch of wild grace. Her bouquet mirrored her hair—woven with the same flora, hand-tied with a ribbon that shimmered like her gown.

Violet put a hand to her chest. “Oh stars… Y/n.”

Rhiannon audibly gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “You look like something out of a legend.”

Even Imogen, who was rarely sentimental, blinked rapidly. “You’re radiant. Xaden is going to collapse.”

Sawyer, standing in the corner in charge of snacks and moral support, wiped an invisible tear. “This is an unsafe level of beauty. He might actually fall to his knees.”

Y/n, cheeks warm with emotion, turned to the mirror. For a moment, she didn’t recognize the woman staring back. Not because she didn’t see herself—but because she saw all of herself. The warrior. The twin. The lover. The duchess. The girl from the coast. The woman who had survived war and still dared to wear flowers in her hair.

“I feel like... all of me is here,” she whispered.

Violet moved to her side and took her hand. “That’s because you are. And Xaden? He’s going to see every part of you—and love you more.”

Y/n’s eyes shimmered, and Rhiannon gently squeezed her shoulders. “Come on. It’s time to go become a wife.”

They all erupted into nervous, tearful laughter, gathering around her like a halo of joy and strength.

And somewhere outside, just beyond the horizon of the estate, church bells rang once—soft and full of promise.

The Twin Who Loved Her First

Ridoc had always thought he was prepared. He had faced dragons, fought venin, watched his friends nearly die and lived to joke about it. But nothing—not even years of growing up with Y/n Gamlyn—could’ve prepared him for the moment he turned and saw her standing in the doorway, radiant in a gown that shimmered like moonlight on waves.

His breath caught. His whole body went still.

“Shit,” he whispered, eyes wide, chest swelling. “You’re beautiful.”

Y/n smiled, soft and bashful, her eyes already glassy with emotion. “Don’t cry, Ric,” she warned gently, voice teasing but tight with her own emotions.

“I’m not crying, you’re crying,” he muttered, even as he wiped his eyes without shame. He stepped forward slowly, gaze sweeping over her—her flowers, her hair, the glint of Ceaelyn and Tyrrish woven into her very presence. But most of all, it was her smile, soft and steady, that made his heart ache.

He took her hands in his and looked at her as if he was seeing her for the very first time and all at once. “You’re everything, Y/n. The same girl who used to steal my boots and skip rocks with me at the coast. And now? Now you’re this—this light.”

Y/n blinked, the weight of the day pressing on her chest in the most beautiful way.

Ridoc grinned through his emotion, mischief returning to his tone. “You’re going to break Xaden Riorson with one look. He’s doomed.”

She laughed then, and he squeezed her hand.

“You ready, twin?” he asked quietly, as the music began to drift from outside.

She nodded, eyes shining. “Yeah. I am.”

“Good,” he said, looping her arm through his. “Let’s go show the world what royalty really looks like.”

And with that, Ridoc straightened his shoulders, lifted his chin with pride, and walked side by side with his sister—the girl he loved first, the one who’d always been his anchor—down the aisle and into the rest of her life.

The Moment He Saw Her

The world was loud.

Chatter, music, the fluttering of banners, the weight of celebration pressing into the air after too many years of war. Xaden stood tall at the altar, heart hammering harder than it had in any battle, every breath a struggle as the world seemed to narrow into one singular moment.

And then—

The music shifted.

Heads turned.

And when Xaden looked up, everything else fell away.

There she was.

Y/n stood at the end of the aisle, her arm looped through Ridoc’s, her gown shimmering like starlight caught on the sea. Her hair was pinned with Tyrrish and Ceaelyn flowers, her bouquet matching the blooms in her hair. She was radiant—no, ethereal. A dream made real. The girl who had once marched into his life all fire and heart… now his soon-to-be wife.

He exhaled sharply, overcome, his vision blurring.

Garrick elbowed him gently and whispered with a smirk, “Breathe, Riorson.”

But Xaden couldn’t move.

Not until she smiled at him.

That soft, private, world-splitting smile.

His knees nearly buckled. His heart cracked wide open and something entirely unguarded broke across his face. A grin, helpless and reverent. He didn’t even try to hide the tears that welled in his eyes.

He had faced death, betrayal, fire, and shadows.

But this?

This was everything.

As Y/n got closer, Ridoc shot him a mock glare, but even he was misty-eyed. When they reached the altar, Ridoc placed her hand in Xaden’s, his touch lingering for a moment—like he was passing off something sacred.

And in a way, he was.

Xaden looked at Y/n.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he breathed, voice rough. “You’re… I don’t even have words.”

Y/n laughed softly, blinking back her own tears. “Good. Because we’ve got vows coming up, and you better save some.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’ll give you everything.”

The vows...

She turns to him, voice steady but laced with emotion, her hand in his.

"Xaden Riorson…"

"When I met you, you were shadow and command. Dangerous. Distant. Impossible to ignore. I thought you were everything I should stay away from. But every glance, every challenge, every word you didn’t say pulled me in. You taught me how to stand in the dark without losing who I am. You saw the parts of me I didn’t even know I was allowed to love."

"We’ve fought beside each other, bled for what we believe in. And even when everything around us burned, you were the hand I held steady. I vow to be your home, your heart, your peace after war. I vow to challenge you, to laugh with you, to lead beside you—not because of your title, but because I love the man behind it."

"You are my best friend. My love. My future. And I vow to choose you—every day, in every life."

She squeezes his hand gently, blinking through the tears.

Xaden’s Vows

He looks at her like she’s the sun finally breaking through years of storm.

"Y/n Gamlyn…"

"I didn’t know I could believe in softness again until you. I’ve led armies, faced death, carried the weight of a rebellion—but none of it compares to the way my heart breaks and rebuilds every time you smile at me."

"You are fire and silk, storm and stillness, warmth and sweetness. You are every reason I have to believe in something more than survival. I used to think love was a distraction. But you showed me it’s a strength. The fiercest kind."

"I vow to protect you—not because you need it, but because you’re everything worth fighting for. I vow to meet you in every shadow and stay until the light returns. I vow to honor you, follow you, and lead with you. Always."

"You are my family. My home. My future. And I will spend the rest of my days proving myself worthy of being yours."

The crowd is silent for a hearbeat

Then a sob. A quiet laugh.

The world stills.

The vows hang in the air like magic—like a breath no one dares to exhale.

Then the officiant smiles, eyes misty. "By the strength of your words and the depth of your love, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

"You may kiss—"

But Xaden doesn’t wait.

He steps forward, eyes locked on hers like she’s gravity and sky all at once, and cradles her face in his hands. Y/n’s breath catches, lips parting in a stunned, overwhelmed smile, and then—

Then he kisses her.

It’s not rushed. It’s reverent.

Like he’s memorizing the shape of forever on her mouth.

One hand tangles gently in her hair, the other pressed to her waist as if anchoring himself to this moment—because they’re no longer fighting to survive, they’ve won. And this—she—is his reward.

Y/n melts into him, arms sliding around his neck, kissing him back with the same softness, the same passion, the same fire that’s always lived between them.

Cheers rise behind them—whistles, hoots, applause, a choked “Finally!” from Ridoc somewhere—but all either of them can feel is the heartbeat beneath the other’s skin.

When they part, breathless and smiling like fools, Xaden presses his forehead to hers.

"Wife," he murmurs, dazed and in love.

And she laughs, radiant. "Husband."

The lights dim softly, casting a golden glow across the reception hall where candlelight flickers and soft music begins to play. There’s a hush of anticipation, a warmth that crackles with love and joy.

Xaden steps forward, hand extended. “May I have this dance, wife?”

Y/n laughs, cheeks flushed. “Always.”

He twirls her gently onto the dance floor, his hand steady at her back, her fingers laced with his. Her gown sparkles with every step, the Tyrrish and Ceaelyn flowers in her hair catching the light like tiny stars.

They move as if the world were made for this moment—slow, deliberate, perfectly in sync. The war, the loss, the pain—they’ve survived it all. And now, they get this. This one small eternity in each other’s arms.

Xaden whispers something that makes Y/n laugh through tears, and she tucks her face into his chest, heart full.

The crowd watches, some in awe, many with wet eyes, as the two leaders of light and shadow find their rhythm not on a battlefield, but in love.

The celebration roared with joy—music pulsed through the air, laughter echoed, and the scent of roasted fruit and warm pastries filled the evening. Lights twinkled like stars across the courtyard, where villagers, Tyrrish friends, Riders,Flyers and even dignitaries danced in wild abandon.

But Y/n and Xaden had slipped away.

She pulled him by the hand through an arched hallway lit with lanterns, down a quiet corridor of ivy and stone. Her veil had been long since discarded, and a flower had fallen loose from her hair, now tucked behind her ear. He followed without question, his jacket slightly undone, his tie hanging loose.

They found a quiet balcony—just high enough to see the dancing crowd from above, just far enough to be alone. The wind rustled her gown and carried the ocean’s salt in its breath.

Xaden leaned against the stone rail, his dark eyes tracing every shimmer of her silhouette.

“You look… ethereal,” he murmured, voice like velvet and thunder. “Like a wish I didn’t dare make.”

Y/n laughed softly, walking into his arms. “You,” she whispered, smoothing a hand over his chest, “look absolutely dashing. My grandmother would’ve fainted if she saw you.”

“Your grandmother would've approved of me?” he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“She’d have loved you. Especially after seeing how you looked at me during the vows.”

He kissed her temple, holding her close. For a moment, it was just the sound of waves, of muffled celebration, of hearts beating in rhythm.

Then—

“HEY LOVEBIRDS!” Ridoc’s voice rang out from the courtyard below, dramatic and far too loud. “THE PARTY IS HERE, NOT IN YOUR MOONLIT BALCONY!”

Rhiannon’s voice joined in, “Save the swooning for the honeymoon!”

Xaden groaned into her shoulder. Y/n tipped her head back and laughed, the kind of laugh that bubbled up from her chest and made him fall even more in love.

They looked at each other, still caught in their own quiet universe.

“Shall we return to our adoring public, husband?” she grinned.

“Only because you asked, wife.”

Hand in hand, they walked back into the light.

First morning of forever...

The morning sun filtered through the gauzy curtains of their chamber, casting golden light over tangled sheets and soft skin. The room still smelled faintly of flowers, candles, and laughter from the night before. Everything had quieted. The world, for once, felt still.

Y/n stirred first, stretching slowly beneath the weight of the blanket and a strong arm draped possessively around her waist. Her curls were loose and soft from the pins she’d removed hours ago, and her cheek was pressed against Xaden’s bare chest.

He was already awake.

And staring at her.

Like he couldn’t believe she was real.

His thumb gently traced the curve of her waist where the sheets dipped, and when she blinked up at him, sleepy and golden in the morning light, Xaden let out a breathless, reverent laugh.

“What?” she asked, voice still husky from sleep.

“You’re my wife,” he whispered, almost like he was trying to make sure it wasn’t a dream. “You’re my wife.”

He leaned in immediately, kissing her temple.

Then her cheek.

Then her nose.

Then her collarbone.

Then her shoulder.

“Xaden—” she laughed, breathless now as he continued—“what are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he said, nuzzling her neck before trailing kisses down her arm. “Making sure every inch of you knows you’re loved.”

Her heart swelled.

He kissed her knuckles next, then the top of her hand, then the curve of her jaw.

“Xaden,” she murmured, cupping his face as he hovered over her, “I think I’m going to fall in love with you all over again if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Good,” he said, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “As it should be.��

She pulled him down to her in a slow, lazy kiss—one that tasted like love, like sunlight, like forever.

And in that golden, quiet morning, wrapped in each other’s arms, the Duke and Duchess of Tyrrendor began the rest of their lives—with laughter, soft kisses, and the kind of love that felt like home.

Author's note: Ugh I love a good wedding chapter (says the one that is scared of commitment lmao)

Taglist:

@eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia @hiraethjules @nikfigueiredo @galaxystern08 @taleiaargenis @minidemont @poeticbookwormcat @eternallyrosyfire @shadowhuntyi @bubble300 @messageforthesmallestman @iheartshopping @lagrandeourse @readinf @barbreadsbooks @optimisticsoulstarfish @locatinginspo @lxnvmvrzx @im-a-weirdo-for-life @profoundpizzasong @laterria201 @bestillmystuckyheart @casiiopea2

#violet sorrengail #iron flame #xaden riorson #fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing xaden #xaden riorson x reader #ridoc fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn #fourth wing x you #onyx storm #the empyrean #xaden x reader #xaden riorson x y/n #xaden and sgaeyl #ridoc and aotrom #ridoc x reader #of light and shadow

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wisecura · 6 months ago

Text

My Leader

Cult Leader Suguru x f!Reader 4k

an: did anyone ask for this? oh yeah! I did. enjoy my unrequested fantasy. this might be bad but oh well haha

summary: suguru geto was all for the betterment of the world—eradicating the non-sorcerers in society, and collecting people to stand in the new world with him. it's no different when he finds you—an untrained sorcerer, so eager and desperate for validation—a hint at sanity when no one else could see the monsters around you. but what happens if he takes you in only to find himself changing his mind.

warnings: pwp, voyeurism, gore, blood, murder, dark undertones, size kink, smut, you aren't in your right mind either, fingering, marking, manipulation, belittling and teasing, minors DNI

The last thing on your bucket list in life would’ve been joining a cult.

Seriously, cult life was definitely not where you saw yourself in your early twenties—with all the time in the world still ahead of you. But, well, here you were.

That priest you'd met earlier? He'd been nothing short of a lighthouse for you—a beacon of hope during those endless, stressful days. You know, the ones haunted by those demon-looking creatures lurking just out of sight. And the craziest part? Nobody else seemed to see them. Yeah, you were pretty much alone in this freaky ghost-seeing club.

So, imagine the relief when the fifth priest you consulted turned out to be pure gold—a genuine miracle worker. Not only did he validate your sanity, but he also managed to kick that pesky little demon parasite on your shoulder to the curb. And suddenly, the world felt lighter. Easier.

And when he offered you a spot by his side, it didn't take much to convince you. Especially after he mentioned that those 'curses' were likely to make a comeback. Joining him seemed like a no-brainer.

But six months in with this man, and there was no ignoring the raw sex appeal he radiated. Standing several inches above you, he was large and imposing—hitting all your size-kink checkboxes. His features were sharply handsome, with plush lips that sparked envy and hair that never seemed out of place. His eyes? Absolutely captivating. Really, what did this man not have that wouldn't cause any sane woman to go feral?

No wife, not even a girlfriend in sight, but he had two adoptive daughters whom he treated with the utmost care. A family man, right?

You hadn't fully realized what you were getting into when you'd first signed on—then again, you hadn't exactly been in your right mind. How else would you find the nerve to talk to such a handsome man without immediately dropping to your knees?

And you were pretty sure Suguru wasn't all there either. He'd woven tales about jujutsu sorcerers, depicted them as the apex of evolution, even hinting that you had the potential to be one of them.

Something about ‘cursed energy’ or another. But he didn’t seem all that interested in filling you in on the rest. And you didn’t ask. Why bother when he was providing you a cushy life at the temple?

He treated you differently from the other cult members, always keeping you close. You never missed a service, always stationed right beside him. Silently, you'd watched as he delivered his visions of a new world. You tried to be the attentive follower you were supposed to be, but damn, he looked so good when he monologued. You practically swooned.

And he kept you around his girls, a privilege most other members couldn't even fathom—many didn’t even know they existed. You found yourself cooking for them, gradually forging your own little bond. They warmed up to you quickly, and it didn’t exactly come as a shock when they started seeing you as a mother figure.

This setup couldn’t have been better for Suguru, whose plans for you seemed singularly focused—your confinement.

You appeared so willing, so easygoing, so content under his care. 'Confinement' might sound a bit severe—maybe 'ensured stay' fits better? Whatever you chose to call it, Suguru wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.

Just as you saw him as a shining beacon, he saw you as a diamond in the rough—a pretty little thing that happened to stumble into his temple. Desperate for answers, you had long since lost faith in any conventional sanctuary.

So, you found a cult.

A notorious one at that.

He wasn’t sure if you were aware of their more nefarious misdeeds—he was skilled at keeping things under wraps. The money he brought in always came from questionable sources, but you never pried. So he never told.

You meshed nicely with his chosen family, fitting in with everyone and proving quite useful. It felt out of character for him, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of your sweet, motherly image being tainted by the torturous grip of sorcerer politics just didn’t sit right with him.

No—you belonged in his temple. Guided cage ‘n all, well-supported, well-supplied, and nicely kept.

And maybe, when the time was right, he’d formally place his mark on you—maybe with a ring? Or perhaps a few choice bite marks? You always did wear those low-cut pajamas during breakfast, the expanse of your neck tantalizingly on display. You were definitely taunting him, that was for sure. He had plenty of ideas about what to do with you.

“Suguru?”

Your voice, melodic even this early in the morning, managed to grab his attention—even before the coffee had kicked in. His name coming off your lips was sinful.

"Suguru?" You try again. His expression is dazed, distracted. The girls had already left for their tutoring sessions, leaving you alone with the enigmatic man.

Sometimes, you couldn’t quite figure him out. His moods swung wildly—from passive-aggressive and temperamental to overly dramatic. Charming, sure, but definitely a handful. Then there were moments like now, where he sat at the table, calm and stoic, clearly preoccupied with something on his mind.

“Mhm?” He hummed in response, as you set down another serving of eggs and rice. You didn’t know how to phrase the question, and you didn’t know what made you so nervous about asking. You were a human being, so this shouldn’t be an issue, free will ‘n all. “I was thinking of going out today. Did you...did you need me to pick anything up.”

He paused at this, his brow raising inquisitively. "...What would you need to go out for?"

"Ah, well, a bit of this and that," you trailed off, looking away shyly. Truthfully, you wanted to pick up something for him as a way to say thanks, and maybe something for the girls too. Your money had been sitting idle, practically rotting in the bank—and you felt an urge to spoil the only people who seemed to care for you in your life. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Mmm, this and that?” He contemplated, his hand trailing back through his hair. “...Are you....that fed up with us?” You glanced over, hoping to find a teasing smile on his lips—only to meet his eyes downcast, locked onto the table. Melancholic.

You felt your heart ache at his words, you hadn’t meant to upset him. "Ah, no! I, uh—actually just wanted to pick up a few things. Why do you think I'd want away from you guys?" Your voice trailed off, a small laugh attempting to lighten the mood, as you made your own plate. "You’re my family now, after all."

His eyes raked down your back, unbeknownst to you. The situation was far from ideal, but he was determined to keep you content enough not to leave. Perhaps he could even scare you into staying? Your name slipped effortlessly from his lips, a breathy utterance that gripped his chest—selling his concern perfectly.

“I’m worried about you, y'know?”

“Worried? Why?” You continued your setup, your back unsuspectingly facing him.

“If anyone outside of here spots you...well, I’m not exactly a celebrated man in the sorcerer community. They could easily take you the second you step out of this temple. And you’re practically a magnet for those curses—that energy you put off is something else.” His voice trailed off as his mind seemed to drift away, even as you peeked over your shoulder at him.

You weren't completely in the dark about his reputation in the community-the fearful stares from one or two of the followers told you that. You weren't even surprised about his growing concern for you. It was nice, in a way, having someone like him show this level of concern for you.

"Really, it means a lot that you're looking out for me, Suguru. I love that you keep me safe—I do, but I also don't want to just take from you all the time," you say, turning fully to face him, the concern evident in your eyes.

He flashes you a reassuring, warming smile, that makes your chest stutter. "I understand, but you're not just taking. You're a part of this family, a crucial part. It's my responsibility to keep you safe, and I take that seriously," he explains, his tone gentle yet firm. "Maybe, for now, online shopping could be a better option. It'll keep you out of sight from those who might not understand our...situation here. You can still have some independence without the risk. How does that sound?"

It wasn't exaclty a questions and more like a rule he's already set in place. His words hang in the air, wrapped in the guise of caring, yet subtly steering you to remain within the confines of the temple, minimizing your contact with the outside world.

Those next few months settled into a routine, and you never left the temple as per Suguru's 'request'. But during his sermons, you couldn't help but notice a strange man in the congregation—an older dude who couldn't seem to take his eyes off you. It was unsettling, creepy even, and every time you caught his gaze, it made you want to leave the room immediately.

And when you were handing out the pamphlets for the evening, his hand managed to pass along your hand just a little too sensually, causing you to jerk back, as if burned. Your polite smile still remained but you couldn't stop the uneasy turning of your stomach.

You tried your best to ignore it, concentrating instead on the magnetic presence of Suguru, the leader whose charisma had always managed to overshadow any discomfort. Focusing on him, with his intense gaze and compelling sermons, you hoped the creepy feelings triggered by that strange man's stares would simply melt away.

For a time, it seemed to work. The incident faded to the back of your mind, barely a blip on your radar—that is, until Suguru himself brought it up.

It was after dinner, during your usual walk back to your room, a routine that had become a comforting part of your daily life under his watch. As you strolled down the quiet corridor, his voice broke the silence, casual yet probing. “Did you know that man?”

His gaze was stern, pinning you under a scrutiny that seemed to see right through you. You could have played dumb, feigned ignorance, and questioned which man he was referring to. Maybe then he would've let it go, attributing it to his own overprotectiveness. Maybe.

But you didn't like the way that man's eyes had roamed over you, as if he was trying to claim you or imagining what lay beneath your clean robes. Maybe Suguru would do something about it? After all, he often dismissively called his followers 'monkeys,' a clear sign he didn't hold them in high regard. “No, I don’t know him,” you responded, a shiver running through you that Suguru didn't miss. “He’s a bit weird, right? I didn’t think you had followers like that.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, pausing you both in the hall. The dim moonlight streaming through a nearby window could have given the scene a nearly romantic quality if not for the concern etched deep within his furrowed brow. “Alright,” he finally said, the word hanging in the air before he turned to continue guiding you back to your room.

That was it. No further questions, no reassurances—just a simple acknowledgment and then moving on. It felt anticlimactic, almost dismissive, and a part of you felt almost offended.

But then again, what had you really expected?

That was what you thought before you saw red.

But it wasn't just the red. It was the heavy, metallic, coppery smell that suddenly choked the air, thick and invasive. The way the splatter violently stained your white robes, soaking into the fabric, marring them beyond recognition. The congealed remnants of what once was a person spread grotesquely across the cold floor, as his lifeless eyes stared back at you. His mouth hung open in a final, silent scream of horror as if he could still hear the words spewing from the priest's mouth.

“Does anyone else have any issues with this?” The question sliced through the tense silence of what seemed like a routine board meeting, discussing the mundane affairs of the company. Suguru's tone was far too light, disturbingly cavalier, given the blood soaking his front, nonchalantly wiping off a stray drop that had dared to mar his gorgeous face. To your surprise, no one objected, their eyes locked on the decapitated head lying before you. You had seen the curse—the one that had been produced and sent by Suguru. And maybe you were the crazy one for feeling a little flustered by his actions—heart fluttering.

Or should they be called reactions? The so-called necessary consequences he deemed necessary for your safety.

“Suguru.” His eyes shifted back to you, almost expecting to find fear. The sight of blood wasn’t for everyone, and he was fully prepared to sic a curse on you should you attempt to flee. But what he was met with was so unexpected—your flushed face, your grip tight on his sleeve, almost like clinging to your own lifeline. That oh-so-adorable look in your eyes, innocently seeking his attention.

This had been a bit of a test, an evaluation to see how you would respond to his more...abrasive nature. And he just couldn't stand the way that 'monkey' had his eyes locked on you, the way his fingers had dared to trail over your sleeve—as if he had the right to touch.

As you reached over to wipe a lingering trace of blood from his cheek, his reaction was swift, instantly, his hand snaps around your wrist. His eyes rake over you, and the disapproval in his gaze makes you feel a wave of self-consciousness wash over you.

"That filthy monkey blood is all over you now," he remarks, his tone dripping with disdain. After a moment's pause, a small smile curls the corners of his mouth. His grip remains firm on your wrist as he guides you over to his seat at the front of the congregation, giving you a thorough once-over before finally releasing you.

Nonchalantly, he shrugs the top of his robes down his shoulders, revealing a chest and abs that are absolutely sculpted to impossible perfection.

You'd always known he was handsome, but this? This was something else. He was not just attractive- he was, without a doubt, ripped. Settling down, he effortlessly pulls you into his lap, facing him. You're up close now, close enough to see the way he gazed so affectionately down at you—your heart racing and skipping several beats in response.

If you were blushing before, now you were certain you must look as bright as a tomato. You avert your gaze, only to find yourself face-to-face with his impeccably sculpted chest. Your hands, you realize, are already on him—likely from when he first pulled you onto his lap.

A smug smirk plays across his lips as he scans the crowd, his gaze predatory and possessive. It's a clear message to everyone present: you were off-limits to anyone but him. Held in his strong arms, you feel almost too soft, so compliant and utterly his, as if you belonged nowhere else but here.

His whisper is just for you, a soft murmur that tickles your ear, “Do you like what you see?” His eyes remain fixed on the crowd behind you, and thank god for that—you're practically melting in his lap. You're at a loss for words, and though under different circumstances you might have shot back a flirty retort, the intensity of the moment leaves you speechless.

His gaze locks with yours again, piercing and intense. He scrutinizes your form once again—flushed and trembling, the ugly stains of blood soaked into your clothes. Your clothes.

His hands begin to undo the lace at the front of your robes. In a panic, you reach up to stop him, embarrassed—not necessarily by his attention, but overwhelmingly by the many eyes watching from behind. "Suguru," you hiss, your voice a whisper thick with embarrassment and a plea for some semblance of privacy or restraint.

But his gaze halts you. It's firm, stern—like a mother scolding her child. Overwhelmed by his intense stare, your resistance melts away. You find yourself clinging to his arms, resting your head against his chest as he peels away the robes stained by the blood, liberating your skin from the filth.

“Did I say you could leave?”

At his words, the shuffling of footsteps behind you to come to an abrupt halt. You can almost sense the veiled fear and shock painting the faces of those behind you, the tension in the air so thick it’s suffocating, uncuttable even with the sharpest blade. As you squirm uncomfortably in his lap, you feel the unmistakable shift of the large bulge beneath you. This fucker was actually turned on by this?

But were you any better? You buried your face even deeper into his chest, inadvertently drawing his smug attention. "What's wrong, princess? You feelin’ shy?" His tone was taunting, so uncharacteristic of him. You'd never heard anything like that from those lips in all the time you'd known him, and that thought alone made you want to bury your face in a pillow and scream.

You nod, barely managing to keep your composure, only to feel his hands, which had been supporting his weight behind him, shift up to your thighs, drawing you even closer. The movement causes your panty-clad pussy to rub against the large snake you were saddled on. You hadn't intended to let out that needy whimper, but the accidental friction against your clit had you digging your nails in tighter.

"Is my sweet girl actually wet?" His tone is laced with mock disbelief. You don’t respond, but that doesn’t deter him, his fingers reaching between your legs, seeking confirmation for himself. You feel this thumb graze that oh so exquisitely sensitive spot, leaving you jolting in his lap, his fat fingers grazing past your clit over to your slick drippy folds.

“Tsk tsk tsk, sweet girl, you’re practically dripping. Are you alright?” His voice drips with obvious mock concern, and the distraction of his thumb pressing back against your button, drawing circles–makes it impossible to form a coherent response.

"You're all worked up—so red. You must've been so upset when that bastard put his hands on you," he murmurs, and your back arches as he picks up the pace, his hand circling your waist to hold you flush against him. His touch is assertive, almost commanding, drawing reactions from you that you'd never gotten from a toy.

"Uh uh, look here," his voice suddenly goes cold, detached. Your eyes snap up to his face, only to find his gaze directed over your shoulder, at the long since forgotten crowd behind you. Oh shit. What were you doing? His next words slice through the thick air, his tone sharp as a knife.

"You monkeys seem to forget your place." The room holds it's breath, and suddenly, you're painfully aware of the many eyes on you, the precarious position you're in—a spectacle for the small crowd. A shudder travels down your spine as his fingers relentlessly continue their exploration. You can't stop the slick trail trailing from you, soaking your underwear further. Your hips buck involuntarily towards his hand, even as his words echo hollowly through the room. "Should I just remind you? None of you should be touching what isn’t yours…"

The word "yours" spins your head, and you shamelessly whimper out. "My naughty girl, do you really enjoy this that much?" His tone is teasing, yet there's an edge of possession that sends another shiver through you. His touch intensifies again, and you tremble beneath him, overwhelmed by his presence.

Pulling away, he finally gives your chest some much-needed attention, slipping the cup of your bra below your rounded tits. His gaze is appreciative as he kneads one into his mouth, sucking greedily. And in an instant you're pinned to the floor beneath him, flat on your back, his bulge still pressing insistently against you.

The shift is swift, his body covering yours, providing the room an unobstructed view of him devouring you. Yet, your focus remains solely on him—his broad shoulders, the smooth expanse of his chest, and the stiff muscles that hint at hours spent perfecting them. Your eyes finally settle on the large bulge that he keeps grinding into you.

And grind he does, his clothed cock taking over the work of his fingers, each motion stripping your throat of the whimpers and whines that spill forth—sounds that surely only spur him on further.

Caught in this intense, consuming moment, you're hyper-aware of every contact, every movement, and every gaze set on you, heightening every sensation as you lose yourself to the rhythm he dictates. He’s a greedy lover, taking every inch he can get before finally pulling himself free from his robes, his cock springing forth—thick and demanding.

His gaze is hungry as he eyes you, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers darkly, "You like putting on a show, don't you? Just look at you, so desperate and dripping for me while they all watch. You’re nothing but a little exhibitionist, aren’t you?"

His words are taunting, debauched, as your pussy clenches, a flush of shame and excitement as he pulls your panties down teasingly slow. Straightening to his full height, he sighs at the sight of your pretty pink folds, completely on display for him. He’d be the one to ruin you, of course. No one else was allowed to touch what was his.

He spits on his length, a heavy sheen as he strokes in long and slow passes over his bulbous head. Your eyes are fixated on the curve, every inch of him on display. His eyes remain fixed on the heave of your chest, his words only for you, "You're completely mine, aren't you? Every shiver, every sigh... I want them all." Before you can answer, he has himself positioned at your entrance, sheathing himself completely inside you, filling your clingy pussy entirely in one fluid motion.

The guttural moan he shares with you is nothing short of primal, as he pulls back and then hammers back into you with a quick, forceful thrusts, your honeyed slickness making it all too easy. The furrow in his brow is ever-present, his gaze locked on you with an intensity that's damn near animalistic. You don't recognize the man filling you so completely.

You reach up to touch him, but one of his meaty hands pins both of yours above your head in a swift, assertive move, his strength incomparable. "Feels so good, princess, so fucking good, aah," his words stutter out, breathlessly, as his hips meet yours again in a relentless, brutal pace.

His cock stretches you perfectly, hitting that sweet spot that always seemed to elude the ex-boyfriends you'd dated. The slaps of his hips meeting your dripping pussy were echoing the room, as your head lolled back you managed to catch sight of a few of the faces of the men watching, and you had half a mind to be embarrassed. You whimpered, trying to hit your face into the crook of your shoulder, only to have his other hand snap onto your chin, his dick continuing the abuse your cervix.

Leaning in close, his breath hot against your ear, he whispers huskily, "C'mon now, don’t play shy." You could hear the grin in his voice, "You aren’t fooling anyone, not with the way this cunt is clenching me—ngh—so fucking—good." His words punctuated by each powerful thrust into your sopping hole, his breathing growing heavier as his fat balls slapped against you. You've never come without your clit being teased before, but you were sure you could squirt all over him from those words and his stretch alone.

"Such a pretty little slut for me," he growled as he drove into you, "lettin’ me stuff you so full." His words came out in low purrs, his hand still firmly clamped on your wrists and chin, ensuring you couldn’t see anyone else but him. "Gonna let me breed you in front of all these pathetic bastards? Show everyone who owns this cunt?" You felt your pussy clamp down tightly on him—earning a sharp hiss from him as he tightened his grip around your neck. You could barely breathe, your vision narrowing as you came hard around his cock, your body stiffening, unable to think straight.

He continued to fuck you stupid, relentless, "You love being my filthy little fuck toy, don't you?" his breath, hot against your ear. "Just a wet hole for me to use, right in front of everyone." You couldn't even make a sound, your head fuzzy and body already sore. "fucking—ngh—gonna breed this pussy full, baby—gonna—mmgh," His voice was ragged as your walls spasmed around him, his hold on your neck like a predator with limp prey, as he let out the loudest moan yet, "gonna cum, gonna—" and with that, he spilled himself deep inside you, his hot seed mixing with your release.

You felt his hips continue to rut against you, his gaze fierce and possessive—a rabid dog with his treat, heaving, refusing to pull out. He unclenched your neck as you gasped in a deep, burning breath of air, lungs finally refilling. The onlookers were the furthest thing from your mind, until you were abruptly brought back to reality by his commanding voice–leaving no room for argument,

"Now get the fuck out of here."

As the command left his lips, the onlookers, still frozen from the raw display they had witnessed, hesitated for a moment before scrambling away. All you heard were retreating footsteps. The room quickly emptied, leaving just the echo of their footsteps and the heavy breathing that filled the space between you and him.

Still inside you, he leaned down, his face inches from yours, his eyes still burning with that possessive intensity. "Look at what you do to me," he rasped, voice thick with satisfaction. His fingers trailed lazily over your skin, marking paths where his earlier grip had been.

He pushed back into you slowly, coaxing a whimper from your oversensitive body, "Just look at you, all flushed and beautifully wrecked for me. You took me so well," he praised, his tone heavy with satisfaction. His fingers delicately traced the marks his grip had left on your neck, his mark now visibly etched onto your skin.

"You're mine, remember that. Every inch of you, every gasp, everything—it all belongs to me."

come home

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dinsbeskar · 8 months ago

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In the Dark of the Night (Sauron/F!Reader)

Reader is long starved of her lover, after centuries apart, these are the fantasies that plague her in the night

Prequel: Wicked Game // Sequel: Evil Will Find Her

AO3 Link

Warnings: smut! 18+, female masturbation (reader), unprotected P in V sex, Sauron likes eating you out apparently?? Begging, praise kink, biting (only a little), kinda rough sex?? Lots of yearning, he absolutely adores you

A/N: I wrote this at 3am instead of sleeping, it is very much a "bashed it out and now I'm running away" type of fic. Is he there or isn't he?? Idk, it's up to you!! I imagined him as Annatar in this, but you're welcome to imagine any face you fancy, he is a shapeshifter after all!

There is an unending, seeking void in Middle Earth. You know it well, for it resides deep in your own being, hungry and desperate and vicious like a starved dog. It hadn't always plagued you, but after an age without your lover at your side, the void has filled the aching hole in your heart, tendrils of heavy nothing reaching out into the gloom of your bedchamber and threatening to engulf you whole.

It is in the black of night, when the darkest sky is overhead before dawn begins to break, that the void fills you the most. Sobbing has long ceased to ease your emptiness, so you lie in your feather bed, high in the elven city, and think of him, your lover's phantom figure nestled into you, fingers tracing your sides while whispers of sweet nothings pass between you. At least for a moment, you are not alone. Sometimes you swear you can hear him plain as day, your mind soothing your aching heart with memories of his scent pricking your nose as if he were right there beside you, holding you close as he used to, centuries ago. It is with those memories, those fantasies, that you think of him and touch yourself as he loved to, hand between your thighs, dancing across your chest, on your lips, needy for more.

He was quick to anger, and his wrath was nigh unchallenged, but never had you suffered it. The most gentle words and soft touches were reserved for you alone, revered and exalted in his bed, protected from the carnage his master had wrought on your kind. His soft hair grazing your face as he held himself over your trembling form, caressing every inch of you for the thousandth time as if it were the first.

You feel him next to you, on top of you, surrounding you, the smoky metallic smell of the forge permeating your bedsheets as if he'd spent these long, lonely centuries ravishing you. Your hand moves faster as you near your peak, biting back the deep moan in your throat as you picture him at the apex of your thighs, wicked tongue bringing you closer to your pleasure, tugging at your swollen clit and delving into your wet folds.

"All this for me?" You feel his smile against your mound as real as the pillow under your head. "My good girl, so ready for me, always so willing and waiting and wanting..."

His murmurs are lost to even your sensitive ears as he resumes his task, long fingers digging into your thighs so deliciously, nails dragging on your soft skin as you pull him closer, deeper, knowing he'd only beg if you refused him. Not that you ever would, at least not in jest, as you had many times before, just to see his hungry gaze grow dark and desperate. The games you used to play.

You slide a finger inside yourself, then another, always feeling him and only him, hearing him tease you as you whine for his cock.

"Good girls beg for it, my love. Are you my good girl?" You keen at his words and nod your head frantically, his fingers tracing your slit, dipping in and out at his pleasure, as he holds your gaze and fuels the fire pooling deep in your abdomen.

"Please... only yours, only for you..." Your words tumble from your lips, as a wolfish grin spreads across his handsome face.

His hands knead your flesh as he grasps your thighs to pull them apart, reverently taking in your dishevelled state, your blown pupils and swollen lips a masterpiece even Eru himself could not have imagined. His perfect creation, soft and pliant and oh so needy for him; any semblance of self control is lost as he takes his cock in hand and drives deep inside you with one thrust.

He steals every breath from your body with ravenous kisses that leave you clawing at his back, filthy wet sounds filling the air as he ruts into you, claiming every moan and whimper as a victory to his cause. You cry out his name, his real name, chanting it like a prayer, as he purrs in your ear. He pulls you apart with every touch, fingers raking through your hair, cursing in Black Speech as his orgasm approaches.

"I want to hear you, love, I need to hear you as I make you mine," he growls in your ear, low and deep, reverberating through you as he buries himself within you as if he means to never resurface.

You're only too happy to oblige, your moans unleashed from your throat as you no longer attempt to stay quiet, uncaring if anyone should hear you now. His name falls from your lips over and over as you plead for your release.

"I will make you my Queen, my love, and all Middle Earth will worship at your feet as I do," he praises you, his promises falling on deaf ears as you edge closer to what you crave.

He bites at the soft skin of your throat, licking the sheen of sweat that has collected thanks to his efforts, like a man starved of water at a desert oasis. The stretch of his cock inside you is almost too much but you take it so well for him, and he is a loving lord after all, one must be rewarded.

With one hand behind your head supporting his weight, his other hand travels from your swollen nipple downwards to your clit, circling the nub before pressing and stroking just as he has so many times before. He picks up the pace and slams his hips into yours, almost brutal in his all-consuming lust for his Queen.

You see stars and the world falls away, your walls clenching around him as he collapses onto you, the two of you entwined in body and enjoined in soul as you dissolve into pleasure, the spring that had so deliciously coiled deep in your belly finally releases, and he kisses you so sweetly you forget your own name.

As the first rays of sunlight peek through your window, you gasp, the spell broken. The bedsheets are rumpled and your fingers are wet, but the warm body that had encompassed your own only moments ago had vanished into the ether. The scent of the forge lingered long after in your nostrils, filling your heart once more with longing that could not be satisfied with one night's pleasure.

The yearning of the void was always present, and its black embrace was oh so tempting.

#sauron x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x reader #the rings of power #my fic #i actually dont think i mention him by name at all lmfao but i digress #tis heavily unedited and i literally just had to get it out before i go to sleep (ironic)#anyway uhh im sorry??#edit: why am i already writing a sequel from his pov smh it is 5am

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mae-lou-ron · 3 months ago

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Signal Lost

🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸

Pairing: Commander Cody x F!Reader

Summary: when your commander returns home from a long deployment, what you planned on being a steamy first turns into an evening hurt feelings and revealed miscommunications. As you both navigate physical boundaries and emotional intimacy, you discover that sometimes the deepest connections aren't forged in grand gestures, but in the real moments between.

Warnings: 🚨suggestive 18+ mdni🚨, hurt/comfort (a lil heavy on both), rejected sexual advances, lil bit of a misunderstand done by both, fluff fluff fluff…cavity inducing fluff, kisses, cuddling, cody is a little intense but in a good way, reader has hair and ‘curves’, mentions of smut and sexting, reader wears lingerie, talk of first time sex in established relationship, light discussion of boundaries, egregious use of mando’a nicknames, i don’t know how to do warnings, reader has a ton of insecurities (it me), internal berating, mentions of negative past relationships.

WC: 5,100 (my goal was 5,000 for each part so we are on track baybeee)

A/N: alright only like 40ish minutes late. This one got away from me. I actually started writing this a while back without a particular clone in mind, then put it on the shelf for a while when an idea hit me for my problem child of a Crosshair fic (A Little Kindness). That idea spawned an extensive deep dive on all things Cody… in doing so, I realized that one of Cody’s assets is his deep emotional intelligence, and that’s like catnip to me, so he just started to feel right for this one. Oh, and for reference, the lingerie I tried to describe is the gorgeous piece Ana wears in Fifty Shades before the masquerade ball 🥵 Enjoy!

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

Well, kriff…

The lingerie seemed like such a good idea at the time— standing in front of the shop window the other day.

You could picture Cody's face perfectly then— that adorable quirk of his scarred eyebrow as he stood arms crossed in your doorway. Over the long weeks of his deployment, the messages between you had grown increasingly heated— building upon an anticipation that started unfurling before he had even left. Your heart beat faster as you remembered all those late-night comms filled with low whispers and sweet promises— the first time together had to be memorable.

The sheer black fabric felt wonderful against your skin as you slipped into the garment—if you could even legally call it that. Thin double shoulder straps led to a structured bodice of sheer black adorned with sheer lace appliqué. A delicate black satin belt cinched at your waist, tied into a perfect bow while the rest of sheer material hugged your hips, stopping just past the apex of your thighs. Matching panties peeked through the delicate hem, already growing damp with the anticipation for what you had planned. You took a moment to admire your reflection, noticing how it hugged every dip and soft curve to your body— toeing the line of classy and obscene perfectly.

A giddiness exploded in your veins as you heard the familiar sounds of Cody letting himself into your apartment. You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over the sheer material one last time before positioning yourself tastefully on the bed— kneeling in the middle with your back straight and hands splayed on your knees— a clear offering to this magnificent man.

Your pulse began to race with nervous excitement, his deep voice growing closer as he called your name gently.

“In here…” you called to him, thankful your voice remained steady despite your trembling as you had waited for him to follow the gentle light pouring out of the bedroom.

Cody's face visibly paled, his jaw going slack as the scene before him registered in his mind. He stood frozen in the doorway, his throat going dry at the sight of you presenting yourself in such an intimate way. For a split second his eyes darkened with unmistakable desire before he caught himself, quickly averting his gaze to stare intently at the floor.

"I... we should... I mean..." he stammered, clearly flustered as he tried to maintain his composure. His hand reached up to rub the back of his neck - a nervous habit you'd come to recognize.

You quickly scrambled off the bed and stood before him, mortified. Feeling totally exposed, your racing blood took on an entirely different meaning. His immediately averted gaze and the way he spoke while staring at the floor made his discomfort painfully clear.

When he caught you in his peripheral vision, he noticed your guarded posture. Your hands fidgeted while your eyes darted around the room.

“Oh, cyar’ika… ” Cody crumbled, and with such regret, looking at your face with wide puppy dog eyes at your quiet panic. He spotted your robe and grabbed it from its hook on the door. “I’m sorry…we… shouldn’t…”

Is he serious?

After that, he kept his eyes on the floor. You tightened your arms over your ribs instinctively while eyeing the robe in his hands. As he drew closer, your gaze also dropped. Then you saw the toes of his boots come into view, and felt the plush fabric of your robe flutter over your back as he gingerly laid it over your shoulders.

He’s serious.

Cody's impossible kindness as he faced your exposed form only made you somehow feel worse. His remorseful eyes and gentle tone twisted like a knife in your gut—even the way he approached you now as if you were some spooked animal. Though he didn't step away after you finished tying the knot around your waist, he also didn't try to touch you, which was surprisingly a relief. You’d probably die of shame right there on the spot if he did.

Your eyes remained fixed on the floor, but you could feel his concerned gaze upon you. Words failed as your throat constricted painfully, an uncomfortable pressure building in your ears. Despite your desperate attempts to maintain composure, hot tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

And Cody saw it all.

"Cyar'ika, please… listen…" Cody began, but stopped when he saw you retreating further into yourself.

"No, I..." Your throat constricted, the words dying with a quiet squeak. You busied yourself retying your robe, desperate for something to occupy your trembling hands. When his large hand reached toward your arm, you shied away toward the refresher, silently praying your tears would wait until you were safely behind that door. "It's okay... I shouldn't have..." You gestured weakly at the bed, pressing your lips into a tight line to keep them from quivering. His face fell, concern etching deep lines across his features as he reached for you again. "I'm sorry..."

"Please, let me explain..." he started, taking a step towards you. "Mesh’la, wait—" but you were already lost to him, desperate to escape the suffocating weight this embarrassment was pressing upon you. The visceral ache of realizing he might not actually want you like that after all felt like ice water in your veins. Your fingernails dug into your palms with the effort of holding back tears.

"You don't need to explain," you said softly, trying to keep your voice light through the half opened door. "I understand." And you did understand, but these stupid feelings were still overwhelming you. It had always been this way for you - your mind jumping to the worst possible conclusion when really your brain just needed extra time to process things. Alone. That wasn't Cody's fault, and you also knew from experience that you needed to let yourself cry it out or calm yourself down before you could have any kind of rational conversation.

That is if he can even stand to look you after this.

"I'm going to shower." The words barely squeezed past the lump in your throat. You needed solitude to put names to the storm of emotions churning in your gut, somewhere safe to let this unfold privately. "Just... make yourself at home." Without waiting for his response, you closed the door to the small room— a barrier between you and your shameful mistakes. The shower sprang to life at your touch, its steady stream masking the quiet sobs that finally broke through the dam as the raw feelings washed over you unbidden.

He doesn’t want you…

He didn’t even want to look at you...

What were you thinking?

Even with the shower running, Cody could make out your muffled whimpers and sniffles. His heart cracked at the sound, knowing he helped put it there, however unintentionally. He wanted nothing more than to comfort you, to explain himself properly. Another more rational part of him wanted to give you the space you needed after his slight at your advances clearly made you feel embarrassed at best, and at worst, unwanted.

Considering the few details he could gather about some of your past relationships, it was the last thing he wanted to do. The thing he promised himself he’d never make you feel. He had to at least try to say something.

The skin around your eyes and nose were steadily becoming raw and red, hands wet from wiping at your tear stained cheeks. You sucked in a breath and reached for the shower curtain, but a soft voice at the door stopped you.

“Sweetheart…” Cody offered. “I know you’re upset, and… I’m so sorry.” he offered, his words tugging at one of the strings tangled around your heart. But with that, the shame began to creep in.

He was sorry?

He’s such a good man…too good for you.

You took a leap too far, and it failed.

What were you thinking?

Stars, he must have been so uncomfortable.

You scared him off.

Too intense.

Impulsive.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked softly when you didn’t respond, too caught up in your self berating.

Your heart lurched. No. You very much didn’t want him to leave, but you didn’t want him to feel like he needed to stay to make you feel better. You sniffled, wiping your eyes before you spoke again.

“No.” your kept your voice small in the hope that it wouldn’t waver too much from speaking mid-cry or even worse, sound too desperate. “Do you…want to go?”

“No.”

“Okay…”

You both fell silent, the running water your only backdrop. After a few moments, you heard him slide down to sit against the wall with a quiet thud. With that gentle gesture, you removed your robe and the slinky lace still cinched to your body.

You remember how you felt looking in the mirror not even an hour ago, how your confidence surged with giddy anticipation. Now you just felt foolish. Now, it looked completely different to you crumpled on the floor at your feet. You sighed, trying to exhale some of the tension in your chest. After wiping a few more shed tears away, you stepped into the steamy waterfall.

The hot water cascaded over your shoulders, washing away some of the moment and some of the lingering embarrassment. You let out another shaky breath, trying to focus on the soothing warmth rather than the way your head was starting to hurt from pushing out tears. Through somehow you could still sense Cody's steady presence on the other side of the door, and that made breathing a little easier.

As you lathered, the initial sting began to melt away, but now you were left to wrestle with the mortification of being so flippant with any physical boundaries that Cody may have. Boundaries that you didn’t bother to ask about before just exposing your near naked body to him like that.

Another sigh, turning the water to a more scalding temperature, letting it prickle over your skin you as you tried to process how things had crashed so soon after you thought they were taking off. From the lingering kisses and touches, teasing words he’d utter deeply in your ear in the days before he left.

Then there were those increasingly flirty comms he started to share one night a few rotations after he left.

The signals seemed so clear in those heated messages exchanged across the stars, but you must have misread everything, projected your own desires onto his flirtations— war was stressful and maybe he just needed an outlet. No. Your Cody wasn’t like that— but just because you were ready to take that step, it didn’t mean he was or had to be.

Yet, a more rational part of your brain reminded you that he was still here. He was literally sitting on the other side of that door so you wouldn’t feel abandoned on top of everything else. But why? The thought plagued you as you turned off the water and reached for your towel.

Shaking your head at yourself in the mirror, you tried to clear the fog from both the glass and your mind. Your reflection stared back, vulnerable and uncertain, but somewhere beneath the surface anxiety, you felt a tiny flutter of hope. After all, Cody was still there, wasn't he? Still waiting, still caring, even after your fumble.

Unless he was just waiting for you to calm down so he could end things kindly.

When you finally emerged from the fresher, wearing your favorite sweatpants one of Cody’s GAR issued shirts, you immediately noticed the spot he had been occupying by the door was empty, making your heart sink. Stepping into your bedroom, you called out softly, “Cody?”

The silence that followed made your stomach twist painfully, your mind already racing to worst-case scenarios. Did he leave a note or a comm maybe? The thought barely had time to form before fresh tears formed in your eyes.

Then there was movement from the living room. Following the sound, you found Cody, armor off, and arranging blankets and pillows on the couch, creating a cozy nest. The smell of fresh popcorn filled the air, and you noticed he'd lit your favorite candles, their warm glow an inviting alternative to the harsh overhead lighting.

An unopened bottle of your favorite sparkling water had been placed on the table, and as you approached, you saw he had queued up the holomovie you'd mentioned wanting to watch last week, during some of your more tame comms.

Your heart sank a little more at his thoughtfulness. Cody was clearly trying to let you down as gently as possible, creating this cozy sanctuary as some kind of consolation prize. The gesture, while impossibly sweet, only served to remind you how much it was going to hurt when he finally told you it wasn't going to work out.

But you didn’t deserve him. Not after that.

The last shred of energy to hold anything inside evaporated in an instant. Your face crumpled, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs— which is what Cody saw when he turned around to see you standing there.

"Cyar'ika, no..." he breathed, quickly crossing the room to you. "Please don't cry again." His hands hovered near your shoulders, still unsure if you wanted to be touched. The tender uncertainty in his expression made your heart clench painfully. He looked at you, aware you might retreat again, but instead you pushed your forehead into his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist.

His arms enveloped you instantly, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head as he held you close. You felt his lips press into the top of your head as he breathed the scent of your shampoo. His other stroked soothingly against your back as he held you, happy to provide whatever comfort you needed from him.

“For a second I thought you left, but…” you pulled away slightly to once again look around the room Cody had set up. The strange feeling of already missing him bubbled up, even though he was still standing right here.

"I just came in here to make things cozy for us." His arms tightened around you as he pressed another kiss to your temple. "I know you process things differently sometimes, and that's okay. I should have explained better before..."

“Wait, so you’re not breaking up with me?” You asked, slightly bewildered. “But I thought… after I..." you trailed off, glancing at the bedroom door. He saw your face flushing with embarrassment at the still fresh memory of your bold display earlier. "I mean, when you…I figured...I just thought you were being really nice about it…" your tear stained face made Cody’s heart crumble as he realized what you had thought was happening. Eyes widened in alarm, his hands coming up to cup your face tenderly.

"Cyar'ika, no! I was just…surprised." His thumb brushed away a stray tear as his expression softened with understanding. "I care about you.”

“I care about you too…” your voice was small as it wavered. “…not that you could see that— throwing myself at you like a di’kut." you said with a self-deprecating huff, but Cody's hand warm on your cheek, his thumb still caressing your heated skin.

"Hey," he said softly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “You have nothing to feel bad about…” he breathed, searching your eyes.

“Yes, I do…” you sighed.

The way he looked at you in this moment, puzzled yet patient, it made the ache in your chest grow. Even with the lingering embarrassment from earlier, you knew you needed to explain yourself properly. Taking his hand, you led him to the nest he built on the couch, settling into the plush cushions, and turning to face him properly.

"I jumped to so many conclusions without talking to you first…” you started, unable to meet his gaze— staring at a point on his chest felt easier than looking him in the eyes. “It’s no excuse, it’s just after our comms over the last couple of weeks, I guess I was caught up in my….” You paused, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "Those messages we were sending… I should have realized that what is said in the heat of the moment isn't always... I mean, I guess it's different in person, isn't it?" you sighed when you could feel yourself begin to ramble, so you forced the rest of your thoughts back inside. Sharing too much usually invited unwanted judgement, so you held back. It was safer.

Part of you desperately wanted to tell him everything - how his messages had been a lifeline during those lonely nights, how you'd imagined this reunion a thousand different ways. You wanted to explain that when you saw that lingerie, you could only think of him, of how his eyes would light up.

But vulnerability was still new territory, even with someone as understanding as Cody. Despite his constant patience, you found yourself wondering daily how he put up with all your quirks and idiosyncrasies. He could have anyone he wanted, yet here he was, choosing to stay with you.

As Cody watched you wrestle with these thoughts, his protective instincts stirred. A pang of sorrow struck Cody’s heart at seeing you hold back so anxiously, knowing there was so much more you probably wanted to say. The way you fidgeted with his shirt, in the slight tremor of your voice.

The urge to draw you closer, to create a space where you felt safe enough to share every thought was overwhelming. Cody knew that would come with time, but right now he wanted you understand you weren’t alone in your desire, that it isn’t nearly as one sided as you might be thinking.

Instead, he shifted on the couch and offered his hands out to you. You looked at them for a moment before placing yours in them, feeling the familiar warmth and strength of his grip. He pulled you closer, putting your hands onto his shoulders before scooping you into his lap.

"I understand what you mean about the comms," he said softly drumming his fingers nervously on your thigh. Relieved a little more, your eyes closed when his forehead pressed to yours.

"But stars, my sweet woman, I meant every word I said in them. I couldn’t stop thinking about you…I just..." he paused, collecting his thoughts. "I want to do right by you. You deserve so much more than a heated night after I’ve been away. I fanned the flames…”

“We both did, I think.” You allowed yourself to relinquish at least a little of the blame.

“You still don’t need to apologize…”

“I do though, Cody. We didn’t talk about it. I just assumed—”

“See that’s the thing—” he cut in. “I sent you those comms…without talking to you first if that’s something you were into…I thought I might have pressured you…”

In an instant, the room around you felt far away as you felt a shift in your perspective. Of course, Cody was the most painfully gallant man you’d ever met. If there was even a shred of doubt that he’d at all pressured you to do anything, he would never forgive himself. You could see it written all over his face, in his furrowed brows his concern that he might have made you feel obligated... and you couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

"So we're both guilty then?" you asked with a small smile, and his warm rumbling laugh sent butterflies through your stomach.

“Yeah…” he huffed, smirking.

His eyes swirled with words unspoken, studying your face carefully. "Perhaps we got a little carried away," he admitted with a slight flush to his cheeks, "but that doesn't mean I want you any less.”

“No?”

"Trust me," he murmured, gently brushing his nose against yours. "Force, you were absolutely breathtaking in that little thing, mesh'la.” Cody’s voice was rough, and you felt his breath fan across your cheek. “But you don't need lingerie or big gestures to make me want you. I want to be with you because you're you."

Your cheeks burned at his words, warmth returning to your veins as his lips touched the corner of your mouth. He was making sure you knew he still wanted you, desired you. The soft praise made you lean further into him, your earlier embarrassment melting into assurance as you kissed him for the first time since he’d walked though the door.

His lips were soft and warm against yours, moving with gentle urgency that made your heart flutter. The tender way his hands cradled your face spoke volumes about how much he cared, how deeply he wanted this connection with you. When you finally broke apart, his amber eyes were filled with such affection you thought you might explode.

The knot in your chest continued to unravel as you sat there in one another’s arms, enveloped by the quiet warmth of Cody’s cozy setup.

A little squeak pressed past your lips when he suddenly crushed you against his chest, planting loud, wet kisses to your cheeks and gently tickling your ribs.

His playful touch made you giggle uncontrollably as you squirmed in his lap, trying half-heartedly to escape his tickling fingers. When he finally relented, you collapsed against his chest, both of you breathless with laughter. The way his eyes sparkled with mischief and affection made your heart flutter all over again.

“Can we still make out on the couch while we pretend to watch this movie?” you whispered after a few long moments, slipping your hand into his.

Cody's laugh erupted as he pressed a tender kiss to your temple, and then your lips. "I think that can be arranged," he murmured, his warm breath tickling your skin as he reached behind you for the remote, dimming the lights to create the perfect atmosphere for your cozy evening together. “But before we do, I just want to be sure you’re feeling okay…”

You nodded, lips curving into a gentle smile, feeling more grounded than you had all evening. "I am now," you whispered, snuggling closer. "Thank you for being so patient with me...I know I can be a lot." your fingers curled gently into his shirt once again, an anxious habit he’d noticed when you first met.

Cody exhaled slowly, leaning back with you into the cushion. "Now, whoever told you that?" he asked softly, running his fingers through your hair.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the memories of past relationships and their harsh words rising unbidden to the surface. It would just ruin the moment voicing them now. Instead, you just shook your head nuzzled into him, retreating to the comfort found in the steady rise and fall of his chest as these old wounds threatened to resurface.

"It doesn't matter..." you said quietly into his chest.

The truth was, it couldn't be traced to a single source or moment. Instead, a thousand little cuts had accumulated over time. They came from everywhere—dismissive and judgmental comments from family members who should have nurtured your spirit, so-called friends who turned away when you needed them most, and previous partners who claimed to accept you while trying to change everything about who you were.

Each small reproach, each casual criticism, each annoyed sigh had built up over the years like tiny grains of sand, eventually forming a burden so heavy it threatened to swallow you whole. At this point, the voices blended together into a persistent whisper that maybe they had all been right. Maybe there really was something fundamentally wrong with the way you experienced and expressed yourself in the world.

Cody's eyes narrowed with concern as he studied your face. "It matters," he said firmly, his voice low and intense. "Because whoever convinced you of that is so kriffing wrong." His lips brushed across your cheek as he continued, "You're not 'a lot.' You're passionate, and loving, and when you get excited about something, you light up in a way that most people have forgotten how to be. How you notice little details others miss, how deeply you feel things— those aren't flaws, cyar'ika. They're part of who you are, and I..." he paused, swallowing hard.

I love you.

"...I wouldn't change a single thing about you," he whispered instead.

Except maybe how you see yourself.

“I want to tell you, I do…” you sighed. “Just not right now…I’m…you’re helping me relax and talking about it now will only do the opposite.”

Cody gave your hand a gentle squeeze, understanding in his eyes. "I'll be here to listen," he murmured, sealing the promise with a lingering kiss to your lips.

You felt tears pricking at your eyes again, but for an entirely different reason now. The earnest conviction in his voice, the tender way he held you— it made those old scars feel a little less sharp, a little more distant. You pressed your ear to his chest, trying to get as close as possible to the sound.

"I don't deserve you," your voice muffled by his chest. “You deserve someone who's got their shit together, not someone who spirals like thi...”

Cody's hands gripped your shoulders gently as he pulled you back just enough to look him in the eyes, his expression fierce with conviction. "You listen to me," he said, voice low and stern. "I don't want someone who's 'got their shit together'— I want you, with all of your banthashit and everything that makes you think you’re ‘too much’.” His amber eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that seemed to pierce straight through to your soul.

The weight of his stare held you captive, making it impossible to look away or dismiss his words as anything less than his absolute truth. Cody’s expression was unwavering, and eventually you couldn't help but laugh softly. His blunt honesty and fierce protectiveness made your heart swell with gratitude as you realized he wasn't just talking to you - he was also talking to that cruel little voice in your head.

“Has anyone told you how intense you are sometimes?” You murmured, a glimmer of amusement in your gaze.

Cody's rich laugh filled the space between you as he pressed another kiss to your forehead. "All the time." he mused, reaching for the remote. “You and Rex should talk…”

To both of your credit, you did make it about 15 minutes into the movie before your cuddling turned into soft kisses and gentle touches. His lips found the sensitive spot behind your ear that always made you melt, and you couldn't help the soft sigh that escaped. You felt his smile against your skin as his arms tightened around you, pulling you into his lap and continued to kiss you like he desperately wanted to all those nights away.

The movie played on forgotten in the background as you lost yourself in each other. Kisses grew deeper but remained unhurried, savoring each gentle brush of his lips over yours. He sighed when your hands found his hair, and you shivered at the gentle way his hands soothed over your back.

By the time the movie ended, you had both fallen asleep tangled in one another’s embrace, buried under blankets. When you stirred, the soreness in your neck told you it was time to move to the bed, Cody was already stirring and reaching for you.

“Will you stay tonight?” you asked softly, hearing a little too much hope in your voice to not feel pathetic. “I promise, no funny business.” you added solemnly as you held your right hand up and made a cross motion over your heart with the other.

Cody yawned, pulling the blankets back. "Of course, I was already planning on it, cyar’ika…”

Cody retreated to the bedroom to shower and get ready for bed as you tidied the living room. When you joined him, you found him already showered and propped up on his preferred side of the mattress — the side between you and the door. Even in the safety of your bedroom, his protector instincts remained steadfast. He had changed into the pajamas you'd started keeping here for him a while back. Looking perfectly at home as he waited for you with open arms, the sight nearly knocked the air from your lungs, knowing he could feel this comfortable in your home.

You climbed over him with a playful grin, and he laughed as you peppered his lips with soft kisses. His arms wrapped around you, tucking you securely into his side as you settled against him. Finding your favorite spot in the crook of his arm, you rested your head on his chest, his steady heartbeat a soothing rhythm beneath your ear. As his fingertips grazed lazily up and down your arm, you felt the last traces of tension from earlier dissolve.

“I’m so glad you’re home…” you murmured sleepily. “Kriff I missed you…”

Cody pressed a kiss into your hair.

Home.

"Me too, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a deep rumble against your body. Warm lips pressed one last tender kiss to your forehead, lingering there as if committing this moment to memory. The gentle rise and fall of his chest and steady thump of his heartbeat against your ear created a soothing lullaby, pulling you steadily towards sleep.

Just like that, your earlier missteps melted away. Cody's steady presence anchored you once again, making you feel secure in ways you'd never known possible. A different kind of intimacy had blossomed between you tonight— not what you'd originally planned, but something far more meaningful than you could have imagined.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Good Soup List: @returnofthepineapple, @captn-trex

DM me if you'd like to be tagged for part II (warning; there be smut...) 😈

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