#doing the lords work here truthfully

[rcbertleckie]

[wyn-n-tonic]

Photoshopping black face on Pedro is a fucking Choice(TM) and not a good one.

[gojoidyll]

stubborn heart ch. 4

yan!capitano x wife!reader

summary | or in which capitano is told he needs a wife. and he begrudgingly agrees.

warnings | shower scene, nudity (but nothing is described), etc.

note | i have rewritten this chapter four times, and i still don't like how this turned out...

previous | next

You were gone a total of four hours, and you managed to snag a hefty amount of books from the store in town. Truthfully, you were planning on finding a job as well but figured that taking some time off from working every single day of your life would do you some good, which was how you found yourself back in your shared room, your books stacked onto your nightstand, a heavy and warm blanket on your shoulders and a book in your grasp. Your eyes devouring each word they flitted across the sentences on the page.

When you had come back, you had finally met some of the maids and butlers that worked in the mansion. They told you that Capitano wanted to speak with you alone before which was why they hadn’t been around. Which made sense. Being alone with Capitano would make anyone nervous. Especially you.

After you met the servants that worked for Capitano in his manor, they had left you to your own devices as you sought to read alone in your room.

Which was exactly what you did until night fell.

“M’lady, dinner is ready.”

“Alright! I’ll be down in a moment.”

That was another thing you had to get used to… others making food for you. It was definitely something you were never accustomed to even when you were younger.

“Please hurry down, Lord Capitano has already come home and is waiting for you.”

At the mention of his name you had slammed your book shut and tossed the covers off yourself as you rushed for the door. Swinging it open haphazardly, the maid behind it jumped a little in surprise.

“He’s here?!”

“Yes, he actually just got here-“

You hastily left your room and ran down the hall in the direction that you remember the dining room was. You weren’t a noble lady, not in the slightest. But you knew not to make a lord waiting. Father often scolded you for it. Especially since you had a tendency of getting too lost in your books when you should have been working.

“Ah, there she is,” you huffed a little as you smoothed out your dress. Your eyes scanning the room carefully.

Capitano was already sitting at his seat, your own seat was already prepared for you to his right.

Quickly trying to calm your racing heart, you carefully walked to your seat where a maid was waiting for you to pull your chair out for you.

“Capitano,” you greeted almost a bit shyly, “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

“I didn’t wait long.”

He turned to look at you, and you couldn’t deny the way your body fidgeted underneath his gaze.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

You were surprised momentarily at his question. You wondered if he was asking because he was interested, but you quickly threw that thought out the window. He was probably just making small talk…

“Yes, I did. Though, I haven’t found a job yet.”

Capitano hmmed at the news, “was the cold alright?”

“I dressed warmly enough,” you answered.

Before he could ask anything else, you were thankful that the food started to come out from the kitchen, A true blessing in disguise as you fearfully came to realize that you didn’t know how to properly talk to the man. And I am supposed to sleep next to him tonight too?!

You mentally despaired over the thought. You desperately hoped you didn’t sleep walk or talk, because you didn’t want him to think any less of you than he already does.

“Thank you for the food!”

But you guessed that would be a problem for later tonight.

…

When dinner finally concluded and you found yourself walking next to Capitano, you couldn’t help but to give him a few side glances here and there. Throughout all of dinner you couldn’t help but to stress over sleeping next to the man, and now it was quickly becoming a reality!

Coming to your shared room, Capitano opened the door for you, and when you walked in, he walked past you and towards the bathroom that was on the far side.

“Did you shower today?”

You shook your head, “no, not yet.”

“Then join me.”

You paused and let his words sink in for a moment, “hah?”

Capitano looked to you, “you will not be having a traditional honeymoon and I hear that a substitute for such a thing will be spending time together.”

You started to fidget with your fingers, “well, I mean… that’s true, but its just as you said before. Don’t expect anything.”

Capitano fully turned to you then, “but is it not expected that a husband and wife spend time together?”

He got you there, and he was right on some level. Not to mention you wanted to be a little selfish.

This wasn’t a conventional wedding. You doubted you would be getting your own happy ending anytime soon, so why not take what he offers from time to time. He’s says not to expect anything, so what was wrong with taking what he does offer? Besides, what was the harm with bathing with a man?

Your confidence was quick to whither, however the moment you entered the bathroom with him. The shower already running hot as Capitano began to undress. You never saw a man naked before. Not once. And your naivety was beginning to show.

Oh wow, you thought as you got to see his bare chest. You thought his face was a work of art, but his upper body was something else.

“Get undressed,” he ordered, his tone a bit harsh as he started to unbuckle his pants.

Shakingly, you started to undo your buttons.

Despite being married to the man now, this whole situation made you unbearably nervous. Your original thoughts of just takin what he offered soon dwindling into ash. And just as you slipped out of your dress and undergarments and even undid your hair, you found yourself closing your eyes tight the moment you heard Capitano’s pants fall and pool around his feet.

You felt embarrassment course through your veins when you didn’t hear him say anything, but luckily you didn’t have to dwell on it when you felt his hand encase itself around your arm and pull you along and into the shower.

The warm water hit you immediately, making you relax momentarily.

“Is this not comforting to you?”

His voice sent shivers down your spine despite the hot water that soaked you. You could tell he was behind you, his chest barely touching your back.

“I- I am still getting used to being married, I’m afraid…”

“We do not have to consummate this marriage yet. Though, in order for this marriage to be be seen as legitimate, we will have to be intimate with one another eventually. However, I will not force you into such arrangements until you are… used to being married.”

“Is showering together a part of me getting used to it,” you asked.

“Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is our honeymoon. But it is also a way for you to get used to me. Mainly because it is obvious you haven’t seen a naked man before.”

You felt your face heat up instantly, and it wasn’t because of the hot water.

“Look at me when I talk to you.”

He turned you around easily, the slip of the water not helping you in the slightest as you found yourself looking up at the harbinger. And as you looked up at his face, you were awestruck with how handsome he was. Archons truly have their favorites when blessing people with good looks.

“Still not looking at all of me, but that is alright. I don’t want you fainting again.”

His words had you blushing as he leant down to you. The action catching you off guard when he placed his lips over yours.

He was kissing you again.

“I heard it was custom to kiss on your honeymoon as well, among other things, but a kiss and shower shall do good for replacements instead,” he said against your lips before deepening the kiss.

It was the longest kiss you had with him so far. You didn’t know where to put your hands, or how to move your head, so you let him do all the work while also relaxing in the hot water that cascaded over you both as you closed your eyes.

This wasn’t a bad honeymoon.

But of course, what he gives is taken away all too soon as you find yourself preparing for bed. Your nightgown already thrown over you as you are already sitting in the bed and are waiting for him.

He gave you kiss to commemorate your wedding, and a kiss and a shower together for your honeymoon.

It was more than you expected, but you were thankful.

“I’ll be gone early in the morning.”

Capitano said as he exited the bathroom, “we will not see each other for next coming of weeks.”

“Is it a mission,” you asked.

“...Yes. While I am gone, I expect you to be loyal and do not worry about a job for now.”

It kind of hurt to know that he thinks you will cheat on him, but it was understandable. He knows nothing of you. Only that you embarrass yourself easily and come from the Hearth. But the same could be said for him. What if he cheats?

As he got into bed beside you, you found that you couldn’t voice your concerns. He still scared you after all.

“Goodnight… wife.”

The single title surprised you as did other things, but you ignored the light thumping of your heart as much as possible, “goodnight husband.”

You hoped that whatever the future had in store for you would be good.

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some say "no blogs found" when I try to add them </3

[lorelune]

(continuation of this piece. part ii of regency au with jing yuan)

"he needs to stop doing this."

you tell lord luocha this as you stumble out of your one room cottage, desperately attempting to smooth down your day gown. your palms shake as you do and you shoot your patron an angry look.

lord luocha looks perfectly passive, painfully neutral with a hint of mirth. the bastard. "i think it's quite appropriate for the general to call upon you this hour of the day. i thought you would be prepared."

"i am not an 'eligible lady' as i am so often reminded," you shake your head. "i cannot constantly be ready to take his company, just because it's before supper. be reasonable, my lord. speak with him about this."

"perhaps," luocha tilts his head with the barest hint of a smile. "i'll consider it. for now, why don't you go greet our guest? i'll have some refreshments sent in."

"fine." you say. your voice wavers.

this is not the first time the retired general, Jing Yuan, has called upon you. it's more like the fifth. maybe sixth. it is more frightening to keep count of his increasingly frequently visits (as they clearly indicate some type of explicit interest), so you stopped counting them recently. peace of mind and all.

you enter the drawing with and bow to the general without thinking, "good afternoon, general."

"likewise," he says easily, voice so deep and rich; it makes your insides feel wobbly.

jing yuan sits on one of the loveseats, legs tastefully spread and in some amount of regalia. well-dressed, certainly. his hair is half-tied up as he so favors, and his face has a healthy amount of blush. a crisp jaw. bulging forearms and thighs beneath his various dressings. a broad chest. it is hard not to ogle him overtly. you train your gaze on the hand-tufted rug before rising and daintily (as you can) sit across from him on the other side of the loveseat. you tuck your legs to the side, barely remembering to not fully fold them under yourself. decorum and all.

(it feels foolish. jing yuan hardly seem to care. lord luocha thinks your bumbling is amusing.)

"i apologize for the intrusion," he says. he squeezes his hands into loose fists. you don't miss the action. "will you indulge me for a time?"

"i'm already here, aren't i?" you quip back, tone light. easy. "i don't mind the company."

there's more you could say—

("general, i think you are so very kind and thoughtful. thank you for spending your spare time with me.")

("general, i am sorry i can't attend any of the balls and festivities as anything more than a performer. i would not mind being on your arm, if circumstances were different, and you desired it so".)

("general, how much longer will you entertain this? are you intending to steal my heart, only to break it?"

instead, you remain quiet, picking at your nailbeds. jing yuan watches you with a hum. flexes his hands.

"are you working on any new pieces?" he asks.

"a few, actually." you reply. "the muses have been kind to me."

"oh?" he smiles. he tilts his head cutely, almost boyish, despite his age. "may i ask the subject matter?"

"ah—" you feel your face heat. "a number of things. subject matters. a varying themes."

truthfully, you have started four new paintings in the last week. all of which were started in moments of such deep inspirations, they had you painting and laying base colors from sunrise until sunset. it just so happens that these... works have. a clear theme. that of the general.

(during his second visit, he commented on the blooming azaleas. you've been obsessed with perfecting the shape of their petals. his third visit, you sat on the same seat as him. you were so much closer then, and found yourself lost in the honey color of his eyes. the punch of purple underneath them, an accumulation of sleepless nights. another is of a lion, like that of his crest. the final is a portrait of him that has you committing every bit of him to memory. perhaps you'll be able to capture his likeness with your memory if the muses continue to favor you.)

"you're quite the varied artist." he leans his jaw on his fist. "your dedication to your craft is most admirable."

"i cannot help the ways in which inspiration forces me to act," or, to thirst over the man in front of you. god forbid a parched man be given drink so fine. you shake your head. "i have had... some amount of increased, enjoyable, new interactions over the past while. i suppose i'm feeling invigored."

"oh?" jing yuan looks smitten. his eyes go half-lidded. "may i guess the source of your inspiration?"

"if you do, you'll only embarrass me."

"so, you think i will be right in my guess then?"

"i know so." you roll your eyes, sheepish. "i am not foolish enough to think i could hide face and play games with the Divine Foresight and win."

"you underestimate yourself."

"hardly. have you... met yourself, general?"

"often, frequently." he nods to himself. he catches your gaze. it's piercing. "i find myself in the mirror, often, these days. i tell myself that i am spry enough and have retained enough charm through my years to properly court and woo the recluse, genius artist i have been stealing time from. i meet the man in my mirror and think that he is quite clever, but tends to underestimate you as well."

your breath is caught in your chest. you scrunch the skirt of your dress up in your palms and swallow.

"the general speaks freely and foolishly."

"and yet, i do not lie."

"... you are brazen."

"do you not require such treatment?" jing yuan laughs sweetly. "if i were any more gentle with you, you would've already retreated far into your lord's gardens. i wouldn't hope to see you again. you will need to forgive me for my shamelessness."

"... i could perhaps be convinced." you scoot closer on the love seat. you should. create space away from him. before you do something stupid and unbecoming. but you find yourself drawn closer. "the general is a kind man. good-hearted."

"such a charitable assessment."

"i know it to be true." you do know. the man keeps his own gardens, tends them himself. he pays his servants good wages and left war and bloodshed behind sometime ago. "i would like to get to know his good heart more."

jing yuan steels himself then. you watch it happen. his spine straightens, his throat bobs. sweat beads at his temples, you now notice. his keeps his hands in his lap, wringing them together.

"then we are in agreement?"

"... only if the general treats me well." you stumble over your words. "only if you treat me well, general."

"jing yuan, please."

"fine. jing yuan, then." it takes everything in you not to reach for his hands. your last threads of civility barely remaining. "will you treat me well, jing yuan?"

he breathes. you feel the warm exhale of it fan over your cheeks. your gaze drops to the softness of his bottom lip.

"only the best, for you."

"so, you're smitten with me?"

"simply struck." he gulps. you need him, you decide, decorum be damned. you lean forward, just as he does. you can hear the tremor of your breath in time with his—

the door the drawing room opens, suddenly, with a resounding thud. you jump away from the general, a hand over your heart. you attempt to not noticeably pant, though you perhaps fail. lord luocha raises a knowing eyebrow as a few of his staff bring in a platter of a small treats and bubbly drinks in fluted glasses.

"forgive the intrusion," luocha places a hand on jing yuan's shoulder. the general straightens up. "i figured that you two must be in need some of refreshments. may i suggest a walk in the garden, later? perhaps, you could show him your herb patches, [name]."

lord luocha shoots you a knowing look.

(said patch of herbs is just outside of your cottage. a good distance away from the main estate.)

"i'd love to." you swallow and shake your head. "if the general will deign to spend a bit more time with me."

jing yuan looks at you, really looks at you, and smiles. it is an honest, genuine thing. you are glad luocha is at his back, so only you can see the earnest of it. it is something special, you think, just for you.

"as much as you will allow me."

and you will give him as much as you can muster.

[fayes-fics]

Audacious

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel to Impertinent. After your engagement party, Anthony asks you to rendezvous in his office to continue where you left off.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, innocence/corruption kink, sex education, mutual masturbation, orgasms.

Word Count: 2.2k

Authors Note: Sequel request fill for @cleopatraathene to continue the story from Impertinent (ask HERE). Sorry, it's taken so long, my dear. Err, this could well turn into a series at this rate. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. Enjoy! <3

The bejewelled band feels weighty around your left ring finger as you rap your knuckles quietly upon his study door. It's late, and the last thing you want is for anyone to know what you are doing.

After a pause, the hinges creak, and a hand snakes out and grabs your arm.

Before you know it, you are dragged through the door, and it closes with you pressed against the other side, the room heady with the scent of recently smoked cigars and expensive brandy. Anthony is casual in just a white shirt, sleeves rolled up around his elbows, braces slung around his hips.

“Fiancée,” he rumbles, his nose trailing up your neck as he leans in, the wood of the door panels digging into your bottom through the thin layer of your silk robe. “Did you enjoy our engagement party?” he queries, teasing your throat with soft kisses.

“Yes,” you answer breathily. “A-And I did as you asked.”

He pauses in his ministrations; you can feel the curve of a smile over your skin. “What did I ask you to do?” he knows the answer; he just wants to hear you say it.

“To return this evening exactly as I was last night.” 

He tuts softly, his nose trailing up the cord of your neck. “But you are wearing something, so you are not as you were.”

“I could hardly walk through the halls of your home naked, my lord!” you gasp.

He chuckles richly, his breath hot in your ear. “On the contrary. This is soon to be all yours. As Viscountess, you can do exactly as you wish. Or as I wish. And sometimes, I may wish you to be naked at my bidding,” he straightens up and looks down at you, dark eyes glittering. “Would you do that for me? Would you walk naked where I told you?“

Again, as last night, you feel under a spell. “Yes, my lord,” you whisper truthfully.

“Audacious,” he rasps approvingly, “just how I like it,” the last few words muttered over your lips before capturing them with his.

Your stomach quivers at his praise, then vaults at the first brush of his mouth, knowing that now you are betrothed, he has promised so much more. His lips are warm and soft as he slowly parts your lips, his tongue rolling, requesting entry. Instinctively, you open, a wave of luscious wet heat as his tongue lathes over yours, a dance that has you inside melting and a throb at the apex of your thighs that is entirely foreign but enthralling. As he breaks away, you chase his lips, eyes still closed, wanting more of his heady kisses. He grabs both of your hands and pulls you to the centre of the room, the fire warming the backs of your calves as he releases his hold.

“Take off your robe,” his order soft.

Your trembling hands scramble to obey, making quick work of the knot at your belly, pushing the material off your shoulders so it flutters onto the rug behind you so you are naked. There is a throaty noise and he takes a step back as if to better drink in the view of your body. His lush bottom lips curling under his upper teeth, his eyes covetous, roaming your skin.

“You should never wear clothes,” he opines, backing further away, grabbing a wingback chair and scraping it across the carpet until it is behind him. He takes a seat, his eyes never leaving your form.

“Spin for me.”

Heart beating fast, you rock onto the balls of your feet and rotate away so you face the blazing fire, your back towards him. Then you slowly complete the circle until you are facing him again, his expression ravenous.

“A perfect specimen. Now touch yourself,” the order is gruff.

You frown at him. “Where, my lord?”

“Are you to tell me you have never put your fingers between your legs?” he scoffs, disbelieving.

“N-no, my lord? Should I?’ 

The dancing flames of the fire are almost too hot on your bottom, as he answers in a cool register. “Yes, you should. But perhaps I should be the one to instruct you as your future husband.”

With that, he stands from his seat, walking purposely towards you, his boots heavy on the rug as you take a deep breath. He grabs your right wrist, bringing your fingers up to his lips and engulfing them in his hot mouth, his tongue questing against the pads of your fingers, the suckle of his lips sensual and damp.

With a salacious pop, he pulls off your fingers, his lips quirking into a knowing smile as he guides your wetted fingers to your chest.

“Touch your nipples,” he instructs quietly.

You gasp as his cooling saliva meets your flushed, puffy areola, puckering instantly under the pad of your fingers. 

“That feels good, does it not?” he dusks, wrapping his hand over yours to direct your caressing of yourself, his fingers never touching your nipple but directing your movement like a puppeteer, taking the fingers of your left hand and repeating the suckling action, guiding your fingers to your other nipple.

All you can do is nod and bite your lip, pushing up into your own hands, squirming slightly from foot to foot, feeling a dampness smear on your inner thighs as you do, your tummy replete with butterflies under his heavy gaze.

He guides your fingers over the swell of your lower breast and down over your stomach, chuckling as the teasing trail of your own fingers makes you giggle lightly, your belly rippling. His eyes flash as his hand guides yours lower, trailing into the patch of hair at the apex of your thighs, something thronging between your legs at the molten look on his face.

Two of his fingers curl over the back of yours, turning your middle and pointer fingers into a hook before he pushes your hand lower. Again, you gasp as your fingers slide at his insistence into some folds of skin between your legs, damp and sticky. His face is dashingly mischievous as he places those hooked fingers over a certain swollen nub and swirls them slowly in an anticlockwise motion. You startle at the spike of pleasure that rushes through your body, the epicentre under your attentions.

“How does that feel, fiancée?” he murmurs, tone like velvet.

All you can do is stutter his name on a shaky exhale, your other hand shooting out to grab his muscular forearm where it presses your belly, the dark hairs there tickling your palm as you grip around him, needing the anchor, your knees feeling oddly weak.

“Oh, you like that…” he huffs, amused, as he crowds into you, his hand covering yours between your legs, dictating your movements, a shiver running down your spine at the fizzles of pleasure sparking around your body. “Do not stop,” his voice low, resonant, his lips hot on your temple, you moaning lightly and leaning into him.

A sweet-tart scent fills the air, your fingers coated in a slick, viscous substance that can only be from your own body, a soft, wet noise emanating from where you touch yourself.

“That is my favourite sound in the world,” Anthony sighs into your ear, “so ripe and ready for me…just wait until we are married.”

“What will happen?” you inhale, trying your best to concentrate even as you feel your body swelling under your own touch, engorged, hot, craving more friction.

“All in good time…” he answers enigmatically, his breath a touch uneven.

The slightly rough texture of his cotton shirt snags delightfully against your nipples as you writhe, riding your own fingers and his, wishing it were his skin touching yours. There is something hard in his britches that rubs your stomach with each move you make.

“Do not stop,” he gruffs.

You whine as he steps away, craving his heat, his toned body glorious to rub yourself against, akin to a cat.

“My lord…” you mewl, appealing for him to return, swaying unsteadily on your feet even as you continue to touch yourself as instructed.

“That is it, keep going up,” he encourages, retaking the seat and staring at you covetously, one of his hands falling to his lap, palming a swelling there.

“What are you doing, my lord?” 

You are intrigued by his soft panting as he roughly tugs at the buttons on his trousers.

“I am doing as you are,” he groans, “I am touching myself, My cock.”

With that, he fishes something out from his white underwear that makes you inhale sharply. A red, almost angry looking rod of flesh that stands proud of his body from a dark thatch of hair. The slight is intriguing and makes you pulse heavily between your legs as if innately knowing it belongs there.

You feel yourself moving towards him, like a magnetic pull, your fingers still sliding over that hardened pearl between your legs as you get closer, hypnotised by the sight of his hand, now in a fist, moving up and down his swollen cock.

“Cock…” it falls from your lips reflexively as you stare.

He groans loudly at your utterance, a shiny pearl of wetness pooling at his tip as he does so.

You feel feverish, not just because of the roaring fire in the hearth, but a blaze inside, a flush running through you that makes your mind feel both fuzzy and sharp, singular in pursuit of pleasure, your fingers moving faster now between your legs, varying your speed and motion.

He hisses his approval as your knees buckle, sinking to a kneel on the rug, your knees splaying wide, your fingers freer to move, but your eyes never leave his hand, his motion a quick twisting tug now.

“Does that not hurt?” you blurt out breathily, not pausing, chasing a high you can feel hovering so tantalisingly close, a tingle over your lips and the back of your scalp.

“No, it feels just as good as your fingers do on you,” he assures, broken, huffing now. “I will teach you,” he adds, meeting your gaze heatedly when your eyes ping to his face briefly.

Something about this feels so decadent and luxurious, the same as his velvet jacket was on your skin last night, the garment that catalysed this whole tumultuous journey.

“Swap hands,” he commands, cutting into your wayward tangent, and you find yourself obeying on instinct. “Give me that other,” he rejoins. Before you know it, the fingers that were between your legs are in his mouth, his tongue curling and sucking wantonly, feeling the vibration of his groan over your fingertips as he cleans all your juices from your fingers, his hand a frenzy on his cock now.

Your other hand feels different; something about the catch of your blunt fingernails between your legs has you hurtling towards some crescendo, your skin feeling almost too tight over your bones, a pressure behind your ribs as your heart thunders, almost like you are trying so hard to chase and hold in something explosive.

“Oh, you are there, aren't you?” Anthony growls around your fingers still in his mouth, sounding wild, his motions untamed, gusting deep breaths out of his nose as he leans forward, eyes intense and glassy.

All you can do is nod, almost frantic, as if seeking permission to break, circling an abyss. Your fingers fall from his mouth as he groans loudly.

“Come for me, fiancée,” he grits out.

Unsure what that means, you just keep moving, feeling something snap inside that has you calling out and curling over, a scream escaping your lungs as your body seems to retract and explode outwards, your mind scattered to the wind as an ecstatic wave fans out from your core around your body, your muscles twitching.

You are brought back to the room by a noise he makes—hungry, gravelly, all male. As your breath returns, your eyes reopen to see him in the throes of ecstasy: an arresting sight. One curl of hair flopped over his dewy forehead, his lower lip caught under his upper teeth, eyes wild and unfocused, then screwing shut as he roars, his hand a frenzy on his cock which seems to pulse in his fist before spurting a substance in an arc part of which splashes warm across your chest, taking you by surprise.

That seems to signal he has reached a peak, too, his body wracked by a few aftershocks before he slumps back into the chair, panting, his hand slackening as he stares transfixed at the sticky streak of his cum over the upper swell of your breast.

“Are you well, husband?” you check, fascinated but concerned.

He doesn't correct the title you bestow upon him. “More than,” is his laconic, sated response, an easy smile claiming his face as he unfurls a sleeve to tenderly clean your breasts of his seed. “This is only the beginning,” he promises, cupping your cheek affectionately. “Run along and get some rest; we shall meet here again tomorrow.”

You cannot wait.

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[tamurilofrivendell]

Arranged | Thranduil x Reader

Read on AO3

Pairing: Thranduil x Female Reader

Summary: The Mirkwood courts having successfully pushed Thranduil into accepting a new queen through an arranged marriage. However, he cannot seem to help comparing them to his former wife. When tensions run high and reader calls the whole thing off, Thranduil realises the error of his ways.

Content etc: Thranduil being a little bit of an ass I guess. Angst. Fluff.

Prompt: number 32 & 39 on this list

requested by anonymous (I’m sorry this took literally forever and I’m sorry if it isn’t exactly what you wanted!)

word count: 4.6k

tags: @firelightinferno​​, @achromaticerebus​​, @coopsgirl​​, @birbixo0912​​, @desert-fern​​, @ancient-rime​​, @lady-of-imladris​​​, @weepingdreammarvel​​​, @asianbutnotjapanese​​​, @deadlymistletoe​​​

“This is wrong.” Thranduil’s voice snapped you out of your tangled thoughts and you lifted your head with a confused frown, looking back at him.

"What is?" You asked, not even having had any clue as to what it was that he was working on over there on the sprawling couch of his large private library.

Thranduil looked up and met your gaze. "The guards you have picked." He gestured to the paper in his hands as if it should be obvious. "They are not of a high enough level to guard the Queen." 

“Oh.” You gave him a quizzical look, tilting your head. You weren’t entirely sure about levels and the like. Nobody had said anything yesterday. Nobody had even really told you much at all, in all honesty, you had been sort of left to fend for yourself. “I... didn’t know anything about that. I just had to watch them fight and pick, you said. They appeared good enough for me. I think they would do just fine.”

The Elvenking blinked at you for a moment, his thoughts more critical than he would have liked. If you had not been sure, why had you not asked? Deep down, he knew that you could not possibly have known to ask because he had not told you that you could, or should. He’d told you to pick your own guards and then left you in the training grounds to attend a council meeting. However, Thranduil had simply assumed you would have asked for help or clarification if you had needed it. And clearly you had if this list was anything to go by. As it was, you had not wanted to cause a fuss, or look foolish, or add more work to the king’s heavy load. The soldiers showing off their skills had seemed capable enough and that had been all you’d thought you needed to look for. Besides, how would you know anything about their levels? You still did not yet know everybody here.

Thranduil’s silence was uncomfortable but then he simply tsk'd and lowered his gaze again. He shrugged, almost to himself, but he did not sign off on the document. He simply scored something out before setting it to one side to go back to later. He would pick, he decided. If he let you choose low levelled guards, how would they protect you?

She would have chosen better, he thought, though it was there and gone again so quickly that he did not notice he’d thought it at all.

You eyed him for another long moment before you moved to leave the library, heading away down the corridor. He had been in a fairly strange mood all day and you supposed you should leave him to it. Not bad, exactly, just... distracted, perhaps.

Most likely he was still struggling a little with this entire situation and you couldn't really blame him for that because it was still so very strange for you too. To have wound up in an arranged marriage with the King of Mirkwood. You yourself were from Lothlórien, daughter of an important elf in the Lord and Lady's court.

While unexpected, you could see the positives in such an arrangement and, truthfully, you liked Thranduil. He had been kind to you, at least when you first met and agreed to this. However, now that you had actually moved here, it seemed a little like he had been taking offence to every single decision you made. He’d give you things to do and then seem unsatisfied with the way you had done them. It was frustrating but you could only assume he was stressed and that he would soon relax.

You went to sleep that night hopeful that tomorrow he would be in a better mood.

You found him in his study the following afternoon and felt relief when he looked up and smiled at you. "I hope you slept well. Are you prepared for the feast tonight?" He asked, holding his hand out to bid you closer.

"Mostly. I just have to decide what to wear." You told him, moving into the room and seating yourself beside him. “It is still between two dresses.”

He sat there looking at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite decipher and it was almost as if he was studying something in your very soul. “Oh? You are not... set by now?” It seemed far too late to not have the entire outfit prepared.

You shrugged, always having been a bit more carefree and lazy in your decision making. You were a bit of a procrastinator and did not altogether mind if you left things to the last minute. Sometimes this was simply because you just... forgot. A far cry from the King beside you, of course. Also unbeknownst to you, a far cry from the Queen who had come before.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. His displeasure, however, radiated from him in waves in the silence that followed as he looked back down at the paperwork on the desk before him.

"Thranduil?"

"What?" He did not look up.

“Something troubles you.”

He responded with a non-committal grunt and you frowned at him, watching as he pretended to read whatever was on the desk but you could tell his mind was now elsewhere. You sighed and stood to leave the room. 

As you turned, Thranduil’s hand suddenly reached out and grasped your own. You turned to find him looking at you, a soft smile on his lips once more. “You will look beautiful whatever you wear.”

Returning his smile, you ducked your head to hide the blush you could feel about to spread over your cheeks, and quickly took your leave.

Thranduil watched you go and then leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. He liked you, he always had, but you were not quite what he had expected when he had finally relented to the pushing of his court to take a new Queen.

He had obviously agreed you would be a good choice. Your station in Lothlórien, your family tree, put you in a very good position to knowing how things worked... yet not entirely, it seemed. Something was a little... off now that you were actually here in Mirkwood with him.

Oh, you were beautiful, there was no doubt about that. You made him laugh. He enjoyed your company. There was simply something niggling at him in the back of his mind, something he couldn’t quite figure out.

The feast came quickly, too quickly for you as the time just flew past. You had gotten caught up doing something completely unrelated and frowned when a maid rushed in to find you. Her relief was palpable but you didn’t understand it until you realised the time and she had ushered you back to your room to get ready.

Thranduil was irritated. There had been a delay - nobody had been able to find you - and you were not ready for the feast. You were not here, and it took so long that he had to walk into the room alone and act as though nothing were amiss. He had promptly sat down and thrown back a rather large gulp of strong wine, irritated by the hold up.

When you entered the room - finally - you were a vision. He took in your hair, the ornamentation in it and around your neck, and the royal blue dress with pleased eyes that did much to allay his frustration.

Then, you went and tripped over the hem of the damned thing because you had not bothered to see that it had been properly fitted.

Luckily, you were close enough to the table at this point for him to grab you by the arm and keep you upright, but his irritation only grew at the scene that your little stumble had caused. The attention you caught was not the type he wished for, nor were the titters of laughter around the room.

She would never have left the fit of the dress to chance, nor would she have embarrassed him as such.

This time, Thranduil did catch the thought, but he quickly dismissed it as a simple stray musing that did not mean anything.

“Are you alright?” He asked, a little tersely, as he refilled his glass of wine.

You nodded, hardly noticing his tone yet as you willed the embarrassed flush in your cheeks to go away. You felt like the entire room had seen that and you cursed yourself for not even thinking that the dress might need proper attention. It just had not occurred to you.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He grunted and you finally looked up at him and noticed the frustration he was trying to bury shining in his eyes. You frowned, feeling even worse. He could not be... angry at you? Could he?

After picking at the food on your plate and watching one dance (you dare not join in with your dress!), you rose and made your way from the table out of the room without a word. You were not in the mood now. Reaching up, you tore the circlet from your head as you walked down the hallway as quickly as you could.

“Where are you going?” Thranduil’s voice came from the door you had just exited and you realised that he had followed you out.

Turning, you eyed him cautiously for a moment, trying to ascertain his mood, but once more he was quite the mask. “I am tired, Thranduil. I am going to bed.”

He nodded, moving closer. His gaze dropped to the circlet in your hands. “You could not have waited until you were behind a closed door?”

“What does it matter?” You asked, shrugging at him.

Thranduil didn’t respond but his brow creased just the slightest bit. Did it matter? He began to walk down the hallway and you turned to walk with him since it seemed that he was heading in the same direction you were anyway. 

“Are you upset?” You ventured after a while, watching him come to a halt as your question reached his ears.

Thranduil blinked. Was he upset? He supposed that he was feeling frustrated. Annoyed. Angry, perhaps. Why? He turned his head to look at you, a soft frown of confusion on his face as he shrugged. “I suppose I am. A little.”

“What’s the matter?”

He didn’t answer right away because, truthfully, Thranduil could not fully put into words what his problem was. What had gotten him so riled up over something that, logically, he told himself did not truly matter. Thranduil shook his head. “I am not rightly sure.” He offered his arm then. “Come, I will escort you to your room.”

But you would not be shut down quite so easily, and you shook your head. “You must know what is wrong.” You insisted. “How can I help you if you do not tell me?”

Thranduil frowned at you, his frustration growing once more. “I do not need your help.” He stated firmly, moving his arm closer so you would take it, but you still did not take it.

“Well, you need something. You-”

“Stop. Please.” He snapped lightly, dropping his arm since it had become clear that you were not going to take it. He turned around and took a step away, not wishing to engage in this right now.

“Thranduil!” Was he truly going to just turn away and leave? In the middle of a conversation? You could not quite believe it. “Just tell me what is wrong! Tell me!”

“She would not behave thus!” He thundered as he spun back to face you, and then immediately fell silent. Horror seemed to fill him as he realised what he had just said.

You frowned softly back at him, shaking your head. “Who-” Your mouth snapped shut as you stared back at him, suddenly understanding with a sick sort of certainty.

She. Her. His deceased wife.

She would not behave in this manner. She would not behave how you were behaving. She would do things ‘the right’ way. She would do better.

You could not hide the hurt that bled across your face as the two of you stared back at each other in the long, deathly silence that followed. Thranduil seemed to be frozen, utterly stricken, but you did not see it past your own dismay. Then, you were gone. Turning and fleeing from him, away down the corridor towards your own rooms.

Thranduil did not see you for two days. 

He tried to seek you out that same night but he had not been able to find you and, so, retired to his chamber to wait until you were ready to talk. However, it seemed that you were not willing to talk at all as, two days later, he received word that you had been seen sneaking into the stables with a bag full of your things.

Had it not been for you carrying your own belongings, Thranduil might have dismissed it and told them to simply follow you from a safe distance to keep you safe. As it was, he was immediately up from his chair and out of the door before the guard who reported to him could blink.

He rushed to the stables, finding you still trying to attach a bag to your horse, clearly frustrated that you could not get it secure. The animal, too, seemed unamused with your attention - blowing air through its nostrils and scuffing its feet.

“Going somewhere?” He asked quietly from the doorway, causing you to jump because you had not even heard him arrive, too focused on your irritation.

You stared at him for a second and found that looking at him hurt. You did not respond, you just turned your attention back to the horse and continued fiddling with the bag but nothing would attach the damn thing to the animal so you eventually huffed in exasperation and let it drop to the floor of the stall.

A silence followed.

You could feel Thranduil’s eyes on you but you did not look up at him.

“I never meant to hurt you” Thranduil said softly after another moment and you could hear the regret in his voice but you still didn’t look up at him.

Instead, you shrugged. “But you did.”

“Yes.” He agreed quietly, sighing. “I did.”

Of course, you did not resent him thinking of his wife. How could you ever? She had been a good Queen and an even better wife from all that you had heard of her. You had never met her, not even on a trip she’d taken with the King long ago to Lothlórien. But you had heard a lot about her and she sounded amazing. She was the love of his life, the mother of his only son, and you truly had never expected to replace her but to have him compare you in such a way... it had hurt, you could not deny that.

You were so different, you understood that, but... you were two completely different people and it did not feel fair for Thranduil to hold you to this standard that you had not even realised you had to meet. Yes, you were to be a queen and yes, you had a lot still to learn especially about Mirkwood and its own politics... but you were trying. You really were! All you needed was his help, not criticism. How could he not see that?

“Please just talk to me.” He said, his voice full of obvious unhappiness. His eyes dropped to the bag on the ground. “Where are you going?”

You held in a sharp comeback about why you should be expected to talk to him when he did not wish to do the same two nights ago. At his question, your gaze turned to the bag and you sighed, shaking your head. You bent down to pick it back up and began once more attempting to fasten it securely to the horse. “Home.” You said.

Thranduil blinked. “This is home.”

You frowned and your head snapped up to look at him. “This is your home... and clearly I am not welcome in it.” You hated how your voice shook just a little. You wanted to sound brave and firm, not like a hurt little girl. “I am returning to Lothlórien. You can call off all the arrangements.”

Thranduil stared at you then, watching while you struggled with the bag, as the reality hit him. You were going home, you were... calling off the wedding?

His arm shot out and he took hold of the bag, wrenching it gently but firmly from your grip. You gave a sigh and lifted your eyes to his face. Gods, why did he have to be so handsome? You shook your head at him, throwing your hands up in a defeated manner.

“Do not leave.” He said, his voice quieter than he would have liked. He was certain it shook a little... but you did not notice.

“Why?” Was all you could ask, scoffing a little as you shook your head again. “Why should I stay here, Thranduil? I did not come here because I have no other options, I came here because I... I like you and I trust you and...” You trailed off, lowering your gaze for a moment, one of your shoes (which were absolutely not suitable for riding a horse in the first place) kicking at the straw covered ground. “I will not... settle for a life where I am never good enough, where I am always second best. A life in the shadow of a memory. A beautiful memory, do not misunderstand, and one I would never want you to forget... but I am not her, Thranduil! I am not her and I never will be and I am sorry but... I cannot stay here, not like this.”

Another silence filled the stable. 

You looked away, at the horse, running your fingers through its mane. The animal was no longer in a mood now that you had stopped messing with the bag. You watched as it lazily chewed on some hay. Thranduil still had your bag in his hands, his fingers anxiously fiddling with the strap, his eyes on his hands. He felt ashamed and for a long moment he could not speak.

“You were never second place to me.” He whispered eventually, his eyes filling up with tears as he realised just what he had done. What he had made you feel. What he had made you think. “Never. You are not. I...” He faltered, grasping for the right words but he could not find them. “I know... what I said, what I have done, it was wrong. I cannot excuse myself, I do not even know why I...” He paused, frowning. 

You didn’t look up, though you could see him in your peripheral vision. He seemed to be struggling. He was not always good with words when it was not about politics or battle.

“I did not realise I was doing it at first,” he continued after gathering his thoughts once more. “There is no excuse and I do not say this to make one. I simply... she is the only queen to have ever graced my rule. I was thrust onto the throne so quickly... and I was grieving and she had to... truthfully, she had no choice but to take control of many things until I was more... present.” More in the moment after watching his father die, after that dreadful day, after suddenly becoming a king. “My mother died long before I even began to pay real, proper attention to anything... royal. I... my wife was the only queen I have ever known here, I remember how she did everything, I grew used to it. I forgot that you... do not know and I did not help you properly when I know that I should have. So I compared you to her and it was not fair of me. You did nothing wrong. I am sorry. So, so sorry.” He did not really expect forgiveness, he did not feel that he deserved it, he did not feel that he should receive it. To have hurt you... it pained him. “I love you.”

You turned your head from the horse to Thranduil’s face, the shock evident as you stared back at him for a few very long minutes. Had you heard that correctly? Did he... did he say...? 

Over this time, you had developed your own feelings towards the king. He was not perfect, though to outsiders he may look it, but that was probably part of why you’d fallen for him in the first place. You had not been able to help yourself. 

In the beginning, after he had approached you and your father with the idea from his council of an arranged marriage, it was not something either of you had rushed into. He had spent some time getting to know you better, for he did not wish to wed somebody he did not at least get along with. He’d been clear on that with his councillors and advisors. He’d written you letters after he returned to Mirkwood, he arranged visits for you to come and spend time with him. He showed up in Lórien once with no other reason than to offer you a bouquet of wildflowers he had picked himself, then he took you on a walk through the forest and the two of you just... talked. After all of that, it had been so easy. To say yes. To agree. Though you had known, you had known, that he would never love you. He cared for you enough, you knew that, but as a friend. He would never love you as he loved her. At least that’s what you had presumed.

“You...?” Was all you could say, still staring at him in absolute shock.

Thranduil nodded, the tears in his eyes that he’d managed to keep at bay finally beginning to spill down his cheeks as he blinked. He glanced down, embarrassed, lifting his thumb to his face and swiping away a tear. “Yes.” He whispered. “I... I should have said it before, I should have... shown it better. I am so sorry... but please.” He lifted his head again, his eyes wide as he looked at you quite desperately. “Stay. Please... do not leave me.”

You were staring at him, frozen for what felt like a long time, and Thranduil began to lose hope. You would leave and he would never see you again all because of his own stupidity. He knew you did not love him that way, that you had agreed to this as his friend, but he needed you to stay here, he could not bear to lose you.

When your voice finally came, it was but a whisper, and there were now tears in your own eyes to match Thranduil’s. “...I love you too.”

Now it was Thranduil’s turn to stare at you. He looked like he could not comprehend what had just come out of your mouth. He looked like he did not dare believe it. You stepped towards him, your hand dropping from the horse as you reached for the bag in his hands. He let you take it and you swung it up onto your shoulder out of the way, taking one of his hands in yours. You were still hurt but you could not believe this had happened... and maybe this was just something you both had needed to go through, to be able to get past it. Something his mind had needed to work through.

“I love you.” You said again, a little louder. You felt his hand squeeze yours and you lifted your free one to his face, wiping away his tears. He looked like he dared not even hope that what you had just said was true. 

“You do?” He asked then, his eyes softening as he gazed down at you while you wiped his tears away. His heart was threatening to burst out of his chest as he looked back at you. He was not fully sure he had even entirely admitted to himself that he loved you until right now. He’d felt it, he’d been aware of how fond he was growing of you despite those other thoughts, but he hadn’t fully come to terms with his feelings - he had not felt such love in a thousand years.

You nodded, your anger fading away, leaving both your hurt and your love behind. “Yes... I do.” You confirmed, sighing as you took his other hand. You heard his breath catch in his throat and you gave him a sad little smile. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” Thranduil said immediately, shaking his head firmly as he cut you off. “Do not. You have nothing to apologise for, you did absolutely nothing wrong. I am the one who was in the wrong. You will make a good queen. I should have told you this... I should not have gotten upset over such trivial things. Dresses...” He scoffed at himself. “None of that matters.” He said, glancing down shamefully. “I do not want you to think that I... that I do not appreciate you for who you are or that I wish you to be somebody else... because I do not.” He shook his head. “I love who you are, I love everything about you. I am so sorry.”

You could practically feel your heart soaring to the heavens. You simply could not believe that Thranduil felt this way about you and, despite your hurt over his words, you were quite overjoyed. You finally smiled and Thranduil took a steadying breath before he moved. He leaned towards you, slowly so you could turn or pull away if you did not wish it, but you stayed perfectly still and waited for him to kiss you.

When he finally did, it was like electricity. It was like something you had been missing your whole life suddenly clicked into place and you removed your hands from his to loop your arms around his neck and pull him closer. His own tentatively moved to hold you gently by the waist. When he broke the kiss and you opened your eyes again, you could tell by his expression that he truly felt the same, that he was floored by all of this, and you could see how deeply he regretted hurting you, making you feel inferior, second best.

“You will stay?” He asked then, still sounding a little uncertain, despite the fact you had kissed him and admitted you felt the same way. He was worried he might have ruined everything before he even got the chance.

You gazed up at him and you nodded. “Yes... I will stay. Of course I will.” 

There was still a sadness in your eyes that broke Thranduil’s heart to know that he was the one who put it there and he vowed to do everything in his power to make up for what he had done.

“I will never make you feel that way again.” Thranduil told you, his voice extremely firm, his gaze sharp but loving. He lifted a hand to your face, cupping your cheek. “I promise.”

You smiled and he kissed you once more before he took your hand, leading you from the stables and back into the palace, back to the future with you that he was more grateful than he could ever express to have not forever ruined.

[juniperskye]

Stick to What You Know.

Sneak peek: Reader is asked to join the BAU by none other than Director Cruz himself. She is a child psychologist and Cruz thought she would make a great asset; it would seem though that Agent Hotchner doesn’t agree.

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) Reader

Angst

Word count: 3134

Guys...I feel like this is shit, I wrote it in like 3 hours soo…. it’s not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, implied age gap, some language, one use of y/n I think, Hotch is a DICK in this for a minute (SORRY), reader has children, talk of dissociative identity disorder (in reference to a case), canon case talk/info, mention of murder (in reference to a case), Reader in a child psychologist, reader is friends with Director Mateo Cruz, implied death of Haley. I think that’s all, let me know if I missed anything!!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You were so late. You were thanking the lord that you knew Mateo well from having previously worked with him, otherwise your lateness would probably come across as a lack of seriousness or appreciation for the strings he had pulled to get you here. And of course, being lost in thought while simultaneously rushing through an unfamiliar building had you barreling into a handsome stranger…or maybe a handsome acquaintance.

“I am so sorry!” You’d hurried out.

His large hands steadied you with a gentle but firm grasp on your arms. Your eyes glance upward to meet his.

“No worries, are you alright?” He offered.

“I’m good thank you. Wait, you’re Aaron Hotchner, I’ve sat in on a few of your lectures at the university.”

“I am, and thank you, I hope you were able to take something from them.”  He blushed.

“I did, oh shoot sorry! I have to go; I am so late!” You said, speed walking away from him.

Aaron couldn’t help but watch as you walked away from him. And you couldn’t help but think to yourself that he was far more handsome up close.

After explaining your tardiness to Mateo, he led you to the sixth floor to officially meet your new team. The rest of them anyway.

“Mat, you told them I was joining right? I ran into Agent Hotchner, and he didn’t show any signs of recognition. And I told you I didn’t want to join a team who wasn’t ready and willing to have me.” You ranted.

“Yes I told him, you have nothing to worry about.” He lied. “You head down into the bullpen and meet the agents; I will go up and talk to Agent Hotchner.”

You nodded in agreement and made your way to Emily and Spencer.  You exchanged greetings, and Emily took you around to meet everyone else.

“Director Cruz, what can I do for you?” Hotch asked.

“I have a new recruit for you. She will be starting today.” Mateo gestured toward the window.

Aaron glanced out, finding the beautiful woman from this morning standing amongst his team. Morgan must’ve tried to charm her because she threw her head back in laughter with the most beautiful smile. Why her? Why did she have to be joining his team?

“Why didn’t I receive her file?”

“Truthfully Aaron, I didn’t have it together. She and I have worked together on some classified cases. But I have a file here with some of her info.  She specializes in child psychology which is something your team is lacking, I figured that she could work with your team on all of your child related cases, but then can occasionally consult with other teams should they need her expertise.” Mateo explained.

“Okay.”

It had been three months since then, and things had not been going well. You had gone on all but one case with the BAU since you’d started. Every single time, Aaron kept you at the local precincts, not allowing you out on any real field work – this was hindering your ability to do your job effectively. You needed to observe the unsub’s home and belongings and dumpsites etc. but he was denying you the opportunity.

The rest of the team had been nothing but welcoming, inviting you into their little family with open arms. None of them could have predicted that Hotch would ice you out the way he was.

Every time you offered a theory or statistic or any sort of information, Hotch shut you down. He would belittle you, constantly making you feel small, and he purposely called you agent instead of referring to you as doctor and well, why should today be any different.

You had been called out on a case and based on all the information the team had acquired so far, you had a pretty good working theory.

JJ, Spencer, and you had been sitting in the room the local precinct had designated as yours for the duration of the case.

“I have an idea…it’s a little out there but hear me out,” You started, your gaze shifting to JJ and Spencer, who both encouraged you to continue. “Okay, so some of the details in this case match, while others are all over the place, like the MO is essentially the same but some of the victims’ injuries show signs of hesitation where others show none, I know hotch mentioned multiple unsubs, but what if it is one unsub, with multiple personalities.”

“Like dissociative identity disorder. You know that would make a lot of sense considering people with DID tend to have highly varying alters or identities. They can range in race, gender, age which would explain why the murders have been so different, it would also explain why the comfort zone is so small.” Spencer validated you.

“See that’s what I was thinking too, they would want to stay close to home in the case that perhaps there was a switch in alter, that way they would be somewhere familiar and be able to return home…”

“That’s enough Agent!” Hotch’s voice boomed through the small room. “I have put up with this for far too long. You came in here unannounced and have continued to provide absolutely ridiculous theories that do nothing but waste our time and resources…”

“Hotch” JJ tried to calm him.

He lifted his hand to silence her before continuing, “You have continued to get in the way of my investigations again and again and I won’t have it anymore. Cruz spoke so highly of you and frankly I don’t see it. I’m sorry if I’m the first one to tell you this agent, but perhaps you should stick to what you know.” Hotch finished.

There was no way in hell that you were going to let yourself cry in front of this asshole. You refused to let him win in this moment.

“You know what Agent Hotchner, I have done nothing but work my ass off for this team and I have provided valuable feedback and information that has led to the capture of multiple unsubs over the last few months. But if you want to sit up there on your high horse and act all delusional, go ahead. I don’t want to be a part of a team who is led by someone so pompous and misogynistic. And one last thing, if you are going to sit there and berate me then you will address me properly. It’s Doctor, not agent…I know that may be hard to remember since it’s a title you don’t hold. Goodnight.” With that you grabbed your jacket and bag and made your way outside.

You ordered an uber and made your way back to the hotel. The nerve Hotch seemed to have filled you with rage, but you wouldn’t stick around to entertain his outburst any longer, you had a call to make.

“Hello?”

“Mat, I need a flight home.” You said, the tears finally beginning to fall.

“Is everything okay? What happened?” Mateo questioned.

“It’s fine, I just have a personal emergency and I need to get home as soon as possible.”

“Sure thing, I am booking your flight now, can you be at the airport in two hours?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

With that you hung up the phone, packed your bag, ordered another uber and made your way outside. You were purposely ignoring the texts coming in from Spencer and JJ. You made sure to slide a note under Spence’s door before leaving.

“Has anyone seen y/n this morning?” Dave asked.

“She left.” Spencer confirmed, holding up the note.

“What why? Is she okay?” Emily asked, concern laced in her tone.

“I can’t blame her. You guys should have seen it, Hotch yelled at her. And I mean full on yelled. I’ve never heard him speak that way to anyone before.” JJ chimed in.

“What are you talking about? He yelled at her. About what?” Morgan questioned.

“He completely flew off the handle. She and Spence were going over a theory about the unsub and he just started yelling, telling her that she was wasting our time and resources.”

The team was in disbelief, Hotch wasn’t mean or condescending, so why was he acting this way now? How could he treat arguably the sweetest member of the team so disrespectfully?

Dave shook his head; he was pretty sure he knew exactly why Aaron was acting out this way. He just couldn’t believe that Aaron had said such harsh things to the girl. His heart broke for her knowing that someone she idolized had been so awful to her, and for all the wrong reasons.

The team had wrapped up that case fairly quickly, you had been right, and the unsub turned out to be a nineteen-year-old male who had been struggling with dissociative identity disorder. Hotch had felt uneasy knowing that he had questioned your intelligence, despite you being an excellent agent.

Upon returning to the BAU, Dave was sure to confront Aaron about his inappropriate behavior.  Telling him that he couldn’t treat you terribly just because he couldn’t wrap his brain around the feelings for you he was refusing to acknowledge. Aaron had scoffed at him and told him that he didn’t have feelings for you, but Dave knew he was lying.

You had quite a different experience since returning. The first thing you did was cry, you let yourself release all the pent-up frustration you’d been holding onto since you had started at the BAU. Then, you texted Mat, letting him know that you needed to meet with him.

He was curious and waiting for answers, but he ultimately agreed and waited to ask all his questions until you were face to face.

“So, what’s up? This meeting request was so formal.” Mat laughed.

“I know and I am sorry I have been so vague about everything, but I am here to resign.”

Mat’s smile fell from his face immediately.

“What happened? Did something happen, because I promise you I have looked into the complaints filed against Agent Morgan and Ms. Garcia and I can assure you, they just have a strange friendship.” Mateo tried to explain.

“Mat, slow down! It isn’t like that. I just don’t think it is a good fit, there’s just too many differences between how I work and how the team operates. It’s okay really.” You tried to smile to really sell your lie.

“Well, I can’t help but be disappointed, I really thought that you would be a perfect fit for this team.” Mateo trailed off.

“I know and I am so sorry. I know you had to pull a ton of strings to get me here and I don’t want it to seem like I am not grateful because I can assure you, I am!”

“I know, and it’s alright! If it’s not a good fit then it’s not a good fit.” Mateo flashed you a sad smile.

A few weeks had passed since you had left the BAU, and truly, you had been doing well! You had spent some much-needed time with your family. You had reached out to a good friend of yours and inquired about a job teaching at the local university, which you were truly looking forward to. It had also meant that you would have a free summer to spend some quality time with your kids.

Tonight, you had one of your best friends over, your kids had grown up together and so you liked to do these big “family” dinners together at least once a month, that however meant chaos in the house. Kids yelling, teenagers gossiping, dinner burning…I guess that means you’ll be ordering a pizza.

Your friend and you had been talking about your new job and the excitement you were feeling for it, a movie long forgotten playing in the background, the kids were playing some card game you didn’t recognize when the doorbell rang.

“Oh, I bet that’s the pizza!” You said, making your way to the door.

“I left the cash on the table there!” Your friend shouted.

“Hi…Oh. What the hell are you doing here?” Shock painted its way across your face. Standing at your door was not the pizza delivery guy, but Aaron Hotchner.

“I uh, I came here to talk to you. I know that I do not deserve your time, but I am truly hoping you’ll allow me a few minutes to explain myself.”

“Dude, do you need help or…oh, shit. Sorry! Did you guys need a minute?” Your friend interrupted.

“Um” your gaze shifted from Aaron to your friend. “Agent Hotchner, why don’t we go to the back. Can you keep an eye out for the pizza?” You suggested.

“Of course! You go.” She replied.

Aaron and you made your way to the backyard, in doing so he took note of all the children sitting in the living room, sprawled out across the floor and couches.

“I didn’t know you had children.” Aaron started.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Is that why you came here agent Hotchner? To see my home and profile me?” You questioned him.

“No of course not! I was making an observation. I’m sorry. Like I said, I am here to explain my behavior, none of which will excuse how I acted but I am hoping it might help you to understand some of it.” His gaze shifted around your face. “From the moment I first laid my eyes on you, I knew I was ruined. You were breathtaking, even when you plowed right into me in your rush to the director’s office. You bumped into me and God, then you looked up at me with those big, beautiful eyes and I was a goner. But then you said something to me, and I knew I was done for. Do you remember what you said?”

“I apologized and then I told you I’d gone to some of your lectures. Hold on Agent Hotchner are you saying you were horrible to me because you had a crush on me? What are we? Seven-year-olds on the playground! That is such bullshi….” He didn’t let you finish.

“Hold on. You did mention that you had been to my lectures, but it was what you said as you walked away that had me hooked…you said, “he’s far more handsome up close” and I don’t think you meant to say it out loud, but at that moment I told myself that I was ready. I was ready to move on and I was going to ask you out later that day, but then you walked into the bullpen and Cruz said you’d be a part of the BAU, and I knew it wouldn’t be possible. I couldn’t date my subordinate and I didn’t know what to do, you had called me handsome and I…”

“Now wait a minute! I didn’t mean to say that out loud and this still isn’t…”

“I’m not finished. You had some sort of attraction for me even if it was just an appreciation for my looks. I already had it bad for you, and to top it all off, you came in and just had to be the sweetest, most loving person in the BAU and I couldn’t have you. It wouldn’t be appropriate. I figured the easiest thing to do would be to make you hate me, then I’d be able to shake these feelings for you, but no. You continued to be kind to me, even if I was awful to you and I couldn’t take it. My breaking point was the look on your face after I yelled at you on that last case. I felt sick with myself. I couldn’t leave things like that; I needed you to know that I don’t think those things. You are an incredible agent and an even better person and I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” Aaron finished, looking down at his shoes.

You were speechless. While it felt amazing that the man you had harbored feelings for, returned your feelings. It also felt terrible that he wasn’t mature enough to just be upfront with you from the beginning. Instead, he felt the need to play some arduous game with you. It would be so easy to just throw yourself into his embrace and kiss him and call it all forgotten, but what if this is some insight into his communication skills, or lack thereof?

Your mind and heart were battling one another like an angel and devil on your shoulder. It was a back-and-forth quarrel that seemingly had no correct response, both had the same potential outcomes; you getting your heart broken, regret, potential happiness. What were you meant to do?

“I um, I don’t know what to say. You said some horrible things to me and that doesn’t just go away. Agent Hotchner, we’re adults.”

“Please call me Aaron, or at least Hotch.”

“Aaron we are adults and you acted like a child. Am I meant to just forgive and forget the way you made me feel?”

“No, I would never expect that. I do hope that one day you can forgive me, and if you give me the chance, I would truly love to make it up to you.” He explained.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He questioned.

“Okay, you can make it up to me. And maybe, just maybe I will forgive you. It’s not going to be easy though.” You said.

“I wouldn’t want it to be easy.” He smiled.

“Alright well you can start tomorrow. I’d invite you to stay but this is a family dinner and with all the kids it might be a bit chaotic.” You told him.

“That’s fair.”

You could see the wheels turning in his head, he’s trying to figure out the dynamics of your little family, and maybe you could spare him a little bit of leeway.

“Her and I combined have nine kids. I have five and she has four. And before you ask, only two are biologically mine. A close friend of ours passed and I was listed as the personal guardian for her kids. That’s also how I have a teenager.” You explained. “That’s all you get for now.” You teased.

“I will take what I can get. Thank you, for giving me this chance.” Aaron smiled at you.

You smiled back and led him to the door, not missing the shit-eating grin your friend was wearing on her face. You bid him goodnight with a promise to text him to make some sort of plan. You didn’t know what would come of this, or if you’d end up together, but for now, you didn’t need to know. For now, you’d take it one day at a time.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

High Risk

PART ONE: STAR PATIENT

Mini-series masterlist

Also on AO3

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Nurse!Fem!Reader

WC: 3.5k words

Series Summary: You, a nurse at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, are assigned to the newest inmate -- none other than the Chesapeake Ripper, otherwise known as Hannibal Lecter. He is nothing short of charming, but the dangerous mysteries that lurk beneath are equally alluring. So much so that you can barely resist the urge to uncover them all.

Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY, canon typical violence (mentions and some descriptions), slight canon divergence (here frederick is still director of the hospital), corruption, manipulation all around, eventual smut, secret affair(ish?), sort of power imbalance, ongoing murder investigation (the red dragon), cursing, not-so-slow burn, hannibal being hannibal pretty much, aaand that’s all I can think of but lmk if something should be added!

—————

“A woman being never at a loss…. The devil always sticks by them.” — Lord Byron

———-

Much like the Minotaur’s labyrinth, Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane was designed never to let one escape. At least, that’s how you viewed it, even if you were a worker and not a prisoner there. 

Still, you weren’t sure that was any better.

The place’s immaculate cleanliness was almost unnerving, but it was fitting. The walls were a glaring white, and the floors were always polished until they shone. The hallways were meant to confuse those who hadn’t actively tried to memorize them, every corner seeming the same.

Your uniform had to be impeccable too, lest you made the place look bad. It was absurd how much laundry you had to do, and how much time you had to spend on your appearance. All for it to go to waste whenever things got messy with rowdier inmates. 

But despite it all, there was a certain allure to the place that made you want to return each day. Something morbid, almost sinister, like a secret waiting to be uncovered. It was irresistible, and it would be until you found it out.

Doctor Chilton had just given you the rundown about the new inmate, stressing the importance of following protocol when dealing with him. He’d handed you his file to look over and on the very first page, there was a picture of the man they called the Chesapeake Ripper — Hannibal Lecter. 

You were taken aback for a moment, not expecting him to look like that. Luckily, the Doctor did not seem to notice your reaction, and you quickly made sure your expression was neutral once more.

Despite having worked there for a few years, witnessing all sorts of things, you were a little rattled by the way he spoke about him. Especially after mentioning he didn’t want to lose any more nurses, alluding to the incident with a former inmate, Doctor Gideon.

As it turned out, Hannibal was also a doctor, and you couldn’t help but shudder at the prospect of some macabre pattern forming. 

Of course, none of the other nurses wanted to be assigned to him, but Doctor Chilton trusted you to handle things well. You did what was asked of you and never caused any trouble. Truthfully, it wasn’t because you were particularly driven, but you wanted to fly under the radar and take it day by day.

And yet, it had still led you there, despite your efforts. 

You took the elevator down from the top floor, reading the file as you went. It was noted that the risk of him being violent was quite high, but he had thus far been cooperative with the staff. In fact, he had even turned himself in to the police, which was a detail that stood out to you. 

Considering his numerous horrific crimes, along with Doctor Chilton’s psychological assessment of him, he did not seem like a man who would let himself be apprehended so easily. It would gnaw at you, but you weren’t sure if you’d get the answers you suddenly seeked.

You left the file at your station to finish reading later, trying your best to ignore the looks of fear and pity some of the other nurses shot your way. Hopefully none of them would try to give you shallow words of affirmation, knowing you’d be the subject of gossip for the next week or so.

The maximum security cells were on the basement floor, but you stopped by the kitchen first to get his meal tray. You steeled your nerves as you passed through the extensive clearance, continuing down the hallway until you reached the very last cell, which was behind a set of double doors.

Was the light dimmer there, or were you imagining things? You could see shadows lurking in the corners of the room, an ominous feeling curling in your stomach. A cool gust from one of the AC vents made you shiver, but otherwise, you willed yourself to stay composed.

Finally, you dared to look into the actual cell. It was much nicer than most of the other cells, equipped with two bookshelves, a large mahogany desk, and some elaborate sketches that were taped on the walls. Perhaps part of a bargain struck with Doctor Chilton based on his cooperation with the authorities. 

Then again, he was the new star patient, so that probably earned him a few more privileges. Despite those small luxuries though, you knew it’d be hard for him to forget that he was incarcerated.

Hannibal himself was lying down on his cot, reading, but he sat up as soon as you entered. He was even more handsome in person, almost rakish, and you allowed yourself the smallest pause to continue looking at him. 

He had a fine nose, dark eyes, and an aristocratic air to him. Not to mention, a full, obscene mouth that was surely meant to cast impure thoughts. 

Somehow, you had to admit that even his slate gray jumpsuit fit him quite well. If he truly was the Devil, then word of his burning, unholy beauty was not a lie.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted with a smile that you were sure had charmed many in the past.

“Good afternoon. Stay where you are, please,” you said firmly but politely, returning the smile just slightly. “I’ve brought lunch.”

He obeyed, hands resting on his knees. Slowly, tentatively, you made your way to the slot in the glass where you could deposit the tray. 

“Please don’t retrieve it until I’m gone, and let a guard know when you’re done so they can collect it.”

He nodded, smile still in place. “Thank you.”

You began to retreat, feeling his gaze fixed on your back. It wasn’t until your hand was on the door knob that you realized your heart was racing. Adrenaline was dancing beneath your skin like little bolts of electricity, but at least your breathing was even. 

What was it that had affected you so deeply? Was it the thrill of looking into the eyes of pure evil? 

No, that was far too simple, and therefore what you had expected… but that wasn’t all you’d been able to see. It was hard to decipher just at first glance, but you hadn’t been brave enough to hold eye contact for long. And you certainly weren’t any braver when you returned to deliver his supper later that evening.

He was still all smiles and charming obedience, but you noticed his eyes wandered a lot more. It might have been a little amusing, if you weren’t so nervous. If anything, to have his attention was both intimidating and bewitching.

It made you want to say something more, but you weren’t sure what. Still, you knew better than to engage too much outside of protocol.

Or at least you thought you did. 

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

Moonlight slipping through the foliage, anointing the darkened world in silver. A deer silently drank from a stream, unaware the hunter had spotted it. Head bent, throat long. It would be an easy shot, arrow cleanly piercing the jugular. 

It ran, but it did not get very far.  Its wide, ink-black eyes were looking up at the beautiful face of the moon, silhouetting the hunter. Its weakening heart leapt at the sight.

The last thing it saw was his knife.

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

You woke up with a start, panting and confused. Sleep slid off you slowly, like a veil uncovering your eyes. Your hand unconsciously went to your throat, but unsurprisingly, you found no arrow’s fletching.

Two weeks had passed with nothing especially of note. You had read the entirety of Hannibal’s file, the details of his brutality leaking out into your life beyond Baltimore State Hospital.

It was hard to peel off all the misery embedded in its walls, especially being exposed to it daily. It was easier to compartmentalize instead, letting your mind go blank at the end of the day. But the dreams were an inevitable torment, nonsensical and intensely vivid.

You sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes and sighing into the silence of your small bedroom. You stared into the middle distance for a few minutes, mentally preparing to start your day. 

In the time that had passed, you had exchanged a few more words with Hannibal that were not part of protocol. He had asked your name, his tone kept carefully casual, and you thought it only fair to tell him. 

After that, he had ventured to ask more innocuous questions about yourself, perhaps trying to test the limits of your interactions. You had answered most of them truthfully but vaguely, worried about him psychoanalyzing you.

Something told you he'd also know if you were lying, so you figured it’d be mostly useless to try. But you were entitled to your secrets, too, and you preferred keeping your cards close to your chest.

Yet you were also aware that it would not deter him, but unbeknownst to him, you were just as headstrong. 

Later, after having slipped on your mask of cool indifference and clocking into work, you brought down his breakfast. You found him at his desk, sketching. He glanced up without moving his head, pencil still moving.

“Good morning,” he greeted. “Is it nice out today?”

“Depends on what you consider ‘nice’,” you said mildly, making slow work of depositing his meal tray. “It’s been intermittently raining since last night, and I don’t think it will stop any time soon.”

“Not bad at all,” he said, his tone ever so slightly wistful. “I do quite enjoy rain. I hope you didn’t forget your umbrella.” 

Strangely, you couldn’t help but feel a little sympathy for him. The sudden loss of freedom was an unbearable thought to you, and you didn’t really wish it on anyone. But that wasn’t to say he didn’t deserve to be in the position he was in.

He noticed you hovering but not saying anything. Finally, his pencil halted and he looked up at you, leaning forward slightly. His assessing gaze pinned you in place, but your body was tense and ready to flee.

“You sound tired. Did you sleep poorly?” He asked.

You blinked in surprise, the question snapping you back to the present. Lowering your gaze, you inclined your head.

“I’m fine, thank you for asking,” you said politely. “I should get going, I’ll be back in an hour.”

He pursed his lips in what seemed like irritation, but he didn’t press you. Instead, he stopped you once more by changing the subject. 

“Before I try to talk to Frederick about it, there’s something I’d like to ask you,” Hannibal said.

You looked at him with apprehensive curiosity. “I cannot promise you anything, but you may ask me.”

“I would like to draw you, if you’d model for me,” he said. “Simple stuff, all of it appropriate. I promise. I’m just in dire need of a muse.”

“What makes you think he will say yes to such a request?” You asked, not yet processing everything in your state of shock. 

He smirked. “He needs my help with certain things, so it’s only fair I get something in return.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “And… Why the interest in me, specifically?”

“It would be a sin not to immortalize features like yours.”

Heat crawled up to your face and your arms tightened against your torso, but you kept a mostly neutral expression on your face. You weren’t sure if he was being serious or just toying with you to unnerve you, but you had a feeling it was a mixture of both.

You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of a bigger reaction, but it was likely he could still tell he’d rattled you. The worst part was that deep inside, you also took his interest as a compliment, but there was no way you would let that show.

“I’ll give it some thought,” you said slowly, unsure why you were even considering it. “Pending Doctor Chilton’s approval, of course.”

“Of course,” he said with a nod. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

With that, you left, floating down the corridor as if detached from your body. The whole situation had a feeling of unreality to it, and you kept expecting to wake up once again.

As you got to the nurse’s station, another nurse told you that Doctor Chilton had summoned you to his office. You blinked at her in surprise. Impossible… Had Hannibal really been so fast?

Next thing you knew, you were knocking on the door to his office, turning the knob when you heard him grant you access.

“There you are,” Doctor Chilton said, one hand resting on his cane. “Close the door behind you and take a seat, will you?”

You dipped your chin in compliance and mechanically followed instructions. For what seemed like an eternity, he said nothing, studying you instead. You shifted slightly in your seat, instinctively returning the favor if only because you didn’t want to be the one to look away.

He himself had been a victim of Hannibal’s more than once, and his body bore all of the evidence. Still, the Doctor had an undeniable obsession, using any and every opportunity to brag about Hannibal’s capture.

Clearly, the impact had been more than skin deep. No one ever dared to outwardly gossip about it, but it was well-known regardless.

It wasn’t often that you dealt with him directly, and you were being painfully reminded of why you preferred it that way. 

“Did…” you began, but he interrupted.

“I watched it all through the cameras. He knew I would be when he asked you that.” He leaned forward on the desk, hands clasped. “Wise choice not to give in just yet.”

You couldn’t help but balk at this. “I beg your pardon?”

He raised an eyebrow. “It must have been a tempting offer, to be the Devil’s muse. I would not blame you if you were at least a little flattered.”

Your eyes, just like your resolve, were like steel. “Why have you called me here, if I may ask?”

His smug, easy grin faded as he let out a long sigh, his patience wavering for a moment. 

“Hannibal is right about my needing him, though I am not the only one who does. The reason why is classified, as you can imagine, so I cannot tell you much,” he said, keeping his tone bored as if he couldn’t be bothered to explain it to you. “What I’m trying to understand now is why he wants you in return.”

“I’m just as confused, trust me.”

“From what I have observed, you don’t speak much, even if he has tried. I wonder if the challenge interests him…” he drifted off thoughtfully for a moment. “Though I suppose he’s always liked to surround himself with pretty things, too.” 

You stiffened, taken aback by the strange compliment. “And so you are expecting me to say yes?”

“I’m not expecting, no, but I’m sure you’ve gathered that this goes beyond Baltimore State. Of course, should you choose to assist us, you would not only be generously compensated, but I would be immensely grateful, as well.”

You thought about it for a moment. The additional income would definitely be helpful, but you had to admit you were also growing more and more curious about the whole thing. What else did you have going on, otherwise? 

Still, you had to try and cover all your bases first. You couldn’t make it too easy for him, after all.

You slightly tilted your head to the side.“Grateful… so you could call it a favor, then?”

He raised both eyebrows. “A favor?”

“Yes, Doctor. He’s a highly dangerous patient and you are asking me to spend longer periods of time – I’m presuming alone – with him. The safety of all staff should be your top priority, right?” you said pointedly, crossing your arms over your chest. “What use is money if no one’s alive to collect it?”

His green eyes narrowed as he seemed to weigh his options. Your face remained implacable, though there was also a challenging shade in your features that he did not miss. Otherwise, he could not get a very good read on you, and that suddenly intrigued him. Perhaps you’d be more useful than he’d originally thought.

“Right… You make a good point,” he finally conceded. “Well, I am a man of honor, after all. Anything you might need, you can always ask.” 

You smiled as genially as you could. “How gracious of you, Doctor Chilton. Thank you.”

His false smile was more like a sneer. “Of course. You don’t have to give your final answer now, but…”

“I accept,” you said, cutting him off. “I am honored by the opportunity.”

—-----------------------------------------------------

“How close are you able to get to the glass?”

“Up to ten paces away,” you said, taking your cardigan off and draping it over the back of the chair you’d brought. “Should be close enough, no?”

“Not nearly,” Hannibal said with a small, flirtatious smile that you did not return. 

Still, he could see a flicker of amusement cross your face, softening you infinitesimally. It only made him ache all the more to see you up close. He felt a sudden thrill that warmed his extremities — a feeling he recognized but had not felt for some time.

“Doctor Chilton has given us two hours, so I’d advise you to use the time wisely,” you said, slightly lifting an eyebrow and setting your hands on your hips. “How would you like to start?” 

“Just as you are, at your most natural,” he said, picking up his pencil. “Let’s see…”

It was strange at first, to have him stare so intently at you. You, who were seldom cowed by anything, could still barely keep eye contact with him. As an excuse, you offered your profile, turning your body to face the wall. 

He complimented the elegant swoop of your neck and you rewarded him with a demure glance and soft words of gratitude. His grip on the pencil tightened, his heartbeat spiking. You caught the way he shifted slightly in his chair, swallowing hard. 

Despite your icy exterior, you felt a thrill at the effect you seemed to have on him. 

You hadn’t been instructed to do anything but show up, but you knew instinctively that it would take more than that to keep Doctor Chilton’s favor… and Hannibal’s interest. Luckily, you were well versed in the art of slow seduction – giving just enough, but then withdrawing in equal measure.

Not to mention, it felt safer to do so on the other side of the glass.

Once or twice, he gave you brief instructions on how to pose your arms or which way to angle your head. You fell into a sort of meditative state, the reality of the whole situation slipping away from you, as well as the passage of time. 

When your watch’s timer went off, he seemed to snap back into focus at the same time as you. You looked up, startled at the sight of all the sheets of paper strewn about the desk. You noticed his hands were stained with graphite as he set his pencil down.

Curiosity got the best of you, and you took a step closer if only to try to get a glimpse. There was an almost frantic quality to the sketches, as if he was worried he might not be able to trace all the lines he wanted to in time. You weren’t able to gather many details from that angle, but you did not doubt his talent. Something about those hands…

“Productive first day,” you said, lightly teasing him to distract yourself from other thoughts passing through your mind.

A smile and the faintest dip of his chin. “I have not been so inspired in a while.”

“You flatter me too much. I’m sure it wasn’t just due to me,” you said, looking behind him at his bookshelf. “What are you currently reading?”

He seemed momentarily surprised at your interest, glancing over his shoulder and slightly raising his eyebrows. 

“Byron, actually.” He chuckled as he saw your reaction to the poet’s name. “The irony of it is not lost on me, trust me.”

You looked away. “You’re finding beauty where you can. I understand.”

“I always have, in my own way,” he said. “I have a feeling you might relate.”

“In places like this, there is no other choice,” you said, noncommittal. “Not if you want to survive it.”

“The great object of life is sensation,” he quoted. “To feel that we exist, even though in pain.”

You let out a short exhale as you slipped your cardigan back on. How curious that he would be a romantic, but you supposed, in a way, it made sense. 

Free of being a so called muse for the day, you withdrew back into yourself. He’d gotten the barest glimpse of another side of you — softer, more open — and that had to be enough for the time being. 

Had to leave him wanting more, after all.

“I will see you bright and early tomorrow, Hannibal. Get some rest.”

------

[subbypeterparker]

Hear me out whiny!Ethan landry fic or headcannon

whiny!ethan landry headcannon

• he is perhaps the most vocal man you’ve ever met

• but you’d better be sure his whines and moans are music to your ears

• as uni students, you both spend enormous amounts of time on your individual classes, which can lead to time spent away from each other

“pleaseee will you touch me mommy (im sorry i had to slip it in), I promise I’ll make you feel so good, i swear”

you’re sitting cross cross on his bed, working intently on your laptop while he lays behind you, pressing soft kisses to your neck

and obviously him moaning and begging in your ear has you feeling some kind of way, but you really do need to focus

once he realizes he needs to wait a while until your attention can be on him, he gets a bit restless, and lets out a sigh of defeat as you continue typing away

• this man is actually such a slut for you, it’s insane he gets anything done since you two got together

• part of being whiny means ethan being so needy for you, no matter where he is

• even if it’s inconvenient for him to be touching you anywhere, he will beg and whine for you to let him, either until he gets to touch you, or until you punish him for being desperate

“please, please, let me eat your pussy…” “ethan, we’re in the library” “…no one’s around, and i won’t make any noises, i promise”

he’s always so eager to touch you, whenever and wherever he can. doesn’t even need to be sexual

“…sweetheart, you don’t always have to hold my hand,” you look down at your conjoined hands with a pointed look on your face. “i know, but i just want to be near you,” he practically pouts

will get pouty and whiny if you don’t let him touch you, and will act bratty until you let him

• i have to mention this man’s moans and whines

• as i’ve mentioned, he’s very vocal, and when he’s desperate for anything, it goes up 10x

he’ll practically be screaming in bed, especially when he’s close, and loses his breath quickly doing so

this results in the the lewdest and loudest whines and moans you have ever heard, and they’re truthfully enough to have your pussy throbbing

but oh. good. lord. when it comes to pegging, this man is extraordinarily vocal

with his back arching, ass pressing against you as he moans out and clenches around the strap, his poor brain can’t decide if it wants you to slow down, or speed up and wreck him

this conflict results in ethan just losing his ability to speak, and his brain turns numb and can only let out whines and whimpers for you

• he’s so big on being praised, and the slightest stroke on his face combined with a soft praise has him preening in your hands

• ethan landry has the BIGGEST praise kink known to man, and will beg and whine for more praises to poor from your mouth, no matter what you’re doing

he can truly cum just from you praising him, and he knows this, and begs for you to praise him, just so your voice can get him closer

• when he has to restrain himself (either from cumming or from touching you or himself), he starts to whine for your touch and your help

“fuck mommy please, i cant last much longer,” he’s been lying on your bed naked, watching you watch him as he falls apart while you touch yourself

he can feel himself getting closer without even touching himself as he watches you touch your pussy, whining out when you moan his name

• although he likes being praised, and as i’ve said, can get off solely on it, he’s big on being degraded

trust me when i tell you there is NOTHING like ethan sobbing and whining as you degrade him

although he knows he shouldn’t like it as much as he does when you call bim degrading names, he can’t help but moan out and whine for you to keep doing it

“baby look at you, nothing but a fucking whore for mommy, only here for my pleasure, huh?” your words make his back arch as he whines out broken cries and screams of “mommy!”, desperately holding on to any sanity he has

• he is such a simple minded teen boy, that anything to do with you has him whining and writhing just for you, and only you

• he truly is a slut for you, and holy shit, does he earn that title

————————————————————————

it is incredibly late after a long day, yet this writing was much needed, PLEASE keep the ethan requests coming!! 🫶🫶

[just-some-user-hunny]

Hi, how do you think the Targaryen family would react if Bastard Reader got along with Cregar Stark and he "joked" about marrying her? By the way, I like your content.

Poor Cregan Stark cannot possibly understand the mere danger he's put himself in for even breathing the work marriage in regards to their princess. Naturally he's smitten by her- glowing in pretty fabrics and gems, lovely and endearingly rebellious. He may not be the only admirer, but he's certainly a rather untouchable admirer

(meaning Daemon cannot lop his head off, he's too valuable 😌 cue Daemon glaring at the northman with a contemplating look, his palm cradeling the handle of his sword). He's not going to be happy with it, Rhaenyra is really going to need to work wonders to keep him from starting a fight. The moment the little joke left the northmans tongue, Daemon merely stares in silence. His glare burning the dark haired man. (Although truthfully, there is a part of him a little impressed by how ballsy that was to say in front of him).

Rhaenyra isn't too keen on you marrying, but seeing a smitten, well mannered lord fawn over you- it may tweak her opinion on the concept of you marrying. (She just wants you to be happy and home, but most of all, safe). If Rhaenyra were to hear the words from the Lord herself, a wry smile would befall her expression, but it would be vaguely stern. She'd eye the boy carefully, her grip upon you is tenfold protective now since little Luke is gone now.

Jace is 100% going to be protective. He side-eyes Cregan hard, because did this man just hit on his sister, right in front of him like that? Please, do excuse him whilst he searches for a nice bush to wretch into. He may be on pleasant terms with The Lord stark, but he's not eager to hand his sister away like that. The word of marriage has never occurred to him, and the thought of you getting packed up and moved away to such a cold place? It doesn't sit well with him. His mother is going to have to hold his hand and reassure him that even if you were to fall smitten with the Stark lord, there's no way it'll be ideal unless you stay home.

Cregan definitely says it with that signature stern expression of his, a genuine small smile on his face as his eyes befall upon the princess- and Jace cannot help but roll his eyes a little, but then side-eye bastard!reader hard when she starts to 👀 💕

(let me have this Jace, he's pretty!!)

The twins are all for it however, in a complete stark reaction to the rest of team black. (Ylike what I did there). Baela and rhaena think it's sweet. Risky, with the possessiveness of the targs, but sweet. In their eyes, even if you were to leave home and love in the north- you'll always be there to see upon dragon-back. The reputation of loyalty of northern men too is a bonus in their eyes, they want their sister to settle with the right person who'll treat them right.

Nonetheless I like the idea of Cregan Stark and bastard!reader having some sort of pining situration going on! The targs are careful with their position and their need for reinforcement- so although they may not be keen, they'd endure.

I can imagine Rhaenyra having you sent off with Jace to meet with lord stark, because I think the idea of her sending one of the prettiest targarian princesses to go meet and cement a partnership with the Starks is pretty funny 😭 take a gander at what you'll be defending, Lord stark 👀

I've done mostly team black here, but if anyone wants to hear from team green, I can probably cook one up! Just tell me your thoughts! 😌💕

Also yes. I'm still sick, but I may get a few things written here and there!

[mochi-marmalade]

The Love of the Princess

a/n: i stayed up until 2am writing this :') possibly one of my favorite works i've written?? the title is from a song i listened to while writing, very dreamy vibes. NOT proofread, might proofread later. BIG thankies to @lillisummers for the inspiration!! reader is the daughter of elrond & celebrían :)

Legolas x female elf reader

3.8k words

warnings: none i think....

“My dear, you look wonderful.” Lord Elrond, says as he places a gleaming silver circlet on your head. “Thank you, father.” You reply, smiling. Truthfully, you are hesitant and unsure of what the future holds for you. Soon you will be traveling to Mirkwood to meet your betrothed, away from your family and the place you have called home your entire life. 

A short time ago, your father brought you on business for a diplomatic meeting with King Thranduil. While there, you slipped away to explore. Though you had been in forests before, Mirkwood had a certain air about it, veiled in mystique. “You,” A voice cut through the silence. “I have not seen you before.” You turn around and come face to face with a pale elf. He is fair as the moon and moves nimbly as he walks towards you. “I am the Lady of Rivendell, daughter of Lord Elrond.” He looks you up and down, then slowly nods. “Where is your father?”

“He is… Meeting with King Thranduil.”

The blond elf cocks an eyebrow, wondering aloud, “Should you not join him?”

“I am on my own business to meet handsome strangers.”

He smiles and asks in a sing-song voice, “Is that so?”

You return his smile, but before you can ask him for his name, another voice echoes through the trees. “Your father calls, my lady.” You look between the elf and the passageway to the Elvenking’s Halls, and he dips his head to bid you goodbye. “Farewell, fair sir.” You say before hurrying away. Thankfully, you received only a light reprimanding from your father for sneaking away that day. 

Perhaps life in Mirkwood wouldn’t be so bad, if only you could see that elf again. Then you remember that you are already meeting none other than Legolas, son of Thranduil, and it would be most inappropriate to have relations with others. You hope Legolas is a kind, reasonable person- you don’t even know what he looks like! However, if your father suggested you marry him, then Legolas must be an honorable elf. “We must go.” Your father states. Soon, you are on your horse, traveling once again to Mirkwood for a feast. Here you will meet Legolas. 

After nearly two weeks’ journey, you arrive at Mirkwood. Though it is nearly midnight, you are greeted by the King’s stewards, who lead you to the chambers you will sleep in during your visit. You thank them and quickly close the doors behind them. After a few moments, you decide that the halls are empty enough to quietly creep out of your chambers. You take the same path that you found the elf on during your last visit, hoping to see him one last time. “My lady, it is hardly safe to be away from the Elvenking’s Halls at this hour.” You know that voice. You swivel around to find the stranger smiling from behind you. “It’s you.” Your worried face morphs into a grin, and you step towards him. “I was hoping I might see you.” You tell him.

“Oh? And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I… I am here to meet King Thranduil’s son. My father and the king have agreed a marriage would be most practical, so we are to meet tomorrow before the feast.”

It doesn’t take long for the elf in front of you to notice your troubled demeanor. He places a hand on yours, and reassures you, “Do not fret, my lady. I think the prince will take a liking to you.” “Do you know him?” You wonder. He chuckles and mutters, “You could say that.” 

“What is he like?”

He looks up at you confused, as if the question was completely surprising. “Well, let’s see,” He begins. “Our prince is a skilled bowman, very attractive, loyal beyond compare, wise, and personable.” You suppress a laugh, and share, “It almost sounds as if you should be the one marrying him.” His eyes widen and he laughs, a sound that rings like chimes in the wind. “I think not.” He says matter-of-factly. You smiled amusedly before yawning. He advises, “I should think it is time for you to retire to your chambers.” “I suppose you are correct.” You agree.

“Shall I escort you?” 

“I would like that very much.” 

You hook your arm in his and he takes you through the great halls to your room. You release your arm and he says, “This is where I bid you goodnight.” You press a kiss to his cheek, and say, “Goodnight.” You hope for the sake of your arrangement that this is the last time you’ll see him, but at the same time, you hope your paths will cross again. You settle on your bed and drift into sleep.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ☼ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The next morning, you are awakened by elven servants. They bring you food, draw you a bath, and lay out your clothes. After preparing for the day, your father comes to collect you and take you to King Thranduil’s throne room. Lord Elrond seems to sense your anxiety, murmuring, “Do not worry, child. I will be here with you the entire time.” His words soothe you a bit, and you swallow thickly as you near the throne room. Lord Elrond announces your presence as the two of you enter, and King Thranduil eyes you from his seat. The blond elf from your encounter last night is present as well, perplexing you greatly. Perhaps he is a servant, a guard, or a steward of the king. Thranduil rises, beckoning to the elf and declaring, “This is my son, Legolas.” “You are Legolas?” You ask, shocked. He bows his head in respect, saying, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady.” For a moment, you are speechless, but you manage to respond, “As am I.” Legolas takes your hand and asks you if you’d like to walk. You nod and he asks your father, “May I?” Lord Elrond and King Thranduil both look puzzled, but Elrond responds, “You may.” With that, you and Legolas take your leave, walking out of the grand room and into the halls. Once you are out of earshot, you retract your hand and turn to Legolas. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! This entire time… You played me for a fool.” He reaches for your hand again, explaining, “No, I don’t think you’re a fool and I didn’t mean to lead you on. My intentions are honest, and I meant to tell you my identity, I swear. Once it became apparent I needed to tell you, I just didn’t know how. You seemed so interested in me, I was afraid you might change your mind if you knew.” You look at him, still hurt and reassured at the same time. “Legolas, you should have said something. I don’t care if you’re the prince. Even if you were the king, my feelings would not change.” You allow him to hold your hands and he lifts one to press a kiss against your knuckles. “I am glad. I look forward to getting to know you better.” You feel heat rise to your cheeks. You spend the day with Legolas and you find he is everything you had hoped he would be- and more. “The time of the feast approaches, shall we return?” He asks. You tell him, “The feast is for us, is it not? Could you imagine a feast without its honored guests? I think we must go… Unless we convince others we are already there by replacing ourselves with remarkably lifelike replicas.” He laughs, then places a hand on the small of your back to lead you to the mead hall. The feast is merry and all who attend appear jovial. There are many elves dancing and singing and, of course, eating. You can’t help but look at the attendees and smile, as if the cheer were contagious. Legolas comes up behind you and notes your smile, asking, “Are you enjoying yourself?” 

“Yes, very much. I have never attended a feast in Mirkwood before.”

“Is it everything you had imagined?”

“That and more.”

He places a hand on your shoulder and draws you near. His heart warms at the way you look up at him, mirthful and kind. As each moment passes, he can almost feel his affection for you growing. “Legolas, would you like to dance?” He raises his eyebrows at the unexpected question, but before he can answer, you take his hand and drag him into the middle of the floor. Laughing, you take his hands and whirl to the sound of the music. He can’t help but watch the way your dress flows and how happy you look to be here. Heavens, the look on your face- he could stare at you forever if you’d let him. The two of you dance for a while, then take a break to drink and converse. You look at Legolas’s flushed face and can’t help but ask, “Are you liking the feast?” “Yes,” He replies. “Truthfully, there are very few times I’ve had more fun.” You beam at him and tell him you are very glad. He murmurs, “Come, I should like to show you something.” You both steal away from the feast and you follow Legolas until you come to the large doors that lead to the rest of Mirkwood. “Legolas, we shouldn’t.” You warn. 

“Do not worry. It will be worth it.”

You creep past the doors and run into the woods together, where he signals you to stay close to him. He says, “I know these woods well, but there is no doubt that danger lurks hidden from sight.” You are no fighter, versed only in combat with weapons. Here, however, you have no bow nor any sabre. Legolas looks back at you and it’s as if he read your mind. “I do not leave the halls without a weapon. I will make sure no harm comes to you.” He says, spinning a small blade in his hand. He begins to climb a tree, and, though you are wearing a particularly elaborate dress, you follow suit. Once you reach the top, you draw in a sharp breath. Naturally, you have seen the night sky innumerable times, but it still leaves you awe-stricken. “Gil-Estel,” You say breathlessly. “It is so bright.” You examine the dark blanket of the sky, peppered with glittering stars. Turning to Legolas, you can’t help but tell him, “It is beautiful. Thank you.” He gazes at you with such tenderness, you wish that he may be yours for a short while. Even if just for this night, you wish that he will stay by your side and grace you once more with his smile. You tell him, “I made a wish.”

“What?”

“I have heard that some men make wishes to the stars. I am not certain of the merit of this belief, but I made a wish myself just now.”

“I see. I only wish that I may be worthy of you one day.”

His response leaves you silent. You want to say, “Oh, Legolas, hûn nín, you already are.” But you cannot speak. His eloquence and timing leaves you dumbstruck every time without fail. His expression is unreadable, and you’re afraid he might think you don’t care for him in the same manner. Just when you open your mouth to speak, he says, “We should return. Too much time has already passed.” Trying to conceal your disappointment, you agree and climb to the ground. He helps you slink back into the mead hall unnoticed, and doesn’t stray far from you for the rest of the night. As the sun rises, elves begin to filter out of the hall one by one. Legolas is talking to King Thranduil, when your father says, “I hope you enjoyed your escapade.” You look at him embarrassedly, and he asks, “Did you think I would not notice? I admit, I still worry for you as if you were a small child, feeling the need to guide your every step. However, I have trust that you are capable of making wise decisions. I only hope that you will be happy.” You tell him, “I am very happy. Legolas is a good man.” Lord Elrond smiles and walks away as Legolas returns to you. “Are you fatigued at all? Do you wish to rest?” He asks. You laugh, “No, Legolas, I feel quite alright.”

“Your hair… It must have come undone in the woods.”

You touch the back of your head to feel that your braids either have unwinded or are tangled. “Would you help me with it?” You ask. Legolas looks at you wide eyed. “Me…? Are you sure?” He questions. You consider it for a brief moment- are you certain you want to take that big a step? When you look at him, though, your concerns melt away. You trust him, wholly and completely. “Yes.” With your answer, Legolas brings you to your chambers and has you sit at the vanity. His fingers are hesitant and hover over your hair for a moment before he deftly begins to detangle your tresses. His fingers are slightly cold, but it doesn’t bother you. He works quickly and skillfully, neatly setting your hair into pleats. You can’t tell exactly how many pins he uses to secure your hair in place, but his gentle hands make them nearly unnoticeable. After a short while, he proudly declares, “I am finished. You may now tell your friends that your hair was pleated by a master.” “Oh, really? A master?” You quip. He nods enthusiastically and you can’t help but laugh. Your smile slowly fades as you realize you must leave within the next few days. “Is something the matter?” Legolas asks sweetly. 

“I must leave soon.”

“Don’t go.” He urges.

“I cannot stay here. I must go home.” 

“Must you?”

“Legolas, I… It is hardly appropriate to stay with you given the circumstances.”

“Then I shall ask to court you.” 

Again, you are taken aback. Legolas, though not always reserved, is acting uncharacteristically bold. You feel his forehead, wondering, “Are you sick?” He huffs in amusement, but takes your hand from his forehead and quickly regains his serious look. “I am being sincere. I would like to stay with you longer.” He says. Your head is swimming with thoughts of him, and your heart is racing in excitement. He calls your name softly, and you bring your gaze to him. He looks earnest, nervous, and enthusiastic all at once. “I would like nothing more.” You answer. He laughs and embraces you, his warmth enveloping you. It is caring, inviting, comfortable and unlike anything you have ever experienced. He lets go and straightens his tunic, uttering, “I do not know what came over me. I apologize if I was too forward.”  You hold his hand, telling him, “Legolas, it is okay. I am happy too.” He grins and ushers you to follow him to ask your father. Lord Elrond looks surprised, but grants Legolas permission nonetheless. King Thranduil’s face is unreadable as ever, but he does not object, which you suppose is good. Your father then takes you aside to speak, saying, “I did not expect to return to Rivendell without you.”

“I am sorry.”

“Do not be sorry, I only mean that your presence will be missed.”

Tears well in your eyes as you realize you do not know when your next visit to Rivendell will be. “Do not cry,” Lord Elrond says softly. “Your journey has only begun. Your family will be ready should you need us.” You nod, suppressing tears. “And,” He adds, peering at Legolas. “You are not alone.” You turn to see Legolas waiting for you beyond the large doorway. “Thank you, father.” You give him one last embrace, and Legolas joins you to see him off. As you watch the horses gallop away, you sigh deeply. Your life will be different from now on, but you’re glad. 

°•. ✿ .•°

You spend much of your time with Legolas, and he quickly learns that you are a woman of many interests. You are skilled with both a bow and a sabre, your fingers move expertly to weave baskets and plait hair, and you enjoy several forms of visual art. He praises your abilities- you are multifaceted and so resolute in your beliefs. He goes so far as to request paper and a utensil as a means for you to draw. Day by day, you explore with Legolas and occasionally stop to sketch the scenery or a species you may have never seen before. During these times, Legolas likes to watch you with deep admiration. Your reverence and appreciation for nature are other things he likes about you. Being the simple creature you are, you find solace just being with Legolas. He provides comfort and care you didn’t know you could have. 

Then, perhaps months later, Legolas is called to Rivendell. “I must go.” He states apologetically. “Take me with you.” You plead. 

“The journey will be dangerous. I do not wish to place you in peril’s way.”

“Legolas, you know I can hold my own.”

He seems to consider it for a moment, but concedes, “I feel you will be safer here with my father and the guard.” “Legolas, who better to ensure my safety than you?” You reason. That seems to have been more effective, as he sighs weakly before saying, “Fine. You may come with me, but we must return to Mirkwood.” You agree, and he hastily prepares extra supplies. King Thranduil emerges, but only to stare at the two of you coldly as you venture into the distance. 

Traveling with Legolas is like a dream. Both of you are often alone in Mirkwood, but there is something to be said about journeying with him. It is truly just the two of you, with no chambers to return to at the end of the day and nothing keeping you confined within one area. You banter with Legolas often during the trek to Rivendell, and at night you bring your head to his chest. You gaze at the stars together as you did that night many moons ago, and you slumber peacefully drawn close to Legolas. He offers you lembas, which you graciously accept each time, and is careful to wipe away any crumbs left on your face. You almost prefer this life to the one in Mirkwood, but it is cut short when you finally arrive in Rivendell.

Your father greets Legolas at the entrance to the great valley and is especially glad to see you. “My dear, it is always a delight. I would talk with you longer, were it not for a pressing situation.” “Yes,” Legolas begins. “I offer my deepest apologies to you.” Lord Elrond looks at him for a moment, then begins, “Oh, no, it is not that. There is… something else that has come up.” You and Legolas look at each other with confusion on your faces, but Lord Elrond is already bringing Legolas further into Rivendell. “Am I not to come?” You ask, feeling a bit dejected. Father turns to you, and says, “My daughter, you must not attend this meeting. I apologize but the magnitude of this is far too great; it will not be safe for you.” You nod your head slowly, and make your way to your sister’s quarters. Arwen embraces you with a wide smile, and you each share what has happened in your lives since you last met. Eventually, your father returns and informs you that you may want to speak with Legolas. You look between Lord Elrond and Arwen worriedly at first, then heed your father’s suggestion. You arrive outside and there are several strange men gathered near the entrance of Rivendell. Legolas turns to greet you and, for the first time, you can see fear on his face. “What ails you?” You ask him as you rush to meet him. “I have been appointed to a task, which will be great in time and distance. It will be treacherous and… I fear I may never see you again.” He explains. “Do not say that. You are steadfast, both in will and in strength. I am sure we will meet again.” You try to convince him. He nods and holds your face in his hands, then presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Meleth nín.” He mutters, still holding your face so you cannot see him. Carefully, you raise your head to meet his eyes, and say, “I love you.” You can see in his eyes he is unbearably upset, as if he cannot bear to leave you. “Go. I will wait here.” With those words, he turns and leaves.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

It is many months before you see Legolas again. You see your people leave, and it pains you to watch the very life of Rivendell leave the place you once called home. Arwen and your father spend many moments together, discussing something that is beyond your knowledge. However, they also spend many moments attempting to comfort you. You have faith that Legolas will return, so you wait patiently, always watching the horizon for his lean figure. It isn’t until you travel to Minas Tirith with your father and sister that you finally see Legolas again. Arwen weds Aragorn in what seems to be a human ceremony. There you see him: Legolas, casually conversing with some people that you think you saw him set out from Rivendell with. The stout dwarf next to him sees you approaching first and gently elbows Legolas. He looks up, and with a grin opens his arms to greet you. Breaking into a trot, you launch yourself into his arms and he wraps his arms around you in a tight hold. “Legolas…” You sob softly. He quickly leans back to brush your tears away, saying, “None of that, love. I’m here now.” He holds you to his chest pressing kiss upon kiss to the crown of your head. “My lady.” The dwarf grunts, bowing slightly to you. Then he turns to Legolas to ask, “Is this…?” Legolas laughs, “Yes, this is her.” You sigh at the feeling of being in Legolas’s arms again, but you are interrupted by Legolas saying, “Actually, I have something.” He reaches into his pocket and produces a silver ring. “Legolas…” You gasp, eyes welling with tears once again. You nod your head vehemently, and Legolas slips the ring on your right index finger. Legolas doesn’t waste any time kissing you, in response to which you place a hand on either side of his face. When you pull away, tears of joy stream down your cheeks. “What’re you making her cry for now?!” Gimli reprimands Legolas. The elf simply replies with a smirk, “Gimli, have you ever been to an elven wedding?”

[reminiscingtonight]

Gay 4 Me

Alessia Russo x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: A little spiciness, talks about solo-action if you get my drift. Based on the G Flip and Lauren Sanderson song

[WOSO Masterlist]

You find out by accident. 

Katie, shit-stirrer she is, is in the midst of ribbing the fuck out of Alessia. The striker had missed one too many goals, one too many passes, one too many everythings at practice and the Irish woman’s taking too much joy in rubbing it in her face. 

“Mate, you’re too stressed. Gotta find yourself a lovely lad or someone to work out the tension.”

“There’s no tension, Katie!”

“Tell that to your shoulders,” the brunette snorts, fingers flicking at Alessia’s shoulder. 

The blonde bats her hands away, a frown on her face. “There’s no tension,” Alessia repeats, annoyance leaking into her voice.

“There’s no shame in getting a bit of help, Lessi.” Katie shrugs. “I might judge your taste in… partners, but that’s exactly what they’re for. To help us relax a bit.”

“I don’t need help relaxing,” Alessia huffs.

It takes a second, but Katie eventually gets what the blonde’s telling her. Katie’s mouth splits into a devilish grin. The Irish woman’s always more than happy to get too close and personal, invading everyone’s private lives. 

“What, your fantasies that good?”

Alessia rolls her eyes. “I never said they’re fantasies, McCabe.”

“Oh come on, you can’t say straight sex is that good to be reminiscing about.”

“Well I never said it was straight sex now did I?”

Katie’s mouth drops open and Alessia uses the moment of reprieve to push past the Irish woman. 

You tuned into the conversation the second the two of them made it into the locker room. You’re not sure what it is but something about Alessia is just so magnetic, always drawing you in no matter what you’re doing.

So yeah, you’re already listening to Alessia and Katie’s bickering when you find out that Alessia apparently has no qualms getting some solo action. But those words paired with blue eyes flashing towards you has you struggling to swallow.

Good lord. 

Alessia Russo touches herself to the memories of the two of you having sex. And she just admitted it to the whole locker room. 

(Not that the girls know which memories she’s getting off to, of course)

A bolt of arousal shoots right through you as you drop your head, face flaming red. 

You can still remember the night it happened. The taste of tequila sharp on your tongue after a night out with the team. You’ll argue that the alcohol lowered your inhibitions but truthfully nothing but pure lust made you trail after your blonde teammate out of the bar. Alessia felt soft under you, the noises she made sounding like music to your ears. What she lacked in experience she clearly made up for in skill, easily bringing you to the precipice multiple times just as you did her.

Just the thought of sweet little innocent Lessi, hand shoved between her legs, nothing on her mind but your hot night together as she brings herself to release makes you want to take her apart right here right now. 

The feel of a hand trailing down your back has you hurtling back into the present, breath caught in your throat in surprise. Alessia seems amused when you start hacking away. Her hand stays in place as she hands you your water bottle.

“All good?” Her face is the picture perfect example of innocence but you can see right through her.

“All good?” you mock, shoving at her lightly. Alessia laughs, discreetly running her hand down your arm, pausing to give your bicep an appreciative squeeze before taking it back.

“Of course.” Her words are paired with teeth biting her bottom lip and you have to fight the urge to sink your own teeth into the rosy skin.

“You’re killing me, Less,” you groan under your breath.

“You can’t seriously be blaming me, can you? Was quite rude how you left me with an ache if I’m being honest.”

Eyes bulging at Alessia’s confession, you find yourself choking on yet another breath.

It’s the way she says it without any embarrassment, eyes glimmering with a slight challenge, that takes you off guard.

Deep in your head you can still hear your cousin’s warning when Alessia first signed for Arsenal. Ella had backed you into a corner at a family gathering, finger digging into your sternum the second you walked through the doors.

“Alessia’s my best mate and she’s the sweetest and most innocent girl ever. You better take care of her when she joins your stupid little club or so help me I will make your life a living hell the next time we see each other.”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to tell Ella that she seemed as threatening as a scraggly chihuahua. But you promised her that you would watch out for the blonde.

If only Ella could see her best friend now. Not so innocent and pure as she thought.

Though you really have no one to blame for that but yourself.

You know your cheeks are burning right now and you pray that none of your teammates are paying close attention to you and Alessia. If anyone was, they’d instantly know you guys are talking about things less than PG friendly.

Nervously chuckling, you keep your eyes trained to your bag, trying to ignore the way you can feel Alessia staring at the side of your face. “That great, huh?”

Alessia clicks her tongue, an action that has your head instantly going to the gutter, remembering exactly what she could do with the muscle. “If I’d have known how good you were in bed I would have asked Ella to hook us up eons ago.”

She’s grinning when you look up at her with an incredulous expression. “Alessia!”

“What?” she laughs, easily intertwining your fingers and leading you towards the door when she realizes you’re done packing. She leads you past a still dumbfounded Katie by the door, pausing long enough to wink at the Irish defender before you’re slipping away to the parking lot.

You have a feeling you’re going to have to endure an interrogation from the brunette in the days to follow, but right here right now, hand still caught in Alessia’s as you walk her to her car, you can’t find it in yourself to care all that much. 

Especially when Alessia suddenly hooks her fingers into your belt loops and yanks, sending you crashing into her body. You tilt your head back and laugh, arms resting around her shoulder so you don’t completely barrel her over.

“Well hello there,” she winks, as if she’s not the reason you’re currently pressing her against her own car.

“Alessia,” you return evenly, raising an eyebrow in question.

“I have a bottle of tequila and microwaveable chicken nuggets at my place. Wanna recreate some memories?”

You narrow your eyes at the striker. Her smile turns a little more teasing.

“Would you rather I straight up ask for you to put your fingers--”

“Shut up and get in the car, Less.”

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Diavolo - "Sit In"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

In which a certain prince of the Devildom is once again swamped with work, but luckily his little human lover has come to his rescue. Or; In which Prince Diavolo has his darling boyfriend [Name] warm his lap while he slaves away on his paperwork.

                                                                                                   

👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑

The maroon-haired demon prince sighs gloomily as he slumps against his document-cluttered desk. He had been working for what felt like an eternity. Truthfully, it had only really been an hour or two, but it felt like he had been sitting there forever; it was just so boring! He could be hanging out with his boyfriend right now, doing whatever it is that his cute little human felt like doing; but no Barbatos made him work.

“Ugh…”  

Diavolo groans; fidgeting with the fountain pen in his hands as he repeatedly taps on the desk; unknowingly creating a small pool of ink.

The poor demon desperately wants to leave the hellscape he's found himself in, but when he lifts his head to look at his butler, the man only smiles and shakes his head; gesturing with his hands to continue his work.

Abruptly; a knock sounded from behind the door. Diavolo shot upright in his chair; a relieved grin stretching across his lips. The door opens to reveal the very person he was just daydreaming about; his darling human lover: [Name].

The human boy peeks his head out from the partially opened door and looks from the seated demon to the butler who stands off to the side and back again. He raises a brow,–

“Oh. Are you busy right now, Dia?”  

The h/c-ette queries softly; ready to get out of the busy man's hair as soon as he's told to.

Barbatos eyes his lord in suspicion, knowing the prince will drop whatever he's doing without a thought if it means he can attend to his lover's needs. The black-to-teal-haired man clears his throat; garnering the attention of the intruding Human Male.

“Unfortunately; his majesty is very bus—”  

The poor steward was quickly cut off by his lord.

“Not at all! Well— actually I do have a few more papers to sign, but those can be done later! Now, what can I do for you, my treasure?”  

Diavolo interrupts; giving his darling a dazzling boyish grin as he does so.

[Name] giggles at the prince's antics; giving the butler an apologetic smile before entering the room and gently closing the door behind him. Traipsing quickly over to the burly demon's desk; the human happily simpered. He carefully planted his hands on the desktop, fingers splayed, as he leaned forward just a bit.

“Are you sure you're not busy? I wouldn't want to keep you from your work. You know if you finish everything now, you'll have more free time later.”  

The maroon-haired man chuckled at their concern; finding it cute that his little mortal lover was concerned about him. He scoots his chair back and away from his desk before patting his lap a few times, gesturing for them to have a seat. They, of course, comply; unceremoniously plopping their bottom onto the tops of his thick muscled thighs.

The demon wraps his arm around their waist; picking up his discarded pen and beginning to fill out the previously neglected paperwork. He chuckles softly as he feels you snuggle your head into his chest; leading him to give a gentle but affectionate squeeze to their soft thigh.

Diavolo lets out a pleased sigh; perhaps he should have you sit in his office while he works more often. Surely Barbatos wouldn't disagree, right?

👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

This work was made by the spite garnered from this lovely little ask I received from a mystery anon, right here.

[bloodycassian]

Damsel in distress - reader x Rhysand oneshot

Reader is rescued from torture by Rhysand. Short.

Warnings - things you'd expect in a torture scene.

Okay, maybe going on a solo mission during the Starfall party wasn’t the most educated decision. And maybe not telling anyone but Azriel where you were, and swearing him to secrecy wasn’t the strongest idea. Because now Rhysand, the shadowsinger and Cassian were likely all walking straight into a trap.

“That High Lord has trained you well.” The King’s own personal torturer muttered in his thick accent, his scarred throat bobbing with the words. He had the look and sound of a male who’d spent a lot of time screaming, and learning the secrets of what made others do the same. 

Even through the blood dribbling in your eyes you could see how he took pleasure in this torture. His every slice into your flesh had him gleeful, you could smell a hint of arousal in it when your nose wasn’t blocked up. He’d suspended you upside down, making all the blood he’s spilled roll onto your neck then to your face. Your hair was coated and stiff with it, like a animal’s fur. Soon, you suspected they may be gutting you just the same. 

the bindings at your wrists and ankles burning with every slight movement. The way his mind slammed into your mental walls was relentless and unending as the tides. The darkness of his thoughts would roll back, collect then slam into you over and over, testing for any weak spot to creep into. Your mind was a ship slowly losing buoyancy. 

“Tell me where to find The Library and you’ll be allowed to live.” He repeated, his tone as clear and neutral as if you were having a brunch together.

You’d spit if you had the courage to do it. Truthfully, this male was terrifying. The daemati abilities alone would have been enough to best anyone not trained directly from Rhys. That and his pleasure for inflicting pain created a deadly combination. 

A loud thud sounded in the hallway, the wooden door rattling on it’s hinges. The male stiffened, straightening and setting the carving knife aside in favor for the sword at his back. 

The door did not open or slam against the wall, it simply shattered. The wooden splinters of it shredding into the room, some of them embedding into your skin. The pain of it is nothing compared to the long cuts from the knife. 

The male takes in a long breath, and smiles. “Even better than I expected.” He muttered, then rushed to the door.

The sounds were all that told you there was someone there to rescue you. Azriel’s sharp hiss of pain, and the clash of steel as they fought. You couldn’t move, could barely open your eyes with the sweat that burned them. Surely it wasn’t just Azriel here to rescue you? 

The clatter of a sword against the stone floor, then silence filled the air. Your ears strained for something, anything to indicate that Azriel had survived. Tension had your muscles aching, your bruised body struggling for relief.

Near silent footsteps ghosted over the floor, approaching slowly. You cracked an eye, and blue light shed over the dark walls. A sob escaped you.

Then there was shouting. Echoing, frantic shouting and someone was at your side, cradling you in the air while Azriel worked on your restraints. The sobs wracked your body, shaking you hard. Someone, a familiar scent and sound comforted you. 

“I’m here. Dammit, I’m here.” Rhysand. Rhysand- Your sobs turned hysterical, and you pawed at his chest, pulling him as close as you could possibly be. This scent, this male was your home, your everything. 

“Dont ever pull this kind of stunt again.” He growled in your ear, and you nodded fervently in agreement. He said something to Azriel, and another, likely Cassian. 

“It was supposed to be a trap…” You sniffed, lifting your head, then letting it fall back to Rhys’s chest. The dizziness was overwhelming, and your limbs ached with every movement. “for all three of you, how-”

“There’s not a force on this planet that could keep me from you.” Rhys said low in your ear. Your stomach flipped and your cheeks heated, though you knew now just how true the words were.

“Seven dead generals and two guardsmen, not bad for something out together so quickly.” Cassian said admiringly, nudging Azriel with an elbow. 

“It wouldn’t have had to been so quick had someone not sworn me to secrecy.” Azriel shot you a dirty look, and guilt washed over you. If Rhys had shamed his brother at all you’d-

“If someone hadn’t tried to turn vigilante, you mean.” Rhys corrected, but squeezed you tighter in his arms. He started out of the cage you’d been trapped in, stepping over the body of the male who’d bled you for days.

“I mean it, don't ever do this to me again. Promise me that.” Rhys said, and you nodded against his chest, unconsciousness finding you swiftly in his arms.

[cherrymoonvol6]

(X) i know i'm beating a dead horse but good lord the AUDACITY of both of these guys. i know that nick is nowhere near as bad as james but he's pretty awful too. like, he was here making an argument that they could afford to not quote every source because [bullshit reason]... i'm truly unaware if this is a northamerican thing but what do you MEAN university papers don't require you to source EVERYTHING you've used???? what the fuck does that even mean! how would that even work? how do you decide which 4 of the 15 sources you have will go on the citations? from the getgo this kind of reasoning is absolutely bullshit.

it's so telling though, how they talk about what bigger institutions "demand" or "expect". these guys treat citations like a bothersome task they would gladly ditch if they could get away with it (and get away they did, for years) instead of an act of recognizing the ideas and work of your colleagues, whom you respect. truthfully, fuck both of them.

[lordprettyflackotara]

big bad wolf || sam golbach

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: drug lord!sam, drug dealer!reader, aggressive sex, orgasm denial, bickering, talk of drugs. a key is basically a fuckton of coke guys LOL. (i’ve been watching too much snowfall), choking, there’s a gun involved but no gun play

With a quick flick of his lighter, Sam Golbach watched the end of his cigarette spark to life. He inhaled deeply, allowing the scent feeling of tobacco swirl around his lungs. Cigarettes were Sam’s bad habit. One he only allowed himself to take part in when he was extremely stressed.

As he sat outside of your house in his BMW, the stress was practically suffocating. He loved Colby. Colby was a good friend, communicator, and most importantly, a good business partner. Sam would do anything for him, the two building an undeniable drug empire over the last four years. The blonde exhaled the smoke, ignoring the haziness it was creating.

Sam and Colby were the perfect duo to run what they did. Sam was ambitious and a perfectionist. The numbers he crunched were light work. He practically ran laps around them. Colby was almost the opposite, his mind never able to wrap itself around the logistics. But his silver tongue made the boys connections that Sam would’ve never gained on his own. He was too paranoid, his distaste for others often written all over his face. But Colby saved face, his smile and soothing words gaining them lifelong business connections and mutual respect.

The boys agreed on almost everything, except for one tiny little thing. Once a month Colby returned to their home town in Ohio, doing runs to their original client base. Once they sold their first few keys of coke Sam never saw the point. But Colby refused to abandoned the people who believed in them from the start. Sam never went with him and opted out of any opportunity to return to where it all started. That was until Colby had a solo meeting he had to attend in Mexico. The potential business partners weren’t fond of Sam, Colby’s charm the biggest selling point.

Imagine his distain when Colby asked him to do his hometown runs for him. If it wasn’t for the possible new extension of an entirely new product, Sam would’ve said no. Truthfully he was just making himself miserable. His eyes narrowed as he confirmed the address that was scribbled on the piece of crumbled paper in between his fingertips. It was the right address, it was yours.

The blonde glanced at the clock, sighing. You were supposed to come out at 1:00 am on the dot, the time 12:59. As Sam inhaled another deep breath of his cigarette he decided that if you weren’t there by 1:01 he’d bail. He perked up at the sound of your front door closing, your appearance a sight for sore eyes. Leggings hugged your curves, filthy converse covering your feet. A tight black jacket covered your torso, the zipper down just enough to show your breast bouncing ever so slightly as you walked. As attractive as you were, Sam only had one thought: Colby was definitely fucking you.

Confidently you strode up to the window, knocking gently on the tinted glass. Sam rolled down his window, exhaling the smoke through his nose. “You’re not Colby,” You point out flatly. Sam refrained from rolling his eyes. Instead he shifted ever so slightly in his seat. “Great observation. What do you usually buy?” Sam asked, wanting to get this over with. The orders for the small pool of clients here were never massive. The blonde was able to get by with his stock being in a simple black backpack. “I’ll take a key,” You respond confidently. Sam began to dig around in his backpack, shoving his pre-weighed bags of weed to the side.

“Colby sick or something?” You questioned. Sam wanted to ignore you, his cigarette hanging from his lips. “No he’s just busy, so today you get me,” He huffed. He pulled out the key, his eyes flickering over to your black purse. You reached into it, presenting him with five sheets of tabs of acid. Sam blinked a few times, firmly believing his eyes were deceiving him. “What the fuck is this?” He snapped. You were taken aback by his response. “What I trade Colby for the key,” You replied. Sam audibly scoffed, removing his cigarette from his lips.

“You are out of your mind. We only accept cash, no trades, no bullshit,” Sam argued. He had to admit your attempt to trade was amusing, your confidence unmatched. “Colby always lets me trade. Why don’t you grab an ehrich’s reagent and test my shit if you’re so hesitant?” You countered. Sam didn’t care about testing your tabs for quality. “Dont be such a pussy. I have good product here. Real intense shit,” You debated. Your insistence was beginning to annoy the blonde in front of you. He flickered the kash of his cigarette out of his window, attempting to maintain his composure. How had Colby let this go on for so long? How many keys was he pissing away just for some pussy? Cocaine wasn’t cheap. Sam avoided eye contact with you, afraid his emotions would be written all over his face.

You were beginning to grow impatient. “I have people who are ready to buy my product and you’re currently wasting my time and money. Hand it over,” You say impatiently. Sam frowned and boldly met your fire filled gaze. “Your product?” He echoed. He found himself sarcastically laughing, unable to comprehend your boldness. “You don’t cook it the way I do, therefore it’s mine,” You debated. Sam took one last inhale of his cigarette, before flicking it out of the window beside you. “Look I understand you let Colby fuck you and that’s how you got away with this shit but listen closely. I don’t think with my dick, so you’re not getting our premium shit for some Ohio LSD,” Sam spat.

He could visibly see your confidence falter, your crossed arms falling. “Now if you’ll excuse me you’ve wasted enough of my time,” Sam huffed harshly, grabbing the stick of his car and shoving it into reverse. In a split second you had thrown your acid in the car, the sheets landing against the passenger side door. “What the fuck are you-” He began to question, the weight of your body surprising him. You had thrown yourself into his car through the drivers window. You were not one to play games, not when it came to a deal. “You bitch! The fuck-” Sam hissed, watching in shock as you crawled over him and into the passengers seat. You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “I’m not leaving this car until you give me my shit,” You spat, venom lacing every last word. Sam gritted his teeth, growing rather annoyed. This was the clientele that Colby was running around for? The blonde made a mental note to put his ass through the wringer for making him put up with you. “Get out of my car,” Sam barked. Your eyes shot daggers, your position firm.

“No.”

Sam rolled up his window, throwing his cigarette bud out of it before it rolled shut. “Why don’t you try my product if you don’t believe me?” You counter offered. Sam scoffed, putting the car in reverse. The last thing your neighbors needed to notice was his presence everlasting in your driveway. “I don’t do drugs. Kind of the rule of thumb if you’re going to be in this line of work,” Sam huffed. You grumbled to yourself as you put on your seatbelt. “Cute and smart. Only thing you’re lacking is a goddamn personality. How did Colby wind up with you?” You questioned, mainly talking to yourself. Sam quickly sped out of your neighborhood, causing you to raise an eyebrow. “If you’re trying to drive like the fast and furious to scare me, it’s not gonna work,” You snapped. Sam rubbed his temple. What the hell was he going to do with you? He couldn’t exactly let you ride around with him all night. Murdering you wasn’t an option either. Not only was it too much work to clean up, but Colby would be pissed. He strummed his fingertips on the steering wheel, pondering to himself. You glared out of the passengers window, silently wondering to yourself what exactly was going to happen to you if you kept this charade up. There was only so long you could pretend to be as put together as a drug lord.

Sam’s mind was running in circles. He pulled out of your neighborhood, putting the car into sport mode. He slammed his foot on the gas, causing you to grip the seat. “Could you slow the fuck down?” You asked. Sam flew down the empty street, chuckling to himself. “Could you get the fuck out of my car?” He countered. For a brief moment he saw a flash of fear spread across your face, the sight giving him an idea. He slowed down, pulling into a side dirt road that connected a forest. Sam put the car into park, reaching over you and digging in his glovebox. He pulled out a small black pistol, clicking off the safety and pointing it at your head. “Take your shitty acid and get the fuck out of my car,” He barked. You froze momentarily, before taking off your seatbelt and turning to him. You closed the gap of space between you and the end of the pistol, the cool metal pressing against your forehead. “Go on, do it,” You whispered. Sam’s eyes widened, his hardened facade faltering. “Are you deadass?” He questioned. Your eyes flickered to his, causing him to gulp nervously. There was something oddly attractive about that look in your eyes, causing him to freeze. You didn’t reply, waiting for him to make the next move.

“Son of a bitch, you’re out of your mind,” He grumbled, removing the gun from your temple. How could he find you so hot for challenging him? Fuck he was growing weak. You smirked to yourself, fighting a giggle. “Says the one who just threatened to shoot me,” You say, a small giggle escaping your lips. Sam turned the safety back on, chucking it back in his glovebox. You nervously played with your hair, pulling at a random strand with your fingers. “You know, you look kinda cute holding a gun like that. Real God Father of you,” You complimented, attempting to lighten the mood. The sooner he warmed up to you, the sooner you could get your key and bounce. “You looked kinda cute having a gun to your head if that’s any constellation,” He said, attempting to be nice. You had an attractive aura about you, one that Sam was starting to see the longer you weren’t fazed by who he was. Maybe in a different life he’d take you out on a date. “If i’m telling the truth this acid belonged to my ex boyfriend, it’s probably shitty,” You admitted, holding up the tab. Sam muttered a snarky ‘I knew it’, which caused you to roll your eyes. “I’m not lying to Colby about it though. He just pretends he doesn’t notice. He does it as a favor to me to help me keep a roof over my head,” You explained.

Sam scoffed, “Can’t you just work at Waffle House or something?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

There was a brief silence, before Sam chuckled. “So you’re not fucking Colby then?” He questioned. You let out a fake gag. “Seriously? Hell no i’m not fucking him. You only think that because i’m pretty,” You argued. Sam rolled his eyes, his annoyance growing once more. “I never called you pretty,” He debated. You could’ve laughed in his face if his audacity hadn’t frustrated you. “With the way you’ve been staring at me? You don’t have to,” You barked. Sam readjusted in his seat, turning to you. “And what if I do think you’re pretty? Huh? What if I told you I wanted to fuck you senseless right here and right now? What would you do then hotshot?” Sam bickered. You uncrossed your arms, unzipping your jacket. “You don’t even have to ask,” You mumbled, crawling over into his seat. You straddled his lap, your face an inch away from his. Sam could feel his face growing hot, watching as you shrugged your jacket off of your shoulders. It left you in nothing but a bra, your breast begging to be touched.

“This doesn’t mean you’re getting the key,” Sam whispered, glancing down at your plump lips. You rolled your eyes, rolling your hips against his. “Shut up and kiss me,” You replied, the blonde eagerly crashing his lips onto yours. He grabbed the mounds of your ass, gripping the flesh harshly. You groaned into his mouth, his lips suffocating in the best way. He guided you to continue grinding against him, his cock already growing harder through his jeans. You teasingly grinned at the sight. “Awe is someone hard for me? I knew you’d be easy, slut,” You mocked. Sam bit your bottom lip, causing you to whine. He reached around and unclasped your bra, tossing it aside. “I’m the easy one? You’re fucking your drug dealer,” Sam sneered, grabbing one of your breast and rolling your nub in between his index and middle finger. You groaned, meeting his icy gaze. “You’re not my drug dealer, Colby is,” You barked. Sam brought his mouth to your other nipple, sucking at it harshly. You tugged at his blonde hair, your back arching at the sensation.

You could only feel yourself growing wetter, your body aching for the bastard beneath you. Sam released your nipple with a pop, admiring how hard it grew from the exposure to the cool air. “So you let Colby fuck you too then? Whore,” Sam growled. He began to tug down your leggings, yanking your panties down with him. You awkwardly tried to assist, your head hitting the roof of the car. “For such an expensive car it sure is small, just like i’m sure your dick will be,” You hissed, the cool night air hitting your exposed slick. Sam ran two fingers up your folds, gathering your wetness. “You’re really turned on for a stranger. You really that lonely?” Sam jarred. You aggressively yanked at his belt, fiddling with the damned buckle. Sam continued rubbing your clit is teasingly slow circles, enjoying watching your face turn red. “I could say the same to you Sammy,” You argued weakly, helping the blonde shove down his pants and boxers. You whimpered as he rubbed faster circles around your clit, your anger facade faltering. You grabbed handfuls of his shirt, your insults replaced with moans. “Dont call me that. Shut up and moan for me,” Sam ordered darkly, a sadistic smile crawling up his lips.

It was like he read your body like a book, the cord inside of you growing too fast. You grabbed his wrist, the blonde refusing to slow down. “Holy fuck, gonna cum,” You whined, your warning only causing the sensation to stop. You immediately grew angry, glaring at the drug lord below you. “Bad sluts don’t get to cum, unless it’s on my dick of course,” He smirked up at you. You gritted your teeth, grabbing his length and aligning it with your entrance. You began to sink onto it, both of you letting out a moan of relief in unison. Your gummy walls were clinging to his cock, begging for more as you bottomed out. Sam bit his bottom lip, watching you eagerly swallow him whole. “Not so cocky now huh?” You giggled, earning an eye roll from Sam. He gripped your hips, before guiding you to bounce up and down on his cock. All cockiness and anger had faded away, the two of you moaning unison as his tip brushed against your g spot. You couldn’t control your sinful noises, the car windows beginning to fog as you tilted your head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, just like that babygirl, fuck,” Sam panted. For a brief second the drugs didn’t even matter, the big bad wolf facade you both demonstrated had vanished. Sam’s frustration towards Colby, your desperation to feel something after your break up. None of it mattered, all that mattered was his cock sliding in and out of you, abusing your sex as he pleased. “Feels so good Sammy,” You whined. Sam grunted, using one of his hands to slither up to your throat. He wrapped his fingers around your neck, squeezing at he fucked upwards into you. He could feel your walls squeeze his cock tighter, a mischievous grin growing. “You like that huh? Don’t call me Sammy,” Sam grunted. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, your thighs trembling. You brought your hand to Sam’s throat, mimicking his actions. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, a lazy laugh escaping your lips. You both were becoming spent, your orgasms growing nearer. “I’m so close, let me cum,” You pleaded, squeezing his neck. You maintained intense eye contact with him, the blonde obsessed with the way you moaned his name.

“Cum with me, cum now.”

His words sent you over the edge, the two of you a sweaty mess piled together. Both of your hands fell, the struggle for dominance now completely over. Sam peered at the exhausted girl laying on his shoulder, sighing when he came to a realization.

He’d have to come to Ohio more often.