#thank you so much for asking!!! 💖💖💖 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

urdreamydoodles · 2 days

Note

Hello!!! I just found your page and yes I already I love your work!!

If it’s no trouble, may I ask for X-men characters with a Pregnant s/o headcanons? Like how they would be when you tell them you’re pregnant, how they are when you’re pregnant, and how they’d be during labor! 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Could I also ask it be with: Logan, Scott, Gambit, Ororo, Colossus, and Kurt??

If not it’s totally okay! Have a great rest of your day 💖💖

X-Men x Pregnant!Reader

How they handle your pregnancy

Each X-Man reacts differently to your pregnancy, from initial surprise and joy to unwavering support during labor, reflecting their unique personalities and love for you.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Kurt Wagner, Colossus (+ my personal addition : Erik Lehnsherr, Wade Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Pietro Maximoff)

Thank you for saying that, hearing that my work is liked makes me really happy, thank you ♡ And it's not a trouble at all — love the prompt! — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

When you tell Logan you’re pregnant, his initial reaction is a mix of shock and silence. For a moment, he’s frozen in place, his gruff exterior cracking just enough to reveal how truly taken aback he is by the news. He’s been through so much, lost so many people, and had so many regrets in his life that the thought of bringing a child into this world overwhelms him. But after a long, quiet moment, his eyes soften, and he gently places a hand on your stomach, the roughness of his calloused palm contrasting with the tenderness in his gesture. His voice, usually gruff and low, is quiet when he says, "I’ll protect both of ya… no matter what."

During your pregnancy, Logan becomes fiercely protective. He’s always been the protective type, but now it’s ramped up to an entirely different level. He doesn’t let you do anything that might risk your health or the baby’s, even if it’s something small like lifting a grocery bag. He makes sure you’re comfortable, constantly checking in with you—though he tries to act like he’s not worried. You often catch him watching you, eyes filled with a mix of awe and uncertainty. He tries not to hover, but you can see how much he cares. The moment you’re uncomfortable, he��s there, ready to do anything to help. His biggest fear, though he never outright says it, is that something will happen to you or the baby, so he keeps an almost obsessive eye on both of your well-being.

When labor begins, Logan is a mess of emotions. He’s usually the calm in any storm, but seeing you in pain makes him feel helpless in a way he’s not used to. He holds your hand, trying to keep you calm, though his own heart races. "I’m here, darlin’. You’re strong. You got this," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your forehead, staying close, trying to mask his own panic. When the baby finally comes, and he hears that first cry, tears fill his eyes. He never thought he could experience something so beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Logan would quietly hold the baby, marveling at the tiny life you both created, knowing he’s going to protect this child with everything he has.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

Telling Remy you’re pregnant is like lighting a firework. He’s always been a charmer, quick with a grin and a flirtatious quip, but when the news sinks in, his eyes light up with uncontainable excitement. "Mon dieu… I gon’ be a papa?" he says in disbelief, his signature grin widening as he pulls you into his arms. His hands immediately find your stomach, even if there’s no sign of the baby yet, and he plants a loving kiss on your lips. Remy is the kind of man who loves with his whole heart, and now, the idea of a family with you makes him feel like the luckiest man alive.

Throughout the pregnancy, Remy is absolutely doting. He spoils you beyond belief, making sure you have everything you need. He constantly brings you little gifts—flowers, chocolates, or even things for the baby—and he can’t help but talk to your belly every chance he gets, whispering sweet nothings in French. "Cher bébé, you gon’ have de best life wit’ us," he coos. He’s also incredibly playful, making jokes to keep your spirits high during the more uncomfortable parts of the pregnancy. If you’re feeling tired or sick, he’s quick to comfort you, but he does it with his usual playful charm. "You look beautiful, ma chérie, even wit’ a lil’ bump," he teases, kissing your cheek. Remy’s energy makes the whole experience feel lighter, more fun, and less daunting.

During labor, Remy’s usual calm and collected demeanor falters. He’s still his charming self, but there’s a frantic edge to his words as he holds your hand. "You okay, chérie? I’m right here wit’ you," he reassures, though you can see the worry in his eyes. He’s not used to seeing you in pain, and it shakes him more than he thought it would. As the labor progresses, he stays by your side, whispering sweet encouragements in French and English, never letting go of your hand. When the baby finally arrives, he’s completely overwhelmed, tears of joy running down his face as he holds your child for the first time. "Our lil’ miracle," he says softly, his heart full to bursting with love for both you and the baby.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

When you tell Scott you’re pregnant, he’s stunned, standing still for a long moment as he processes the news. Scott, being the logical and responsible leader he is, has always thought about the future and the possibility of a family, but hearing it from you makes it real in a way that both excites and terrifies him. "We’re… we’re going to be parents?" he asks, his voice soft with disbelief before his arms wrap around you tightly. You can see the joy in his face, mixed with the weight of responsibility that’s already setting in. He’s already planning everything in his mind—how he’ll protect you, the future he’ll build for the three of you, ensuring that you and the baby are always safe.

Throughout your pregnancy, Scott is incredibly attentive and thoughtful. He’s the type to read all the parenting books, meticulously prepare for every scenario, and ensure that you’re comfortable and healthy at all times. He schedules every doctor’s appointment, makes sure you’re eating well, and insists that you take things easy. He’s also incredibly emotional during this time, though he tries to hide it. You often catch him looking at you with a softness in his eyes, one hand resting protectively on your stomach. "I love you so much," he says out of the blue one night, his voice filled with quiet awe. Scott takes everything seriously, and your pregnancy is no exception—he’s already planning how to be the best father he can be.

When the day of labor arrives, Scott is calm and composed, but you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. He’s a natural leader, but this is out of his control, and it scares him more than he’ll admit. He holds your hand the entire time, murmuring words of encouragement, but there’s a tightness in his voice that betrays his worry. "You’re doing great, we’re almost there," he says, though you can tell he’s just as nervous as you are. When the baby is born, Scott is overcome with emotion. He’s usually so controlled, but in this moment, tears stream down his face as he holds your newborn in his arms. "We did it," he whispers, looking between you and the baby with a sense of awe and love so profound it leaves him speechless.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

When you tell Ororo you’re pregnant, her reaction is calm yet filled with quiet joy. She has always been a steady presence, and that doesn’t change even in a moment as life-altering as this. You watch as her eyes widen slightly, and she takes a deep breath, letting it out with a smile that’s filled with nothing but love. "A child," she says softly, as if testing the words out on her lips before she steps closer, pulling you into a tender embrace. She kisses your forehead, her fingers gently brushing your stomach. "We will raise them together with the strength of the earth, the wind, and the skies," she whispers, her voice filled with a quiet reverence for this new journey you’re about to embark on together.

During the pregnancy, Ororo is a pillar of strength and grace. She watches over you with care, making sure you feel supported and at peace throughout. Her connection to nature allows her to sense even the smallest changes in your well-being, and she’s quick to help ease any discomfort you feel. She spends hours talking to your growing belly, whispering stories of the world, of the sky, and the beauty of the elements. Her presence is soothing, and she brings you peace in moments where the discomforts of pregnancy are hardest to bear. At night, she holds you close, her hands resting protectively on your stomach, often saying a quiet prayer to the earth for your safety. "You and our child are my heart," she says softly one evening as you drift off to sleep, her love for you as powerful as the storms she commands.

When the time comes for labor, Ororo is a calming force by your side. Even as the pain begins, she stays with you, her hand in yours, reminding you to breathe, to focus on the world around you. "Feel the wind, my love, let it guide you," she murmurs, her voice steady as she helps you through each contraction. You find yourself drawing strength from her presence, her deep connection to the elements grounding you. When the baby finally arrives, she cradles the tiny life in her arms with such tenderness that it brings tears to your eyes. "Welcome to the world, little one," she whispers, her eyes filled with awe and love. Ororo knows this is a moment of great power, not just in the birth of your child, but in the creation of a family bound by love and strength.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

When you tell Kurt you’re pregnant, his first reaction is pure, unfiltered joy. His golden eyes light up, and in an instant, he’s pulling you into a tight embrace, his tail curling around you protectively. "Mein Gott! You are serious, ja?" he asks, his excitement palpable. When you nod, he lets out a delighted laugh, teleporting you both into the air for a brief moment in his excitement before bringing you back down gently. He cups your face in his hands, pressing kisses all over your cheeks and lips, his happiness absolutely infectious. "I am going to be a papa?!" he repeats, as if he can’t quite believe it, but the pure joy on his face shows that he couldn’t be happier. He immediately begins to talk about your future together, about how he’ll be the best father, about how lucky the child will be to have you as their mother.

Throughout your pregnancy, Kurt is an absolute ball of energy and love. He’s always fussing over you, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you’re happy, and doing everything he can to make you smile. He talks to your belly constantly, telling your baby stories of his own childhood, sharing his love for adventure and his deep faith. "You will be loved, little one. So very loved," he whispers often, his tail lightly wrapping around you as he presses his head to your stomach. Despite his own rough upbringing, Kurt is determined to make sure your child is raised with nothing but love and joy. He’s so excited for every little milestone, constantly asking how you’re feeling, and making sure that you never feel alone or overwhelmed. He even starts knitting baby clothes in his spare time, determined to create something personal for your child.

When labor begins, Kurt is nervous but tries his best to stay calm for your sake. He teleports in and out of the room, fetching things, bringing you water, doing anything he can to help. "You are so strong, meine liebe, you’ve got this," he says, though you can see the nervous energy in him as he paces slightly. When things get intense, he stays by your side, holding your hand tightly, his usual calm demeanor replaced with pure awe at what’s happening. The moment the baby is born, Kurt is overwhelmed with emotion. Tears fill his golden eyes as he looks at the tiny life you’ve created together. "Our little miracle," he whispers in awe, his tail brushing gently against the baby’s tiny hand as he cradles them carefully. His heart is full, knowing that this is the start of a new, beautiful chapter for your family.

Piotr Rasputin (Colossus)

When you tell Piotr you’re pregnant, his first reaction is one of quiet shock. His gentle nature has always been a core part of who he is, but the idea of becoming a father leaves him momentarily speechless. He stares at you for a moment, as if processing the magnitude of what you just said. Then, slowly, a smile breaks across his face, and his massive arms gently pull you into a warm, protective embrace. "We are going to have a child?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with wonder. His metal form, cold to the touch, somehow feels comforting as he holds you close, his hands resting gently on your stomach. "I… I will do everything to protect you and our child," he promises, his deep voice filled with determination and love.

Throughout your pregnancy, Piotr becomes an even more protective and attentive partner. He’s already used to being careful with his strength around you, but now he’s even more cautious, always making sure you’re comfortable and safe. He spends hours drawing and painting, creating art that reflects the love and joy he feels for you and the baby. His gentle nature shines through as he constantly checks in with you, making sure you’re well-rested, eating enough, and not doing anything that could put strain on you or the baby. "You should rest, moya lyubov’," he says softly, offering you a cup of tea or a warm blanket whenever you look the least bit uncomfortable. He talks about the future often, about how he wants to raise the child with the same love and care his family gave him, how he wants to teach them to be strong but gentle, like him.

When labor begins, Piotr is a bundle of nerves beneath his calm exterior. His metal form shifts, and you can see the tension in his usually composed demeanor. He stays by your side, holding your hand gently, though you can tell he’s trying not to show just how worried he is. "I am here, love, you are so strong," he says softly, his voice a low rumble as he reassures you throughout the process. As the labor progresses, he’s there every step of the way, doing whatever he can to help. When the baby is finally born, Piotr is overwhelmed with emotion. He carefully cradles the tiny life in his large, metal arms, his eyes shining with tears as he looks at you with pure love. "Our family," he whispers, his deep voice filled with awe and devotion. "You have given me everything."

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

When you tell Erik you’re pregnant, his initial reaction is one of deep, contemplative silence. You watch as the weight of the news settles over him like a heavy cloak, and for a brief moment, there’s an unreadable look in his sharp eyes. He’s always been a man burdened by the past, his life filled with loss and pain. But then, his expression softens, and he reaches out to touch your face, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. "A child," he murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to believe it. Slowly, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. "We will give them the world," he promises, his voice low and filled with the intensity that only Erik can bring. Though you can tell the news has stirred up memories of his past, the joy he feels for this future with you is undeniable.

During the pregnancy, Erik becomes fiercely protective, bordering on overbearing at times. He’s always been a man who values control, and now that you’re carrying his child, that instinct is heightened tenfold. He monitors everything, making sure you’re safe, making sure you’re comfortable, and making sure nothing threatens you or the baby. His magnetic abilities become almost a subconscious part of how he protects you, moving objects out of your way before you even realize they’re there, adjusting the temperature of the room without a second thought. Despite his intensity, there’s a tenderness in the way he speaks to your belly, as though he’s already trying to form a connection with your unborn child. "You will be strong," he says one evening, his hand resting on your stomach. "I will make sure of it."

When labor begins, Erik is calm but incredibly focused. He’s been through many battles in his life, but this is something different—a battle of a more personal kind. He stays by your side, his hand gripping yours tightly, though you can see the tension in his jaw as he tries to remain composed. "You can do this, my love," he says, his voice steady despite the worry in his eyes. As the contractions grow stronger, he channels his abilities to make the environment as soothing as possible, dimming the lights, adjusting the metal fixtures in the room to make everything feel more comfortable for you. When the baby is finally born, Erik is silent for a long moment, staring at the tiny life you’ve both created. Then, without a word, he takes the child in his arms, his eyes filled with a rare vulnerability as he gazes down at them. "I never thought I would have this again," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

When you tell Wade you’re pregnant, his reaction is, unsurprisingly, over the top. He stares at you with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open comically for a moment before he suddenly breaks into a huge grin. "Are you serious?!" he shouts, throwing his arms in the air and spinning around in excitement. He grabs you and starts bouncing you up and down, all the while chattering on about how you’re going to have the coolest kid in the world. "Oh man, this is going to be awesome! Our little baby Wadelette, or Wadelino!" His excitement is infectious, and though his humor never stops, you can tell there’s genuine love and excitement behind his wild antics. He talks about everything from baby names to what kind of mini-costume the kid will wear, all while being completely and utterly himself.

During the pregnancy, Wade is a chaotic but devoted partner. He’s constantly hovering, making ridiculous jokes to keep your spirits up, and finding the weirdest ways to pamper you. "You’re eating for two now! Gotta keep that belly happy!" he’d say, handing you a tray of the strangest food combinations you’ve ever seen. Wade has a way of making even the most uncomfortable moments of pregnancy into something funny, but when the serious moments hit, he’s surprisingly thoughtful. He talks to your belly in exaggerated voices, telling the baby stories of his adventures and promising to be the best (and weirdest) dad ever. Though he can’t quite stop being himself, you know that beneath all the humor, Wade is completely committed to you and the baby.

When labor hits, Wade is... well, Wade. He’s running around like a madman, alternately panicking and cracking jokes to try and keep things light. "Okay, okay, I’ve got this! I’ve fought ninjas, I’ve blown up buildings, how hard can this be?!" he says, though the genuine concern in his eyes gives him away. As things progress, he becomes a little more serious, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement between his nervous ramblings. When the baby is finally born, Wade is struck speechless for once in his life. He stares down at the tiny bundle in awe, his usual mask of humor slipping as he gently takes the baby in his arms. "Holy crap," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "We made a tiny person." He looks at you with wide eyes, his usual bravado replaced with pure, unfiltered love.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

When you tell Wanda you’re pregnant, her initial reaction is one of quiet, overwhelmed emotion. You watch as her eyes fill with tears, her hands trembling as she reaches out to touch your face. "A baby?" she whispers, her voice filled with disbelief. For Wanda, this news is a dream she never thought possible, a hope she had long since buried beneath the weight of her complicated life. She pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you close as she tries to process the enormity of what this means for the both of you. Her powers flicker around her, responding to her heightened emotions, but she calms herself quickly, pressing her forehead to yours. "I never thought I would have this chance," she says softly. "But now… now we can have a family."

Throughout the pregnancy, Wanda is a bundle of emotions—both excitement and worry. She’s incredibly protective, her powers always at the ready to keep you and the baby safe, but there’s an underlying fear that something could go wrong. Despite her concerns, she embraces the experience fully, surrounding you with warmth and love. She spends hours researching everything about pregnancy, reading books, and using her magic to ensure you and the baby are healthy. She talks to your belly every night, using her magic to create little illusions of what she imagines your child might look like. "You will be so loved," she whispers to your stomach, her hands gently resting over the growing life inside you. Despite the fears that linger in the back of her mind, Wanda finds joy in the journey, grateful for the chance to experience this with you.

When labor begins, Wanda is nervous but focused. She holds your hand, her magic swirling around the room in gentle pulses, trying to ease your pain and keep you calm. "You’re so strong," she says, her voice soft but full of conviction. "I’m here with you." As the contractions intensify, Wanda uses her powers to help as much as she can without interfering too much, guiding you through the pain with a steady hand and reassuring words. When the baby is finally born, Wanda is overwhelmed with emotion. She cradles the newborn in her arms, tears streaming down her face as she gazes at the life you’ve created together. "Our child," she whispers, her voice filled with awe. "I can’t believe it… they’re perfect."

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

When you tell Pietro you’re pregnant, his reaction is fast—literally. He zooms around the room at breakneck speed, his excitement palpable as he tries to process the news. "Wait, wait, wait—seriously? I’m going to be a dad?!" he exclaims, coming to a sudden stop in front of you with wide eyes and a grin that stretches from ear to ear. He’s so thrilled that he can barely stand still, constantly moving from one side of the room to the other, muttering excitedly to himself about baby names, future races, and all the things he’ll teach your child. "They’re gonna be fast, I just know it!" he says, already imagining a little speedster following in his footsteps. His excitement is contagious, and though he can be overwhelming at times, you know that Pietro’s joy is genuine and heartfelt.

During the pregnancy, Pietro is both attentive and hilariously impatient. He’s constantly zipping around, checking on you, fetching things, and making sure you’re comfortable. "You need anything? Water? Snacks? Foot rub?" he asks at lightning speed, already halfway out the door before you can answer. His energy is boundless, and though it can be a bit much at times, you appreciate how much he cares. Pietro is always talking to your belly, encouraging the baby to hurry up and grow faster. "Come on, little one, we’re all waiting for you!" he says with a grin, pressing a kiss to your stomach. Despite his impatience, Pietro is incredibly sweet, and he does everything he can to make sure you feel loved and supported throughout the entire process.

When labor begins, Pietro is a whirlwind of nervous energy. He’s constantly pacing, moving from one side of the room to the other, his speed betraying his anxiety. "You’re doing great, babe, really great!" he says, though his voice is tinged with nervousness. He tries to stay calm for your sake, but you can tell he’s on edge, desperate for everything to go smoothly. When the baby is finally born, Pietro’s world comes to a complete standstill for the first time in his life. The moment they place the baby in his arms, everything around him slows, and for once, he’s not in a rush to go anywhere. He stares down at your newborn child, his usual cocky smirk replaced with a look of pure awe and disbelief. "Wow," he whispers, his voice soft and reverent. "I… we made this." His hands, usually moving a mile a minute, are gentle as he cradles the baby close, eyes wide with wonder as he examines every little detail of their face.

324 notes · View notes

eupheme · 3 days

Note

Your best friend Wade who always jokingly flirts with you the way he flirts with everyone - and you hate it because you have a real genuine crush on him and the flirting doesn’t mean anything… does it? It has to take a mutual friend to be like “oh my god he’s in love with you and doesn’t know how to tell you, so that’s why he’s always joking about boners” (please and thank u ilu 😌)

omg avo this kicked my ass, the amount of pining for Wade as he (jokingly, you think) flirts with you would be off the charts 🥲💖 I wrote a little drabble with how that might go, I love you and your ideas - thanks so much for sending this to me!!!

— cause every time we touch (i get this feeling)

best friend!wade wilson x mutant!reader

<1k | flirting, dirty jokes, heaps of pining

Blow job. Leg Spreader. Slippery Nipple. Liquid Viagra. Sex on the Pool Table. Pink Silk Panties.

Each time Wade comes into Sister Margaret’s - which is four or five times a week - he asks for dirtier and more obscure drinks.

"Wishful thinking", he tells you, each time.

Even with the roll of your eyes, you have to admit that it keeps you on your toes. That you look forward to seeing your best friend so often - tamping down the jolt in your belly, night after night.

Reminding yourself that yes, he got you this job, but he's not here to see you.

That this always was his spot.

It had been an easy sell. Used to working overnight shifts - security, back then. After the disaster with Weasel, they had been desperate for a replacement. Wade had come to you immediately, dropping to his knees as you opened the door.

Winning you over with a "you could literally get paid to hang out with me. How is this not a win-win-win? How is this not your dream job?"

And here, you didn't have to hide what or who you were. Reading feelings and intent were a bonus, when a handshake could tell you everything you needed to know. Their feelings spilled as easily as they were written, when you were negotiating contracts.

It also helped in-house. A human lie detector. Able to break up fights, settle arguments. A party trick, when things got slow. The regulars trying to get things past you - tales based in truth spun tall, seeing when you'd catch them.

Wade never plays, but you think that's because you know him so well.

And what seems like a sell, quickly evolves into more. Warping, as days pass. Spending more time with a crush sounds tempting, on paper.

The reality is something else.

Yes, there is a seat saved for him at the bar. Literally saved - his name scrawled across the vinyl, and you still haven't been able to scrub it out. Stopping by at all hours to chit chat.

Teasing you - how he's "so glad he doesn't have to stalk you at your old job anymore". An over-the-top sigh about being relieved that you're safe now - in your new job, surrounded by mercs.

Begging for the best job. Puppy-dog eyes. Fake coupons for favors that would make a sinner blush. Crossing his heart that you could have anything, and he means anything you wanted, if he could only get "that thing involving the murder clowns".

It's enough to make you hope.

Later, at home - in the early hours as you're pulled under. Replaying his comments. The filthy jokes and the shameless flirting - wondering if that's all they were.

Wondering if he'd be waiting for you tomorrow, perched on his stool.

But there's the downfall.

You see him - but you also see him with everyone else.

The charming smiles. Head thrown back in a laugh as he works the room. A friend to all, and as you watch him - perched on the knee of a goddess of mercenary as he yaps away, you can't help the swift current of jealousy.

Of foolishness.

It's enough that you're almost regretting agreeing.

Your mood is sullen, as you wipe down glasses. Trying to ignore the ache when you see him flirt. That realization that the something special you thought he had with you, might just be a part of his personality.

And when Dopinder shuffles from the back with more ice for the chiller behind the bar, it only takes one look at you before he's sighing.

"Not again. Please, I am begging you. I cannot take more of your yearning.”

Your lips quirk. Hadn't realized you'd become that obvious. He'd become your go-to, in the long hours you spend together behind the bar. Pinkie-promising not to say a word - but you always thought you'd had a decent handle on your expressions.

"We don't have to talk about it." Your hands raise, placating, "Just let me yearn in peace. I'll get over it."

"You know that almost half of what DP makes a month is funneled back in here, right?" He gives you a long look, "Before you, I saw him once a week. I had to beg him to come get his paycheck."

Doubt still lingers.

"Doesn't mean anything," You shrug - eyes dropping, as you help him restock.

"You do not think Mr. Pool worships the ground you walk on?"

The intensity of his question has you side-eying him, "I mean... I don't think he sees me that way. He acts the same with me as he does with everyone."

“Sure.” He huffs, leaning against the bartop, just as Wade plunks down in the seat in front of you.

“God, I haven’t been over here in like-,” Wade checks a fake watch, “Fifteen minutes? Feels like longer. Felt like a fucking hour.”

Pivoting back and forth on the stool as he adds, “Is it possible for people to get separation anxiety? Or is that just dogs? Is this how Dogpool feels when I’m gone?”

You just manage to catch the last bit, as Dopinder slips away.

“Exactly the same.”

Tonight, Wade is the first person that sits down in front of you for the game.

A frown, as you peel off your gloves - your barrier, to the outside world.

His own already bare - sliding back-and-forth over his suit-clad thighs. You'd mistake it for nerves, if you weren't so sure Wade had never been nervous in his life.

"What's your story, Wilson?" You ask, "Hope you brought something good."

"Oh, it's a whopper. A real fucking doozy. Apparently, you're not gonna believe it. " His laugh is a little too loud, and your eyes narrow, "But let's give it a whirl, okay?"

There's a flicker, behind the bar. A sideways look towards the bar, where Dopinder's hands cover his face. You don't need to touch him to read the guilt written across his features - the way he almost flinches, under your glare.

You're going to fucking kill him.

The sound of your name brings you back.

“Ready to play?”

Wade's hands rest face-up on the table - an offering. For once in his life he almost looks serious, and it’s enough to bring you back.

A breath - before you align your own. Letting them drop down, skin mapping against skin for the first time.

It floods through you.

The lick of heat that almost feels like a caress. A deep yearn that causes your own heart to twinge, layering with the feeling of need. Desire. Want.

It's familiar. It mirrors something deep inside, something that’s become as much a part of you as flesh and bone.

Oh.

A laugh slips from you, breaking the beat of silence. Relief tinged with disbelief - your smile stretching wide.

“Yeah?” You breathe, softening.

“Yeah.” He laughs, “Thought I was being obvious. But you are pound-cake dense, apparently.”

Hands flipping over, to entwine between yours. Letting that feeling inside him linger, settling warm and comforting over your bare skin.

“But I like that about you.” Another huff of a laugh, “Like all of you, really. Always have.”

It makes your heart ache. In a way that finally feels full, feels right - instead of the near-agony you’ve been bearing for weeks.

Only you could be such an idiot.

thanks for reading! 💖

#wade wilson x reader #wade wilson x you #deadpool x reader #deadpool x you #requests #avocado-writings #eupheme answers

323 notes · View notes

savejudyblog · 2 days

Text

It's my BIRTHDAY and my only wish is to be SAFE‼️🎁

Today is my birthday, but instead of celebrating with cake and laughter, I’m holding a silicone bar (yeah, I couldn't find a real candle) with only one wish in my heart: to be safe.

Safety has become the greatest gift I could ever ask for, something so many of us take for granted, but for me and my family, it's a daily struggle. We live in constant uncertainty.

I feel I lost much weight 💔 do you think so???

Every day, I hope for peace, not just for myself but for everyone affected by the hardships of c🥺nflict.

My family’s journey has been a difficult one, and we are reaching out to the world for help, for a chance to survive and rebuild.

Your support - whether by sharing our story, offering resources, or even the smallest d💖nation - means the world to us.

VETTED by the butterfly effect project 🦋 line #223.

Please help spread the word so that one day, this candle will represent a light of hope, peace, and safety.

Thank you for being with me on this day, and for standing with my family during this time of need.

@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe @sar-soor @rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako @feluka @appsa @anneemay-blog @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria @mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @7bittersweet @tortiefrancis @ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchameleon @dykesbat @aristotel @komsomolk @neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts @watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @determinate-negation @deepspaceboytoy @paper-mario-wiki @kibumkim @neechees @socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @himejoshikaeya @rooh-afza

#support #warzone #birthday #birthday wishes #fundraiser #savejudyblog #save gaza #save palestine #family #familia #gaza plays peace #hope #f1 #illustration #artists on tumblr #tumblr fyp #formula 1

233 notes · View notes

lnfours · 2 days

Note

Hello! How are you? ❤️ Hope it’s all good on your side 😊

Can you write something with the prompt “ absentmindedly playing with their hair at all times”?

Thank you! 💖

i'm good, love! thank you for asking! i hope you're well, too! :)

also, i am a puddle on the floor thinking about this. i hope you enjoy!! <3

prompt: absentmindedly playing with their hair at all times

blurb day to cure my writers block

your cheek was squished against the soft pillow, hand tucked underneath the cool pillow case as his eyes danced along the features of your face, lit up prettily from the morning sun glowing softly through the curtains.

a few stray strands of hair had fallen in your face in your sleep. his fingers tempted to reach out and brush them away, but he hesitated, not wanting to disturb your much needed sleep. he knew how overworked you were, and he'd be damned if he got in the way of that.

but once he started, he couldn't stop. fingers twirling the silky soft strands between his fingers. your unbothered sleeping state let him know he could continue and not have it wake you up, so he did. reaching for his phone on the nightstand with one hand as the other played gently with your hair.

and after about an hour when you finally started stirring awake, he tilted his head towards you. smiling when your pretty eyes met his, a sleepy grin spreading across your face.

"morning," your voice was soft, still trying to find it after the restful night's sleep.

"good morning," he smiled, shifting so you could take your usual place wrapped around him. your leg intertwining with his, head moving to lay on his chest. his hand sat on the back of your head, fingers still raking through your hair as you squinted your eyes at his phone screen, the two of you laughing at the videos that popped up on his timeline together. your daily morning ritual.

198 notes · View notes

cloudnineminusnine · 1 day

Note

How would the Destined One and Wukong (separate) react to you asking to sit on their face?😏😏🙂‍↕️

P.s- Love your blog here on Tumblr, I do sincerely hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, only answer if you wish of course💖

oh, it's fine anon! it doesn't make me uncomfortable, not at all. i apologize in advance for any spell mistakes as i'm still learning to write in english.

without further ado, here you go! (and nanashiii thank you once again, partner in crime 😶‍🌫️)

!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD SO MINORS GET OUT!

in both situations you're in the middle of things with them. afab reader!

♡ sun wukong got your sweaty body caged by his hairy arms, pressing your arched back on the smooth surface with the weight of his own body, lips avidly leaving trails of his devotion over your exposed neck and chest — when they weren't busy muffling your needy murmurs.

you can barely take your stare away from his lustful eyes, piercing you so hungrily "please, i- let me sit in your face, please!" a hot breath blows past your lips, heavy with so much desire that it makes you feel dizzy. he's shivering above your body, clenching his jaw to suppress a scandalous moaning from escaping.

"you...!" oh, so that was the reason you wouldn't take your eyes off him, getting all worked up everytime his eyes rolled to the back of his skull in pleasure. he knew you were up to something, acting weird somehow, spacing out. fine, he gives you the permission to turn that humble wish of yours into reality. it would be kind of the same as eating you out, rigth? so no complaints on his side.

for the first time ever you would be in charge, literally on top of him. he seems enthusiastic about the idea, amusement painted all over his face, and a smug grin showing up when you slowly push him backwards, crawling over him. he tries his best to not burst his load as soon as your hips are hovering his face, so close that your scent impregnate his senses, luring him in.

almost at your limit, there's no time for you to lose with being ashamed. your trembling knees sit around his head and the touch of his big rough hands find it's way immediately up your tensed thights, smoothing your skin lovingly. he's got the perfect balance in between calm and restlessness.

"now do it, love. sit on my face with all that you have, just as you want." he encourages you, and there's a faint hint of a plead in his tone that makes your insides squint. you can't control yourself when he's talking to you like that, staring at you like that. he looked totally blissed out. brown pupils filled with adoration being eclipsed by the heavy eyelids.

you do as said, crying out loud when you meet the hasty tongue halfway. he goes in like he's in a hurry, not able to wait anymore, not wanting to, giving in to the temptation of being drowned by your heated core.

and it was kind of different than eating you out. but so, so much better. the heaviness of your naughty hips moving against his mouth and the warmth of your soft thighs around his sensitive ears, i'ts so hot. he goes feral, immobilizing your legs with the tight grip of his hands to keep you in place, wet tongue burning and messing each and every spot he can reach as your juices drip by the corners of his lips.

you can sense his non stop moans vibrating deliciously through your soaked walls, making it hard for you to not just give in and cum all over his face. you can't just yet. you need him inside.

some time is needed for the both of you to calm down, to climb down from the top of a iminent climax. the overwhelming feeling making your legs so weak that you simply sit above his chest, delighted by the sight ahead.

he looks so fucked out, like never before, and just the image is enough to pull a painful moan out of you. panting deeply in the middle of horny grunts, you can see those beautiful eyes of him blurred by lust, yet he still smiles like the cocky monkey he is — vestiges your nectar glistering over his lips and chin.

you can tell it's not enough for him by the way he nips at your inner thighs with his teeth, slowly lapping each bite right after, hairy hands easing carefully your petrifying tension until you feel like feeding him again.

♡ the so called destined one, less composed than he normally is when it comes to you. whenever you two start to make out he find a way to have your body closer, to the point of almost fusing in one single being. he's always on the verge of desperation, wanting to make sure that you feel pampered, worshipped — and of course you take advantage of the fact that he clearly has a sweet spot for you.

"you know, i..." sultrily you whisper against his lips, making him fidget under you, gulping down with anticipation"i wonder how it feels to sit in your face" faking a innocent tone you bat your lashes smoothly at him, earning a frustrated, low mumble in response. you know just how to melt him.

mesmerized by your lustful hungry eyes he surrenders himself readily, lying on his back as soon as your hand push him to. you travel up his body with your lips first, kissing everywhere in an attempt to calm him down a little — his breath has gotten rigged to the point of coloring his handsome face in scarlet red. so adorable.

he begs you silently with his endearing, pretty brown eyes, shivering under the weight of your body and words, barely breathing cause the air around you suddenly feels so dense.

"is that alright? would you like that, sweetie?" you lick his neck intensely, causing visible chills to run through his torso. he's nothing but a mess, losing himself to desire so easily.

moaning wholeheartedly, he break down from his silent facade. big calloused hands make their way to your waist so he can press you down on him. he so want it. "yes, please-... please do it!" in a painful expression his brows frown, accompanied right away by that obscenely raspy voice, causing you to throb eagerly.

one last prolonged kiss to his jawline, inhaling his fruity scent harshly, and then you're ready to go. he watches intently as your hips approach his face, your smaller hands guiding his to your thighs — wich causes him to pulsate down bellow. he feels like a vulnerable prey ready to be engulfed by you, and he loves it.

"you can touch me as much as you want, alright?" as you hover his mouth you let go of his agitated hands which waste no time, squeezing, kneading and caressing your responsive body, burning over your sensitive skin.

he goes for it thirstily, it feels like the it's first time he's exploring you, but he knows just where to touch and what to do, feeling you up in way that makes you lose a bit of your balance, immediately sitting right on his face. you try your best do keep the surprised scream to yourself, firmly biting down on you lip. a hoarse grunt resonates through your insides and he presses you so hard that his wet muscle seems to go deeper than it would usually.

he's not much skilled and that's exactly why everything with him gets much more intense. it's all about how good he wants to make you feel, and how needy he turns to be in the process.

the more you spill over his mouth the more he wants to drown himself in, the harder he squeeze your hips and waist. he needs more, he wants to get fully drunk on you.

you're on the verge of cumming already, lightheaded, sweaty and panting, but you can't stop riding him — and he's taking it so, so good.

#black myth wukong #sun wukong x reader #the destined one x reader

92 notes · View notes

typing-catastrophe · 17 hours

Note

I have been so cooked for this man lately that I need to talk about him— I genuinely think that with a ADHD/autism/AuDHD partner Ford takes notes on your stims and quirks, even before any serious relationship. Just little things like “waves hands when excited :)” and “prefers baggy sweaters” just like a little way of understanding you better 🥺💖

yesss definitely! as an AuDHDer who stims a lot myself, this is everything!! jfskhfshsk

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

"Aaaahhhhh oh myy-" the rest of what you were saying was incomprehensible because the words slurred together in an excited squeal. A gleeful expression upon your face, you waved and shook your hands in front of your body, then pressed them over your mouth, to stifle another squeal.

Ford smiled to himself as he watched you from the other side of the room, where he propped his notebook open to scribble something down.

"Heeyyyyy Grunkle Ford, watcha got there?" Mabel's voice rang out right beside him.

He snapped the book shut and whipped his head around.

"Mabel!"

"Waves hands when excited." she cited what she had just read, "Were you talking about-"

"No, I was certainly not!" Ford said, while his cheeks started to turn a deep red colour.

"Are you suuuure? Because to me it looks like you diiiid." she said, a cheeky grin on her face and dragging some of the vowels.

"You are mistaken, dear child. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." he excused himself and stood up, holding the notebook close to him.

Without letting her get another word in, he moved past her and made his way into his study.

There, he propped open the notebook to the page he'd just added a new note onto.

- likes to hum when no one is around - seems to prefer more loose fitting clothes. possibly because the don't restrict movement as much - will unconsciously play and fidget with any jewellery they're wearing - sorts and eats their food in a particular order - would rather not eat at all than something not appealing - skin irritating clothing causes great discomfort. remove tags!! - wants to talk but holds back. encouraging them has positive effect - avoids eye contact but will look at faces when the person isn't looking at them - do not touch without warning and do not force contact! expressed great discomfort to me after being forced to physical contact by someone else - repeating phrases and noises (quite endearing) - easily startled by sudden and loud noises, as well as irritated by high pitched ones, almost too quite to hear - shows behaviours similar to felines. has stated that they would be delighted to posses the ability to purr (he would be delighted too)

Ford smiled as he looked up and leaned back. He really hoped Mabel hadn't seen too much, otherwise she might figure out how interested in you he really was. And we wasn't sure if he was ready for that.

For now he would be very much content continuing to dreamily gaze over at you and notice all the little things, so he could understand you better.

Maybe one day he could work up the courage to ask you out.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated

75 notes · View notes

ticklygiggles · 3 days

Text

A snowman, a crow and a kitten | Sylus, Zayne x fem!reader [n$fw]

Commissioned by @otomiyaa

A/N: BABYYYY thank you so much for your kind suppoooort 💕❤️💖 I'm sorry it took me ages to finish dkfndknff I decided to write this in first person to go along with the game, I hope you liiiike it. I personally don't know how to feel about it dkdndkdb anyways thank you so much love 💕 I hope you enjoy this! 💞💓💖

Summary: You're simply their little toy.

Words: 3k+

His hands on my body were like a shower of sparks, each one exploding on my skin in a flash of pleasure. I felt like I was floating in a sea of sensations, without control, without direction, just going with the flow. His fingers were everywhere, caressing my skin like feathers, light, yet persuasive. My mind would cloud, my breathing would quicken, and my body would surrender, giving in to the sensations.

Within a second his hands were squeezing my hips, his thumbs digging into my bones, making me arch my back and gasp between raucous laughs. The next second, his fingers found the warmth under my arms and wiggled them playfully against the very center of my armpits, making me cry out with joy, tears streaming down my face.

How long had he been tickling me? A few minutes? Hours? Days? I didn't know and I didn't care, because I was addicted to that feeling of pleasure that was building up between my legs, making me moan loudly and freely.

"Will it be your laughter or your moans that will make the neighbors complain about the noise?” I could barely hear his delicious, deep voice over the incessant noise escaping from between my lips. A noise somewhere between a laugh, a gasp, a moan, and a sob. Something that didn't sound like me at all.

My hands desperately clung to his wrists, trying to pull away his hands that slowly immersed me in a whirlwind of pleasure and sensations that made my brain short-circuit.

“Do you want me to stop?" Zayne asked, his body on top of mine, keeping me pinned against the couch, his lips caressing my ear, making me shiver and causing my skin to prickle. My mind was screaming 'yes! I want you to stop! I can't stand it another second', but my head shook from side to side vigorously, even though my chest was already hurting from the lack of oxygen and the muscles of my stomach and sides were burning.

His soft laugh made me shiver. "Good girl." Zayne kissed my earlobe before pulling back, as if to admire the state I was in. I felt even more heat rising to my cheeks from my neck. I knew I didn't look at all attractive right now. I was probably as red as a cherry, with tears streaming down my cheeks. I also felt a trickle of saliva escaping from my huge forced smile and falling down my chin. Not charming at all, and yet, Zayne stared at me as a predator would look at prey. His green eyes darkened with lust, his tongue licking his lips and his cheeks flushed.

Who would have thought that tickling me would cause such a turn on in Zayne? I could feel his hard cock against my clothed pussy and I moaned, feeling like I was going crazy.

“Z-Zayne, please!” I sobbed between laughs. "P-Please!”

“Hmm? What do you want, little tickle toy?” I sobbed out a few more words with difficulty, for my laughter would not cease. “I cannot hear you. Would you stop laughing?”

“I c-cahan't, I-"

“Ah, so you were busy.”

My laugh caught in my throat. Zayne and I both quickly looked towards the door and my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when I saw who was entering my house.

“S-Sylus?! W-What are you doing-”

“I sent Mephisto to check on you, but you didn't open the window. I see why now.”

Sylus chuckled, looking at me, then at Zayne. His eyes moving to the hands under my arms and the position Zayne and I were in. I froze, not knowing what to do. Zayne looked at my guest with a raised eyebrow and seemed confused as well. I wanted the earth to swallow me up.

“A little crow came to say hello, it seems.” Zayne's voice was too calm, a chill ran down my spine.

Sylus smirked. “I came to check on my kitten, I thought she was going to be bored, but I see she's in good company.”

“Yes. You can leave now.”

“I don't wanna,” Sylus said, finally, finally, closing the door behind him. “Besides, you're doing it all wrong.”

“Excuse me?”

My heart raced as I watched Sylus approach us. My hands that were clinging to Zayne's shoulders were suddenly grabbed tightly and placed high above my head. I squealed and arched my back, my breath hitching in my throat as I looked up at Sylus. He looked at me with a mischievous smile and eyes shining with mischief.

“She likes being pinned down,” Sylus explained, as if I wasn't there between the two. “She loves having no escape from her tickles, don't you, kitten?” My only response was a whimper and Sylus took it as a yes, of course. “Tell you what, Zayne. Why don't I stay up here for a while.” Zayne arched an eyebrow. “And you can do whatever you want down there.”

Sylus jerked his chin towards my legs and Zayne looked down, his eyes widening for a second before his fingers touched my still covered pussy. I moaned, bucking my hips up.

“You're leaking,” Zayne mumbled and I gasped, looking at the tips of his fingers. Zayne looked between my legs for a moment and then he looked up at Sylus. “Fine.”

My eyes widened as Sylus let out a deep chuckle. “We'll take turns, then.”

In an instant, their hands were on me. I tensed thinking they were going to tickle me, but to my horror, Zayne hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and underwear and pulled them down. I squealed, bringing my legs together to hide my pussy, but Zayne grabbed my knees and easily spread my legs apart, completely exposing me to him.

Meanwhile Sylus grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it off, exposing my breasts. Unlike my shorts and panties, the shirt only reached my elbows and a heavy gasp escaped my mouth when I felt Sylus sitting on my arms. My eyes moved from Zayne to Sylus and back again.

My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and I was only able to say something when Zayne suddenly lowered his head between my legs. I moaned and shivered as I felt Zayne's warm lips on the inside of my left thigh, he trailed kisses from my knee to my groin and my breath caught in my throat when I felt his lips pressing on my pussy.

I moaned Zayne's name, arching my back a little and closing my eyes. Zayne kissed me again and I shivered in pleasure once more and moaned softly. His next kiss was directly on my clit, he had separated my lips to discover that little spot and as he pressed his mouth against it, I felt like I was going to cum just like that. His tongue played with my clit for a second, before it slid all over my pussy, tasting my juices before returning to my clit.

“Oh, Zayne!” I cried, moaning and writhing as his tongue circled my hard clit. My nipples hardened and my skin covered in goosebumps. His tongue licked, fluttered and pressed against my clit mercilessly, making me let out loud sounds of pleasure. “I'm g-going to cum! Nghh!” He sucked on it, holding my legs that rested over his shoulders to keep me in place.

It felt so good, my eyes crossed as I felt that tingle of my upcoming orgasm, my legs shook, but I had forgotten about Sylus… until I felt his fingers in my armpits.

A loud laugh bubbled out of me, I pulled at my arms desperately, trying to get them out from under Sylus, but it was impossible. His agile and light fingers buried themselves in my armpits, wiggling, poking, squeezing, prodding- just every single thing he knew would make me laugh in hysterics.

“Sylus!” I squealed, feeling the tingles of my climax fading away. “S-Stohohop! PLEHEHEASE!”

“Oh c'mon, don't act as if you are not enjoying yourself, sweetie.” I shook my head, but groans began to filter through my laughter and my cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. “You're such a weird little miss,” he chuckled. “Getting off by getting tickled? That is certainly something you don't hear all the time.”

I shook my head again, trying to grit my teeth to stop my laughter, but then Sylus increased the speed of his tickling and I could only howl in hysterics. When I thought I would go crazy from the tickling in my armpits, suddenly Sylus' fingers moved to my nipples and I moaned as he squeezed and flicked them. My hips circled and I grind harder against Zayne's mouth; he barely flinched while I was being tickled, I just felt his fingers digging a little deeper into my thighs, trying to keep me still.

“Y-Yes! F-Fuck yes! F-Faster, Zayne, please. Fa- ahahaha!” Again the stupid tickling under my arms. I groaned in frustration, but then started laughing out loud. “Sylus, pl-please! DOHOHON'T!”

“Look how much you're grinding against Zayne,” Sylus purred. “You are such a weird one.”

I hated that his teasing, although humiliating, made me feel even hornier; my moans getting deeper and louder, mingling with my hysterical laughter and the squeals that escaped my mouth. I felt hot all over my body. The fingers digging under my arms and into my thighs; Sylus teasing my nipples, Zayne eating me out- it all just felt too much.

Soon my legs started to shake as Sylus’s fingers did a weird dance, first tickling my armpits and then teasing my nipples, back and forth, back and forth. Zayne on the other hand, pushed two fingers inside me, hooking them up and touching that tender spot within me while his tongue circled faster and harder around my clit. The tingling came back, my breath became erratic, my moans desperate and as my eyes rolled back into my skull, I finally reached that wonderful peak, letting myself fall from the edge into a sea of pleasure that made my whole body tremble like crazy.

Tingly sparks washed over me and I even forgot to think, to breathe, my mind went blank and it seemed like I had been suspended in a subspace of satisfaction… until my body started to come back to his senses and the sensations immediately overwhelmed me, making me shriek, scream in desperation.

Sylus was still very busy tickling me under my arms while Zayne kept using his tongue on my pussy while his fingers pressed and rubbed that delicate spot inside me. I was going crazy, in my head it seemed like I could hear a noise like static, I couldn't think of anything else but what those two were doing to me. My skin felt a little uncomfortable, wet with a light layer of sweat, sticking to the couch. I felt exhausted, I couldn't defend myself... and I didn't want to.

“Zayne.” I could barely hear Sylus's voice over my screams and hysterical laughter and some pleas that made no sense, neither to them nor to me.

“Hmm?”

“Are you having fun there? She already cum, so I think it's my turn.”

Zayne finally stopped, leaving my pussy pulsing and clenching. “You said you wanted her breasts.”

“And I also said we would share.” Sylus moved his hands down to my ribs and I arched my back, begging for him to stop, but he didn't hear me, or rather, he pretended not to hear me. “Stop acting like a spoiled child, Zayne, and move your ass up here.”

The tickling finally stopped and I went limp against the couch. My body was twitching, my pussy clenching, my armpits and ribs titillating with the residual tickles. I groaned, letting out a sigh when Sylus let go of my arms, but my body didn't move at all. Was I that tired? No, I just... didn't want them to stop yet. I opened my eyes, my vision blurred by tears, and looked at them both and brows furrowed in disappointment

Sylus laughed, his voice echoing through my small apartment. "Why are you making that face? Weren't you asking us to stop, kitten?” Sylus positioned himself between my legs, making me gasp. “Now you want to continue? You're a very indecisive little lady, aren't you?" His huge hands caressed my thighs, grabbing my leg behind my knee and putting it over his shoulder. He was smirking down at me, raising an eyebrow, waiting for my answer. “So?”

I swallowed hard and tensed when I felt Zayne sitting on my arms. I whimpered, looking at them both again.

“Should we stop…”

“... Or continue?”

I whined, my body bouncing. “J-Just d-do i-iiit! I d-don’t- ack! Ahahahaha!”

I was surprised at how different the tickling was from both of them. Sylus was a bit rougher, not to the point of pain, but enough to make my sensitive skin turn red within seconds. He liked to dig his fingers in my skin, teasing my muscles and making me jump. Zayne, on the other hand, was a little gentler, his fingers fluttering against my armpits. Drawing random shapes with his delicate fingertips, scratching my skin, poking me, scribbling– just any touch that made my skin cover in goosebumps as I laughed and laughed and laughed.

I jumped with a small scream when I felt Sylus grab my hips and I begged between giggles that he wouldn't tickle me there, but he didn't do it, instead, he grabbed me firmly and my eyes widened as I felt his dick entering me, fast and hard.

“Sylus!” I gasped, lifting my head to see that he had just pulled his dick out, his pants still on.

“You'll hurt her.” I heard Zayne said, his hands stopping.

“I won't,” Sylus answered with a growl; his eyes fluttering closer as he got used to my pussy… and I tried to get used to his huge cock.

He filled me so nicely. His warmth made me shudder, his tip immediately hitting that sweet spot, making me cross my eyes in ecstasy. Sylus chuckled after just a few seconds and when I looked at him, he was smirking down at me, making me moan and jerk my hips slightly.

“Do you want me to move, kitten?”

I nodded desperately, opening my mouth and choking on my saliva. Sylus chuckled lowly, and I felt his cock moving out of me before he thrust hard into me, our bodies making a 'slap!' sound that echoed throughout the house. I gasped, arching my back and throwing my head back. He rammed into me again and I moaned loudly as he began to pick up speed, thrusting his cock into me again and again until my moans turned into screams of pleasure.

“F-Faster! Pl-Plea- Faster!”

I gasped as I felt Zayne's cold hand grip my jaw and twist my head to the side. My eyes widened as I saw his massive erection milliliters away from my face.

“Be a good girl and open your pretty mouth.”

I whimpered, but I obediently did what I was told. I opened my mouth wide and salivated at the slight salty taste of Zayne's precum. He let me get used to his length, first inserting the tip, my tongue licking up all the precum, making him furrow his brow and breathe raggedly. He then pushed himself deeper and deeper into my throat; I was so used to having him inside me that I no longer felt nauseous from having him all the way in. Zayne threw his head back, exhaling and shuddering. I tightened my throat and he growled, pushing his hips back before he rammed into my throat.

Tears were streaming down my face as they both used me however they wanted and my arousal continued to grow as I felt them filling my pussy and mouth. Sylus moaned deeply, without shame. He liked to show how good I made him feel and he said it without thinking:

“Ah! What a g-good girl, so t-tight for me. You really like my cock, kitten? Y-You're clenching me so nicely. Ngh!”

Zayne was quieter. He bit his bottom lip and pressed the back of his hand against his mouth to keep from making any noise, But as my throat tightened around his cock and one of my shaking hands began to play with his balls, Zayne had no choice but to moan loudly, throwing his head back.

I felt dizzy. I could barely breathe with Zayne in my throat, and the pleasure was driving me crazy. Sylus had started playing with my clit as he kept going in and out of me and my moans and whimpers caused vibrations against Zayne's dick that made him moan more.

I was losing it. I couldn't focus my thoughts on anything but these two men touching me and making me feel so good. As I felt that delicious tingle building inside me, I was almost sure I would pass out before I came, but I didn't. My body trembled and convulsed as currents of pleasure washed over me. I came like I had never come before, my skin covered in goosebumps from head to toe and I sobbed and cried and moaned and whimpered as Sylus milked my orgasm until his movements started to overstimulate me. It tickled, but it also felt overwhelming.

My jaw and the corners of my mouth hurt. My throat was starting to burn, but soon, with just a couple of thrusts from Zayne, he came inside my mouth. I tried to swallow as much of his load as I could, but it still leaked out of the corners of my mouth. Zayne shivered and breathed rapidly as he recovered from his climax. I coughed as he pulled his cock out of my throat and moaned Sylus' name as I begged:

“S-Stop! Angh! I j-just c-came s-stop, please!” I sobbed, but Sylus didn't listen to me, he grabbed my hips and fucked me harder and faster until I felt his warm seed filling me. I shuddered as he trembled in pleasure, thrusting against me a few more times to ride his orgasm.

I sighed tiredly, relaxing my shivering, twitchy body into the couch as my breaths echoed off the walls of my house. I closed my eyes, feeling like I was floating and almost falling asleep until I felt Sylus pulling his cock out of my pussy. I moaned, my legs shaking, I opened my eyes heavy from sleep and my heart skipped a beat when I saw that Zayne was now between my legs, his dick so hard as if he hadn't come in my mouth just moments ago.

“W-What?”

“It's my turn,” he said and before I could say anything else, he pushed himself inside me and I sobbed with pleasure before bursting into laughter as mischievous fingers began tickling my ribs.

The sensation was so intense that I felt like the world was spinning around me.

“What's the matter, kitten? I thought you wanted to play. Let's keep playing, shall we?”

I still had a long night ahead of me, and my insides churned with excitement, my pussy clenching around Zayne, so eager to feel the pleasure these two men had in store for me; even if it meant passing out halfway there, but I was sure that these two were not going to allow it, after all, they only wanted my pleasure and hear my pretty voice calling their names through my sweet moans.

#love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love and deepspace tickling #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #ticklish!reader #tickle fic #spicy #n$fw #mia's things #commissions

76 notes · View notes

dustykneed · 23 hours

Note

Im the anon who asked for more fem!mcscotty and thank you, i love them so much 🥺 never knew i needed butch scotty so badly. also the steel boot hc is great.

oughg.,. for youu 🥺❤️🩵

dkfkshdj thank you so much anon 💖💖💖 you're too sweet... really happy to have brought you butch scotty steel toed boots and all

#star trek #star trek fanart #mcscotty fanart #mcscotty #scones star trek #bones x scotty #leonard mccoy #bones mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #montgomery scott #star trek tos #star trek the original series #fem!trek au #fem!mcscotty #so sorry it took me ages ive been. hdjgjgdhdj #really busy/tired/etc sjshs #i know this isnt a request but youre too niceeeee 😭💖💖 i just had to #star trek genderbend #can you bend gender if you are THE gender ever .... just ask scotty he'd know

70 notes · View notes

cherie-doll · 2 days

Note

Omg I realise I’m probably flooding your ask box Cherie, so sorry about that.

But gosh today nearly drove me nuts(in a bad way) and I went home and accidentally went back to binge eating by accident.

And so I thought “Hey, what if the COD men have a S/O who binges on food when they are stressed or angry and they don’t realise it until they feel quite unwell, on the edge of puking sort. And then they calm down and feel a bit guilty about ‘wasting’ unneeded food and calories. They’re also worried about putting on weight cuz in the past they did had to go through that process of being teased and went through a process to slim down and control their eating habits.”

Heavily projecting myself here ngl 😂😂😂 Of course, this might be uncomfy for you to write so all’s chill!

Thank again for writing and posting Cherie 💖 your social media presence is always so delightful

Never apologize for sending an ask, I love having my inbox flooded with asks!

𖧧̣̥ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach

Price

He has learned to pay attention to your behavior

You never ask him to buy it for you, you rummage through what's already in the house

It's addicting, and so easy to pop in another cookie, a couple more chips, a handful of m&m's... until the container is empty

Would pick you up in his strong arms when your body starts to feel the effects, whispering softly "oh, lovey" over and over again in your ear until the guilt is washed out and nothing else is stagnant in your mind but his touch and voice

Ghost

He's always been the observer, so he notices before you catch yourself doing it again

Did research when he was alone because it hurt him to see you crying in the bathroom afterwards, hearing your sniffles through the door

Once he found out that it wasn't the food but the behavior that was harmful he started working on tackling that next, with lots of patience and the guidance of a professional

Soap

He knows you likely won't stop until it's gone

And when you come to him, embarrassed of his reaction when he finds out how much food you've eaten only for him to comfort you

Broke it down for you and explained that even if you consumed a lot of calories it won't show overnight, he kept you focused on being easy on yourself

"You're resilient, I know you are. You can do this"

Gaz

When he noticed you being unusually quiet after a social event where foods of many different kinds had been served, he knew what had happened

It's easy to get overwhelmed, he understands you

Knows what foods and drinks will help

Made tea to make you feel better whilst you were lying in bed

"Tomorrow is a new day, and we'll take control of it"

Roach

It's a vicious cycle: going to sleep scared after another day of wallowing in shame, curling up in bed afraid of the next day being the same as the last; painful

The overwhelming emotions and inability to stare at your bare body in the mirror do not go away easily, yet he's always by your side

He makes it your focus on how you feel rather and how you look, and so every day he cooks for you to make sure you're eating and drinking plenty of water

He even accompanies you on your walks and says assures you everything will be fine

55 notes · View notes

ellecdc · 3 days

Note

Hi ✨️💖✨️ congratulations 🎉 i'm here for the drinks and was wondering if i could have super indulgent polymoonwater w barty comforting reader who is insecure about her small boobs please ☺️

Yes!! Thank you for playing 🫶

So I feel like, especially if regulus is cis-gendered in this scenario, neither he nor barty are going to really understand what it feels like to be self conscious of their appearance? Black’s are notoriously gorgeous, and though canonically Harry suggests regulus isn’t as pretty as Sirius (though the poor sod spends so much time talking about how attractive Sirius is that I don’t think he’s a reliable narrator), in my universe, he’s also gorgeous

Regulus immediately sort of shuts it down, ‘there’s nothing to be shy about, amour, none of us care?’ But like, that’s not the point you stupid beautiful man, yk?

Remus is sympathetic and offers knowing looks and loving smiles

Barty immediately starts trying to untangle the worry “well…are you upset that I don’t have big boobs?” - “well, no, but…” - “then why would I be upset that you don’t? Remus and Reg have even smaller boobies, but you don’t hear me complaining about that, do you?” - “it’s not the same, Barty”

“Okay” Remus interjects, seeing that the conversation is quickly spiralling out of control. He knows Barty always means to say the nicest things, they just never translate that way. “Barty has a bit of a point though, yeah? We all find very different things attractive, and having big boobs isn’t something we ‘require’ to find you attractive. You’re our beautiful girl.”

You let out an unconvinced sigh and lean back into your chair. “I love your boobies. They’re my favourite.” Barty proclaims. - “yeah?” You ask shyly, he looks at you like you’ve asked a sort of ridiculous question. “Well, yeah. I get to put them in my mouth?”

“Barty…” Remus chides tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose as regulus offers a simple “ditto”, causing you to snort a laugh and Remus to start scolding everyone in Welsh, even though none of you know what he’s talking about

#elle’s celebratory house party #elle’s here for the drinks

69 notes · View notes

raolem · 2 days

Note

I’ve never done this before but I was hoping to ask for a little sketch?? 😅 Seymour as G-10, Arson, maybe with tears in his eyes?

Idk if you’re still taking requests but TIA if you decide to draw this, your art is incredible, THANK YOU for keeping this fandom alive!! 💖

Thank you so much for your kind words !! And thank you for your patience while I whipped this up :’) happy LSOH day everyone !

#lsoh #little shop of horrors #seymour krelborn #seymour

60 notes · View notes

elronds-meleth-nin · 13 hours

Text

A Brush With...Kindness?

This idea came up in a discussion with @bigblissandlove1, so credit to you, my dear friend!! Thank you for being okay with me writing it! ILYSM! Thank you for screaming over both versions of Adar with meeee 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 Also holy shit, this was supposed to be like...2000 words and ended up as almost 12000. 💀

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Reader

[A/N: This has smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mentions of violence (not discussed in detail), blood, bloodplay, threats, knives, swords, Adar in the winter, both soft!Adar and stabby!Adar, interspecies sex, Uruk/Human sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), angst, much yearning, nudity, I feel like I'm forgetting something but I have no idea what because holy fuck this is almost 12000 words.

~*~

I knew his face from the moment he and his Uruks flooded into our village. Pillaging and looting where they could, murdering those who fought, the Uruks caused havoc. He strode in with them, looking as serene as the Elf I'd mistaken him for when I was a child.

How lucky I'd been that he'd chosen peace all those years ago. My father was a trader who traveled between Lindon, Eregion, and several villages inhabited by Men. Between the last of those villages and the borders of Eregion, we'd stopped to make camp for the night.

While my father set up our tent and tended to the horse, he asked me to gather some small sticks for the fire. I set off to do so, but in my quest for kindling, I ended up farther away from him than I'd intended with an armload of sticks large enough to make me stagger. Just as I'd begun to turn back, there was a small rustling from behind a bush a few feet away. I turned just in time to see a figure rising to his feet.

Tall, intimidating, covered in dark, aging armor, with scars on his face stood an Ellon. I let out a small, childish sigh of relief. I'd been afraid it might be a bear or an Orc or something fearsome, but it occurred to me that the presence of an Elf must mean that we were close to Eregion.

"You should not wander alone, little one. There are Uruks lurking in this forest," he said, and I noted that he sounded strange. Most Elves had voices that flowed like silvery musical notes, but his was raspy and low, as if he'd screamed for so long that he'd hurt his throat. Maybe he was a soldier, I'd thought. After all, they shout orders all the time.

"I'm not alone," I said lifting my chin as proudly as only a child could. "My father is not far from here."

He did not look convinced, yet still he offered me a smile.

"Perhaps, then, my lady, I could help you with your load?" He asked, and as I'd never been called 'my lady' before, I was not eager to disabuse him of the notion. He relieved me of my bundle of sticks, and together we began to walk back toward the camp my father had set up. After a few moments of comfortable quiet, I posed a question.

"What is an Uruk? I've never heard of one before. The word sounds sort of like 'Orc' if you say it too quickly..." I mused, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Vaguely, I wondered if his scars hurt him, but I did not think it polite to ask. At ten years old, my father had taught me manners enough to know that if a person wanted to talk about something like that, they should be the ones to bring it up.

"An Uruk is the correct name for an Orc," the Ellon said. "The words became...confused long ago. Not many remember their real name."

Oh. Well, that made sense.

"There are two people who know, now," I said smiling up at him, and he looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"That is kind of you, my lady, but you must not use that name around the Elves. They do not take kindly to having their mistakes paraded before them," he said, and that confused me.

"But...you are–"

The crunching steps of heavy boots in the underbrush startled me, but instead of an Uruk appearing from the trees, it was just my father.

"There you are! I told you not to go too far," he said striding up to me and wrapping me in his arms. He placed a kiss atop my head and only then did he turn his gaze upon my companion. Straightening, he glared suspiciously at my new friend. "Who are you? I've never seen Elvish armor quite like that."

His tone was less than kind, and, remembering my manners, I spoke up on my friend's behalf.

"Be nice, papa! He was helping me," I said. My new friend shifted the bundle of sticks to one arm, and placed his hand over his heart, inclining his head in a respectful bow.

"I intended her no harm, sir. There are many perils in this part of the forest and I wished to ensure she would not encounter danger," he explained. "Besides, a bundle this large was certainly more than a lady of her status should have to bear."

He offered me an exaggerated, deferential bow that drew a giggle from my lips. After a mere moment's hesitation, my father invited him to our camp to keep warm, since the woods grew quite cold at night. Looking back, it was obvious that he was incredibly patient with my childish questions as the three of us settled in to pass the night. Our evening meal stretched easily between three mouths, even though our new friend said that he did not wish to diminish our supply of food. We could not simply let him starve.

I woke in the middle of the night to low, whispered voices at the treeline. Carefully, I peeked through the flaps of my tent and saw two shadowed figures around the flickers of a small lamp. One stood tall, and the other hunched over.

With my father still slumbering soundly in his bedroll, I made a decision of which he surely would have disapproved. As quietly as I could, I slipped out, sneaking through the shadows of the trees until I could just make out the face of the taller person in the lamplight.

Our Ellon friend? What was he doing out here? Shifting slightly, I caught sight of the second person and–

I nearly tripped over myself to get back to my tent. He'd been speaking in a strange rasping, mean-sounding language to an Orc - or, an Uruk, as he'd called them.

I wasn't frightened of him, despite what I'd seen. Curiosity still reigned in my mind, but I still did not relish the thought of being caught eavesdropping. The next morning, I rose quite early, only to find that our guest was already gone.

"Don't look so distressed, love," my father called from his seat beside the fire. "He left this for you along with his apologies for leaving before you woke. He said his children needed him."

He held out a small piece of dark metal. It had clearly come from his armor. Carved within it was a set of stars, inlaid with some other tarnished metal.

"He said it was the symbol of the Noldorin Kings. He thought you might appreciate it and that it might serve to remind you of the conversation the two of you had," my father explained, though he looked a bit puzzled. "What conversation did he mean, if I may ask?"

As I looked at the small metal piece, it occurred to me that if he had not told my father, then perhaps there was a reason. My father might react poorly to the word 'Uruk' like our friend said the Elves would, simply because he worked so closely with them.

"He said it was dangerous to walk alone," I said, and though it wasn't a lie, it was not the whole truth, either. I'd never had reason to lie to my father before, and I hoped I would never need to again.

That night after we rode into Eregion and settled into our chambers, by candlelight I found the second symbol. Carved onto the back of the item he'd given me, there was what looked like a three-pronged shape. A tool perhaps? A maker's mark?

I wouldn't see that shape again until many years later when Lord Adar took our village. The armor piece which I'd turned into a necklace years before hung around my neck, almost burning beneath the bodice of my dress even as I averted my eyes from our new lord's.

When the morning came, we were all herded into a line leading to steps of the tavern from which Adar was currently ruling over us. Those who refused to swear loyalty to him were summarily killed by the Uruks guarding us. When my own turn came, I dropped to my knees as all those before me had done.

Strangely, though, even as I looked up at him, I still couldn't find it within me to be afraid of him. Of death? Naturally, I was frightened, but I could not muster the same feeling regarding the Uruk lord. His eyes met mine, and his lips parted as if he recognized me.

An old man grasped my hair roughly, forcing my head down into a more subservient position.

"Do you swear allegiance to Adar, Lord Father of the Uruks?" He asked, but before I could answer either way, his tight grasp on my hair was suddenly released. "M-My lord?"

"She has already sworn for me," Adar rasped above me, and I tried not to look confused as he urged me to my feet. He reached toward me, and to my astonishment, his fingertips brushed against the pendant that had come loose from beneath the top of my dress. The one he'd given me years ago. The back with the three-pronged carving was visible because the chain had twisted. "She already wears my mark. You will not brand her, is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord," the grumpy old man said, but I could look nowhere save into the same green eyes I'd seen all those years before. I couldn't help but think about how beautiful they were.

"I shall see to the rest tomorrow, Waldreg. See that they're fed and have a place to sleep," Adar ordered. Grasping my elbow, the Lord Father of the Uruks led me away from the crowd. Once we were safely inside one of the ruined buildings, he clasped my upper arms and looked into my eyes. "I thought I told you it was dangerous to wander alone, my lady."

His voice was infinitely gentler than it had been before.

"I'm not alone," I whispered, "Not when I have you."

Looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and something far too soft to be on an Uruk Lord's face, he stepped closer and carefully rested his forehead against mine. The scent of smoke and metal, earth and wood oils surrounded me, and I recognized the scent, faint though it had been, from that day in the woods.

He muttered something in the low, guttural language that the Uruks used, and though I had no idea what he'd said, the sound of it sent my heart racing in my chest.

"I thought I'd never see you again," I admitted in a whisper, and he let out a slow, almost sad sigh.

"I had hoped that you would never have need to," Adar murmured in return. When he spoke again, he sounded almost resigned. "If you wish to leave, I can arrange safe passage for you."

I considered the possibility for a moment. My mother and father were living peacefully in Eregion, thanks to the kindness bestowed upon them by Lord Celebrimbor. I could certainly go there, but...was that what I wanted?

"And...if I wanted to stay?"

Pulling his head back just far enough to look into my eyes, Adar seemed as though he both was and was not surprised at my question.

"You would be allowed to do so, of course, but you must understand that this would be a hard life," he stated. "I cannot offer you any luxuries, not like those found in Elven territory. Mordor is new. We have very little. We have not even completed the construction of our own homes yet. Is that truly the life you want? Barely getting by on scraps of food, sleeping in the ruins of an old building?"

"I can bear it," I reassured him, and he seemed to consider my words as his fingertips once again traced the chain of my necklace.

"I will not make you swear your loyalty, my lady, but I would like your word that if at any point you feel as though this life is intolerable or overwhelming, you will tell me," he murmured as his eyes met mine again. "I would not see your light dimmed by such a place as this."

Gently, I laid my hands over his.

"You have my word, my lord," I murmured, and he nodded his head slowly.

"Then, welcome to Mordor, híril vuin."

She'd been different since the day they met. Oh, she was likely an average member of her species, but Adar had little personal experience with Humans beyond the occasional interaction. Her openness when she was a child had been endearing, especially since she hadn't thought him frightening or hideous. She'd accepted him as he was without question - even going so far as to protect him from her father's suspicion.

After she'd caught him speaking with Glûg in the middle of the night, ordering his children to leave her and her father be in Black Speech, however, Adar had thought that she'd have told her father what she'd seen...that he would be met with an arrow to the chest upon his return to their camp. Instead, she'd managed to sneak back unnoticed, and he'd taken his leave before she awakened.

Never did he think that one day as a grown woman - a lady - she would be forced to kneel at his feet. Not even with the threat of death looming over her was she afraid of him.

He'd never wanted her fear. When she was a child, he'd savored her curiosity, and now, as an adult, he found that he relished her gentleness and her acceptance. She'd been courteous to all of his children whom she'd encountered, even if such behavior earned scorn from the other Humans in their encampment. She never cowered. She never diminished herself to fit into the dull little boxes that the others of her species so consistently tried to force upon her. She was unique.

And Adar found himself growing ever more intrigued by her.

The winter wind whipped clothing, biting the skin and sinking bone-deep. Like most discomfort, Adar was used to it. He knew every survival method - one did not live for thousands of years without picking up a few helpful practices. His children had followed his example, but it was a bit harder for the Humans among them to find comfort.

Truly, though, the only one he cared about was his lady...his brave, determined lady. He remembered her looking up at him the better part of a year ago when she was forced to the ground before him. Curiosity and recognition was as obvious in her expression as the points on an Elf's ears.

Even after he'd taken their village, she hadn't hated him. She hadn't denied having sworn for him, even though that had been a lie he concocted to keep her safe and unblemished.

Seeing that remnant of his armor hanging from a chain around her neck had inspired more pride and awe in him than he'd felt in an Age. Adar had assumed that even if her father had given it to her, it was so small and insignificant that she wouldn't have bothered to keep track of it. But for her to have turned it into a necklace... The thought still sparked a wave of warmth in the Uruk's heart.

Had their encounter truly been that memorable to her?

As the bitter winter held the camp in its grip, residents and all, Adar walked amongst his children and sworn Human villagers alike, noting those things which were needed most. He turned a corner between rows of tents and half-built houses and paused at the sight of his lady and Glûg discussing the babe in the Uruk's arms. After a few moments, his lady let out a small laugh, and Glûg let out a rasping chuckle before departing with a small bow.

Before he could behave as if he'd been doing anything - anything at all - besides watching them, she turned and Adar's eyes met hers. Approaching without hesitation, she curtsied and greeted him with her customary 'good day, my lord.'

Dropping into his own low bow, Adar offered her his arm.

"Walk with me, if you would, my lady," he murmured, and she looped her arm with his. "How would you characterize the mood amongst your people here?"

They walked a few steps, she considering he answer, and he marveling at how easily they fit together. Having her at his side felt natural, as if that was where she was always meant to be.

"They are under strain, because of the winter temperatures. Perhaps they are a bit more frightened than usual, but nothing too serious," she replied. "They seem to have settled into their new routine along with your children quite well, considering the circumstances."

"And what of your own circumstances? What can I do to ease your burden?" He asked as they reached the door of her shelter.

"I can think of nothing, my lord." Adar did not believe that, but he did not contradict her, choosing instead to accept her invitation inside.

"Allow me at least," he said as he stepped inside, "to check your supplies. Firewood and the like."

"Of course," she murmured, waving him inside. One of the other ladies who shared her living space had already lit a fire in grate, and as soon as they saw Lord Adar walk inside, they quickly found other places to be.

Pretending to take a cursory view around the room, Adar slyly watched his lady move around, tidying up, even though the messes had clearly been created by the others. That he did not like, but that was a problem for a later date.

"Are you certain there is nothing I can do to improve your situation?" He asked, and she flashed him a smile bright enough to make his heart skip a beat.

"Nothing, whatsoever. I'm quite comfortable here," she said walking to stand with him beside the fire. He took a long, selfish moment to indulge his desire to study her face. When his desire to reach out and touch her grew so strong that he felt he might snap, he drew and released a deep breath.

"Thank you for your indulgence, my lady. I shall leave you in peace."

Adar gave her a small bow before making his way toward the door.

"Oh, wait! Please, my lord," she called, and he turned to face her. She pulled a length of cloth from a bundle, hurrying over to him.

A familiar sense of dread curled in his abdomen. He'd been betrayed before in moments of weakness - seeing her this evening was certainly a weakness. The cloth would make a suitable garrote for a person of her size to use. Steeling himself as she approached, he realized that, though he wouldn't be surprised, her betrayal would hurt more than any other had.

He met her eyes with his as she stood on the tips of her toes to wrap the cloth around his neck...but the constriction he'd been expecting never came. Instead, she tied it carefully, tucking the ends into his armor so they wouldn't flap around in the wind.

Adar's gauntlet-covered fist relaxed as his defensiveness was replaced with confusion. He was certain that he must look as utterly befuddled as he felt, but the little smile that settled upon her lips as she examined her handiwork stole his breath.

"There. That should keep you a little warmer, at least. We cannot have the Lord of Mordor freezing, now can we?" She asked when her fingers finally fell away from the chestplate of his armor. Adar found speech difficult for a long moment. She cared for his comfort?

How was one supposed to tell someone that they'd expected death's shadow only to find kindness instead? How could he possibly explain to someone like her that at the sight of a simple makeshift scarf, he'd coiled himself as tightly as a warrior preparing to be struck without a shield or sword to defend himself? She was so considerate that she would blame herself for unsettling him, he had no doubt.

No, to say nothing would be better. Perhaps...perhaps later.

Lifting her hands gently in his own, he laid soft kisses upon her knuckles. He dared not look away. Not now. This moment was crucial - whether for just him or for them both, he knew not.

"Thank you, dear lady," he breathed, and as his eyes searched hers, he saw what he normally did in her: warmth. However, this time he saw more. There was warmth, yes, but there was also gentleness, protectiveness, and a sort of satisfaction about him not tearing the scarf from his throat - he would never do such a thing. Not when it was from her.

When he finally stepped outside once more, the wind was unable to sink its frozen teeth into his neck. The fabric, worn and discolored with age, was soft, caressing his scarred skin just as he imagined her fingers would if she ever deigned to lower herself and take him as her lover.

Her generosity made him only that much more determined to find some way to make life easier for her. For nearly a week, he was kept too busy to give the matter any serious consideration, but he did have an idea.

While she was occupied, Adar slipped into her shelter. He wished to find a way to repay her for her kindness, thus his goal was to find one of her unfulfilled needs and provide for her. He was already able to ensure that she received enough food and water, and she deserved more than he could ever give her, but he was willing to try.

After a few moments of searching, he noticed the blanket in her little sleeping area. It was thin, full of holes, and practically falling apart. It was the only one he could see.

His heart clenched in his chest. She must be nearly frozen during the night, yet she had still seen fit to give him her scarf? The growing dampness of tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them away. How had she made it through the winter?

At least he could fix this for her.

Picking up the tattered blanket, he strode across the camp to find a replacement. Laying it atop a pile with other bits of cloth that needed to be repurposed, he found a stack of extra blankets. He'd already ensured that all of his children had enough to keep them warm, so one extra would not be missed.

He hastened back to her shelter, closing the door nearly silently behind him, but he quickly realized that he was not alone.

"My lord?" She called from her place beside the cold hearth. She was trying to light a fire with trembling hands. Walking over to her, Adar tucked the blanket beneath his arm and gently coaxed the flint and steel from her cold fingers.

Kneeling briefly, he struck the flint and steel once, twice, and carefully encouraged the flame to grow until a warm glow illuminated the room. When he stood again, he grasped her hands and rubbed them between his palms. He would not be content to leave her until he was certain that she would not freeze in the night.

She looked up at him in wordless wonder, and he knew for certain that his own expression had to be similar.

"Thank you, my lord," she said in barely a whisper, and in reply, he unfolded the blanket he'd brought. Though it was not nearly as soft as someone like her deserved, he knew it would hold the heat much better than her old one. Adar draped it around her shoulders, and, sweet trusting thing that she was, she made no protest about his proximity, nor did she flinch when the backs of his knuckles caressed her cheek.

She looked from him, to the blanket, and back again. Without warning, she sprang forward, wrapping her arms around his middle, but where he usually expected the bite of a dagger after such an impact, he found only comfort. He realized that she...was embracing him.

He looked down at her, only to find his nose now buried in her hair. Her scent! He'd smelled it before, but to have her this close...it was intoxicating. Carefully bracing his hands on her waist, he leaned down a little farther. The tip of his nose brushed against her warm neck, and he could almost smell her pulse racing beneath her skin.

His nose must've been cold, for that small movement was enough to startle her into leaping back. His fëa, dark and fractured as it was, wept at the loss of her, even though she'd only been in contact with him for a moment.

It had been so long since he'd been held like that.

Alarm settled into her expression and she began stammering apologies. Her new blanket slipped from one shoulder, and without a word, Adar stepped toward her and pulled it back into place.

Her voice dropped away as she realized what he was doing. His hands laid lightly upon her shoulders, sliding slowly upward until he was able to cup cup her cheeks carefully between his scarred fingers. Her eyes, now wide with wonder rather than fear, looked up at him.

"You have done nothing which warrants an apology, my lady," Adar murmured giving her small smile. She was so beautiful, so fragile compared to him. He would risk no injury coming to her. Not even the discomfort of the abating cold; slowly, their breaths became less visible as the fire grew in the hearth. "Why did you not tell me about the state of your blanket?"

"I did not wish to trouble you, my lord," she answered sheepishly. "I had already requested a replacement from the head of the Men in our section, but I was told I'd have to speak with Waldreg. Given my previous encounters with him, I...decided that the cold was preferable."

Disquiet twisted within him. Waldreg was distasteful enough without having caused his lady trouble. He was quite certain he'd tear the little worm of a Man limb from limb with a grin on his lips if he dared harm his lady.

Adar would have to speak with him about that.

"Has he mistreated you?" He tried to keep his tone as steady as possible, but a slight edge still managed to creep in.

"He expressed a few less than polite sentiments, but no more. It is not a crime for him to dislike me, my lord," she said, but her attempt to calm his ire only made him angrier on her behalf. Would she not express her anger even at someone as wretched and cruel as Waldreg?

"In future, come directly to me. You need not be afraid. I would be pleased to assist you, my lady," he promised, and his heart stuttered as she nodded her head.

As soon as he left her shelter, he sought Waldreg. The miserable little rat had much to answer for.

As the winter winds began to wane, I found myself increasingly glad of Lord Adar's kindness. Not shivering through the night was a pleasant change. I'd thought that after our conversation he seemed rather tense, but thus far I had seen no results.

However, as I returned from harvesting a small bunch of mushrooms for the soup that night, a vicelike grip clamped around my arm, tugging me off balance and dragging me into the small, dark alleyway between two repurposed buildings.

A hand covered my mouth just as a knifepoint pressed cold and unyielding against my racing pulse.

"You vicious little bitch," a familiar voice snarled against my ear. "What lies did you tell him? How did you make him hate me?"

I whimpered in fear but dared not move for fear of the sharp steel at my throat.

"'You will not treat my children or those pledged to me with disrespect,' he said. He's had me shoveling shit in the kennels for weeks, and word around camp is that he only came to me after speaking with you!" Waldreg sounded furious, and, indeed, I could detect the lingering scent of the wargs' leavings clinging to my attacker and his clothing. The more agitated he grew, the more his hands shook. Pain pricked my skin, and a hot red tear trickled down my neck staining the neckline of my dress. "What'd you do? Lift your skirt for him? Whisper in those ragged little ears of his? Give me one good reason I shouldn't gut you here and feed you to the wargs."

I began struggling in earnest, but his anger kept his grip tight. Still his hand covered my mouth, preventing any attempts at speech. A cruel laugh trickled across my ears, and he dragged his knife downwards until it rested directly above my heart.

"I thought not." I tried to cringe away, but that accomplished nothing save fueling the cruel old bastard's amusement as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Say goodnight!"

Instead of the bite of a blade, however, I was abruptly released. A gurgling sound came from behind me, and when I turned, I saw Lord Adar's gauntlet-covered hand lifting Waldreg off the ground by his throat. The cold glare on the Uruk's face revealed not a single mite of mercy for the Man thrashing in his grasp.

"My lady, go inside. I will join you in a moment," Adar called, and after a single shocked blink, I rushed off to do as he'd ordered. My basket lay in the mud, entirely forgotten amongst the chaos. A small crowd of Uruks had gathered around to witness Waldreg's demise and jeer at him, but I couldn't stay.

As terrible as he was, I didn't want to. Trembling, I closed the door after myself and stumbled toward my sleeping space. Quickly wrapping the blanket Adar had given me around my shoulders, I tried to steady my breathing instead of listening to the commotion outside.

I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there when the crowd fell silent and the door finally opened. Terrified that Waldreg had somehow survived and was coming to seek his revenge, I backed into the corner beside the hearth and tried to stay as small as possible.

I had no weapons with which to fight. Hiding would be my only chance to survive, especially if Adar had not been able to stop him.

"My lady?" Adar's voice called gently into the space, though he saw no sign of her. He spotted a small movement from the far side of the hearth. Why was she hiding? Her eyes were wide and fearful, even as he approached.

Suddenly her assertion about Waldreg expressing 'a few less than polite sentiments, but no more' felt grossly incorrect. If she was this frightened, he must've threatened her.

Adar hoped that she heard him screaming his apologies before his death.

Or...could it be that he'd finally managed to frighten her with his cruelty? That thought sent a bolt of icy dread through him.

Dropping silently to his knees beside her, he unclipped his gauntlet and dropped it beside him. He wouldn't dare touch her while wearing it after it had touched that scum, not without cleaning it first. He offered her his hand, afterwards, and she accepted it without hesitation.

She needed no coaxing to come to him, shuffling over and resting before him on her knees with her blanket still around her shoulders.

"You need not fear, my lady. He will haunt your steps no more," he murmured, and the relieved little sniffle that escaped her had Adar moving closer and gently brushing her tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

His skin was rough, but he was careful. He didn't want to hurt her, or for her to fear him. She had every right to after she'd seen him lifting Waldreg off the ground in the midst of his rage. He certainly would not blame her, but he did not want that. If ever she shrank away from him as she'd tried to do from that contemptible worm earlier, he thought his heart may shatter irreparably.

So, with the most soothing tone he could muster - one he'd not used in over an Age - he placed a gentle kiss upon her brow and spoke.

"You are safe with me, híril vuin. None shall raise a hand to you again." Carefully, he pulled the edge of the blanket away just far enough to see the small trail of dried blood from where she'd been cut. Regret was as foul upon his tongue as bile.

He should have found them sooner. Moving away only long enough to fetch a pitcher of water and a cloth, Adar sat close to her upon his return. He began to wipe her skin clean in slow, careful strokes, murmuring quiet, earnest praise for how brave she'd been and for trusting him to help her.

She rested her cheek upon his shoulder as he set the cloth aside, prompting him instinctively to wrap his arms around her and brace his chin atop her head.

"Thank you, my lord," she breathed, and he was acutely aware of his own heart racing in his chest. Could she hear its rhythm even with the chestplate of his armor in the way?

As he began to tell her that he'd done no more than his duty, the door to her shelter opened, revealing the three other ladies who shared the small space with her. Adar grated at the interruption, despite their low curtsies as soon as they caught sight of him holding his lady in his arms.

"Sleep elsewhere tonight," he ordered them, and once they'd departed, he let out a tense breath. Speaking then to his lady, he softened his tone once more. "Tomorrow, I shall have you moved to chambers befitting one of your station."

She blinked beautifully up at him, dampness clinging to her lashes like dewdrops in the early morn.

"'My station,' my lord?"

A slow smile stretched his lips.

"Indeed. If you are to serve at the right hand of the Lord of Mordor, you cannot be seen huddling in the corner of a ruined shack."

Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted in a near-silent gasp.

"A-At your right hand?"

He nodded his head in confirmation.

"Assuming that such a thought appeals to you, of course," he said, but the smile that lit up her face told him all that he needed to know about her enthusiasm.

The next morning, I awoke wrapped in Lord Adar's arms and the blanket he'd given me. I should've felt embarrassment, but I could muster no more than a groggy sense that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

As soon as we managed to peel ourselves from the ground, we gathered my meager possessions, and Adar led me to the tavern. He had ruled from there since day one, but I hadn't been aware until that moment that he'd been living there as well. I supposed that his choice made sense. The upper level was where the owner used to live, having the benefit of a bedroom and a small bathing room complete with a claw-foot tub.

"Unless you object, we shall be sharing the bedroom," he explained as we climbed the creaky wooden staircase. "I'm afraid that there was little more than a musty mattress here to begin with, so I'll have a second bedroll brought up today. If there is anything you require once you have settled in, please do not hesitate to tell me."

"Thank you, my lord," I replied, and as I set myself up on one side of the room directly across from his own sleeping area, one of his children called him away to handle a conflict on the other side of the camp.

Late that night, I walked into the small communal area where Lord Adar sat by the fire, gazing into its depths as if it held the answers to all of his questions. Not wishing to disturb his thoughts, I began to move away, but a quiet call of my name in that deliciously raspy voice of his froze me in place.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, my lady?" He called, and I turned to find his gaze already fixed on me.

"Yes, my lord," I murmured, "thank you for allowing me to stay here."

"The pleasure is mine. Come, warm yourself by the fire," he offered, and I dropped to my knees on the furs beside him. We sat in companionable silence for a while with only the crackling of the fire in the grate reaching our ears. "Something troubles you, does it not?"

I nodded my head and he tilted his head beside me.

"Tell me." Despite his soft tone, the command made me bite my lip.

"I...My lord, given the new position with which you have honored me, I believe it..." I stumbled over the words, eventually taking a deep breath to compose myself. "Would it not be inappropriate for me to continue in this particular role without having sworn my loyalty to you?"

The question came out in a breathless rush, but Adar either did not notice over the hissing of the fire or he was too polite to comment upon it.

"So far as all the others are concerned, you did so before we ever took your village." His eyes skimmed the length of my face as he spoke. "As you will recall, I promised you that I would not force you to do so."

"And you have kept to your word," I began. "I have not felt coerced. I offer my loyalty to you freely."

Adar sat up straighter and drew in a sharp breath.

"You only need do so if you truly wish for us to be bound," he said placing his hand softly atop mine where it rested amongst the furs. His eyes searched mine as if trying to determine whether I was serious.

"I'm certain, my lord," I said, and he, apparently finding what he was looking for, gave a solemn nod of his head.

"Very well. As with your kin, Black Speech is not a language known to you, thus I will not require your vow in that tongue," he murmured, and I couldn't stop the question that fell from my lips.

"Would it be possible to learn at some point?"

Adar smiled, a mix of pride and surprise playing across his features in the glowing, flickering light of the fire.

"I shall teach you personally, híril vuin," he promised, and his expression became more serious. "Have you ever sworn loyalty to another?"

"No, my lord."

"Do you recall the words being spoken during the oaths of fealty given by your people?"

"Yes, my lord." I bowed my head, intending to show my respect in that manner, but warm, gentle fingers grasped my chin and lifted my head back up. Adar's gaze met my own, and unless the firelight was deceiving me, I saw a soft sort of affection swimming in his eyes as he looked at me.

"Before all else, I wish you to swear that you will never bow to me unless I explicitly give you the order to do so," he rasped as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.

"I swear it, my lord. I will not bow to you unless you give me the order to do so." Having extracted that promise, he seemed satisfied to allow me to continue as I had been. His fingers fell away from my chin only to grasp my own and lay them atop his chest where beneath his heart lay beating. "I hereby swear my allegiance to you, Adar, Lord-Father of the Uruks, founder of the land of Mordor...and protector of mortal children silly enough to wander the forest alone. This I pledge from until the last breath leaves my body."

Adar listened with something akin to wonder in his eyes, and when I finished, his eyes strayed down to my lips. But...something seemed off.

"Is...something amiss, my lord? I could always use different words, if you prefer...?"

He shook his head quietly.

"There was no fault in your diction."

"Then...what troubles you?" I asked, unconsciously repeating his own words from earlier. He shifted before me, as if he was bothered by what he was about to say. Regretful, perhaps?

"An oath means little on its own," Adar murmured unsheathing a small knife that he'd apparently concealed upon his person. "Only blood can bind."

Whose blood did he mean? Did he want me to use it on myself? Did he wish to use it on me? Or did he want me to use it on us both?

An idea struck me, and I grasped my necklace in the palm of my left hand. Carefully, I set his knife aside, guiding his gauntlet-covered hand over mine. Looking into his eyes, I felt the unyielding metal dig into the soft skin of my hand. Without warning, I squeezed his hand, which in turn forced the sharp, ancient metal deep enough into my skin to draw blood. As comprehension dawned in his eyes, his pupils dilated, and something resembling hunger turned his gaze into a blazing flame boring into me.

His hand released mine long enough for the pendant to fall from my grasp, and when he turned my palm upwards, twin gashes welled with blood. Swallowing heavily, Adar lifted my hand, and as his lips met crimson, his eyes sought mine.

A gasp tumbled from my throat as his tongue lapped slowly at my skin, just barely grazing the inner edges of the two weeping cuts. It stung, of course, but the pain combined with such a ravenous stare from the Uruk lord sent a wave of heat rushing between my legs.

A breathy, wanton whimper escaped me, and in a blink, I found myself on my back atop the furs with my lord straddling my hips. He pressed my bleeding palm against his cheek, and, bracing his free hand on the floor beside my head, Adar placed a line of fiery kisses along the column of my throat from hollow to chin with his blood-drenched lips.

I'd wanted him to look at me like this, to touch me and desire me like this, from the moment we were reunited, and now that he was, it was as though my very soul had been lit aflame. I wanted everything he wished to give me, and then some.

Before his mouth had the chance to claim mine, however, there was a rough knock on the door. Adar pulled back a few inches, and we stared into each other's eyes, panting together as reality sank back in and a second knock sounded.

"I think you ought to retire for the night, my lady," he rasped laying a final kiss upon my palm before getting to his feet. My blood was a dark red streak upon his face, but he seemed not to care. He called for whoever was at the door to wait a moment, taking the time to help me to my feet and bidding me goodnight before seeing to our caller. His lips were still the deep red shade of the life flowing through my mortal veins.

I hurried up the stairs to our shared sleeping space before I could see who'd interrupted us. With a quick glance into the cracked fragment of a mirror stowed in the corner of the room, I saw a sloppy, red trail where Adar's lips had been.

I didn't bother to clean it off before I crawled into my bedroll, choosing instead to slip my fingers beneath my smallclothes as I recalled the feeling of him doing as he wished with me. With a broken, muffled whine of his name against my blanket, I found completion, but a part of me wondered how much more satisfying it would have been had his fingers been in place of mine.

The next fortnight felt as though it was a specialized form of torture. Adar seemed to be called away by a never-ending series of problems that required solutions. Often his day began earlier than I awoke and ended long after I'd retired to bed. Ensuring I'd completed every task he'd left for me was the least I could do considering how busy his own position kept him.

Occasionally, we did still manage to sneak a meal or a short conversation with one another, but we had yet to discuss what had happened the night I pledged myself to him. Almost every night, the memory of the hunger in his eyes drove me to desperation, haunting my dreams and forcing me to muffle my cries as I tended to my own burning desire.

One of the few times he returned before I fell asleep, I'd just whimpered his name into my pillow. As he ascended the staircase, I heard his footsteps, and I tried to muffle my shame as it was too late to stop entirely. The fear of discovery lanced through me as I heard he approached the door. I tried to steady my breathing, and hoped that in the low lighting, he would not notice how disheveled I looked.

Either I was successful, or he was in a sadistic mood, because he sidled over to his own bedroll and began stripping down. I'd seen him without the armor before, but when he shucked off his upper garments, the sight of his scarred, toned torso was enough to make me bite my tongue to stifle a gasp.

The outline of his masculinity in his trousers as he laid his clothing in a neat pile sent a fresh wave of wetness soaking my inner thighs. Oh, how was I meant to sleep after seeing...that?

Adar laid down, and just when I thought he'd fallen asleep, his voice broke through the silence.

"Sweet dreams, my lady." I could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

Oh. My cheeks burned at the realization that he'd likely heard me.

"...Good night, my lord," I murmured, hating how shaky I sounded.

Spring changed very few things in Mordor, save the temperatures, yet with each passing day, Adar's lady seemed to smile just a little wider.

He wanted to give her more reasons to do so, however. It was not enough that they had been living in close quarters since that night in her shelter. It was not enough that he'd made her smile and laugh before. Adar needed to do it again.

But more than that, he needed to hear those things which it was not at all civilized to consider. It was not enough that he had tasted her blood and her skin and her racing pulse. He'd heard her make beautiful, pleasure-filled sounds when she thought he was out of earshot or asleep. But it was never enough. He needed to hear her moan his name, to see her arch her back beneath him in the throes of ecstasy. He needed her.

Teasing her had been as much a torture for him as it likely was for her. Adar had become addicted to pain in one form or another over the millennia, and the mental strain of denying himself the pleasure of her touch was not unfamiliar, but it was forcing him to a breaking point, nonetheless. He knew that he would likely snap as he had when she'd sworn him her loyalty. That rush had been like a dam releasing an unstoppable flood, his hunger turning him into a ravenous beast.

She hadn't minded, as he thought she might. She'd enjoyed it. The sight of her lying beneath him panting as her blood practically dripped from his lips made him achingly hard each time he dwelled upon the memory for too long.

Still, she deserved better. Better than him, better than a moment of animalistic need. He found himself wondering about how best to give her all of himself.

Adar supposed that was how he'd ended up in the doorway of the small bathing room. The claw-footed tub was filled with steaming water as he'd ordered, and relaxing within it was his lady. She'd deserved a moment of peace after having completed every single task he'd given her with such dedication. It was a small reward, hardly as much as she deserved, but at the moment, it was all he could give.

He tried not to allow his gaze to drop beneath the water's surface, but his restraint was weak after the last two weeks of self-imposed denial. Truly, he intended merely to check that she was well, but the temptation of seeing her soft skin dripping with hot water was too great. The Lord of Mordor lingered in the doorway just long enough to feel his lower garments grow tight, and for her eyes to meet his as his lust clawed at his restraint.

As a moth drawn to a flame, he found himself walking slowly into the room, summoned by her curious gaze. The hot water reached her collarbones, and Adar felt the urge rising within him to claim her.

He knelt beside the tub, his face mere inches from her own, and removed his armor, gauntlet and all. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and dipped a washcloth into the hot water. The back of his hand brushed against the swell of her breast, and they both let out quiet gasps.

Still, Adar refused to look down into the depths of the sage blossom oil scented water. Wringing the washcloth out until it was just wet enough him to clean his face, he began to do so, only for his lady to take it from his hands. With her breasts pressed up against the side of the tub, her soft, gentle fingers held his head in place as she gently wiped away the grime.

Without a word, he turned his head and kissed her palm where twin scars were already forming. Adar would've preferred that she spill his own blood - that was what he'd originally intended - but since she'd chosen that pain, the least he could do was show the proper amount of reverence for her actions.

"Is there anything you need, Adar?" Her voice was shaky and breathless as it so often was when he caught her off-guard.

"No. This night is for you. Relax as long as you wish," he murmured, but as he stood to leave her in peace, he noted that she tried valiantly to hide her disappointment. Without turning back - if he did, he might do something impulsive - he called over his shoulder, "Patience, my lady, and you shall have all that you desire."

His hardness did not abate until long after they'd settled into their bedrolls and her breathing had evened out in the serenity of sleep.

Adar could not wait much longer. Her sweetness was as a siren's call to him.

Thus, his plan began to form. Once the spring was fully upon them, he approached her as he often did for conversation.

"My lady, I wonder if you might spare me a moment of your time?" He asked, and she smiled joyfully up at him - truly, that should not have made his heart stutter the way it did.

"Of course, my lord. You may have as much of my time as you desire," she replied, and oh, she had no idea what she was offering!

"Do you enjoy riding horses?"

She tilted her head curiously, but the way her smile widened had him mentally congratulating himself for selecting this particular tactic.

"I do, though, it has been quite some time since I've had the opportunity."

"Come," he urged offering her his hand. She didn't hesitate to take it. The feeling of her touch would be seared into his mind for as long as he lived. Drawing her close, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I intend to steal you away."

Her lips parted in surprise, and just as he was about to apologize for his forthrightness, she squeezed his fingers in hers.

"I could not hope to be stolen by any more worthy." His breath hitched in his chest, and he tamped down the temptation to skip his plan entirely and take her atop his own sleeping furs. No. He'd been alive since before the waking of the world. He could wait a little longer.

"Then, maybe I should play the part...?" Adar suggested with a mischievous smirk. Before she could ask what he meant, he lifted her by the waist, tossed her over his shoulder - an action which tugged a surprised shriek from her lips - and carried her to his horse that way.

"My lord!"

"My lady!" He called back in answer as he felt her gentle, mortal hands lay across the back of his armor. Surely she knew he would never drop her?

Soon, he placed her atop his mount, and she giggled breathlessly at the situation. Her mussed hair and bright eyes lit a spark within his heart, and lower, not that he would admit it to any save her. Swinging up easily, he settled in behind her, grasping the horse's reins in one hand and bracing the other over the softness of her diaphragm. As close as they were, he was in the perfect position to whisper in her ear.

"Fear not, my lady," he breathed, "you shan't fall."

One of her hands covered his, and he urged their horse forward. For nearly two hours they rode, crossing from ashen, desolate terrain into the gentle rolling grasses of the land beyond Mordor's fiery shadow.

The rhythmic roll of her hips against his became almost hypnotic. The Lord of Mordor he might be, but his restraint was still utterly devastated by her. They dismounted when they reached a meadow peppered with small saplings.

Tying their horse's reins to a sturdy one, Adar offered his lady his hand. The sun was just beginning to glow a gentle orange. It would set soon, and he greatly desired to see his lady bathed in starlight.

"It is no secret that I favor you, my lady," Adar began as they wandered leisurely amongst the blooming flowers, and that was the closest he'd ever come to an admission...to a confession of that nature. "Even the Uruks farthest from the center of our camp know that I...that you are under my protection."

"Indeed. I would say that is true," she agreed, clearly not certain at what point he was driving with his rambling. "I am honored beyond words to have your favor and protection, my lord–"

"Adar. Here - anywhere away from prying eyes and unwelcome ears - you may call me Adar," he corrected gently, and her fingers squeezed his in gratitude. "I brought you here today, because I wish to ask for your counsel."

"You shall always have it, Adar," she assured, "though, I am not certain what advice I could provide that would be wiser than your own. I have very little experience with war and strategy."

He stopped walking and turned to face her - a mistake, because she was almost ethereally encompassed by the warmth of the sunset. He swallowed heavily to recover his voice.

"It is not war about which I require your thoughts," he began, bringing her hand to his ruined lips. "I have lived in shadow for so long, yet recently I have found myself prey to a feeling which I have not experienced in many Ages."

She tilted her head curiously.

"What might that be?"

Adar reached gently toward her with his free hand, cupping her cheek.

"Love," he rasped, looking into her eyes, hoping she would catch the meaning within his words. Admitting that a horrid creature like him had fallen head over heels for a beautiful being like her was tantamount to sacrilege. Yet...in several instances, he believed that he'd seen his own affection reflected in her eyes. Indeed, the moans he'd heard from her would seem to indicate that she desired him.

But it was too much to hope that she could love him. He was certain she desired him, but...love? Could a Human woman truly love an Uruk when the rest of her kind looked down on them in scorn and disgust? Had he been a fool to bring her here?

She stepped closer to him, looking up into his eyes–

Her expression stole his breath. He had not hung the stars in the sky, nor had he wrought treasures like the Silmarils. He had not created even a single thing of beauty. All he'd done was try to give his children a home.

And yet...she looked at him as though he was more worthy of praise than the most virtuous of kings, the most honorable of knights, and the most devoted of husbands. Could it be possible?

Could she...?

"I am afraid that I have little experience with love, Adar, but I will help if I can." As afraid as he might be of losing her, he must speak now or lose her forever.

"In your opinion, who is worthy of love?" He asked, and she let out a small huff of laughter, as if the question was a foolish one. "Have I said something amusing?"

"A bit," she admitted, but she was quick to place her free hand over his heart, "but not in the way you might think. Everyone is worthy of love, even - and, perhaps, most especially - the Lord-Father of the Uruks."

Was he truly so transparent that she could see his fears so easily? Or had she managed to worm her way so far into his heart without his knowledge that it was already a bosom companion to her own?

"...And you have it." His eyes snapped back up to hers - when had he looked away? His hunger and adoration for her rose up in a great wave, consuming him from the inside as he wove his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and drew her into a passionate kiss.

He'd dreamed of having her pressed up against him, of drinking her pleasure from her lips.

She moaned into Adar's mouth, and he was struck by the realization that she was so much better than any phantom images that his imagination could conjure. He dragged his lips and teeth to the corner of her jaw, and spoke in a hoarse, rasping whisper.

"I need you as I need air, meleth-nin." He grasped her waist as her arms drew him ever closer. "You steal my breath, yet without you I cannot breathe. Have mercy....Have mercy upon your most devoted servant..."

As the orange sky bled pink, his lips trailed down her neck, savoring those places which had driven him to the edge of madness when he sampled her before the fire. His name escaped her lips on the back of a desperate whine.

"What do you need? Tell me," Adar breathed, and she tilted her head to offer him more of her neck.

"Take me, touch me, please! I'll be good, so good, only for you," she begged, and the sound went straight to the stiffening length between his legs. He would love nothing more than to have her beg for him all night, but this time she would have no need to. Tonight, the beginning of their time as one, he would fulfill her every desire with a minimum of teasing. He'd done too much of that of late.

Her fingers dove into his hair, and a moan poured from his throat, rumbling against her pretty skin.

"Is that what you want? Do you wish to be a good girl for me?" She released a varied stream of yeses and pleas for him to do as he wished with her, and he acceded to her request with a kiss, quelling any doubt she may have had that he would do this for her. He would do anything for her, even unto the destruction of Middle Earth. "Do you wish to be mine?"

"Yes!" Her answer was akin to a desperate sob, and he wasted no time, immediately indulging her.

Tugging his cloak from his armor, Adar spread it over the grass. He would not have her dress covered in stains, nor grass blades stuck to her skin. The cloth created a sharp contrast - an onyx patch amidst a sea of pinks, purples, reds, and yellows - the dark to the meadow's light, just as she was the light to his darkness. She completed him, enthralled him, drove him mad, and tonight he would show her just how much.

She went for the ties fastening her dress, but he caught her hands in his and took over. She was a gift more precious than anything which the Valar could bestow upon their servants, and he would unwrap her accordingly.

As the laces binding the back of her dress fell away one at a time, Adar explored his lover's mouth with all the tenderness and gentleness that his cruel, twisted body could muster. He hadn't even realized that her tricky little fingers had begun to fiddle with his armor until his breastplate fell away.

In a flurry of discarded garments, they were each revealed to the other in all their beauty and all their flaws. Their shared vulnerability stilled their hands for an anxious moment, but only for a moment.

Adar's breath hitched in his chest when the soft lips he'd tasted mere seconds before connected with the scarred flesh over his heart. He'd expected pity, fear, regret - not reverence. Instead, as she looked up at him, he saw nothing but sincerity in her expression.

"You are gorgeous," she said, as though she could not tell that he had but one part of his body which was untouched by scars.

...As though she meant it. He realized with a sharp intake of breath that she did. She grasped his hands and they sank onto his cloak together, she on her back and he kneeling between her legs. His interest jutted toward her, but he could not find it within himself to be ashamed, not when he was with her. Not when a piece of his armor hung on a chain around her neck, resting comfortably above her breast.

"There is no beauty finer in this world than yours."

Spread nude before him over his cloak, Adar's lady looked up at him with an adoration he had not believed possible. Not when directed at an Uruk such as he. His lips met hers once more, but this time, he forced himself to be much more controlled. He wanted her, yes, but he also wanted her to know that she had his love.

Kissing his way steadily down her body, the Lord-Father of the Uruks had no doubt that he must look as hungry for her as he felt. Practically feral with pent-up desire, he needed her writhing on his tongue. His hands trembled with the effort it took to slow his movements, to take his time.

Abruptly, as his eyes met hers from between her legs, he realized that she very much had the capacity to destroy him. With a single declaration of hatred or a look of disgust, she could easily take his stone heart and pulverize it into powder.

How easily could she shred beyond repair what little remained of his soul!

Not even Morgoth had been able to do that. This mortal woman, this sweet, brave lady had no idea of the power that she possessed. The smart thing to do - the strategically wise path - would have been to kill her then and there while she lay vulnerable and trusting before him, begging for one more touch, one more kiss, one more moan, one more scrap of his attention.

Instead, he picked up his discarded gauntlet and slid her much smaller hand inside it. The clasps were quick work, and though she looked confused at first, once he lifted her thighs over his shoulders and guided her hand to his hair, understanding dawned in her eyes. She understood. He wanted her to feel powerful. She was his equal and she deserved to know it.

Even with sharp, unyielding metal covering her fingertips, they scraped so gently over his scalp as lost himself in the flood between her thighs. She moaned and whimpered, squirming in his hold, but through it all, she never once hurt him.

Adar knew that she wouldn't. Even as she cried out his name for all the world to hear, drenching his tongue and chin, her grip in his hair was careful. Her thighs tensed in his grasp, squeezing his head in an intoxicating vice. Groaning and snarling against her sensitive folds, he couldn't bring himself to pull away until she was shaking in the midst of over-sensitivity.

"Adar, please," she breathed as he moved up her body. Hunger raged and burned in his eyes - he could deny himself no longer. Grasping her wrists, he pinned them easily above her head as he claimed her lips. His tongue delved into the softness of her mouth, taking with it the lingering taste of her.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him close enough for his tip to catch on her entrance. With synchronized groans, he pressed inside of her, joining their bodies together as one.

Profane language not meant for the ears of such a creature as her spilled from his throat in a guttural stream of Black Speech. Dipping his head, Adar moaned against her breast and surged forward, drawing a sinful mewl from deep within her throat.

"You have me. You take me so well," he praised in a raspy whisper, nibbling at her earlobe as he thrust into her slowly. Gradually, she stripped him of his sense and control, tugging from within him a steady flow of praise and filth in Elvish and Black Speech - promises to treasure her for the rest of his days, to protect her, and to draw from her so many screams each night that all of Mordor would be unable to deny his claim over her.

When she managed to roll her hips beneath him to meet his thrusts, begging him to use her, to ruin her, what could he do but grant his lady's wish?

In a quick movement, he'd repositioned them both so that she was astride his hips. Pulling her arms behind her back and tugging slightly so that her chest was pushed toward him, Adar looked into her eyes.

"If you wish your lord to use you, then move those hips," he ordered. Leaning in, he brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear and whispered a bit more gently to her. "Ride me, meleth. Show me that I have you."

She obeyed him instantly, finding a steady rhythm which, aided by his fingers toying with her clit, would have her tipping over the edge in mere moments. Indeed, her hips soon stuttered, and he gripped the back of her neck, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Do not look away. Look at the pleasure I can give you," he commanded, and as she nodded frantically, beginning to fall apart, he felt his heart stutter in his chest. "Yes, look upon the Uruk who loves you."

At that she sobbed and collided firmly with her orgasm. She fluttered around his length, calling his name in lovelorn stutters and gasps.

Who needed Valinor when she was its very embodiment?

He released her wrists, and she threw her arms around his neck, claiming his lips with her own. His hands slid down her back, landing squarely on her hips. Holding her steady, Adar thrust up into her, making her yelp in surprise. He needed very little now; he was close.

"Where do you wish me?" Adar breathed against her lips, and he could feel the heat burning her cheeks.

"Inside," she answered hiding her face against his neck, and he moaned against her shoulder. Her name tore from him in an almost pained whine as he spilled within her. He clutched her to him so tightly that he'd undoubtedly left bruises in his wake, but he would kiss them all in apology when they'd caught their breath.

Neither seemed eager to release the other, so in their embraced they remained exploring one another with gentle fingers and loving lips until long after the moon had risen and stars had winked their way into the sky. When he dared to lean back far enough to look into her eyes, Adar was met with love bathed in glittering starlight.

He wondered if he'd hurt her, but the smile stretching her lips said otherwise. The armor piece that she'd made into a necklace still rested upon the smooth expanse of her chest - a perfect accompaniment to his gauntlet upon her arm.

The ride back to camp seemed too short by far, but their bedrolls - which would soon be joined into one - called out to them so sweetly. Adar was used to the bows and deference he received from his children, but he knew in his heart that his decision had been right when upon their return he heard the Uruks repeating a particular phrase as they passed.

His lover had heard part of it before, but now there were a few more words to it.

"What is that they keep saying?" She whispered the question to him, and he couldn't keep himself from smiling proudly. "It sounds familiar, but different."

"'Tis Black Speech. They are saying 'make way for the Lord and Lady of Mordor,'" he answered kissing her temple as they approached their home.

~*~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @horta-in-charge @gandalfthepimp

#elronds-meleth-nin fic #adar x reader #my brain is now soup #no thoughts only Adar

24 notes · View notes