Dragon Ball Ships Week 2026 Day 3: Seasons of the Year (Part one: Autumn)
Summary: Before leaving for the Other World, Goku asked Piccolo to take care of Chi-Chi. It takes Piccolo far too long to understand what he truly meant.
Two lonely souls who, despite coming from different worlds, find warmth, closeness, and intimacy in each other.
LINK
In the Server Room - Monica x Asuna (Digimon Story Time Stranger) [SMUT]
There's a special reason why Asuna stays behind with Monica while Kanan goes on her search alone.
Established Relationship | Canon Compliant | Semi-Public Sex | Competent Women | Smut | WLW | Yuri | Explicit Sexual Content | Fingering | Undressing | Semi-Clothed Sex | Teasing | No Digimon/Human Romance | Fluff and Smut | Emotional Intimacy | Soft Smut | Tenderness | Healthy Relationship | Current Timeline (2028) [Time Stranger]
Also posted to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75463521
Also posted on Sunset: https://sunset.femslash.club/works/2417
Monica passes a brief glance at Asuna, who needs no words to understand. Communication needs no words between those whose hearts are close.
Working together in public safety made them acquaintances, but leaving public safety and establishing Rebellion Village for Digimon to take shelter truly built a connection between the two women; one that exceeds professionalism.
Though they keep this facet of their relationship to themselves.
Private and professional matters should stay as separate as possible, if only to prevent unnecessary complications from one side’s issues spilling over onto the other. A job in public safety teaches you that lesson very early — in training and practice, if your ear is open to the common gossip — and never shies from reminders.
That doesn’t mean feelings cannot grow between colleagues, or absolutely mustn’t be pursued. If the professionalism suffers not, then there is no problem. The affection and solace they share is their special secret.
To the outside world, Monica Simmons and Shiroki Asuna are accomplished former public safety employees who now pursue a different goal than their former employer, working together for the ideals they share. Accomplices, or partners.
That is the image anyone else has and shall have; their private matters are only for the two of them. And BeelStarmon, who, as Asuna’s partner, is privy to Asuna’s personal matters by default.
“I’ll stay behind with her,” says Asuna. She picks up a few documents and scans their contents, or so she makes it look to their third wheel — the mysterious but reliable agent who goes by the name of Yuki Kanan. “But I’ll be monitoring your situation the whole time. Just give me a call if anything goes wrong.”
Kanan doesn’t question why Asuna would rather stay in this empty, too warm server room with the Dr. than aid in the search for an ID. Reliable as always, not asking unnecessary questions. Simply carrying out her mission. A natural professional.
"Understood."
Kanan leaves the room, and the door closes shut behind her. Not that the agent would need any support against the Digimon employed as security, not if her earlier display is any indication. She’s got a better handle on Digimon than anyone else. She’ll be fine.
“I didn’t know you’re such a smooth liar... is what I’d say if I didn’t know your former job. And current activities.”
Monica smiles to herself as she types away at the PC, scanning over various databases in search of valuable information. It’s not like D-SAT changed its entire structure from its public safety days; the familiarity helps to filter out unnecessary fluff they’re not interested in.
She sees Asuna out of the corner of her eye and can’t help but praise herself for this suit she’s made. It hugs Asuna’s body perfectly, each curve on that slim body is accentuated. A true piece of art, and this outfit is the most appropriate frame.
The suit is made just a bit too small, for no other reason but to add an extra layer of sex appeal; the zipper never meant to close fully. That’s the one detail Monica added to the design. A little window into what’s hidden beneath sturdy fabric, adding a forbidden touch.
But the real genius is the designer who came up with the original for the remake of Agent Alpha, and Monica couldn’t be more grateful for that person’s work.
Asuna knows Monica put her in such an outfit intentionally. To live out her passion for her favorite anime originally — this was clear from the start. And to have Asuna be her personal eye candy, which wasn’t immediately obvious, but quickly became apparent.
She’d been trained in observation and perception, so Monica can be as covert as she likes, no glance at her chest or behind would escape Asuna. Not that she minds, not anymore. Not from Monica.
Not since that one day about five, maybe six years ago, when they ended up on that old, squeaky couch in Monica’s shabby house in Rebellion Village. It just happened; before they knew it, they were on the couch, nude and sweaty.
The stress must’ve piled up with no proper way to vent it, so they simply followed one of humanity’s most basic instincts — they fucked the stress out of their system.
Or so Monica rationalized it, at least. Though even back then, the smirk spoke of more. Less carnal desire trumping rationality, more taking the step towards what the heart had longed for for a while already.
Some things in life are inevitable to the point that while circumstances may change between timelines, the simple matter of an event happening is consistent.
As a researcher, Monica muses whether her encounter with Asuna is one of those special points. Irrelevant to the universe at large, or so it seems, but meaningful enough to be an inevitability.
Romantic, in her own way.
First, it was meant to be a one-time exception. Just this once. Then once more. Again, a few weeks later. The occasional meet-up to have sex turned into a regular arrangement eventually, simply for convenience’s sake, and after a few months, Asuna told Monica that she’s tired of beating around the bush.
They’re not merely co-workers, accomplices, or even an affair.
They share the same ideals, and fight for the same cause. Asuna would give her life to protect Monica — not as a valuable researcher, but as a precious person — and she knows Monica wouldn’t hesitate to do the same.
Putting that on top of the very evident sexual attraction — like strong magnets that will naturally pull towards each other — it clearly makes them lovers, whether or not they define their relationship as such.
Unsurprisingly, Monica agreed.
She remarked it surprised her Asuna took charge in establishing their relationship. Monica never took Asuna for one to be interested in romance. Truthfully, Asuna wasn’t. She lived for her job, for making life safer for the public.
A workaholic who wouldn’t ever allow herself any indolence, a model employee. Not that she changed entirely, she didn’t. But one is never too old to reconsider priorities, and open one’s heart (and life) to another.
Needless to say, this formally started their relationship, and it wasn’t long after that fateful day that Asuna was presented with a suit her former self never would’ve even considered wearing. Not as a public safety investigator who had an image to keep, not as her all too serious self.
But it felt like affirming their relationship, a connection they share. Worth the embarrassment, Asuna thought at the time, and luckily, she got used to this outfit relatively quickly. Truly like a second skin, no clothing could feel more comfortable.
Monica really is a genius.
Asuna nods at BeelStarmon, who takes the hint and stands watch in front of the server room. She doesn’t quite understand, but in certain moments, Asuna prefers solitude with her mate. When asked, Asuna wouldn’t elaborate, and forbade asking Monica.
Humans are peculiar like that. But Asuna’s happiness is her own, so BeelStarmon happily supports her partner in such endeavors.
“You know, I wonder...”
“No. In your position, that shouldn’t even cross your mind.”
Asuna folds her arms in front of her chest, pushing her breasts together. The half-open top really pays off in such gestures. Her frown differs barely from her neutral face, but communicates a displeasure that leaves Monica unbothered.
“Which position? As a researcher, I must say that the sexuality of Digimon is highly interesting, conceptually.” Asuna’s brow twitches. “However, as your girlfriend... I see how including another party would be unnecessary.”
“Well saved. This time.”
Although BeelStarmon is in every way a very attractive woman in appearance — busty, showing a lot of skin, smooth blonde hair — for Asuna, this Digimon is that cute little cat BlackTailmon she’d met eight years ago.
Like a cat that will always be a kitten in the owner’s heart, never a fully grown cat. She cannot see her partner in such a context.
The mere suggestion crosses countless lines.
“Now, now. You know I’m just kidding.”
Monica places a finger on Asuna’s collarbone, then slowly drags it down between her breasts, until she reaches the zipper. Her fingertip pauses, and she can just barely feel Asuna’s heartbeat quicken so slightly.
As well-composed as the former investigator is, body reactions cannot be fully controlled.
Asuna’s hand finds its way to the nape of Monica’s neck, pulling her in for a kiss. If Monica stalls, Asuna will charge ahead. Time is limited, and she wants to make the most of this temporary solitude. Kanan won’t be busy for forever.
With her lips curling into a smile, Monica closes her eyes and leans into the kiss, her heart aflutter as her lips are caressed by Asuna’s. Nowhere near hesitant or softly, but with purpose.
Shiroki Asuna is a very driven woman, and that is one of the most attractive traits one can offer. It only takes a bit of stalling to draw out this side. Worth it every single time.
Not losing any more time herself — though Monica doubts Kanan would bat an eye, much less spread the word were she to find them romantically engaged — Monica puts her hand on Asuna’s hip to lead her a few steps backwards.
Asuna breaks the kiss when the backs of her thighs meet the edge of a desk behind her.
“I don’t want to spend tomorrow with neck pain.” Monica needs to explain no more; their difference in height isn’t something easily forgotten even in the heat of the moment.
“Good thinking.” Asuna takes a quick little leap backwards to sit on the desk’s surface, uncaring about the documents strewn on top of it. “I can do without that, too.”
Monica leans forward, supporting herself with one hand on the desk. Still not ideal, but the best they can do with the limited options available here. Finally, she pulls down the zipper to open the suit’s front down to the intentionally low-placed belt.
A single flick of her wrist — or so it feels at least — and the belt is unclasped. What looks like an unreasonably difficult outfit to take off is child’s play to the genius who engineered it.
Asuna’s cheeks are dyed a faint pink. The nearby monitor and LEDs of various devices give the blush a light glow, amplifying its visibility even in this dimly lit room. Secondary only to the glint in Asuna’s dark lilac eyes.
“You even took your impatience into account when you made this.” A praise to the layers of consideration that went into this design. Asuna’s lips curve into a subtle smile; a rare sight on her face. Monica relishes these treats.
“Obviously. There’d be no beauty in impracticality.” Monica returns the smile with a hint of self-satisfaction. “Though having to rip fabric to shreds would have its own appeal.”
“… That would leave a lot more to explain, though.”
“Downsides to everything, I’m afraid.”
Monica’s hand slips under the fabric, two fingers easily finding their way to Asuna’s pussy, where they meet slick. Asuna gasps at the touch, expected yet sudden. Monica’s fingertips gently massage the folds, as if to get a feeling for what she already knows perfectly well.
She leans in until her lips are mere millimeters away from Asuna’s earlobe, luckily only one ear is covered by the communication device.
“I can see now why you’d rather stay.” Monica’s voice is but a purr in Asuna’s ear, turned on by the arousal she can clearly feel pooling between her lover’s thighs, just for her.
In response, Asuna wraps her legs around Monica’s waist to pull her in closer, unbothered by how it makes the position more awkward for the one doing all the work. Her face finds comfort in Monica’s shoulder, the lab coat’s surprisingly soft fabric hiding her flush.
Monica likes this slightly bashful side of Asuna as much as the more authoritative side. Asuna is beautiful in every state; it’s simple as that.
“We shouldn’t lose too much time here.” Asuna’s voice is breathy, but a reminder that they’re running on a timer. This isn’t the time or place for a drawn-out session; that’ll have to wait for later.
“Impatient.”
“You know that’s not what I—”
The comm in Asuna’s ear cracks, and Kanan’s voice is transferred. Audible to both women, thanks to the proximity.
“I can’t believe how lax public safety is with its cybersecurity, but I found something. Says here that they’ve written where they keep the ID on a sticky note.” Another crack, before Kanan adds. “I’ll have to correct myself. General data security in public safety seems nonexistent.”
Without missing a beat, Asuna’s index finger presses the button to enable communication with practiced ease. She could handle this tool in her sleep, which comes in handy in situations where her mind is hazy, clouded with lust at the most inappropriate time.
Little effort, and Asuna steadies her voice before responding.
“They must’ve put it on one of the whiteboards.” At another time, Asuna would shake her head at the carelessness of her former colleagues. Ironic, given her current compromising situation. “You’ll have to check them all.”
“… got it.”
Kanan sounds anything but pleased, but with a last crack, the transmission ends, and Asuna pushes the small button once more to end it from her side as well. Can’t be helped. They can’t proceed without this ID, and to get it, they’ll have to find out where it is.
“Naughty to send our agent on this wild goose chase.” Monica applies a bit more pressure as she strokes the folds, teasing Asuna’s wet, hot entrance. “You already know where to find the ID, don’t you?”
“… what makes you think that?” It takes all of Asuna to keep her voice steady enough to feign unaffectedness; a trained reflex.
An alarm sound cuts through the silence, but the two women ignore it. Kanan surely will be able to take care of the security herself, and call for help if she can’t. It would take a serious unforeseen issue to break this up right now.
“For one… you’ve always been exceptionally good at your job.” Moving a little upward, Monica’s fingertips find Asuna’s clit, swollen and hard. Begging to be touched.
Asuna moans at the touch, surprised at her own body’s readiness and reception in this situation. She immediately bites into Monica’s shoulder — luckily protected by two layers of fabric, shirt and lab coat — to stifle further leaks of her voice they wouldn’t want anyone to overhear.
Lab coats are sturdy enough not to allow bite marks on the skin below, not that they were made for this purpose.
“And also.” Monica spreads the slick covering her fingers on the little nub, feeling it throb in response. “You wouldn’t be this relaxed if you didn’t already know the target’s location. Investigator Shiroki can’t rest until her findings satisfy her own standards.”
They’re both well aware that Asuna had been to this location before to gain intel. It’s a miracle Kanan hadn’t caught on herself.
“Guilty as charged,” Asuna breathes.
Although embarrassing, given it’s less than flattering to be described as a workaholic in such a moment, the fact that Monica knows her so well sends her heart aflutter.
Catching up with her lower abdomen that’s already been a hot, electrified pool of arousal for a while now; sending a tingle up her spine with each little brush of Monica’s hand against her skin.
Another alarm. Probably more security is summoned after Kanan took care of the previous security Digimon. Not that either wave is particularly difficult to handle. Even BeelStarmon alone would have no issue. Kanan will be fine.
“The things you do for intimacy.” Monica doesn’t criticize the skewed priorities. “And I’ll always be your willing accomplice.”
Before Asuna can say another word, Monica rubs her middle finger’s pad over her clit in quick flicks; just the movement that drives Asuna crazy. Gyrating her hips, an arousal-fueled futile attempt to intensify the electrifying touch further, Asuna has no patience left.
Not when Monica touches her like this.
As much as Monica would love to draw this out a little more, they’re not here to enjoy themselves. Stealing a few minutes shouldn’t hurt, but more than that and Asuna would regret giving in to her desires once her mind clears up.
Better take this as an apéritif to the full course they both can savor later.
When Asuna feels close, her hips shivering, she crashes her lips against Monica’s once more. Allowing Monica’s tongue to enter her mouth for a sloppily wet but hot dance in her mouth; uncaring about the bits of saliva that might spill from where their mouths don’t quite close gaps.
Moans and whimpers catch in Monica’s throat, who happily swallows all those voices only meant for her ears, anyway. It takes little more until white flashes before Asuna’s eyes, and she comes undone with her back arched.
Sucking on Monica’s tongue as though her life depends on it, teeth clashing against teeth as she rides out the most inappropriately timed orgasm she’s ever had and hopefully ever will have.
After a sweet moment of post-orgasm bliss — too short entirely — Asuna runs her hand through her hair. Sweat sticks to her gloved hand for a few seconds before the suit’s fabric soaks it up, leaving no trace in sight or smell behind. Truly a genius design in all kinds of situations.
Monica takes in the rare — although almost commonplace by now — sight of the unraveled Asuna in front of her. She licks the slick off of her fingers, relishing in the tangy taste that only her girlfriend carries.
Her own turn can wait until later. She reaches out her hand to Asuna, who gratefully takes it to let Monica help her back onto her feet.
The suit’s zipper still open, breasts almost spilling out, belt unclasped, Asuna’s hands reach for the zipper to pull it back up, while Monica takes care of the belt.
It takes nearly no time at all to restore the look of professionalism on the former public safety investigator. Having a genius girlfriend who comes up with highly practical clothing does the trick.
“I should give Yuki a hand.” Asuna flashes Monica a rare smile. Gratitude for the moment they’ve just shared, for going along with this whim. “Give me two minutes until you join up. You’re already done anyway, right?”
“Of course. I work fast.” Monica smirks, hands in the pockets of her lab coat. “In all my endeavors.”
Summary: As Halbrand heals from his wound, he and Galadriel grow closer, and Galadriel makes a confession of hope that turns into one of love. But Halbrand insists that Galadriel make him a promise: a promise to remember a truth that will bind her for all time. My first Haladriel/Saurondriel fic!
The light that danced on the Glanduin that morning was a silver brighter than burnished elven steel, the trees across the river were a display of every shade of green, and the lupins that grew along the path were the most beautiful purples and blues, an ocean of color that wrapped around Galadriel from every side. The air from the west was wholesome and fresh, and despite the new whispers of war from the south, Galadriel felt a deeper peace than she had known for a thousand years. And her heart told her that she owed that newfound peace to the man walking companionably by her side.
Halbrand had been instructed by his healers to take a daily walk along the banks of the Glanduin to regain his strength after his close brush with death. Already, the deathly pallor that had clung to his cheeks during their ride to Eregion had retreated, the red-brown luster of his hair had returned, and he stood straight and tall once again. Galadriel attested his swift recovery from the terrible wound to the strength and nobility of his will, yet more proof that he truly was a king of Men.
She glanced at him, her eyes fondly tracing the profile that she had grown to know so well in these past months since their chance meeting upon the sea. Most mornings she accompanied him on his walk, having little else to do while awaiting the High King's arrival, and though she and Halbrand rarely spoke on those occasions, it did not seem to Galadriel that they needed to. Never before had she met another being whose very soul seemed to be so attuned to hers. Ever since the battle and that quiet moment afterwards beside him in the forest, she felt somehow bound to him in a way she could not yet name, and new thoughts and feelings stirred deep inside her every time their eyes met, filling all her being – body and soul – with licking flames. Yet, even so, she could not help but notice that for the last several days, Halbrand's thoughts seemed to be turned elsewhere, to concerns veiled from her mind, yet she could guess that his thoughts strayed to his people in the south, homeless and adrift, and the orcs filling the land that he should be ruling.
They reached a point in the trail where the path wove into a shaded glen. It was quiet and isolated, hidden by the ring of linden and beech trees from the tall towers of the city. In the middle of the grove was an elegant wooden bench, surrounded by the sweet-smelling lupins. It had become a wordless custom between them to linger a while here, watching the river flow lazily by as they basked in one another's company.
For a while they became lost in the companionable silence, surrounded by the murmur of wind in the trees all around and the soft lap of water along the bank. But then Halbrand breathed a deep sigh. "It truly is beautiful here," he murmured.
Galadriel looked at him. There was awe in his gaze, but also a longing, and beneath that, something akin to hunger that flickered deep in his green eyes. She looked around at the aestival loveliness of their surroundings, and her mouth twisted slightly. "You should see Lindon," she replied in the same quiet tone that he had used.
He shot her a look, eyebrow raised. "Is that an invitation, Galadriel?" he asked, and there was a note of a familiar teasing tone in his voice that made warmth rise in Galadriel's chest.
Her own gaze was steady and serious. "No," she said. "But with the new threat of Adar and the orcs in the south, it may be that my High King will wish to ally himself with the King of the Southlands. In that case, you may very well see the heart of elvendom in Middle-earth."
"I think I should like that," he answered, his voice distant.
"To see my family's home or to ally your people to mine?" she asked.
He didn't answer, but he gazed across the river silently, his body strangely still.
Galadriel followed his gaze out across the water. "You worry for your people, do you not?" she said softly. "Now that your wound is healing and your body grows strong again, you will leave Eregion and return to them soon." As she said the words, she felt the heaviness of them and the shortness of time sink into her heart. She had known that such must come to pass and that the day that their paths finally diverged could not be staved off forever. Her soul felt full of a thousand thoughts and emotions that she could not bring herself to admit. Yet, the silence between them screamed at her to say something.
"Halbrand," she said quietly.
He turned his eyes to her, the intensity of his full gaze settling on her face.
"Halbrand," she said again, and his name on her lips felt like a prayer. "I do not truly think you know all that you have done for me."
His lips twisted into that familiar wry smile. "I'm the one with a crown and a people again because of you," he said.
"Yes," she acknowledged solemnly, "but you have given me just as much." Her eyes wandered across the river once again, to the swaying trees on the distant bank. "For a thousand years, I had been driven by naught but by a desire for vengeance and a creeping dread that freezes the very heart. But hope? Hope was something I believed had died inside me with my brother and my cousins and all else whom I lost in the War." Her fingers wound around the dagger hilt at her belt, the touch of it more familiar than anything else in her world. "Deep down, I do not know if I truly wished to find Sauron and finally end his evil, for if I did, what else would I have to live for? My vengeance would be put to rest, and then there would be nothing."
She could feel his gaze on her, and she turned back to him. "I cannot explain it, but your presence has filled a gaping hole in my soul that I did not know could ever be mended." She stuttered, aware of how vulnerable and intimate were the words she spoke, but it was as if a fire were lit now in her heart and she could not let it burn out or a part of her would wither. "Halbrand, when I leapt from that ship, I do not know what it was I sought. But I found in you that which I did not think to seek: purpose, and with it again…hope."
Her fingers sought his and grasped his hand. The burning inside her was growing, and she needed him to understand. "For a millennia, all that my heart sought was death and destruction – of evil, yes, but death and destruction still. I needed to know that I had more left to me than seeking to destroy, that I could also seek to build and to grow and to mend." She felt tears forming upon her lashes, threatening to spill down her narrow cheeks. "I needed to know that I could seek life beyond my endless quest for death." She squeezed his hand. "You gave me that, Halbrand, and it shall ever be in my heart, whether you are at my side or on a distant shore of Middle-earth."
She felt as if she were sinking into his eyes, and through his eyes into the depths of his being. She brought up her hand and gently stroked her fingertips over the rough stubble of his cheeks and let them brush through the edges of his brown locks. Her other hand trembled in his.
He lifted his own hand, mirroring her, and she felt his calloused blacksmith fingers brushing along her cheekbones and slipping deep into her hair. His gaze remained locked with hers, the intensity of their stares perfectly matched.
The heat had settled deep in Galadriel's stomach, burning, burning. As if of their own accord, her eyes darted momentarily down to the curve of his lips then back up to his eyes. As brief as the moment was, however, Halbrand saw. "Galadriel," he said softly, and there was something like a quiet warning in his voice.
Somehow, their bodies had drawn closer, she did not know how. But now they sat so close together that her leg was all but brushing his and their still-joined hands rested in the minute gap between their hips.
For a moment, doubt seized her, thoughts of duties and her place among elvenkind and the distance that would soon separate her and the King of the Southlands. But she was Galadriel, daughter of the golden house of Finarfin, and it was not for others to decide how she wove her own fate. She leaned forward.
To her surprise, Halbrand stopped her.
"Galadriel," he said again, her name both a reverence and a warning. "Are you sure you want this?"
She tilted her chin proudly, her voice strong again. "I have walked Middle-earth since the first sunrise," she said, "and in that time, I have pursued that which I desired and let no Man or Elf stop me."
There it was again: that wry smile that danced at the corners of his lips and formed soft crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. "That is something to which I can readily attest," he answered. "Even when I first saw you upon that raft, I knew you were someone who chose her own path." His eyes grew briefly distant, lost to either thought or memory, but when they focused on her again, they burned with a new intensity. His fingers tightened in her hand.
"Galadriel," he said. "Tell me, do you love me?"
Her gaze did not waver and her chin remained tilted, confident and strong. "Yes," she answered simply.
His lips tightened, but she could not tell what emotion it was that danced behind the light of his eyes. "Do you love me, Galadriel? Not the King of the Southlands. Not the blacksmith of Númenor. Not the man who saved your life? But me? Do you truly love who I am?"
She could tell the question was intensely important to him, that it touched something that gnawed at the very core of his soul. She cupped his cheek, re-teaching her fingers how to be tender after fighting for so long. "Yes, Halbrand, I love you," she answered. "Not for your armies and your kingdoms, not for any debt owed, but for you."
He reached up and took her hand from his face and held both her hands tightly in his lap. His stare seemed to be boring a hole straight through her to her soul. "Can you promise me something, Galadriel?" he asked. "I need you to make me a promise."
For a moment, Galadriel hesitated, knowing with intimate pain the price that could come with an oath. Yet her resolve hardened at the strange agony she saw on his face as he waited for her answer. "What is it that you would have me promise?"
He kept hold of her hands tightly. "I ask only that you promise to remember this moment and what I am about to tell you." He adjusted himself on the bench to face her entirely, his leg pressing flush against hers. "There may come a day when you doubt what I am about to say, when you wonder if I told you the truth. And I tell you, Galadriel, this is the truth. Whatever else you may come to believe, remember that in this moment, I told you the truth."
His fingers seemed to burn against her skin, even as his eyes seemed to burn against her face. "Galadriel, whatever else you may ever believe about me, whatever else about me you may someday learn, I need you to know that I have not been false with you. This, Galadriel, this…" He lifted her hand and placed it against his chest over his heart. "…this is real. This is who I am, truly me. I have worn no mask in your presence. I need you to promise me that you will always remember that I told you this and that it was the truth."
She did not understand, but she understood that this promise was more important to him than anything he had ever asked of her before. She spread her fingers over his heart. "I promise," she said steadily. "I promise to remember for all time, Halbrand."
Finally, he relaxed, and his fingers around her hand were gentle once again. His shoulders eased, as if a great weight had suddenly fallen from them. For a moment, Galadriel thought she felt something brush against her mind, like a fellow powerful will, but she dismissed it as a part of her own complicated thoughts, for only her people and powers higher than they could touch minds in such a manner.
"Are you content?" she asked.
"Yes," he sighed. "Yes, I am content."
"Then shall I pursue what I desire?"
The smirk that crossed his lips this time was playful and mischievous, and his eyes glimmered.
Galadriel reach up and twined her fingers through his hair, and then she pressed her lips to his.
It was as if colors that she had never before conceived of burst into being and sensations of which she had never dreamed were birthed inside of her, light and time and darkness across eons converging upon one another in this one moment and place. Galadriel kissed him with the fire of the Noldor and the pain of the last three thousand years and the hope that he had brought back into her life. Inside her and all around her, a Song seemed to rise and reverberate, as if the Great Music at the heart of all existence was blossoming into life.
For a moment, Halbrand's lips were still against hers, almost as though he couldn't believe the kiss was real, but then with a surge of passion and fierce hunger, he lifted his hands to bury them deep in her hair on either side of her face, and at the same time kissed her back with ravening desire. He kissed her as if he were lost in the shadows of the deepest caves in the heart of the Hithaeglir and she was the only light that could guide him back home. He kissed her as if he were a starving man and she the only feast that could sate him. He kissed her as if this were his one and only chance and he might never touch her again.
His stubble tickled pleasantly against her cheeks, but his lips were soft and clever against hers. His fingers carded deeply through her hair, and she shivered with involuntary pleasure as they stroked along the sensitive curve and taper of her pointed ears. At the same time, his lips parted, needing more than a superficial touch, and she felt the silky glide of his tongue over her lower lip as a reverberation that trembled all the way down to her core.
Her own response was immediate. She seized a handful of his hair and pulled him flush against her, parting her own lips in both an invitation and a claim, twining her tongue around his. Momentarily, he seemed caught off guard by her boldness, but then she felt his lips twist against hers into a smirk and he was kissing her back with the exact same abandon, refusing to let her throw him off.
There was too much distance between them, still too much. They were turned towards each other on the bench, their legs brushing together, but it was not enough. Skillful and graceful as any move she might have made on the battlefield, she kept her lips crushed against his as she pushed herself up and pivoted in a single movement, landing squarely in his lap, with her knees pressed against his hips on either side. He grunted in brief surprise, which made her smile, but then he was back to ravaging her with his mouth. His right hand remained buried in her long golden hair, cupping her cheek, but his other hand began to explore down her lithe form, gliding over her shoulders, then down her back, and finally over the swell of her hips and backside, where it settled, warm and firm, holding her body to himself.
She pressed her chest to him, leaning fully against him, and wrapped one arm about his broad shoulders. Her other hand explored every texture and feature of the face she had come to know so well by sight, seeking to memorize every line and angle. His tangled hair tickled against the back of her knuckles. He smelled of blacksmith iron and sweet wood smoke and the herbal ointments that the healers had used on his broken body. She remembered sitting next to him during those harrowing first few nights in Eregion, when it had been unclear if the souring of his wound ran too deep even for elvish medicine. She remembered further back to the days spent riding from the ruined Southlands and those long dark nights when she had forced both herself and the two steeds past the point normal endurance, terrified that if she stopped for even the briefest respite that Halbrand's life would be the cost, a price for which she would never forgive herself. She remembered how each stride of her horse's gallop had reverberated with the pounding of her heart when she had looked back on the final stretch of the ride to see Halbrand slumped motionless over his saddle and her devastating fear that she had lost this man with his charming smirk and his enigmatic eyes just when she was beginning to realize how much he meant to her.
But she had not lost him. They had survived, both of them, through the storm on the raft and through the battle against the orcs and through the torment of the fire mountain and through the fear and pain of their long ride to Eregion. He was safe, and he was hers at last.
As if his mind were at one with hers, he rose suddenly, lips still passionately pressed to hers, holding her slender body easily in his arms. She felt him stepping forward then bending, and the next thing she knew, he was laying her down in the fragrant grass and he himself was bent over her, his arms planted on either side of her head and his knees at her hips. Finally, he pulled his lips from hers in a slow, tantalizing caress and stared down at her, awe and lust mingling in his green eyes at the sight of her laid out beneath him with her shining golden hair pooled about her in the lush green grass. She stared up at him, undaunted but utterly mesmerized by the rugged, handsome king blocking out the sunlight from her view and casting her in shadows upon the ground.
"Galadriel," he whispered, as one might say the names of the Valar.
She cupped his cheek tenderly. "My king," she whispered back. "Oh, Halbrand."
He dipped forward to pull a long, lingering kiss from her lips, which sent shivers of liquid pleasure dancing down Galadriel's body. But now his hands were busy about her waist, loosening her belt and the elven silks in which she was draped. Heat steadily rose in Galadriel's chest, her breathing quickening rapidly. Her own fingers darted to his waist, undoing the leather belt clasped about his trim middle. She tugged at the bothersome fabric of his tunic, fingers desperate for skin, and he shrugged fluidly, helping her to free himself of the garment which he discarded on the grass beside them, leaving his broad chest bare.
Galadriel gazed up at him in ardent fascination then reached out a hand to place her palm flat against his chest. Thick coarse hair scratched against her skin. His breathing was quick, and she could feel his heart pulsing wildly.
But then he was bending over her again, and she felt her belt slip free under his fingers. In a moment of pure instinct, her hand darted out to stop him, and they froze, both their hands resting over the hilt of her brother's dagger.
She stared up wide-eyed into his face, frozen with sudden dread, and he stared down at her, still and quiet while he waited for her to face that dread. Her lips trembled. But then she slowly drew her hand away, giving him silent permission to continue.
Softly and almost reverently, he slipped the belt off her body and laid it, with the dagger, gently on top of his tunic. Just as gently, he ran his fingertips down her arm in a soft reassurance that made her heart tremble. But then his lips parted and just like that his passion was back, and he was tugging at the dress encasing her body. Eagerly, he pulled it off of her, allowing it to join his tunic in the grass, and leaving her utterly unclothed to his gaze.
The touch of the grass and wind and the sunlight felt strange against her naked flesh, but a sense of calm and peace wrapped all around her. Everything about this moment – both the laying aside of her dagger and her nakedness in that serene glen – felt so right, pieces of a puzzle coming together that she had waited years to find. She felt no fear or shame, only the intense burning in her core of how right this moment felt, of how right he felt.
His gaze said it all. He stared at her as if he could devour her with his eyes, his gaze sweeping down her entire body with reverence and hunger, from her white shoulders and breasts down to the bare curve of her hips and thighs and the golden curls between her legs. There was no need for him to speak, for his eyes said everything, and Galadriel reveled in the glory of her king's worshipful gaze.
With a quick, almost desperate movement, he freed himself of his trousers then stretched his own lean naked body over hers.
She gasped heavily at the sudden sensation of all of him, his heat and his weight, pressed down upon her own body. But he gave her no time to consider everything that was happening, for his lips descended upon her again, this time pressing everywhere he could reach. She arched her back, baring her throat, as his mouth found her pulse, first sucking with his lips, then scraping gently with his teeth, then laving with the flat of his tongue, drawing soft keening sounds from her lips. Her core pulsed and burned. Every inch of her yearned for him.
Down his lips strayed, and she wrapped her arm tight around his shoulder, caressing the lines of his muscles on his powerful back. Her other hand tangled in his hair, keeping his face pressed to her skin and silently encouraging his worshipful attention. He kissed along her shoulder, then along her collarbone, his hands dancing as skillfully along her body as she had seen him handle steel in the Númenorean forge. He shaped her pleasure just as expertly as he had shaped the armor she wore into battle. Her heart was pounding so hard that she knew he must be able to feel it.
He hand glided back up to her ribs where he cupped her breast easily, squeezing gently. His palm felt so large over her soft flesh, and she trembled all over, another soft sound escaping her that turned into a helpless whine as his clever fingers began to toy with her hardened nipple. He rolled the sensitive rosy nub between his thumb and forefingers, drawing out sensations that spiked all the way through Galadriel's body. Her back instinctively arched further, pressing herself into his hand, and his other palm slipped beneath her, resting against the exposed small of her back to support her frame.
Without warning, he lowered his mouth to her other breast, sucking her nipple in between his lips suddenly and causing her to gasp and squirm beneath him. His tongue played with her, causing her to whine and rub her thighs together with the building need. And then, curse his impudence, she felt the smirk of his lips against her breast and she knew he was pleased at the reaction he was dragging out of her. Well, if that was the way her roguish king was going to play…
He nearly choked as her own slender fingers grasped him firmly between his legs, and now it was her turn to smirk at the truly delightful whimper that he released into the world. His head fell back, his eyelids drooping languidly, his mouth hanging open, the long line of his throat exposed. As she began to stroke him, his fingers knotted tightly in the grass at her side and his body convulsed beautifully above her with pleasure.
Then his eyes snapped back open, piercing down upon her suddenly and fiercely. For a moment, it seemed that a light came on behind the veneer of his eyes, a flame as bright and consuming as the fire mountain that had devastated his Southlands. His hands grasped her hips and their eyes locked. The very air around them seemed to take a deep, shuddering breath of anticipation.
Galadriel's head fell back, hair spilling wildly around her, as Halbrand joined their bodies together as one. All around, it seemed there was a rainbow of light, more brilliant and beautiful than anything she had ever seen. Time and the expanse of Eä itself wheeled around them, but they were untouched by it, lost in their own universe where two bodies moved together in perfect harmony and two souls clung to each other for understanding that only the other could give. Their lips met again, and they kissed and wept crystal tears that mingled on each other's cheeks, and when Galadriel's pleasure crested and crashed about her, she grasped wildly at his shoulders and cried out his name, and when he followed her shortly after, he buried his face in the golden pool of her hair and panted raggedly as their heartbeats gradually slowed against one another's breasts.
Afterwards, he wrapped her in his arms and tugged her gently to his own body, and she rested her head on his chest as soft warmth and contentment and a peace like nothing she had ever known settled all around her like a blanket woven of down. The circle of blue sky above them and the ring of trees sang with the Music of which the world was made. Halbrand hummed deep in his throat, a strange tune that Galadriel assumed must be some song of the Southlands but at the same time, it was oddly familiar to her, as if she had heard it sometime in her distant past. Her hand gently stroked the ragged red scar on his side, and she thanked whatever fate it had been that brought them together on that raft all those months ago.
~o~o~o~
Less than a month later, Galadriel confronted Halbrand with a scroll of lineage in her hand, only a little ways down the bank from the place where they had joined body and soul, and she saw his familiar warm eyes turn cold and ancient and terrible. There, he offered to make her his queen for all time, and she had placed her dagger against his throat and refused him, even as it tore her soul in half to do so.
And there, on the bank of the Glanduin, only a few days later, she came across the glade of fragrant lupins where her abhorred enemy had laid her down so tenderly in the grass and given all of himself to her, even as he had also taken everything from her. She fell to her knees there in the grass, wrapping her arms about herself, and sobbed until her throat was ragged and no more tears would come.
She wept from the pain of betrayal and horror, she wept for the loss of her dear friend and companion, she wept for the knowledge that never again would she feel the peace and the understanding that she had only known in his presence, and she wept from the part of her that now yearned for him with an aching need that could never again be sated. All around her, the sunlight on the water and the shadowing trees and the lupins seemed to have lost all their luster, plunging her into a world wrapped only in hues of grey.
And there, in the grey and the silence, she remembered his voice and his fingers in her hair and the promise he had made her swear to him: that she would remember the truth he had told her, that the man she had loved had been real. It was that knowledge that pained her more than anything else and dragged from her the most bitter tears. It was the truth that would bind her in sorrow and shame and pain until the last days of her elven years were finally spent.
It was the truth that she had looked directly into the soul of her greatest Enemy and desperately loved what she found there.
Hi sweet Liv, any recs for rough sex turning into tender love making ❤️?
Yesss love me some tender rough smut 👌🏼
Five Years by @shiftylinguini (M, 4.6k)
For Draco, December means finding somewhere he can lose himself in the thrum of a crowd and the throb of music ― and Potter. It always means Potter now, too.
A Pain of Our Choosing by @lqtraintracks (E, 6k)
It’s 8th year and everyone’s still a bit messed up. Harry and Draco fall into being messed up together.
Teeth by Amelior8or (6k)
Potter’s been practically begging for it, for months, constantly staring until the air crackles with the intensity of it. Draco always stares back, until all it takes is a brush, a spark, before they go up like flash paper. The crash into each other is inevitable.
The Things They Never Say by @bixgirl1 (9k)
Harry and Draco don't know how to talk. So they do other things instead.
In Your Arms, Rests My World by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (24k)
Harry presses his mouth to Malfoy's forehead; he wants to tell him that he’ll never leave, that he wouldn’t dream of it. “You make me feel safe, Potter” Malfoy whispers. “You keep me safe.”
The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered (E, 54k)
Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.
That Old Black Magic by @bixgirl1 (77k)
Centuries ago, marriage contracts were the norm — ready-made alliances between families, expected and complied with, without complaint. But norms have a way of changing, and when a long-dormant contract flares to life, Harry has to navigate an unexpected splintering of the path he'd thought would be easy after the war... with Draco Malfoy.
I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (93k)
Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels.
Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid (100k)
What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life.
Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)
The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.
He Comes Like a Thunderstorm by @korlaena (140k)
Draco is doing his best to balance the life he wants to live and the life he’s forced to live. He’s nearing the tail-end of a long, post-war probation when Harry Potter crashes back into his life with all the grace of a charging Erumpent, breaking through his carefully constructed rules and routine.
Lost In Your Arms by Femme (E, 257k)
Three months after their brief encounter, Draco has almost forgotten about Potter--or so he tells himself. Then a Dark wizard shows up on the Auror radar and all hell breaks loose.
Summary/Notes: Trying to relax after an exhausting mission Mitsuri finds herself being taken care of by a fellow Hashira. (As always Black coded reader/Black reader/Black fem reader, smut so mdni, wlw smut, vanilla smut)
Mitsuri sighs as she sinks into the warm water at the hot spring and closes her eyes as she feels the tension in her body slowly leave her. Despite her hard she trains and works, muscle aches and tension are an unfortunate part of the job, even with her experience as a Hashira. As she opens her eyes she starts to unravel her braids and comb the hair out with her fingers. ‘I’ll need a comb to work with this properly’ she thinks to herself. As she continues to comb her hair with her fingers she doesn’t hear footsteps approaching her.
“You mind if I join you?” a female voice asks her. She lets out a small shriek and turns around to see you in a robe that’s loosely tied and that leaves your chest area slightly exposed. She also sees some metal peeking through the rope where your nipples are and feels her face get warm.
“Not at all! Please enjoy yourself!” she says quickly. You proceed to take off your robes and she quickly turns around. She hears you sigh when you enter the water. Mitsuri has never admitted this before but she’s always had a bit of a small crush on you from the moment she met you when she first became a Hashira. You had already been a Hashira for some time when she became the Love Hashira and the more time she spent with you, whether it was on missions or just spending time with one another, she’s grown to like you more and more.
Aside from admiring your skills as a fighter she’s always found you very pretty, always admiring the way that the sun shines on your brown skin or the way that you are unapologetic with your style, sporting a nose ring and always wearing pretty accessories to pin up your locs. And most of all she loves how you always instill more confidence in her, letting her know that she has no reason to hide herself or any of her traits.
‘You’re strong, talented, kind, pretty and most of all you go after what you want. What’s not to like about you Mitsuri?’ she remembers you telling her.
“Did you come back from a mission?” you ask while sinking yourself lower into the water until it almost touched your chin.
“Yeah just came back this morning but my muscles are really tense so I thought that coming to the hot spring would help” she responds.
“I’ve been on two missions back to back. I’m beat” you say sighing.
Mitsuri is about to reply when she grunts in pain and tries moving her shoulder around in hopes that it will relieve the pain but it does very little. You notice and swim over to where she’s at.
“Here let me help” you tell her while approaching her from behind.
“Huh? No it’s okay you don’t need to help” she starts rambling nervously. You roll your eyes and just chuckle in response.
“Try to relax your muscles for a bit. I’ll help you,” you tell her calmly. “I’m gonna start massaging your muscles for a bit. You okay with that?” She nods giving you the okay and feels your calloused but smooth hands rubbing her shoulders soothingly before you put a bit more pressure on them. Before she knows it she lets out a moan at the feeling of her shoulders cracking and immediately blushes in embarrassment.
“Kyah! I’m so sorry I didn’t mean that” she shrieks covering her face with her hands. All you do is just laugh and reassure her that it’s quite alright.
“That just means that I’m doing my job correctly” you chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good” you whisper in her ear.
The more pressure you put on her shoulders by massaging them the more Mitsuri feels like she’s in heaven and closes her eyes and lets herself get lost in the feeling.
“You’ve been working very hard haven’t you Mitsuri?” you whisper in her ear while moving your hands down her shoulder to rub her muscled arm. She shivers a bit but composes herself. “A girl like you deserves to be pampered. Will you let me? Hmmm?”
As your hands make their way near her breasts you rub her stomach feeling the abs that she has there. It’s no surprise that Mitsuri has the muscles she does. From what you recall her telling you and from what you’ve seen when the two have you have worked together on missions, she’s insanely strong.
“Are you okay with this?” you ask while pressing some kisses down her neck. Letting out a shaky sigh she nods her head but it’s not enough for you. Pressing yourself closer to her back she feels your nipple piercings against her.
“That’s not good enough for me. Use your words sweetheart.”
Leaning her head against your shoulder she lets out a shaky yes and you smile mischievously into her neck and grope her breasts. She lets out a small moan at the feeling of you playing around with them and the way you tweak her nipples. While your left hand is busy with playing with her breast your right hand makes its way down to her lower regions and you part her lips and rub the inside sensually.
You can hear Mitsuri’s breath hitch and you chuckle. Turning her head in your direction you plant a kiss on her lips and her eyes widen before they close and she returns the kiss with more passion. The both of you stay like that for a couple of more seconds before you pull away and she finds herself desperate for the feeling of your soft lips against hers.
“Relax pretty girl, I got you. Come here.” You move her towards the area where the land is and lift her up and gently place her on the ground so that she’s laying down. You still stay in the water gripping her legs and opening them so that you have clear access to her lower regions. Licking your lips you press some kisses down there and hear Mitsuri sighing in what sounds like relief or pleasure or even both. You maneuver her legs so that they rest on your shoulders and spread her lips apart so that you can press some sloppy licks and kisses there. Moaning, Mitsuri clenches her eyes shut and starts to breathe rapidly. She’s never had anything like this but she would be lying if she didn’t imagine something like this with the two of you.
“Yes, yes, please give me more” she pants. As you continue to lick her down there she tries moving her hips towards you to get a stronger feeling. When she feels you insert a finger and slowly but softly massage her inner walls she lets out a louder moan and reaches down instinctively to grab your hair. Before she can apologize and pull her hand back you massage her walls with a bit more pressure and she can’t help but grip your locs tighter. Little by little she feels herself getting lost in the feeling of pleasure and can feel her lower area tightening.
“Gonna, something’s gonna, mmmmm, please” she wails. Smiling to yourself you add more pressure and move to suck on her clit and she pretty much screams in pleasure. You know that it’s only a matter of time before she’s gonna come undone. As you lick and suck on her clit while massaging her walls she wraps her legs around you tighter and massages her own breasts. The only sounds you can hear are lewd wet noises and pants and moans coming from the both of you.
When Mitsuri does come undone she swears she sees stars and grips your locs tighter as she lets herself go and throws her head back and moans. When she’s finally done she closes her eyes and lets her legs go from where they were wrapped around you and feels tired and limp. She feels your hands massaging her legs and thighs, relieving some of the tension there before she feels your wet body press up against hers and feels your soft lips against her own. She sighs lovingly and the two of you share a sweet but loving kiss before you pull away and caress her cheek.
“You okay there sweet girl? I hope I wasn’t too rough with you” you ask while continuing to caress her cheek. Mitsuri blinks slowly and gives you a tired but happy smile.
“That was really good…I’ve never experienced anything like that” she whispers.
“Glad I could help” you laugh softly. You pick her up from the back of her neck and hold her in your arms enjoying the silence under the night sky. She wraps her arms around you and lays her head on your chest, with a small smile on her face, content with being with you.
using the @silmsmutweek day 2 prompt: pregnant sex +rarepair
Silmarillion Kinktober Prompts 2023 (1055 words) by BaccaratBlack
Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Elenwë/Turgon of Gondolin, Maedhros | Maitimo/Maeglin | Lómion
Characters: Turgon of Gondolin, Elenwë (Tolkien), Maeglin | Lómion, Maedhros | Maitimo
Additional Tags: kinktober 2023, silmsmutweek, Pegging, sex from female viewpoint, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dominatrix, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Trans Male Character, Trans Maeglin, Cunnilingus, Strangers to Lovers, Rarepair
Summary:
Collection of ficlets, drabbles, double drabbles, and one shots featuring a variety of pairings and all the kink.
you spoke to me so sweetly [Alexis/Twyla | E | 2.6k]
Alexis hums her appreciation, letting her eyes fall closed while Twyla repeats the circuitous route, and breathing in the blend of lavender and lemon oil her wife insisted upon for “calm and good luck”. The temporary serenity only lasts for three or four passes until a light knock at the door interrupts. She doesn’t try to hide her instant pout when the gentle pressure disappears and she’s forced to open her eyes again.
Dr. Rist breezes inside, far too perky in Alexis’s opinion. Perhaps it’s a good sign. Despite her nerves, Alexis plasters her PR smile on, and clasps Twyla’s hand – the only tell she’ll allow to indicate she’s worried while they wait to find out what kind of life changing the appointment will be. Sitting here, in the highly impersonal room with its speckled tile floor and wallpaper with tiny, faded flowers is one of the few times Alexis has doubted her self-proclaimed ability to girl boss her way out of something.
“Well,” Dr. Rist says. “Alexis. Twyla. Sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s begin, shall we?”
