#clumsycopy

I am Jedediah Shine. Ten years undefeated in all divisional competition. No man yet found drinks his tea blacker.

~

A @tolkienrsb​ fic by @ruiniel / Ruiniel on AO3, with art by @clumsycopy

Artwork Rating: G | Fic rating: M | Tags & Warnings: Past Relationship, Flashbacks, Emotional, Crossover, Angst, Imprisonment, Sexual Content | Relationship: Galadriel/Adar | Characters: Galadriel, Adar, Original Orc Characters | Word count: 5k

SUMMARY:

The world is on the precipice of another change, shaken to its foundations. In the immediate aftermath of the creation of Mordor, a weakened Galadriel seeks her companions and is captured by the enemy. What happens when the past and present converge as one? A character-driven story about choices.

READ ON AO3: A name, a heart

What about Ky + brushing hands by accident?

The first time it happens, you think nothing of it. You and Kylo are walking down through the bustling halls of this new palace he had built, a great majestic thing on a cliff in Naboo, where his grandmother once ruled by vote. He now rules by grand design, by assumption, and no one dare opposes him – no one wants to. A far better ruler than Snoke, the galaxy generally finds themselves content with your presence, and by proxy, Kylo’s position of power. Were you not here with him (‘here’ in every sense of the word) you weren’t so sure how The Naboo would take to him.

Visiting Naboo became much easier now, with this new palace dedicated to you, you had a place to stay that Kylo finally deemed worthy. So a visit was taken, and you find that the most pleasant way to spend the morning on vacation is with your husband, who once suggested a walk. It’s on this walk the first morning, that you feel it, the soft bump of his hand against yours. Kylo had a funny relationship with public displays of affection; sometimes he disregarded it entirely, and sometimes he craved it so desperately that nothing and no one could stop him.

But he remains cool and calm, so you write the bump off as nothing more than an accident. Kylo doesn’t even give you one of those cheeky smiles he so frequently does when he’s being silly, so an accident it truly must be.

The second time, however, you notice that he isn’t wearing his gloves. The warmth that blooms across the inside of your wrist as Kylo reaches ahead to open a door for you, has you eyeing him suspiciously. Not suspicious in a negative way, just in a way that you’re trying to decipher if you’re overthinking or not. Kylo had of course been free with his affections in the privacy of the royal suite you share, and you wonder if he wanted to break his stoicism here in the hallway.

Still, Kylo pulls his hand away a moment later, and all you’re left with is the ghost of his touch on your wrist that has you aching for him behind the pleasant shade of a large tree.

Somewhere in the back of your mind there’s a quote, once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action. And if you knew anything about Kylo, it was this – the man had a keen eye for strategy unlike that you’d ever seen before. So the question becomes, on the third time that the Supreme Leader’s knuckles “accidentally” sweep across yours as you go on your morning walks around the palace, just what is he planning?

Kylo, being the mind-reader that he is, hears your internal monologuing and questioning and burns bright red. Of course you were observant enough to notice, how could he expect anything less of you?

Finally, eventually, you decide that what he really wants more than anything is to hold your hand, but is too shy to do it himself. He gets like this sometimes, your Kylo, even though he’s Supreme Leader, he never wants to assert himself into a position where you’re uncomfortable. So he drops little hints like this, and hopes that you understand what he says without saying anything at all. And you do.

A friendly shitpost 😇

Thank you for the lovely request babe! I hope you enjoy the angst ❤️❤️

Warnings: slight cockwarming, angst but that’s kinda a given

Prompt: “Don’t give me false hope”

Word count: 665

It’s the after time—the strange in between that comes when he’s finished with you but hasn’t yet extracted himself from your body.

Your chests brush against each other with each breath, sweat and spit easing the slip of your skin. Kylo’s cock pulses with the remnants of his orgasm and you shudder at the feel of it.

You do your best not to think much of the fact that he hasn’t pushed you away yet.

He keeps you locked to his chest laying sideways on the bed, taught muscles in a vice grip that you don’t dare squirm out of. 

His bed, you remind yourself.

You’ve been doing this for years now, you know your place. You come when he calls and let him take what he needs. Let him have your mouth or your hands or your cunt to fuck his frustrations into.

And then he retreats into whatever secrets lie behind that mysterious door in his quarters—which is none of your business—leaving you to clean and dress and disappear until the next night.

But he isn’t leaving now, just holding you hips grinding his half-hard cock into your pussy. With every shallow thrust, some of his release leaks out and stains your thighs.

He’s stained all of you, with blood and cum and sweat. Stained your very soul with his essence.

You can’t help but gasp at the feeling of it, dare to let yourself bask in the aftershocks of pleasure; it was a rare honor.

But not entirely welcomed.

Still, you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugged at the roots how you know he likes and watched his face cinch up when you clenched around his length. 

Kylo grunted, thrusting his hips up just a bit harder, the base of his cock brushing your clit and making you gasp. He took the opportunity to lick into your mouth in that way he sometimes did, all consuming as though he was thirsting for your tongue to slide against his teeth, to catch on the crooked edges. You hummed and pulled on his lovely waves, shivering when his hands brushed up your waist and kneaded the flesh in his palms.

But then his mouth was drawing back, his nose nudging into you with just a bit too much familiarity, and his eyes.

His eyes on yours were gorgeous and molten with flecks of lovely gold and something deeper, something dangerous that made your pulse hammer and your hands shake and it was too much too much too much—

You wrenched yourself from his grasp, his cock slipping from you in a gush if your combined juices. His hands on your skin were like branding irons, leaving painful welts behind.

“Don’t,” you whispered.

His face fell blank as you tucked your knees to your chin and curled away from him on the mattress. It was for the best, you thought. Had to be this way.

“Don’t give me false hope.”

Kylo said nothing, just laid on his side, softening length resting on his massive thigh. You felt him staring, and it took everything in you not to fall back into him. Believe for just a moment that you could be allowed to have more than just his hands on you for a few stolen hours. But you couldn’t, because that would be attachment and attachment to Kylo Ren was not allowed. Anything deeper than his cock in your cunt was nothing more than a distraction.

And Kylo Ren could not be distracted, could not have anything standing in between him and the throne. Between him and the galaxy at his feet.

So you didn’t meet his eye, and you waited until he pulled himself from the bed, slamming the door to his private room closed with a final bang.

You let the noise reverberate in all the empty spaces of the room—in yourself and in the bed that isn’t yours. Then you stand and you dress and you leave.

Clyde + Obliviousness + Drunken Confessions

It’s a warm, balmy Wester Virginia night, humidity clinging to your skin as you cut the engine and step out of your car. All through the trees, all the critters of the night buzz and sing, creating a hum in the air that you know all too well.

Clyde is quieter now, less talkative than he was on the drive over here. You’d been happy to take him home tonight, a little floored that he even got drunk in the first place. For being a bar owner, he wasn’t one to hit the bottle too hard, and Clyde’s tolerance for alcohol always was something to marvel at. Still, here he is, words slurring and gait swaying as you help him up the front steps.

Merry Christmas, Julia

Adam Sackler x Julia x Charlie Barber

Inspired by Shadow Play by @clumsycopy