#champion and his goddess

[somewhatsentientspellbook]

"Why me, Mister Champion?"

[ravenw1ngs]

Anyways if we’re tying in other servers Vault Hunters makes a much better backstory for q!Tubbo than the DSMP ever could and I stand by that.

[bespectacled-bookwyrm]

Anthea: Where is everyone?

N: Colress had a nervous collapse, Alder is looking after him, and Connie's off planning ways to kill Ghetsis, so I’m in charge.

Anthea: Oh sweet Arceus.

N: I know, right?

[witchofthesouls]

If I could write the 13 I would have them on a complete different level of power than modern Cybertronians. For example Megatron shooting say Liege Maximo with his fusion cannon and it not even scratching him. Liege Maximo just looking at Megatron with a bored expression and saying: "Are you quite done? Got that out of your system"?

Ayyyy, I know what you mean!

If there's one thing Bayverse did get right, besides Optimus' bod and the bondage scene, then it's the power discrepancy between the Ancient Primes and their descendants/modern Primes.

Personally, I like to think that the Primal Artifacts of Aligned verse are actually OP and god-tiered. The problem is that the Artifacts aren't fully utilized and the modern-day Cybertronians don't even realize it. You got the Autobots and the Decepticons going ga-ga over like 10% of their capacity. While I do believe Optimus is a true Prime, he's not a fully awakened one since Alpha Trion and the Matrix from Prima's own personal weapon messed with his own connection.

Those are the personal weaponry of the Thirteen, so would it be a surprise if there's some sort of sentience?

[kienium]

skyward sword is like catnip to queer people with religious trauma

[softquietsteadylove]

I would like to do a request for the Doctor AU

How about some protective Thena?

She hears angry shouting from 3 woman in the waiting area, letting their anger out on Gil, even lashing out on him physically. He tries to calm them down but doesn’t fight them back of course.

They are angry because they are waiting so long (minor things nothing dangerous) and they saw how Gil came in with a patient with life threatening wounds just going passing them and they decide it was enough of waiting for them 🙄

And Thena won’t stand there and watch them!👀

Thena sets down her charts with a sigh. It's been a busy night for the emergency room, not necessarily by seriousness but by sheer volume. They can't seem to catch a break. It's been patient after patient, so far.

And she feels like she hasn't seen Gil in hours.

He's been on run after run for minor accidents and taking patients to other hospitals. He's texted her a few times between runs, but mostly they've commiserated about how busy they've been tonight.

She can't wait to get off shift and go home with him.

Not that they necessarily go home together all the time, now. And even when they do, it's not always a date...thing. Sometimes they really do just go home and fall asleep on the couch together. She doesn't know if that makes it better or worse.

"Hey."

Thena's heart leaps in her chest at the familiar greeting, and she tries not to look disappointed when she realises it's Ajak who said it and not a certain someone. She smiles, "hey."

Ajak holds her hand out and nods her head, "you're almost done right? Let me finish those."

Thena nibbles at her lip a little, looking down at her charts (arguably her least favourite part of the job). She peeks up at Ajak, "are you sure?"

Ajak just gives her a smirk and pulls the clipboard towards herself. "I'm sure, honey. You go and find that hot hunk of yours."

Thena rolls her eyes at Ajak, storming away so she won't know how embarrassing she finds it that Ajak knows all about their little secret. It's not like she told her!

She didn't have to.

Thena does leave the nurses' station and heads towards the main waiting room. Gil should be done his last run by now, judging by how long ago he texted. She reaches for the end of her ponytail idly.

"We've been here for hours!"

She frowns; it isn't uncommon to get people who are unhappy with the wait times. And feel happy to take it out on them (those still seeing them despite the global shortage on people in the healthcare profession).

"Why did they get seen before us?!"

"Or do these numbers mean nothing?!"

Thena rolls her eyes. A couple of Karens cawing up a storm like seagulls in a parking lot. Nothing new, and certainly nothing interesting.

"Ladies, please, we're doing what we can."

Thena picks up her pace until she's jogging towards the waiting room. When she arrives, there is indeed a swarm of women cawing about their wait time. But they're taking it out on Gilgamesh.

Gil is trying to look at all of them at once, holding up his hands close to himself as they swing and smack him with their hands and even their purses. He grunts a little, obviously not pleased but not exactly one to fight back, either.

"You call yourself a medic when you leave women with possible fractures waiting like this?!"

"HEY!"

Thena storms over, moving between the women and Gil, who looks like a dog getting water poured on him. She plants her hands on her hips.

"Who the hell are you?" the one who thought swinging around her purse was appropriate behaviour.

"I'm the doctor here, and I want to know what the hell you think you're doing to my paramedic!" Thena snarls at them, not one to back down from intimidation, whether it be from a Karen or a Chad. She glowers at them.

"We saw him take people in there!" another one points with her pointy little finger. "When we've been out here for hours!"

Thena swats the hand away from them. "You are out here because of the degree of your injury and because the emergency room is understaffed. Every emergency room is understaffed!"

"Well, that's not our fault!" the third one huffs in her face. She holds up her wrist, "I have a wrist fracture that needs treatment! And you've taken three people in there ahead of us!"

Thena eyed the woman. If her wrist were fractured, she most absolutely would not be holding it up in that position. At worst, she had pinched a nerve between her ulna and tibia and it was being aggravated from being waved around. "Then put it down."

All three women looked aghast.

"Thena," Gil tried to put his hand on her shoulder, no doubt to talk her down from getting into a screaming match with the patient and her accompaniment.

"This is how you treat your patients?!" the purse swinger rages at her.

Thena doesn't take it lying down, though. If anything, it's taking everything in her not to give the wrist a hard squeeze to give her something to be genuinely hurt over. "For the treatment of my paramedic, you're lucky I haven't called security and ordered you to a different ER."

"He-"

"Has other patients!" Thena steps forward, forcing the other women back with her sheer anger. She clenches her hands into fists, bellowing at them. "People who have been in accidents, people who are in need of a lot more than an x-ray and a compression sleeve!"

"I-"

"Have a repetitive stress injury at most!" Thena barks at her. She puts more distance between them and Gil behind her. "And it's no excuse to treat him the way you have!"

The women are almost all the way back in the seats they vacated just to harass Gil. "We-"

"If I ever see you anywhere near him again, I will have every authority there is to drag you out of here! And you should count yourself lucky I don't do it myself!"

The women are practically clenching their metaphorical pearls. They eye her with disgust, "th-this is unacceptable! We'll call the hospital for the way you're treating us!"

"By all means, ladies!" Thena invites, moving from angry to practically manic. She wants to lie down so bad. "Name's Thena, and you can complain all you want! But no one lays a hand on him while I'm alive and breathing!"

The women turn on their heels, already huffing and muttering up a storm about their treatment. But Thena couldn't care less. They can try to sue her for all she cares. She tugs at her scrub top, "the nerve of people these days."

"Thanks."

Thena inhales and finally looks up at her soft, precious Gil. He gives her a sheepish smile and she frowns again, reaching up to his cheek, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he laughs, leaning into her touch as they make their way out of the waiting room and towards the ambulance bay and parking lot. "It's a couple of mean ladies with press-on nails, honey. They're not gonna break me."

"Still," Thena grumbles, tugging at his work hoodie until it's less rumpled and sitting properly on him. She tilts her head, "if you have so much as a bruise I'm gonna find where those women live and-"

Gil kisses her.

She stills for a second, panic flooding her as she thinks about anyone seeing them. But then the cool of the ambulance bay and the wind tunnel it creates rushes over her. She melts into the kiss because she's not very good at thinking about other things when Gil is kissing her. She's tried--it never works.

Gil pulls away slowly, his lips leaving her oh-so reluctantly. He raises his brows at her, "what were you saying?"

She nibbles at her lip a little, turning shy not that he's doused the embers of her temper so lovingly. She looks down at their shoes as they keep walking, "just...making sure you're okay."

"I'm okay," he assures her, taking her hand in his once they're in the employee parking lot and relatively alone. He smiles, "thanks for the save, though."

"Hm," she nods, letting his thumb trace over her skin and chase away the last of her energy. She sighs, "let's just go home."

"Sounds perfect," he chuckles, kissing her temple as they head to her car. "Hungry?"

"Nope," she declares definitely now that sitting down is so in-sight. She digs out her keys and tosses them at him, "just sleep."

"You got it, baby," he chuckles, pulling her in for another kiss before letting her drift to the passenger side of the car. "Drive thru?"

"Fine," she groans as she throws herself into the car and yawns loudly, "you pick where."

[sovonight]

.

[venomsreviews]

Happy birthday to Lu Feng!!

[archivestarlyht]

link is a barely literate kid from a farm town known only for the quality of its livestock so the whole “hero chosen by the gods” thing is surreal to him, and he has some serious imposter syndrome once he draws the master sword with regards to what could possibly mark him as worthy.

he never saw rescuing and pursuing the children as particularly heroic, ironically; it was something he felt he should do as a caretaker and someone who loved them, not that he had to.

[fjorests-of-wildemount]

Sorry, still not over Old Man Purvan Suul. He was young when the Calamity began. Somehow he has managed to survive the conflict. He found and helped guide and protect his goddess as she grew up a mortal once again. The Matron's First and Most Beloved Champion got to live a full life, as much as he could during an apocalypse.

I believe that she fully intended to give that to Vax all along, too, until fate and Vecna gave her no choice.

[somewhatsentientspellbook]

There's just something so fascinating about the way the Exandrian pantheon has decided to handle the Aeor Situation™ - by electing a few of their kind to be born as mortals in order to infiltrate the city.

The first to bring herself low was Ioun, and I can only imagine how lonely that must have been for her. To feel infinite wisdom creeping into her adolescent mind? To rise through Aeor's ranks knowing what they'd do to her if the authorities discovered the truth of her existence? Waiting, hoping, perhaps even praying that the other gods would follow through with the plan.

Sarenrae has a husband and children as Trist. I can't help but consider the parallels to Liliana Temult, with a 'higher calling' pulling a mother away from her family. The conversations in the temple suggest that she would have been aware of what she was by the time she started her family. Yet she loves them, cherishes them, even knowing that she might not see them again. Will Amaris, Haylie, and Topher learn that Trist is a goddess? Or will that only be discovered when they find their way to her realm in Elysium?

The Matron was once mortal, and she willingly returned to that form in order to help her newfound siblings dismantle the Aeorian threat. Her steward since childhood was Purvan, helping raise and guide her despite his old age. Imagine being a little girl, guarded by the Champion of Ravens himself and his wolven companion, completely unaware of your own divinity until later in life. Imagine the night she woke up, remembering her ascendency, seeing Purvan and recognising him.

And what of the families that gave birth to and raised the four Betrayer Gods? What of the halfling family who watched their precocious daughter scale a fence with far too much ease than it should be? The day the tortle's parents found him crying in pain and tearing at his skin to distract himself from a memory so distant and yet so real? Or Milo, who became a priest, not to follow in the light of the Dawnfather (like his parents may have thought), but to mock his brother even as a mortal?

These gods spent entire childhoods with families and friends, taking refuge from the skirmishes caused by their other siblings. Who, despite those similarities, have very different opinions of humanity, of Aeor, and themselves.

[starcurtain]

Even leaving aside the obvious ship bait here, this is one of the best examples of character comedy Hoyo has posted in a long time.

The fact that Jade sends Aventurine a bunch of rocks just knowing that his incredible luck will allow him to suss out, without even cutting the stones, exactly which ones are worth processing is funny as hell.

The fact that Aventurine is actually able to answer and picks out the rocks that contain high value jade without hesitation is absolutely hilarious.

Bro is out here using his blessing from a goddess to play blind-box prize games. This is like finding out X-Men's Professor X uses his telepathy to order pizza.

Do you think people ever call Aventurine like "Hey man, is my new relationship going to work out?"

And Aventurine's just over here as the divination champion of Pier Point going "Signs point to no, friend. The vibes are just rancid. Abandon ship ASAP."

And then he trips over his catcake and eats shit because he didn't see it coming.

[thetimetraveler24]

Sometimes I think about how people rank Jason as their least favorite because he’s “such a bland character with no personality”, but was he even allowed to have one in the first place?

He’s two years old when Lupa guides him to Camp Jupiter. He’s brought up to be the perfect soldier, the perfect Roman, the perfect hero. He doesn’t know life outside the legion. He’s the son of Jupiter, he has to be great. If he’s not, he’s a failure and a disgrace. If he is then he’s still not the best because there so many other heroes who did it better than him so he has to keep trying harder and harder even though no matter what he’s never going to be good enough because the moment he slips up he’s no longer the perfect hero.

The few times he actually tries to do something he wants, he’s only cut down. Changing the 12th legion to the 1st legion? No, you can’t do that. It’s tradition. You’re wrong. That’s stupid. Joining the 5th cohort? Why would you join those losers? You’re only hurting yourself. You could be great if you join the 1st cohort instead like a good Roman boy.

So why would he try to do anything that cultivates his identity? Why would he try to do anything that brings him joy if everyone around him is just going to suck it right out?

He has no best friends at Camp Jupiter. He has acquaintances. He has people he’s friendly with. Say what you want but Reyna was a coworker. Dakota was cool, Gwen was nice. But none of them make Jason want to stay at Camp Jupiter instead of Camp Half-Blood. He thinks of Reyna but only in terms of he doesn’t want to saddle her with the responsibility of picking a new praetor. He thinks about duty. When he is picking between the camps he’s weighing his options between doing his duty as he’s done his whole life or picking himself for the very first time ever and he picks himself.

And it’s honestly so fucking depressing that the first time Jason picks himself and is actually supported in his decision happens when he is sixteen years old. And most of the people supporting him have only known him for a month.

But then he saddles himself with duty and responsibilities because that’s all he’s ever known and Percy is dying and Jason is a good Roman and a good hero and his job is to sacrifice his life for everyone else because of course it is. So he takes on Pontifex Maximus to build shrines and temples to minor gods and goddesses (not that they shouldn’t be honored but… once again he’s sacrificing his identity for the good of everyone around him).

And then, just as he’s finally discovering an identity for himself—he likes physics, he’s learning about the mortal world and living in it, he’s becoming more than just Jupiters son and Juno’s perfect hero—he’s killed.

Jason never got to be Jason. He only got to be Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, Praetor of the 12th Legion, slayer of Krios, one of the Seven, Juno’s Champion, Pontifex Maximus. He always belonged to someone else and never himself.

All this to say, Jason is my favorite of the Seven and although he’s not the eldest nor a daughter, as an eldest daughter I relate so hard and feel very seen in him.

[scattergoriesofevil]

Purvan Suul appearance #1: A long dead figure of legend, champion of the death goddess, a corpse wearing a Vestige in a booby trapped tomb, relentless jokes about his name, a deeply fateful point in the VM story.

Purvan Suul appearance #2: Greeted with derision and duplicity, excitedly recognized as a living legend by the table, chased off screen for more roleplay because It’s Him It’s Purvan, the herald of doom on the night it arrives.

Purvan Suul appearance #3: Beloved champion and guardian, the embodiment of faithful devotion, respectful advocate for his own choices, accompanies the goddess of death to the threshold of a horrific task in a terrible place and not one step further.

[awful-little-goose]

What's it like in each bishops harem?

This one’s been in the ask box for a WHILEEE (sorry Anon), but I really needed to get my headcanons to a place where I liked them (even wrote some short fics about it- no, I won’t share ✨✨✨)

Enjoy!

Leshy is completely endeared with all his lovers, but the way he shows his affection can be…unpredictable. Still, he’s easily swiped off his feet and even offering him a simple bouquet is enough to make him swoon. His biggest flaw is that he tends to forget that mortals are…mortal, fragile, and easily traumatized. He is very physical with his affection, and his feelings can sometimes take over him. Mortal bones are oh so fragile, and their minds so much more so…but come to the party, my sweet, enjoy the festivities, the taste of wine, and the burn of alcohol reserved to the gods. Ignore the maddening illusions and your heart in your throat, he looks so delighted.

Heket is by far the most terrifying goddess of the bunch. She intimidates her spouses and is quite dominant, but has shown to be easily charmed by spouses with a strong personality.

She’ll take her partners to watch terrifying things, such as public executions, sacrifices, cannibal banquets, or even torture sessions, either to show off her power, or intimidate her partners into obeying her. She is prone to violent fits of anger. Still, she does love to just lay around with her partners, and relax under the autumn sun. Deep inside, she cares for some of them, but her ways of showing affection are…disturbing. Now, dear, why haven’t you touched your dinner? She killed them for you herself…

Kallamar is the sweetest one. He spoils his lovers rotten, compliments them day and night, and expects just as much affection in return. He demands rich, elaborated gifts, and loves taking his darlings on swimming dates. He’s very, VERY easily flustered under all that sass. His biggest flaw is his insecurity, which can lead him to being…quite unstable. Surely, he is loved, and adored…isn’t he?

Shamura seems cold at times, but they do care for their spouses. Of the bishops (excluding Narinder), they have the least partners, but those they keep are highly loyal, and treated with respect. They can be a little overprotective at times.

They expect their partners to be incredible fighters, and highly cultured. And they won’t hesitate to put them in fights, intellectual or physical, against one another…and they only keep champions. Losers have only one place to be: wrapped in a bundle of silk, hung above the ground, in the nest of Shamura’s scorpions.

Bonus, Narinder: Narinder doenst have a harem, and is instead waiting for the one soul that will ignite fire to his cold, dead heart. He can be caught thinking about when he’ll meet his dear however, and plans on covering them with tokens of appreciation, honor, and peaceful dreams…

…as well as keeping them close at his sides. So close they will forget their own individuality.

[zaldritzosrose]

Can't Stay Away Part 2 (Feyd-Rautha x Princess!Reader)

Summary: Second daughter of the Emperor and you were well used to being ignored in favour of your sister. That was, until you met Feyd-Rautha, nephew to the Harkonnen Baron. A tourney of old, bringing back the traditions of champions and favours brought him to your side - but how close would he stay?

TW: Minors DNI, She/Her pronouns, afab reader, mild mentions of neglect towards reader (ignored in favour of Irulan), Feyd being a badass, face sitting, cunnilingus, fingering, lashings of sexual tension, reader enjoying a blood covered Feyd, Irulan being a little bit of a bitchy sister.

Part 1 Here

(Maybe a part 3, we'll see)

Words: 2689

The air was thicker than ever as Feyd finished preparing himself for the tournament. You had helped him repaint his torso before fitting the lightweight and black armour to his body. There had been something so intimate, ignoring your encounter earlier, in the whole situation.

Preparing your champion for battle. Watching as he selected his weapons and psyched himself up for the impending battles. He was fascinating to watch, you realised. And it only made you more excited for what was to come.

“My father has decided we are to publicly show our favour,” You mused, as Feyd hooked his blades into his belt.

You remembered the tradition of favours from the fairytales you had read as a child. A lady would give her champion something special, a sign of her support and luck. Back then, you had found the whole idea ridiculous. But now? The idea that you could publicly claim Feyd as yours, in some way, was enticing.

Soon, you left Feyd to finish his preparations, feeling his eyes on you as you walked back towards the guest chambers. It was only then that you noticed the black smudges of paint on your dress. Your feet moved faster, not wanting anyone to see you in such a state.

You arrived quickly, opening your wardrobe to find an appropriate dress to wear. Your typical choices were far more feminine in fabric than Irulan. Where she chose metallics, more structured pieces for public outings, you preferred softer looks. Flowing gowns that accentuated your figure. Pearls and silks in a myriad of light tones. Always with a hood or veil to match.

Several options were spread out on your bed when you heard a gentle knock on your door. With curiosity, and wrapping your robe tighter around your body, you opened it.

A Harkonnen servant stood waiting, the girl barely looking you in the eye as she handed you a note.

“It is from Feyd-Rautha, princess,” she said so softly you barely heard it, but you took the note and thanked her.

As she left, you pushed the door closed and quickly read.

My princess, not that I wish to command you, but I have one request. Please, for me, would you wear something white. Something to make you stand out on this dark planet. You look so very beautiful in white. Like a goddess sent to tempt me. That is my request. F.

You read the note twice more. He wanted you in white? There was something more to the request and you knew it. But you could not quite figure it out. You had a few options. White was a colour quite synonymous with you, pearls being your favourite jewel as a result.

You looked at the note again. ‘Stand out’ he had said. Asking you to make yourself known. It was something you were quite unfamiliar with, in truth. Having always lived in the shadow of Irulan, you were well versed in fading into the background.

But this was your chance.

You made your choice, picking a gown you had only worn once before. A more fitted design, strewn with layers of pearls that accentuated every dip and curve of your body. As was usual for you, and your sister, you chose an accessory to cover part of your face. But instead of a veil, you opted for a lower face cover, made of silver chains and jewels to match your dress. Feyd wanted you to stand out for him, and there was every chance of that in this.

Something about the choice made you feel powerful. Like you were finally taking a stand. Even if it was a small step.

Feyd stood stock still at the doors to the arena. The first round was being announced and he could hear the murmurings of other warriors in the surrounding chambers. Melee style fighting was first. Each champion would fight, to the death, until the fight was called to an end. The round that followed would consist of any of those champions that remained.

He twirled the blades between his palms, anticipation making his whole body feel like it was on fire. Combat was what he lived for, and these opponents would be a welcome challenge. What excited him more, was knowing you were watching.

Soon, his name was called, and he strode out to the chants of his name, raising his two blades in the air in response.

All eyes fell to you as you entered the room. Everyone from your sister and father to the Baron and his attendants stared. You knew why, and you could not stop the small smile the pulled at your lips.

You sat beside Irulan, who was quick to whisper in your ear.

“You picked Feyd-Rautha? Sister, he is a psychopath…” Irulan whispered harshly, low enough for only you to hear and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“Psychotic or not, he is an excellent fighter. Is that not the point of this, to choose the best?”

Irulan scoffed and you ignored her. Feyd had been nothing but kind to you since you had arrived. More than kind in fact. And you were buzzing with excitement at the idea of seeing him fight. There was a feeling, deep within you. Like you needed to be near him.

The announcer called Feyd’s name, and you nearly flew from your seat to lean over the balcony to watch his entrance.

Feyd strode around the arena with confidence. But his eyes searched only for you and soon he found you. The pearls on your dress shimmering under the black sun of Giedi Prime. You looked perfect. Just the push he needed to truly show off, your words from earlier ringing in his ears.

“Win for me, and you can have any part of me you wish.”

He no longer just wanted to win, he needed to. Purely for that promise. He knew he was capable, but he was more determined now than ever.

The announcer began to introduce the fight and Feyd waited for you to look at him. Neither of you hearing the announcer’s words as you looked at each other. But all eyes fell to Feyd when he dropped to a bow for you, making a show of offering himself and his blades to your name.

You leaned over the balcony wall, despite Irulan’s protests and made sure everyone and Feyd could see you. There was no hiding whose champion he was now.

The fight began with a loud bang of a drum, and you watched intently, eyes following Feyd’s every movement. It became clear quickly that there were few others in the arena that could match him for skill. His first two opponents were dispatched quickly, staining the ground below with streaks of blood.

And the rest of the fight continued much the same, Feyd cutting through enemy after enemy with what seemed like pure joy on his face. Blood staining his forearms and face and you found yourself enjoying the sight more than you expected.

You watched as most of the ladies, Irulan included, turned away from most of the gore and violence. You, however, watched every second. Something about it all fascinated you. Especially Feyd. The way he moved, like a predator stalking prey. Cutting down each one with precision and skill.

It was not long before the fight was time out. Leaving only five champions of ten remaining. Feyd included, of course. He wiped his blades on the fabric of his trousers as he was ushered back to the holding room.

You sat back in your chair, letting out a breath you had not realised you were holding.

“Do you really not find this exciting?” you asked, turning to Irulan and the other ladies.

“Watching men fight for our favour and affection?”

Every single one of them looked at you like you were insane. How could you possibly enjoy something like this? It was not that you enjoyed the death per se, but the skill and precision of it all. Watching people who had trained for years show off their skills was exhilarating.

The second round was much the same as the first, though less contenders. And it was clear that some had advantage over the others. It lasted far less time than the first, with Feyd soon coming out as the blood-stained winner.

You stood at the balcony as he was named the winner, the ultimate champion and he repeated his bow from before. But this time you returned it, dipping your head in thanks to your champion.

Feyd was lead from the arena and you did not hesitate to demand to know where he was to be taken.

“You are not going to him.” Your father turned to you, speaking to you for the first time since you arrived.

“And why not, I have every right to congratulate my champion. Would you deny Irulan if her man had won?”

Your father huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. You knew he would not argue, because there was little point. You were stubborn, much like him.

His silence was taken as permission, and you quickly hurried after the guard. You were led down a series of steps before arriving at a room similar to where you had painted Feyd earlier. Except this time, there was a square bath and a bed in the corner. You assumed, then, this was where warriors were allowed to relax after the arena.

“My lord Feyd, the princess is here for you,” the guard called out before leaving you alone to wait.

But you did not have to wait long.

“Princess, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Feyd asked, smirking as he made his way over.

He had yet to remove his armour or clean the blood from his skin and it was a sight that sent a jolt of desire down your spine.

“I believe I owe you a reward, you did win after all.”

Feyd’s smirk widened, forgoing cleaning the blood from his hands and tossing the towel to the side. In a few steps, he closed the distance between you, stopping short just a hair’s breadth from your lips.

“You wore white.”

It was not a question, but it did not feel like a simple statement either. It was like he was thinking aloud.

“You asked me to,” you replied simply, and Feyd raised a brow at you in curiosity.

His hands trailed softly over the layers of pearl, fascinated by each string as it draped over you. You ignored the small red streaks he left behind, it was worth it to have him touch you.

“And I believe your reward is your choice?”

Feyd stopped his exploration at your waist, instead wrapping an arm around you and pulling you tight to him. The tension was back, lingering just below the surface. You had felt it when you first met him. The way he stared, the lingering kiss to your hand. Something had simmered even then and it was almost back at boiling point.

He considered his options for a moment, wondering just what you were willing to let him do.

“A princess deserves a throne, yes?”

You barely stifled the surprise giggle that left you, watching him as he walked over to the bed. Your head tilted as he laid down, stroking a thumb over his lips as he spoke.

“Claim your throne, my princess.”

You hesitated for just a moment and Feyd sat up with a smile. You wondered if he could possibly mean what you thought he meant.

“Don’t overthink it. I have chosen my reward. Sit on my face and let me taste that royal cunt.”

You felt desire fill you at just those words. Something about the directness of it had your skin flushing and heat pooling between your thighs.

“Well, I can’t deny my champion his prize.”

You moved to the bed, watching as Feyd laid back down and waited for you. Your dress wasn’t exactly designed for movement like this, so you made quick work of removing it. Feyd on the other hand, was still clad in his armour. Deep red blood remained on his hands and face. Yet you did not mind.

Now fully bare, you crawled up the bed, not missing the hungry stare Feyd gave you. His hands were quick to tug you to where he wanted you. Large hands found your waist and helped you hover yourself inches above his face. You could feel the heat of his breath on your skin and the anticipation was eating away at you as you waited.

Feyd took his time, holding your waist tight as he inhaled the scent of you. He could feel the heat of your core already and he had not even begun. With slow licks of his tongue, Feyd took his first taste. But just that feeling had your eyes rolling back. It was not the first time you had taken a lover, but it was the first time you had been in this position.

“Feyd..” you breathed out as he took another long swipe between your slick folds, teasing you.

You could feel him smirk against you, and you wordlessly willed him to keep going with your soft, breathy moans.

Feyd was in heaven, if he believed in it. The taste, the heat, everything about you was divine and he was slowly losing what little restraint he had left. With a sharp tug, he brought you flush to his face, burying himself deep within you with a growl. His tongue was relentless now, soon finding a rhythm that had you moaning his name over and over.

“You taste divine, princess, I would fight a hundred men if this was my reward…” he muttered against your skin, switching from long licks to wrapping his lips around your bud.

Your hands quickly found purchase on the bedframe while his wrapped around your thighs, spreading the wider as he began to alternate between lapping at you and suckling hard on your bundle of nerves. Every sensation was overwhelming, and you could do nothing more than moan and pant his name.

Feyd could not get enough. His own arousal strained against his trousers, but he did not care. His sole focus was you. Desperately working to have you come apart for him, to drench his face as you peaked.

Your nails scratched across his scalp as he growled deep into you, feeling the first pulses of your impending orgasm. And it only spurred him on. The wet sound of his tongue  against your folds and the sounds of your moans filled the room as he pulled you down closer. As close as he could get you and it still did not feel like enough.

Feyd was quick to add his thumb to your pearl as he felt your thighs twitch either side of his head, telling him you were close.

“Feyd..oh..yes…keep going please…” you were near incoherent as he sped up, the bridge of his nose now pushing so deliciously against your bud that you near screamed as you came.

“That’s it, princess…” he cooed, slowing his motions but not removing his tongue from your depths.

He wanted to drink down every drop, commit your taste to memory. With a grunt, he pulled away, smirking at the mix of dried blood from battle and your slick as it stained your inner thighs.

He helped you roll to the side, wiping his face on the back of his hand before kissing you gently. You looked so beautiful, a look of blissful satisfaction on your face. The look in his own eyes was intense.

He knew he could not keep you at his side, but he had never quite felt like this about anyone else. Like he needed you near him. Like he would not be able to stay far from you.

What he did not know, was that you felt the same. It felt strange, being so desperate for someone you barely knew. But it was you who voiced what you both felt. Though no words could truly describe it.

“I fear I can’t stay away from you…”

@blissfulphilospher @tumblin-theworldaway @lady-phasma @anjelicawrites @aemondsbabe

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