#forge sex

[marimosalad]

Forge sex, Part II (NSFW)

🔥

Uncensored, full image on AO3 ❤️

[nenyabusiness]

teeth and nails; bruises and scratch marks

bind yourself to me: a collection of ficlets and vignettes (nsfw)

Fandom: Rings of Power Pairing: Haladriel Rating: E Words: 900

“Stop breaking into my dreams,” she says breathlessly, her nails digging deep into his back.

“Stop leaving the door unlocked,” he replies as he drives his cock deeper into her, hitting the spot that makes her mind go blank. The anvil is cold against her bare skin, but the body pressed against hers is hot enough to burn.

The arm wrapped around her waist is tighter than a vice, holding her upright as he pounds into her. He tightens his grip on her hair, tilting her head back to bare her throat to him. His kisses are hard enough to bruise; possessive brands that never follow her into the waking world.

They’re in the Númenórean smithy again. He’s fucked her in more places she can count, but this seems to be a favorite for both of them. She’s pretty sure that it’s the night when she tried to convince him to join her on her mission—the night she told him why she couldn’t stop fighting.

She doesn’t want to think too closely on why this is the night they keep returning to.

His mouth settles on the crook of her neck, biting down hard. She runs her fingers down his back in retaliation, leaving possessive marks of her own. There has never been any gentleness between them. She wouldn’t accept it even if he tried to offer it. For them, it will always be teeth and nails; bruises and scratch marks. When he kisses her, it’s not a gesture of tenderness. The fight for dominance nearly suffocates them both.  

There’s a lot about their connection that she doesn’t understand. One of those things is how he never fails to show up the moment she falls asleep. Maybe she summons him somehow, or maybe he’s just always waiting.

It could be a combination of both.

He removes his arm from her waist and grabs her by the neck, pushing her down until he has her pinned to the anvil. His rhythm slows down as he leans back, cursing under his breath as he takes her in. He never seems to grow tired of seeing her like this, spread out before him with his cock buried between her thighs.

She, on the other hand, has very little patience for his stalling. She crosses her legs behind his back and pushes him even further into her, drawing a low-pitched groan from somewhere deep down his throat. He picks up the pace again, every thrust bringing her closer and closer to her climax. There was a time when she would have tried to muffle her moans, back when she was still ashamed of their nightly routine, but those days are long gone. It’s just meaningless pleasure in a meaningless dream. No one can hear her anyway.

If she didn’t think of it as meaningless, the guilt would eat her alive.

She cries out when he slips his hands between them, his thumb finding the spot that nearly unravels her with a simple touch. Sometimes, he drags it out, leaving her on the edge until she’s reduced into a whimpering wreck, begging for relief. Other times, he chooses the opposite approach, making her fall apart beneath him over and over again until there’s not a single coherent thought left in her mind. At this point, he knows her body just as well as she does, and he unapologetically uses that knowledge to his advantage.

“Join me,” he growls between thrusts. “Be my queen.”

He always gives her the same proposal.  

“Stop trying to conquer Middle-earth,” she counters.

She always gives him the same answer.

He snorts before swirling his thumb around her clit. Her back arcs as she finally erupts, the pleasure rippling through her like the aftershock of an explosion. The unyielding hand wrapped around her neck keeps her pinned down, allowing him to keep pounding into her as her inner walls contract around him. He mercilessly forces another climax out of her before she’s finished with her first. Her body quivers helplessly beneath him, straining against his grip, but he holds her firmly in place. Giving her more pleasure than she can handle seems to be one of his favorite ways to punish her for her rejection.

It's one of her favorites too.

She’s not sure which name she uses when she cries out again, but it’s enough to send him over the edge. With a final thrust and a guttural groan, he spends himself inside her. He releases her neck and cups her face in his hand, his cock still buried deep within her. His thumb grazes her cheek, soft but still possessive. She’s well aware of how much he enjoys seeing the mess he’s made of her; the way she’s come completely undone for him. Her eyes flutter shut as she leans into his touch. It’s the only act of tenderness they ever share—the only one she would ever accept.

The floor trembles, causing tools to clatter to the floor all around them. The distant sound of waves crashing into the shore disappears, and so does the smell of burning coal. Detail after detail of their surroundings vanishes into thin air as the dream begins to fall apart. One of them is about to wake up.

“I will find you,” he says, the fire in his eyes burning hotter than the forge. “I will—”

Galadriel opens her eyes, woken up by the first rays of sunlight trickling in from the windows in her bedchamber in Lothlórien. She shuts the door between her and her enemy and locks it tight.

Until night falls, they’re once again at war.

[honeyfarts666]

Torture Before the Sublime

A "deleted scene" from An Ocean of Tears (can be read as a stand alone)

Read it on Ao3 or under the cut ↓

PWP, Forge Sex, Sexual Tension, Enemies to Lovers, Shame, Elven Purity Culture, Implied Impregnation

Rated: E

Summary: What actually happened in the forge on Numenor...

Galadriel's perspective as she tries to convince Halbrand to return to Middle Earth with her. She has no idea about the double meaning in all the affirmations she gives him.

Read the main story: An Ocean of Tears And check out my mood board for Halbrand's Garden

@helenvader @coraleethroughthelookingglass @restless-tides @rebelrebelwrites @ringsofpowerfans @starlady66 @veladelibrr

AN: Hello all!! I'm not dead! Yay!

Unfortunately, I've been having a bit of writer's block with An Ocean of Tears. Thankfully, I've been able to keep working on other projects outside of fanfiction. I intend on finishing the main story. Eventually...

In the meantime, I thought y'all might enjoy some porn.

___

Galadriel stood stoically in the forge, waiting for Halbrand’s acknowledgment. But the man seemed determined to rile her up. He ignored her and continued his work. “I asked you,” Galadriel continued, “What you hope to build here?”

Halbrand gave her only a sideways glance before he again ignored her.

“There is no future for you here,” She insisted. “You must return to Middle Earth! It is the only way.”

Halbrand huffed as he plunged his red-hot sword into the cooling waters. Steam rose around him and, for a moment, he seemed otherworldly—more than a man. As the steam lifted, he turned back to Galadriel and gave her a glare that had her sucking in her breath.

He abandoned the sword on the work table and strode toward her, his head held high. “You are persistent, elf,” he said cooly, “Spoiled princess who always gets her way.”

It was Galadriel’s turn to huff. How dare he? A mortal with no sense of propriety attempting to school her? She had already lived more than fifty of his lifetimes. And yet, he wore the confidence of a being far older than even she. As he invaded her personal space, she reeled from how he towered over her. Without thinking, she took a small step back. Again, he closed the space between them. Galadriel realized her mistake and held her ground, lifting her chin defiantly. “I am not a princess,” she spat.

Halbrand gave her a devastating smirk, “You certainly act like one.”

Galadriel set her jaw, “And you act like an impudent prince I once knew.”

Halbrand’s face cracked into a real smile, “You compare me to Fëanor?”

Galadriel couldn’t help the shock that came across her face. She hadn’t imagined Halbrand to be familiar with elven histories. But he was always surprising her. Galadriel quickly recovered and said, “His father always indulged him. It made him unbearable. And he was a smith too.”

Halbrand laughed and replied, “I never had a father to indulge me. I suppose my character is my own fault.”

He was so near her, Galadriel could feel the breath of his laugh on her cheek. It was burning hot in the forge. So much so that sweat had begun to drip down her neck and between her breasts. But still, she felt her cheeks warm at his proximity. And she prayed the warm glow of the fires would hide any blush on her skin. She could see the sweat dripping down Halbrand’s neck too. She watched as a drop trailed down his skin and disappeared under his half-open tunic. His chest was well-defined. She wondered what it would be like to touch the strong muscles hidden underneath. But she quickly banished the impure thought from her mind. If she wasn’t blushing before, she certainly was now.

She quickly refocused her gaze on Halbrand’s face. Had he caught her staring? She couldn’t tell if he knew where her thoughts had been. He only gazed back at her as he let out heavy, even breaths.

Galadriel swallowed hard and said, “Come with me.” She didn’t mean for it to come out as a whisper, but it did. It sounded breathy and not like her at all.

Halbrand’s eyes widened ever so slightly. He took another step toward her, eliminating the little space that remained between them. “Why?” he asked softly, gazing into her eyes with a reverence Galadriel hadn’t expected to find.

She bit her lip as her thoughts formed a reply. Without breaking eye contact, she said, “Because I know you want to follow me.”

Halbrand leaned down to her ear and whispered, “As my lady commands.”

Galadriel took in a shuddering breath. Chills ran wild through her whole body. And then he kissed her. It was so unlike any other kiss she had known. Celeborn was soft and gentle through and through. His kisses and touches were light and cool as an ocean breeze. Halbrand was the exact opposite. His lips were firm and warm as they pressed into hers. His rough beard prickled against her skin and sent fire straight to her loins.

Galadriel knew it was wrong. It was a horrible sin to betray her husband, even if he was already in the halls of Mandos. But those thoughts melted from her mind like butter on a summer day. She couldn’t deny her desire as it boiled over from her thoughts into reality. She leaned into him, kissing him back. She lifted one hand to touch him. Just to make sure this was really happening. Her palm met the side of his face, fingers gliding over his rough stubble down to the corner of his jaw.

Halbrand lifted his hand to cover her own and broke their kiss. He gazed at her for a long moment, chest heaving. He closed his eyes and let out a long, heartfelt sigh.

“Halbrand,” Galadriel whispered, terrified that their moment of intimacy had passed. But it was not so.

Halbrand’s eyes snapped open and she could see the longing that filled her also filled him. He released her hand only to place both of his around her waist. She gasped as he lifted her and set her down on the work table, her hips perfectly level with his. He gently pushed her knees and without any hesitation, she opened to him. They were fully clothed, but she had never felt more exposed. One of his hands cupped her cheek and the other ran down her spine coaxing another shiver from her. She pressed her body into his and wrapped her legs around his waist. She could feel him then, his length pressing against her. Hot and hard and aching to be freed from his clothes.

Halbrand kissed her again and she enthusiastically threw her arms around his shoulders. He nudged her lips open and his tongue slid against her own. Galadriel tensed at first, it was a strange sort of kiss she was unfamiliar with. But his efforts quickly persuaded her and she eagerly opened her mouth to him. All the while, he seemed to grow harder and stiffer between her legs, pressing into her most intimate place. She sighed and gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling it open even further.

Halbrand broke their kiss and chuckled, “My lady is impatient.”

Galadriel felt herself blush and she glanced away. She was too bold. She was always too bold, always crossing lines that should not be crossed. Always taking things too far. Her thirst for revenge, her hunt for Sauron, and now… She released her hold on him and let her ankles uncross. Avoiding all eye contact as she attempted to slip away.

The hand that had been cupping her cheek slid down to lift her chin. She allowed him to move her and she met his gaze though mortification still burned on her face. “I only jest,” he whispered to her, “Your desire does nothing but flame mine.”

Galadriel’s heartbeat quickened. In her hasteful shame, she had forgotten the customs of men were so different from those of the elves. They were not bound to the laws of the Valar. They mingled and lay with whomever they chose. Halbrand was handsome, she could not deny it to herself anymore. He must have lain with many human women. As her shame died down, her inadequacy bubbled to the surface. She licked her lips and took a deep breath before saying, “It has been a very long time since I have…”

Halbrand expression softened. He gently combed his fingers through her hair, his eyes never leaving hers. “It has been a long time for me as well.”

Galadriel released her breath and closed her eyes. Everything about him was so comforting and reassuring. He made her feel desired in a way that she hadn’t felt in an age. Or, perhaps, ever. She leaned forward and kissed him, hard and swift. Gone was any pretense of decorum and polite manners. The Valar and their laws be damned! She needed him. And she needed him immediately.

Her fingers pulled on his tunic until she found the remaining fastens and pulled them free. His hands ran up and down her torso, sometimes squeezing sometimes reveling in the simple feel of her. His mouth left hers and he painted trails of kisses down her throat. When Galadriel had finished with the last of the fastens, she pushed the tunic from his shoulders and he untangled from her just long enough to let it fall to the floor.

She had never considered human men to be appealing. But Halbrand was no ordinary man, or so she reasoned. Rough hairs like those on his face covered his chest too. His chest and his arms were all hard muscle, lean from many years of labor and toil. He was so unlike an elf, unlike everything she had ever known. But that only made her want him more, driving her lustful curiosity.

At some point in their revelry, her skirt had worked its way up her legs. Halbrand lifted the remaining fabric out of the way and ran his hands down her thighs. His touch was warm, but Galadriel shivered at the contact. When he reached her knees, his hands swept back up until he reached her small clothes, fingers skimming over the hem. He gently pulled away from her embrace and went down on his knees so his face was level with her parted legs. Galadriel swallowed hard as he gazed up at her. “May I?” he asked so sweetly. How could she deny him?

Galadriel gave him a quick nod as her heart pounded in her chest. She expected him to remove the garment. But instead, he pressed his palm to her center and rubbed slow circles. Galadriel’s head fell back and she gave a small cry of pleasure. Halbrand rested his head against her thigh as he continued his ministrations. “So wet,” he murmured, “Is this all for me?”

Galadriel was barely coherent enough to let out a murmur of agreement between her moans. The sweet friction of his hand and the cloth was much, much more stimulating than any other touch she had ever felt. Even her own.

After a few moments of delicious agony, Halbrand peeled away her small clothes, urging her hips up to pull them from her burning, traitorous flesh. Once she was exposed before him, she felt another well of shame fill her. What was she thinking? Allowing a mortal man to defile her body, the most sacred gift of Illuvitar, in such a vulgar and unseemly way? If anyone, any of her kin, discovered what happened between them-

Galadriel lost track of her spiral of shame as Halbrand’s mouth descended on her pussy. At first, she could only gasp as her body was racked with a flood of new sensations. She had heard whispers of the crude ways in which mortals fornicated. But nothing could have prepared her for Halbrand’s warm mouth drinking her juices straight from the source. She arched her back and moaned as his tongue circled her clit and swept down her folds. She gripped his hair with one hand and palmed her breast with the other, loosening the bodice of her dress as she went.

Halbrand focused his mouth on her clit and Galadriel tightened her grip on his hair. Then, Galadriel felt pressure at her core as one of his fingers slipped inside of her. She involuntarily raised her hips to meet him as he thrust his finger in and out of her, keeping his tongue swirling over her clit the entire time. The slippery, wet noise of his strokes only grew louder as he added a second finger. Galadriel clenched around the intrusion and hissed at the blissful ache he caused. She had forgotten what it was like to be filled by another; it had been so, so long. She had touched herself occasionally in the years since she became a widow. But her fingers did not compare to the girth of Halbrand’s.

As she was nearing what she knew to be a monstrous climax, Halbrand pulled away and withdrew his fingers. Galadriel whined at the loss of contact and scratched her nails over his shoulder and down his chest as he rose to his feet. His hips returned to the opening of her thighs and he pressed his forehead to hers. His breath came heavily. Galadriel could smell herself on him, her nectar dripping from his lips. She arched forward and kissed him deeply. Her taste was not repulsive as she expected. In fact, she didn’t mind it at all. Halbrand was only invigorated by her elation. He pulled her close so their bodies were pressed together tightly. Much to Galadriel’s dismay, he still wore his trousers and the wet mess of her pussy smeared over his clothes instead of the skin-to-skin contact she craved. She could feel him, hard and ready to take her. All she could think of was his cock filling her to the brim.

It was torture to pull away but it was necessary for their lovemaking to escalate further. Galadriel broke their kiss with a moan as she reached for the stays of his trousers. Halbrand groaned as her deft hands brushed over his cock. When he was finally free, Galadriel couldn’t suppress her breath of surprise. He was big. Far bigger than any of the cocks she had seen on elven men. She ran her hand down his velvety length. His girth was so large her slender fingers couldn’t wrap all the way around him. A small voice in the back of her mind whispered that he was too big for her slight body. But she brushed off that thought. She, Galadriel of the Noldor, would never be daunted by a challenge. She stroked him up and down and he let out a deep, contented sigh that turned into a shallow gasp. The head of his cock leaked his own anticipation onto her palm, smoothing her ministrations.

Halbrand’s hands clutched her hips as he murmured under his breath. Galadriel couldn’t quite make out the words but she was certain it was some sort of luscious obscenity. His hand reached for her face. His fingers that had been inside her were still sticky with her wetness as he traced the edge of her jaw. “Galadriel,” he whispered into her ear.

She released his length from her grip and allowed him to pull her closer to the edge of the table. He took his cock in hand and lined himself up with her entrance. She braced herself for his entrance but instead, he slid the head of his cock up through her wet, messy folds to tease her clit. She bit her lip as a cry of lust left her body. “Halbrand!” she keened, arching into him, demanding his obedience.

Halbrand hummed softly, “What is it my lady wishes for?”

If Galadriel had been more composed, she would have rolled her eyes. But in her current state, she could only stare at him and gape as he teased her bud again.

“I asked,” Halbrand continued, “What my lady wishes me to do to her?”

“You know what I want!” Galadriel managed to say between her breathy moans.

Halbrand nodded his agreement with a wicked smile, “Yes, but I want to hear you say it.”

Galadriel met his gaze and shivered. His eyes were burning with intensity, brighter than she had ever seen them before. He rubbed himself over her center again, eliciting another quivering moan from her very soul. She knew he was intent on having his way with her. His desire burned even hotter than her own.

She bit her lip and shook her head. Part of it was the shame of having to speak such crude words out loud. But part of it was her need to drive the stubborn, impossible man before her to the very brink of his composure.

“Don’t toy with me, Galadriel,” he whispered darkly.

Galadriel pouted and pressed her body into his. She whispered into his ear, “I thought that was what you are doing to me.”

Halbrand exhaled a hot breath on her neck eliciting another ghostly shiver through her body. “I swear, if you don’t tell me, I’ll leave you here in this ruined, unfinished state,” he threatened in a low voice. “I don’t think that’s what you want.”

Galadriel bit her lip. After everything they had been through together, she believed that Halbrand might be the only male in all of Arda who would walk away from her splayed out before him. And he would do it just to get a rise out of her. That was a future she would not allow to pass. “I want…” she trailed off as her cheeks grew red with embarrassment.

“Go on,” he coaxed her gently as he rubbed another circle over her clit with his cock.

“I want you inside of me,” she finally let out in a hoarse whisper.

Halbrand hummed in approval but he wasn’t ready to give in to her yet. “What part of me do you want inside of you? Fingers?”

Galadriel shook her head frantically.

“Then what, Galadriel?” he asked as his fingers found her fluttering entrance again. He teased her, pressing against her opening without entering.

She keened into him as she moaned. Gripping his shoulders and raking her nails across his skin. She needed him inside of her immediately and she couldn’t take it anymore. “Your cock,” she choked out with a whimper.

“What was that?” Halbrand asked, pretending not to hear her.

Galadriel put her hand on his face and gazed directly into his eyes. She spoke as clearly as she could though her voice still wobbled with passion. “I want your cock inside of me.”

Halbrand gave her a smirk. A long, teasing smirk that vexed her so very much. “There,” he mused, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Galadriel was halfway through rolling her eyes when he entered her. She let out a sharp gasp as he filled her with a single, steady thrust. She had clenched tightly around his fingers but his cock was far bigger. He stretched her to her very limits. And she was sure he could feel it too. He hissed as he sank into her, savoring each inch. “Fuck,” he moaned through gritted teeth. “You’re so tight. So fucking tight.” He groaned and rested his forehead against hers as he worked the rest of his length into her unused core.

Galadriel could do little else other than gasp, shiver, and hold onto his shoulders for dear life. Once he was fully inside of her, they let out a collective sigh, resting for a moment while they both adjusted. Halbrand’s breath was hot and heavy on her neck. One of his hands held her hip firmly in place, the other wound through her hair and tugged playfully before releasing and combing back through her long strands. “You wouldn’t let Fëanor touch a single strand of your hair,” he said in a low voice as he slowly pulled out of her. Galadriel gasped and clenched down involuntarily, her body quivering around the sudden emptiness. She was once again shocked by the depth of his knowledge. Halbrand loomed over her, pulling back until only his tip remained inside of her. Galadriel cried out with need. She raked her nails down his back's lean muscles, leaving long, red trails in her wake. “Yet,” Halbrand murmured, suppressing a groan as he eased back inside of her drenched pussy. “You let me inside of you?”

All the air left Galadriel’s body as he filled her. She felt full and right and safe. She looked into Halbrand’s eyes and saw genuine confusion and, perhaps, even worry. She ran a hand through his hair and hooked her legs around his hips, pulling him close. She leaned into his ear and whispered, “Think no more of long-dead princes. Fëanor is, and always was, but a ghost of what could have been. You are real.”

The look on Halbrand’s face was one of pure worship. He practically glowed with pride and admiration. Gone was any uncertainty. He took a deep breath and asked, “Do you believe our meeting on the raft was chance?”

Galadriel shook her head as she held his gaze.

Halbrand beamed a glorious smile back at her. “Neither do I.” He descended upon her mouth. His kisses were wet and searing, claiming her as his own. Finally and without warning, he began to thrust. Gentle and slow at first, but quickly building to a firm, earnest rhythm.

Galadriel let out moan after moan, each sounding more and more impossibly unlike her. Halbrand’s thrusts came harder and harder, slowly becoming rough and demanding. Galadriel steadied herself by bracing one hand on the table behind her while the other wrapped tightly around his shoulder. Her hand gripped his taught muscles. She drank in the feel of him. Though he was strong and fit, she occasionally felt him strain and quake at the sheer intensity of it all. Nothing she and Celeborn had done had ever been so passionate or vigorous. The way Halbrand held her, the way he filled her lit her on fire. In his eyes, she could see the burning furnace within him. The reds and oranges of the forge light swirling with the green of his irises in a whirlwind of desire and holy worship.

“Galadriel,” he moaned out. He pulled her even closer, nearly lifting her off the table. In her new position, Galadriel’s clit was pressed hard against him, dragging against his skin as he continued to pound her. She moaned incoherently. Her breath heaved as her core spasmed and clenched around his cock. Her orgasm flooded her senses. She closed her eyes and cried out, riding wave after wave of bliss.

Halbrand’s thrusts quickly became frantic and unsteady. He chased her climax. Unable to hold back any longer, he fell, tumbling after her into his own orgasm. He moaned, low and heavy in her ear as he filled her with his seed.

Halbrand shuddered and rested his forehead in the crook of Galadriel’s neck, rubbing back and forth against her soft skin. Galadriel pulled his face up to hers and kissed him long and wet.

After a moment, Halbrand broke from her kiss and pulled out of her. A gush of his spend followed after, splattering on the floor and on Galadriel’s thigh. She gasped softly at the sensation. Halbrand gave her a bashful look and said, “Sorry.”

Galadriel quirked her brow and asked, “What for?”

Halbrand frowned and replied, “For spilling inside of you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Galadriel smirked and tenderly stroked his face. “There is no need to worry,” she told him, “It doesn’t work like that for elves.”

Halbrand raised an eyebrow, “Does it not?”

Galadriel shook her head. With one swift motion, she leaped down from the table. Her dress fell back into place though she still looked distinctly disheveled. She picked up her small clothes and quickly stepped into them.

Halbrand glanced at his own state before tying up his trousers and retrieving his shirt. As he finished, Galadriel stared him down and said, “So…”

“So?” Halbrand replied with an unaware shrug.

Galadriel put one foot in front of the other and slowly approached him. She had a purpose when she entered the forge and she hadn’t forgotten it. “You will come to Middle Earth?” she asked sweetly.

Halbrand laughed. He looked at her and smiled, joy and satisfaction radiating from him. He walked towards her, closing the remaining distance between them. But he did not stop. He walked right past her and headed toward the door.

Galadriel felt her anger spike as she spun around, “Halbrand!”

He stopped with one hand on the doorpost and turned back to her. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” he said with a wink and then stepped out the door into the night.

Galadriel huffed. She stood still for a moment, considering her options. She could go back to her chambers to sulk and fume over her broken pride and shameful affair. Or she could follow Halbrand back to his chamber…

[chaneilkular]

CHANEIL KULAR as Anwar Bakshi Sex Education 2x06

[copias-juicebox]

His military outfit please.

[who-dat-homeless]

cw: kinda suggestive

imagine data and geordi are about to have sex and geordi is like

Geordi: Data, get spot out of here Data: why? Geordi: i don't want her to watch! she's a baby Data: in cat standards she's already a mature cat Geordi: Data idc get her out i don't want a cat staring at me while an android is banging me Data: but you'd be without your visor how'd you know she's watching? Geordi: DATA I'D JUST KNOW, PLEASE GET HER OUT

and after another few minutes of bickering spot stays

and she absolutely does watch them

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

As far as character progression goes, I'd argue that the most important aspect of the RLJ reveal isn't just Jon learning that he isn't Ned's son. The most important part is him learning that he isn't Ned Stark's bastard son. He's spent all his life chasing after Ned's shadow, trying to prove to himself and to the world that he is worthy of being Ned Stark's son, "let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons not three", “he was not a Stark but he could die like one” and all that. He's internalized the shame of being the one stain on honorable Ned Starks' reputation

“But it’s a lie,” Jon insisted. How could they think his father was a traitor, had they all gone mad? Lord Eddard Stark would never dishonor himself … would he? He fathered a bastard, a small voice whispered inside him. Where was the honor in that? And your mother, what of her? He will not even speak her name.

So it's important for him to finally stop chasing after that elusive shadow. It's important for him to understand that Ned's dishonor was a deliberate choice that he made by himself, and it's thus no fault of his own. Once Jon internalizes that, then he can finally move on and ask himself, who am I? What do I want for myself? What can I be in this world, just as I am? So far, he's been unable to do that successfully because he still has an incomplete (and false) understanding of who he is.

[sexystembolt]

[ace-and-ranty]

I swear to God I haven't been so peeved by anything as much as I'm peeved by people saying "El and Liesel came out of nowhere"

[lucy-moderatz]

[pagesofkenna]

blue eye samurai really said 'revenge is an art' and i love it for that

[marimosalad]

Last Line/Art Tag Game

Tagged by @wyrd-syster 🌟

Rule: post the last sentence/line from your WIP or wherever you left off in your art. Then tag as many people as there are words in that sentence/line. Please make a new post if you decide to join the game.

Just an excuse to share a teeny snippet of this rough sketch WIP:

Hint: it’s another forge scene 🔥

I’m trying to include Hal’s Númenorian smithing outfit (because he looks so good in it) but keep failing to figure out a way to take his pants off without taking off his leather apron. But then if he takes off his apron does he keep his tunic on? At that point wouldn’t he just take everything off??I have so many logistical questions. Which is why I opted for keeping just his bracers on in that other drawing. Any ideas, suggestions, preferences?

Tagging @maironiiel @samiaescorcio15 & other artists who wanna play??

[yourbeautynevereverscaredme]

I have to do everything myself around here

[stressghoul]

I can’t believe it has taken me this long to look up this song after hearing tobias say he loved it since he was a kid and if that doesn’t sum up tobias as a person idk what does

[whump-card]

Forged Divinity Chapter 6: Leannan Has Some Thoughts

1476 words

CW: institutionalized slavery, religious themes, discussion of sex

Previous, Masterlist, Next

~~~

Colossians 4:1

Masters, provide your slaves with what is right and fair, because you know that you also have a Master in heaven.

~~~

Leannan had lost his little bag in the sinkhole, because of course he had. So when they reached the road, and eventually a rough log cabin that served as a traveler’s shelter, once they had stripped and dried off in front of the small fire Phineas built, Leannan ended up in Phineas’ clothes and eating Phineas’ rations.

Though rather than being irritated, Phineas found themself experiencing some strange sense of satisfaction. They had rescued Leannan – and more than that, Leannan seemed truly grateful. He kept thanking Phineas for every minute thing, every article of clothing, every bite of food, every steadying hand – Phineas had to help him get undressed, he was shaking so terribly. Now he huddled next to the fire, nibbling dried apples, looking weak and pathetic.

It made Phineas feel powerful.

Phineas was curious, too. While undressing the Iowan they had confirmed what they had only caught a brief glimpse of previously: Leannan had a series of small burn scars on his left ribs. Phineas waited until Leannan had finished eating and stopped shivering to ask.

“Who burned you?”

Leannan didn’t look away form the fire. “My first master.”

“What for?”

“I was young. Disobedient. I earned it.”

“Must have been bad, for him to go for the ribs. Tattoos there hurt like a bitch.”

“It didn’t hurt much. Iowans have a very high pain tolerance.”

“Is that something they train you for?”

“No, we’re just born that way. Not quite human.”

“Not quite human,” Phineas echoed, “Huh.”

~~~

Phineas wasn’t all bad. They couldn’t be – not after how tenderly they’d helped Leannan undress, how they’d made sure he was warm and dry first before peeling off their own soaked clothes. They hadn’t reacted when they caught Leannan stealing a glance at their naked form, their small breasts and their plentiful muscles, graced with abstract tattoos that shifted mysteriously in the flickering firelight. Leannan was even sure that he had seen a flash of sympathy cross their face when he spoke of his old master. Feeling relatively safe, he ventured a question of his own.

“If I talk… about you, to someone else… How should I refer to you?”

“Phineas.”

“No, I mean, like, ‘Oh that’s Phineas, sheee…?’” Leannan trailed off.

“They,” Phineas provided, “He, if you must.”

“Oh! Alright. Thank you, Phineas.”

Phineas smiled warmly.

“You’re a good pet,” they said, as if the thought had just occurred to them.

Leannan beamed, sitting up straighter.

“Thank you, Phineas!”

“That makes you happy, does it?” Phineas took a swig from their water canteen, “Little freak.”

~~~

They spent the night in the shelter, curled up on the floor while Phineas’ rope stretched across the room above them, hosting their soaked clothes. The rain let up after midnight, but their clothes weren’t quite dry at first light; that gave them an excuse to lie about and relax for a couple more hours.

Leannan felt torn, now that his adrenaline-fueled hero-worship had worn off. One one hand, Phineas had proven they would do whatever it took to keep Leannan alive. On the other, Leannan wouldn’t have had a near-death experience at all if Phineas hadn’t insisted on bringing him along. He would still much rather be back on Donda Island, where the greatest danger was uncomfortable sex.

But Phineas was possessive – strangely so, for a master who had yet to fuck Leannan. Leannan knew that they would, eventually. They had already touched him and kissed him, their desire was clear. Leannan didn’t know what they were waiting for. The anticipation was awful. A part of him wanted to seduce Phineas and get it over with, but that hadn’t gone so well the first time he’d tried.

Although, he had kissed Phineas of his own accord yesterday, in the heat of the moment. It was the only thing he could think to do to show his gratitude, and Phineas didn’t seem to mind.

“Up,” he felt Phineas’ boot in his back, “Up!”

Okay, Phineas was still an asshole. Just maybe not quite as much of asshole as Leannan initially thought.

God was testing him, but Leannan would prevail.

~~~

Leannan dreaded walking more, but walk he did, dutifully plodding along after Phineas. The recovering burned lands soon turned to farmland, and the road fell into step with a river on their right – the same river, they’d just avoided following it along a switchback.

Phineas hailed a shepherd and confirmed that they weren’t far from their destination: Kornval. It was on the north side of the river, but they were advised of a bridge not far.

It was an aged construction of concrete, metal, and suspension wires, not from ancient times but old enough that it was built for a river much wider. At the peak of its arc, Leannan stopped and gasped at the view.

“Is that a fucking castle?”

Looming over the distant Kornval was a massive structure, blocky and time-worn. But it wasn’t its size which was most impressive, it was the fact that almost the entire east-facing wall was glass panels, reflecting the blue sky and puffy clouds. Phineas stared at it, their mouth slowly opening.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Leannan looked at them.

Phineas giggled, then broke out into wild laughter.

“This will be the easiest job in the goddamn world!”

~~~

Phineas parked Leannan in a copse of trees just outside the city walls, leaving with him their backpack and their precious rifle, taking only their bartering chips and their spare scope.

“I’m going to scout things out,” they said, “Stay here and don’t fucking move.”

So Leannan sat, allowing his mind to wander. It inevitably returned to his main source of consternation: Phineas. Leannan had realized something while they were walking: Phineas had agreed to give Leannan to Donda Island’s Council. In exchange, Phineas was getting… a Council seat. So they weren’t really giving Leannan up at all. They were going to have their cake and eat it too; and if Leannan knew it, Phineas certainly did.

Leannan lay down in the leaves and dust and wondered what that would be like. To be had by Phineas. Would they be gentle, or rough? Or rough in a gentle way, which Leannan was loathe to admit he enjoyed? Would they care at all about Leannan’s pleasure, or would they wrest what was theirs away from him? They owned him, after all, they could do as they pleased – they owned him –

Leannan sat up quickly, vigorously rubbing his hands up and down his arms to redirect his bloodflow. He couldn’t think like that. Phineas was a jerk, and as the most senior Council member Brochard would certainly be Leannan’s primary master.

Considering the Council gave him pause. He had yet to lay eyes on the third Councilman. Hopefully they weren’t someone who would take an interest in him. Three people on his plate was enough. Yes, serving the council would be a dream come true; Brochard was old and likely impotent, Faverolle was blustery and would probably cum within minutes, and Phineas… Leannan felt like he could deal with Phineas.

Leannan clasped his hands and closed his eyes, bowing his head.

“Dear God. Please let Phineas kill this King so that I can serve Donda Island’s Council. I’d really love to have a normal master, it’s been a while. Um… Thanks again for saving me from the sinkhole. Phineas could still be a little nicer. Okay, that’s all. Amen.”

The sniper in question returned at sunset, bearing a new backpack. They dropped it onto Leannan’s stomach where he lay, half-dozing. Leannan sat up quickly, making a bleary questioning noise.

“New backpack, for you,” Phineas said, “New clothes, for tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“Everyone pays tribute to the King. We made it just in time. You,” Phineas pointed at Leannan, “Are going to offer yourself as a tribute.”

Leannan stared at them. “What.”

“Offer yourself as tribute, towards the end of the night, then get him alone, near a window.”

“You want me to be bait?” Leannan exclaimed indignantly.

“Hej,” Phineas’ tone sharpened, “What did I say about disobedience, bebino?”

Leannan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay. Okay. But no one will believe I’m just a wandering Iowan, I’d need to… I’d need to lie, and Iowans can’t lie. It’s blasphemy.”

“Then tell the truth. Tell him ‘My master has gifted me to you for the evening.’”

Leannan pouted. “I don’t like this.”

“All you have to do is get him alone, near one of those big-ass windows. Then, ka-pow!” Phineas mimed shooting their sniper rifle.

“But then what do I do? How do I get out?”

“All those windows look right out over the river. You can jump out into the water.”

Leannan gaped at them. “I can’t swim!”

Phineas grinned. “That’s why I’m going to teach you how.”

~~~

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“Girl 'Husband' Admits Guilt,” Montreal Star. March 14, 1942. Page 3. --- Antoinette Arsenault Pleads Guilty to Fraud Counts on Arraignment --- Dressed in the men's clothes in which she married another girl here two weeks ago, Antoinette Arsenault, 22, formerly of Ottawa, appeared before Judge Marin in arraignment court today and pleaded guilty to charges of falsifying a birth certificate and of using it to commit a fraudulent act. She will be sentenced March 18.

According to police, the girl posed as Andre Arsenault, the name she used on her registration card. She and the girl she married worked in the Bouchard munitions plant at Ste. Therese for two years. Her "wife" is Rita Ouellette, 19-year-old New Brunswick girl.

The case has been turned over to the Quebec Attorney-General and other charges may be laid depending on his decision.