#how well did armour fit?

[petermorwood]

I was wondering if you could answer a question about armor, especially the solid/articulated types - how much did it need to be personalized or fitted? I ask because I often see people criticizing fantasy/gaming armor for being too heavy or cumbersome, but rarely for perfectly fitting everyone between five and seven feet tall regardless of whether they're built like Legolas or Gimli.

So I'm curious about whether and what kinds of armor might have been mass produced vs what needed to be customized. Was it easier to produce broadly applicable armor or to recruit your army by height and weight?

Non-custom-fitted mass-produced armour ("munition grade" as some modern repro makers call it) started becoming more common when workshops where everything ran on muscle-power became ones whose hammers, grinders and polishers were powered by a water-wheel.

Making armour to fit a range of average sizes now took less time, effort and wages, so could be sold for less and be afforded by more people.

It would have been made in the period equivalent of S, M, L and maybe XL, with buyers either paying extra for custom adjustments, or DIY-ing for better fit with padded liners to make it snug or extra holes punched into straps for more space.

*****

Top grade plate armour on the other hand was almost like a second skin - a common term is "exoskeleton".

This post from a few years back has a lot more information, including what was done to ensure a good fit when the wearer couldn't be measured in person: for instance sending close-fitting garments or even wax model limbs to the armourer.

It definitely wouldn't have fitted anyone but the original owner anything like as well. In particular, if a non-original wearer was longer or shorter in arm or leg, the armour's knee and elbow joints might pinch at distracting moments or simply not flex through their full range.

"Is increased protection better than reduced mobility?" was a question where the wrong answer could prove fatal.

*****

Perhaps that's why medieval art shows a lot of partial armour being worn:

arm-harness - sometimes just vambraces on the forearms, often all the parts from gauntlets to pauldrons (hands to shoulders);

brigandine - a cloth or leather jacket with small metal plates riveted inside; this wasn't concealed armour, the rivets arranged in rows or patterns were an obvious decorative feature;

haubergeon (or byrnie, though that's more a Saxon / Viking term IMO) - a short-sleeved, short-bodied mail shirt, usually worn under something else;

plackart - front or sometimes front-and-rear lower-abdomen torso plates;

poleyns - knee-guards, worn on otherwise unarmoured legs.

The one thing everyone wore is the first thing Hollywood armour leaves off - a helmet - while the archer below has not just a helmet, haubergeon, brigandine and poleyns, but also something equally important, a brayette or breech...

...which is a pair - or at least the front half where It Matters Most - of well-padded mail and indeed male underpants.

Full plate armours had full plate ones which were even more emphatic. Boob-plates may be (mostly) fantasy, but obvious gendered armour was A Real Thing.

*****

Flexible armour like mail, scale and lamellar wasn't tailored for fit; being flexible it didn't need to be. That said, if the size was really wrong one way or the other, it could be reduced or enlarged by removing or adding sections, similar to a modern tailor taking in or letting out a garment.

I have a vague recollection of a photo showing a late medieval haubergeon with tailoring darts inserted under the arms, but I can't remember where or when, so "vague" has more weight than "recollection". ;-P

Genuine mail is rarer in museums than plate armour, because at the end of its working life mail armour was often chopped into pot-scrubbers for the kitchen. You can buy the same sort of thing today.

Finally, while some looted high-grade armour, or at least parts of it, might fit the looter straight away, it's more likely that after any battle there was probably a brisk trade in swapping what didn't fit for what did.

Hope This Helps! :->

[aspiringnexu]

I feel like Galadriel and Belladonna Took (aka Bilbo's Mum and the reason why he had that little voice in the back of his head frothing at the mouth at the merest hint of an adventure) would be very good friends.

If Rings of Power has done nothing else, it has cemented in my mind that Galadriel was a feisty feral gremlin who fought Satan's helper on the regular. (Even if you hate the show, the idea that Second Age Galadriel was like two seconds away from cutting a bitch at any given moment is too funny.) And Belladonna was often referred to as a particularly adventurous Hobbit whom I can see quite easily as a feral gremlin should the situation call for it.

And equally, their lovely stay-at-home husbands would definitely be friends. Celeborn and Bungo Baggins are the only reasons their wives ever settled down and had a kid and its because they were the soft and fluffy to their wives' feral and feisty.

[lufyuu]

,, Bloodstained Crown ''

Yandere emperor x vengeful ex-crown prince reader

Tw/s: obsessive love, kidnapping, heavy yandere themes, rough + shameless + clingy yandere, dubcon, voyeurism, cockwarming, sex in public, power imbalance, one sided enemies to lovers, mentions of killing/death, slight gore.

They never seem to stop, those clouds. Crying all day as if mourning something important. Their tears seem to wash away the thick red liquid on the dirty floor. It wouldn't have been possible if not for the roof of the manor being in shambles. "T-t-those damned Luminayres—", he coughs, and coughs, and coughs, almost reaching his limit and taking his last breath. The heavy rain drowns out the sobs of a young teen, clinging onto what little hope he had left. He was in utter shock, not even able to say a single thing. Nothing came out his mouth. Not even a single whimper looking at the dead bodies. Dead bodies of his parents, servants, everyone who had ever lived in that palace. Dead. In a pool of their own blood. No amount of apologies will stop this former royal from avenging them all.

Even after so many years. Perhaps even a decade has passed. You're determined to finish what they started. They made a huge mistake. They didn't check if you were already dead or not. The bullet that had been lodged into your arm is not replaced with a scar which is a reminder that no matter how much they tried to cover it up, you'll always be out for their throats. When the sun sets and the streets are empty, you look around for ways to get into the protected palace. Revenge really isnt an easy feat.

"[Fake Name]! Did I hire you to doze off or work?", a deep voice yells out from the otherside of the sunlit room. You wipe a bit of sweat off your forehead, "coming boss", you jog over with a semi clean cloth to where your higher up is. "This is very dirty, how do you expect our customers to like it?", he points at one of the many displayed weapons. You notice a few specks of noticeable dust, "my apologies boss, I'll clean it all up right away", you slowly and carefully brush off the dust off of everything to make sure they look good enough for customers to stop by and look at, perhaps even buy. Your salary here isn't worth the work you're doing but as long as you can keep a roof over your head and food on the table, you'll be fine. It's way better than being on the streets afterall. This is almost your way of moving on. Even if it's not affective in the slightest.

After dusting off most of the armour, the doorbell chimes. A man walks in wearing armour. Someone who works for the royal family that's for sure. The boss is almost taken aback but keeps his composure, "W-welcome honorable soldier!", he instantly lightens up, a huge smile on his face while you freeze in place, not daring to face the man who has just entered the shop. The soldier doesn't say anything, only looking around, searching for something. "Do you have a blade with a handle made out of gems? Specifically diamonds", the boss is even more taken aback, as if the shop has anything that valuable. "My deepest apologies honorable soldier, I fear we do not have anything that fits that description", he frowns, "do you take custom orders?", "y-yes but I'm afraid we don't have the gem—", the man is quickly sileneced by the soldier putting a huge sack on the ground, from a small opening, the diamond shines just enough for everyone to see, including you. "His Royal Highness, the prince will be needing this next week for his engagement, he will be personally coming to pick it up", with that, the soldier turns his heels and walks out the door, the bell chiming once more as he does.

Something about this ignited the flame in you once more. This may be your last time.

"This means more work for us", well, more of work for you. With your mind elsewhere, you almost dont hear his voice. When you realize he did say something, you give a quick nod and head towards the jewelry shop to look at some gems. Your boss didn't need to ask you too anymore, you already knew. You already know this street like the back of your hand. It was an easy task reaching to your destination.

"Mr Albert, can you help make a handle out of diamonds?", you ask as you step into the shop. Even if you didn't intend it, the two of you had became pretty close but you know that won't last long. "Of course [Fake Name]! What kind are they?", you hand him the heavy bag of diamonds, shocking him as the diamond shines brightly. "Whose are these?", "the prince's, it's regarding his engagement to the princess Elena", Albert is even more taken aback as he grabs one of the glistening diamonds with one hand while the other holds a magnifying glass to it. "This is really high quality..!", you nod, "so, how long will it take?", "perhaps 5 days if I rush it."

5 days.

5 days is all you have to prepare. This might be your only chance. Even if it's half a percent, you're willing to take that risk. This is an opportunity you've been waiting for. You don't even know if the prince will be there or not, it's just something you'll have to count on.

The rest of your work day passes by as usual, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing unique, nothing to really make you feel content with life. Though, how could you? Even after all these years, you haven't given up on what you've been seeking ever since you were just a young teen. Whatever it is, it's still near impossible to achieve in these circumstances.

You take a seat looking out to the ocean, the sun setting as you do. The view reminds you a lot of the past. The very distant and unforgivable past. The little boy who had accompanied you all those years ago. The perpetrator.

Enough of the past. You're here to enjoy the sunset and ocean breeze. You sit in silence, relaxing your body and closing your eyes for a bit. Unfortunately though, even when the atmosphere is relaxing, something about it does annoy you a bit, the sound of people murmuring as they walk behind you, on the road. You can smell something sweet and know it's from the bakery not too far from your seat. This area used to be quiet, nice, full of trees and grass up until people decided they needed more land to use for shops. Everything changes overtime, nothing you can do about it.

After just a few minutes, the sun has dissapeared from sight, the moon taking its place. It's an everyday thing, nobody finds it unusual. Once the sun is gone, the moon takes over.

You look around, some shops are closing down while others stay open for the night. That's when you decide it's time for you to get some rest. No use staying here and dwelling on the past. It can't be changed anyways. As you're getting up, a carriage drives right by you, you catch a small glimpse of who the carriage is carrying. A mere glance from their midnight almost black eyes makes you shiver. It reminds you of the ocean at night and something more. Though, you can't quite place your finger on what it reminds you of.

Those 5 days pass by painstakingly slow. Too slow for you who wanted to have the prince's severed head on your shelf right this moment. When the day finally came, you waited in the shop. Acting as if it was any other day. Well, it sort of was. The only difference being the soon to be murder weapon concealed under your clothes. Your foot tapped impatiently, wanting to hear the sound of the townspeople murmuring or giggling, causing a ruckus. It would more than likely indicate the prince's arrival. "[Fake Name] why are you tapping your foot?", your boss asks with an annoyed expression. He hates the tapping sound, it drives him crazy. Though, when you turn around, wanting to answer or apologize for the action, the door opens. "Pardon me, I'm here to pick up a custom order?", a sweet and grace-laced voice calls out from just a mere meters from you. "O-oh yes of course your highness!", the old boss scrambles to the back, searching for where he had placed such an important order. Meanwhile, you stared bullets into the royal. This was it. Your chance. Maybe even your last.

As the prince takes a couple steps to admire the shop owner's handiwork, you took this as an opportunity to get closer. "Hm? I'm alright you don't need to show me around", you glance at the entrance, a few guards stationed to keep the prince safe but you wonder, why aren't any of them by his side? That's a stupid thing to do. Leaving their one and only heir all vulnerable to any and all attacks. With a swift move, you grab your weapon and direct it to the prince's throat, pinning him to the shelf. "Oh?", is all he lets out. An interested and excited 'oh' . The blade stops just a fraction from his skin, leaving him unharmed. Even as you try to press the blade closer, aiming to slice his soft skin, your strength is no match for his.

"Your highness! Here is your—", the old man nearly has a heart attack on the spot, nobody would blame him if he did. "[FAKE NAME]!? WHAT IN HEAVEN'S SAKE ARE YOU DOING!?", his screams are loud enough to reach the ears of the guards outside, prompting them to turn around and look at whatever was the matter. With no hesitation, they burst into the shop, almost breaking the glass door. "Drop your weapon immediately!", one of them says while the others surround you. "Step away and nobody gets hurt", their tone intimidating, unfortunately or fortunately, not quite intimidating enough for you. "Agh, fuckers", you turn to the guards, letting the prince out of your sights for just a splint second. A terrible mistake.

With a swift move, your blade is removed from your hands. "No need to worry, I'm afraid our attacker here is quite inexperienced", you look back at the prince who now has an even wider smirk. Little do you know, he's also scanning your features, taking it all in. "Huh, your face is familiar, that attitude, not so much", you glare at the man nad try to punch him using your non-dominant hand which is also stopped by him. "Y-y-your highness! I am incredibly sorry for the trouble he has caused!", the old man is clearly referring to you, "rest assured he's never allowed to work or come near here ever again!", he's almost crying, trembling with fear as to what the royal family might do to him. The prince seems to be thinking as he pauses for a few seconds before his eyes lit up. With a firm grip, the royal heir clasps both your hands in one of his, making sure you can't make any sudden attacks on him. With the now free hand, he stretches it to the boss, "where's my dagger?", and just like that, the boss is scrambling to hand it over. Once the prince had it in his hands, he looked over at your puzzled and angry face. "Is it pretty?", he holds up the dagger to your face. You think he's about to stab you with it so you remain silent. "I'm Prince Vaelius if you haven't already known", he scans you, "and you are..[Fake Name]?", he seems unsure of it himself, wanting confirmation from you but you don't give it. "Fuck you and fuck your royal family bullshit", you spat out with venom. Most would be incredibly angry by now but not him. He finds it amusing how you have a vendetta against him and he doesn't even know you!

Vaelius takes a step, then another, and another towards the exit. The guards open the door for him, wondering what his next move would be. As the carriage door opens, you're thrown into it, followed by the prince who climbs in immediately after you. You try to kick the man but all that does is amuse the royal sicko. "Let me..off this dammed carriage!", you scream and try to kick once more, only for your ankle to be grabbed by Vaelius who pulls you closer. Your leg now sitting on his shoulder as the carriage moves slowly. "Your life's in my hands now, [Name]."

"[Name], meet Prince Vaelius", your mother, the Queen of Aldoria introduces you to the little boy infront of you. He looks about 10. Now why would you befriend such a young boy when you can play with others your age? "Go on, talk to his highness", she gives you a gentle push which makes you a bit annoyed. The little boy looks up at you, his midnight eyes almost glowing as he looks into yours. It's as if he's mesmerized by you. "H-hi!", his voice is still high pitched unlike yours. You're in your early teens so it's been a while since you've heard an annoying high pitched voice. Nonetheless, you have to be nice. "Hello, I'm [Name] [Last Name]", you reach out to shake his hand but you mom quickly puts your hand down, "it's impolite, give a little bow", she whispers in your ear to which you oblige. You give the smaller boy a bow, to which he smiles sweetly at. "Mn! I'm Vaelius!", he excitedly replies.

Arriving at the place you never thought you'd ever step foot in ever again, you feel a sense of dread wash over. However, this feeling was soon followed by anger and frustration.

The prince steps out first and holds out his hand, anticipating yours to grab his. Instead, you ignore the outstretched hand and get out yourself. Dusting your clothes as your feet touch the ground. "Are you repulsed by me?—", as he asks that, your hand grabs his collar, glaring at him, "I won't cause a ruckus as long as you keep your hands off of me", "but you're the one touching me, are you not?", he looks down at the hand on his collar which you quickly pull back, turning your attention back to the magnificent castle infront of you.

With guards surrounding the both of you, you are brought into the castle, the prince never leaving your side. As the palace doors open, there are already maids taking the prince's coat off, making him feel at home while you look at him in dissapointment. Does he not even know how to take off his coat? Anywho, you look around, taking it all in. It's been years since you've last been here. "Do you like your new home?", "home?", you instantly turn around and ask, the maids retreating to their positions. Vaelius waltz towards you, a cunning look on his face that makes you want to punch it off him, "yes, you're marrying into this family, [Name]", he takes your hand, "didn't I say not to touch me!—", Vaelius places a peck on the back of your hand, "you wouldn't want to dissapoint the entire empire, now would you?", his eyes show a glint of obsession, though it passes faster than it appeared. For some reason, you can't pry your eyes from the lovestruck prince. "What are you saying...", you're suspicious of Vaelius, just what in heaven's sake is he talking about.

Vaelius gestures for one of his servants to come over. She's holding a blade with both hands which Vaelius grabs, handing it to you, "this is for you, my dear fiancé", his voice alluring and almost commanding you to take the blade in his hands. Despite his warm smile, the air felt heavy with an unspoken tension. Neither one of you wanted to lose this unspoken battle. "Or shall I remind you of how you tried to hurt the one and only heir?", his eyes open to look at you with a fierce look in them, you feel sick to your stomach. You hate him, you hate his family but this might be your only chance in surviving and carrying out your revenge. Lose the battle but win the war as they say.

You grab the blade part, bleeding a bit as it slices into your hand, "then, I'll gladly accept, my prince", you look at him with glaring eyes as he stares back with a smile, "aren't you sweet? Come up with more nicknames before our wedding, won't you?", he gestures again to the maids and in a few seconds, those same maids are guiding you to your new room. Temporary of course. You'd be sharing the same bed as the prince soon, patience.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

"At least the room's nice", you mumble to yourself after seeing where you'll be sleeping for the next few days or weeks. The maids all exit the room, with one letting you know that if you ever need something, to just ring the bell near your bed. You try to take it all in. What you did, what you will do and what he will do. The prince is unpredictable, making you all the more uneasy and wary of him, but for now, you should just enjoy a lavish lifestyle. Just like all those years ago.

"The prince is a beauty isn't he?", your mother catches you off guard. The two of you are sitting on a bench in the garden while ththe prince is with the emperor, discussing a few things with your father. "What do you mean, mother?", you ask in return and she giggles, "don't think I haven't noticed your eyes constantly following his figure now", your eyes widen, face visibly flushed. You can't say anything or rebuttal her words as you know it's true. She notices this and turns to you, a sweet smile on her face, "you might as well ask him out now before he gets snatched up by a girl or perhaps another guy", she jokes but sees that your expression is uneasy, "sweetie, I don't care who you like, you're allowed to love whoever, I mean, you're a teen now! I'm practically a soon to be grandma", she laughs and you do too. The small blonde prince turns to look at you with a huge innocent grin on his face. Little did you know, the emperor had noticed this and glared bullets into you.

"[Name]~?", Vaelius calls out, leaning a bit too close to you for comfort. You throw him off of you immediately, knocking him onto the carpeted ground, "ouch!", he rubs the back of his head which had collided with the ground, something in you compells you to lend him a hand. So, you extend one for him to take and he does so. "Why did you sneak up to me like that!?", you ask, furious. He stands up, almost towering over you, you don't remember him being this tall.."I wasn't, you were just spacing out", he sighs, looking like a hurt puppy who got scolded at by its owner, "don't pull that face and why are you here anyways?", he perks up at the question, "well, you are my soon to be husband, it's only natural I'd introduce you to my father", "I've already met hi-", "no time to lose!", he drags you out the room and into the hallways.

"Father! Meet my fiancé!", Vaelius pushes open the giant door to the emperor's office where Emperor Adrien sat. "What do you mean, son?—", his words are almost cut off as you enter the room, looking like you've been forced to be here, "who is that.", the emperor rises from his seat, looking down at you but not his son, "my fiancé", Vaelius happily says, holding your hand up. "Vaelius Luminayre. What in the world are you thinking", his tone is calm but you can tell he's beyond furious with his one and only son. "I'm perfectly capable of choosing my spouse, am I not, father?", Vaelius is passive aggressive with his words, daring the emperor to oppose his marriage with [Name]. "And what about Princess Elena", he is glaring at you, as if decades of hatred is surfacing once more. You can only look on in silence as the argument between father-son is going on. "Oh, her? You can tell her family we won't be needing them anymore", Vaelius says as if it's the most obvious and easiest thing in the world, ignoring the fact that they had been engaged for half a year. The families had hoped for Vaelius to take her as his empress but now..things have taken a turn for the worse.

"Vaelius. You two will not have my blessing", the emperor thought his son would listen after his little threat but that was far from true. "I didn't come to ask for your blessing, father", Vaelius slyly says, you can almost see an irk mark forming on his cheek. Emperor Adrien is shocked by this response, "Do you understand that you WILL NEVER become emperor if you marry that wretched man!? Has he corrupted your mind!?", the emperor yells and throws a vase your way, only for it to be blocked by Vaelius, what have you even gotten yourself into!? "Keep telling yourself that, old man", the prince turns around, taking you with him and exiting the room as yet another vase flies across the room, hitting the closed door.

This was only the start of your new life.

After that incident, your life became...easier? Well, it was all thanks to Vaelius anyways. Somehow, a few days after Vaelius met with his father to discuss about the marriage further, the emperor suddenly approved of your marriage. With the condition that the marriage would have to be postponed until 3 months later. This was also an opportunity for you to get rid of the royal family and not be tied to them in any way. You just had to figure out when was the perfect time for your plan to be executed.

And that moment came sooner than you expected. It was midnight, you knew everyone in the palace, other than the royal guards, were fast asleep by this point. The palace eerily quiet, the atmosphere almost horror-like as you roam the hallways to look for the emperor's chambers. To your utter shock and surprise, two guards lay dead on the ground of their own blood infront of the cracked open door. "Holy shit..", you cover your mouth. Even though you had seen this countless times...this time was different, it reminded you so much of that night

You also wondered, who could have beaten you to it? With your curiosity growing with each passing moment, you decide to take a peek. Avoiding the blood and corpse, you look through the small crack of the door. Your stomach drops at the sight. The moonlight shines on the perpetrator's blonde hair, in his left hand, the head of the now dead emperor, a blade on his right. The floor and walls covered in blood, the perpetrator himself is also covered in thick red liquid. Your eyes widen as the man notices someone staring at him. He turns to smirk at you, revealing himself as Vaelius Luminayre.

"Come in, why don't you?", he beckons you in, your legs move towards him, obeying his command. Once you reached him, your legs give out, falling into his arms as the bloodied head drops onto the ground with a loud thud. "Well aren't you so sweet? Falling for me like this", your head rests on Vaelius' shoulder as he holds you by your waist. You're almost frozen in place seeing what the prince, no, your fiancé, has done to the emperor. "V-Vae...", "sshh", he hushes you, "I did this for us, [Name], you've wanted this from the beginning, haven't you?", he chuckles in a low voice, a terrifying laugh. "Now we can get married the second the sun rises, isn't that amazing?", he holds your hand and makes you face him, lifting your chin to stare into his eyes as his bore into yours. "I'll be yours and you'll be mine, how's that?", with nothing left to say, you nod in agreement, did you want this from the start..?

"[Name] I'm gonna marry you one day!", the young boy says while pouting. Another lady had been flirting with you prior before this and unfortunately the young prince had witnessed it all. He was not happy. "W-what!?", you're taken aback by his suddenness, "you can't marry me..!", you yell to which he pouts even more, "why? Is it because I'm not a pretty lady!?", Vaelius seems like he's on the verge of crying so you give in, "o-okay then, I'll marry you", his mood takes a turn for the better and he smiles, "no take backs!"

The Prince always gets what he wants. Whether that's the title of Emperor or your hand in marriage. Today marks the day he gains it all. Not only is he the emperor by law, you are also now the Imperial Husband. A title that will be bestowed to you in a couple hours time.

The wedding ceremony was nothing short of grand. Everyone was invited to witness their new emperor's marriage to the former Prince of the [Last Name] house. Most cheered for the couple while some were dissapointed. Oh the look in Princess Elena and her family's eyes, priceless in the eyes of the now Emperor Vaelius. The wedding itself was held in the Royal Palace. Usually it'd be held at a church but Vaelius wanted it to be even more grand so he chose his palace. You even had a custom made outfit fit for the occasion, a pristine white dominated suit with the colors of your house. This was Vaelius' way in honoring the late King and Queen of your kingdom. You hated him and still do probably but you can't deny that what the both of you had in the past, still remains in the present.

Even though you didnt know whether he had been involved or not, something in you wanted him to be involved in your family's massacre, at least then..you can avenge them still, with the former emperor dead and all. You can't fail them but, is it worth murdering an innocent man for? The man whom you had fallen for all those years ago no less. In this marriage, you can't tell if it's either unrequited or requited love.

"Your Imperial Highness..!", a commoner girl says as you and your now husband pass by the crowds of civilians. They're all begging to get your attention, screaming, calling out and even crying, all so that you'd notice them. Maybe theyre trying to gain your favor or maybe they simply find you captivating, Vaelius sure understands where they're coming from. He finds you absolutely irresistible and it would be natural for the public to be captivated by your beauty too. So long as they know their place in his empire. You turn to face the girl who called out for you, her face full of joy despite her shabby clothing and dirty appearance. Why was she so happy just to get a glimpse of you? You'll have to get used to this life now.

What you probably can't get used to is your new life with the Emperor Vaelius. The moment the two of you stepped into your new shared chambers, Vaelius wasted no time in pushing you onto the bed, "Vaelius! What are you doing!?", "we're married now, aren't we? Let's spend the first night like husband and wife", he licks his lips at the sight of you sprawled on the bed. He's been waiting all this time for your return and his want for you can no longer be suppressed.

Without a second thought, Vaelius attacks your neck, littering it with kisses and hickeys. The pain was bearable, but the way he licked you really did send shivers down your spine, this sensation is very new to you. Instead of pushing him off, your hands pull him closer, something compells you to. It's as if the you from all those years ago came back, wanting to hold the now Emperor Vaelius. You close your eyes in pleasure, containing the moans threatening to escape your mouth. "You like this, huh", he speaks against your sensitive skin, making you all the more turned on. "M..mhm", you manage to get out. Vaelius then pulls back, looking at your mesmeric expression. "My...beloved [Name]...", your name rolls off his tongue over and over again as if he's afraid of the possibility of not being able to utter that name anymore. "Never leave me again", it sounds more like a demand rather than a plea. Before you could respond, he took both your hands with his left, his lips pressed against yours while his right hand is wandering down to your pants. Stopping to unzip them. If this was any other piece of clothing, he would have ripped it open. But since it's your wedding outfit, he'd like to keep it intact.

With his hand rubbing your cock, you reach out for said hand, wanting it to stop as you already feel to much pleasure. Never in your life would you have even thought that your first love would be touching you like this, as your husband no less. "Hm? Do you not like it?", Vaelius knows you like it, he just wants to hear those words come out your mouth. "Or would you like it more back there?", his hand wanders towards your hole, a finger pressing on the entrance as you moan just by his touch. His finger stays firmly pressed against your needy hole for a few seconds, enough for you to whine, "Vaelius..just put it in already!", a command he obeys as he immediately inserts a finger into your hole, you close your eyes due to the unfamiliar feeling, it feels weirdly pleasureful. Something in you wants more, something bigger, but you dont voice that out. Though, you neednt say anything for him to know what you want. He pushes in a second finger in, making you cling onto him.

"..ah...NGH...!?", you almost let out a loud moan as you feel your protaste being stimulated, closing your eyes in the process. Vaelius smirks, enjoying the way you're turning into putty under him. He didn't say anything as you moan out. Though, it was clear just by looking at his face, that he was thoroughly enjoying the lewd noises coming from you. Without wasting anymore time, he removed his fingers from your hole.

You felt empty, until something else pressed against your wet hole. Fuck! He's huge..! was your first thought as you took a good look at his lubed cock. You didn't even dare to estimate the size of it, "it won't fit..", a reaction which makes the emperor chuckle, "your body was made for me, of course it will fit", before you could respond or let out a snarky comment, Vaelius thrusts himself into you, gripping your waist as he does. You arch your back, eyes widen at the sudden intrusion, "f-fUcK!", you yell out, "you're so tight..", Vaelius was clearly enjoying the way your hole clenched around him. You, on the other hand, wasn't used to this. Tears form in your eyes but they dont fall. When you look back at the blonde, his face is red, seemingly lost in thought himself as he stares at his cock halfway in your hole. You felt his grip tighten and without warning, he slams his cock as deep as possible inside your ass. You let out a loud scream-like moan. The pleasure and pain hitting you all at once, "my dick feels...so good", he leans down to kiss you. You moan into the kiss, him exploring your mouth with his tongue, making you a mess as drool trickles down your chin.

You were getting used to his size due to him staying still but then Vaelius suddenly pulls out, leaving only the tip inside before thrusting it all in. "Ack..! Ah!", you moan as he thrusts in and out, leaving almost no room for you to breathe as he part his lips from yours, focusing on pounding your ass and filling it up with cum. You on the other hand, felt your eyes rolling back, your whole face flushed as you had a firm grip on the bed sheets. Your moans became louder than before, turning your now husband even more. His pupils were practically heart shaped as he looked at your messy form being fucked so hard and rough you look as if you're losing yourself.

You could see and feel the way Vaelius thrusted his cock in and out of you, your lower belly bulging whenever he went all the way inside. This sight made Vaelius all the more horny. Soon enough, he felt as if he was at his limit, "I'm gonna cum...!", as he said that, you grew more aware of your own orgasm. The more he pounded your hole, the more you felt close to your climax. "Cum with me, darling..!", he said inbetween grunts and gasps. Your body convulsed as you let out your first load in a while. Not only that, but the feeling of Vaelius' thick and warm seed filling up your hole made it all the more pleasureful for you. Unplugging his cock from your hole, his cum drips down onto the bed but the both of you couldn't care less in this moment. Lost in each other.

After a moment of silence and rest, Vaelius was the first to speak, "how was it?", "...well it was my first time so—"You're a virgin??", "...", you gave no further comment, regretting ever letting those words out your mouth. This makes Vaelius laugh and blush, knowing he was your first love and the one who took your virginity, "then...I'll make sure your body gets so used to my cock that nobody else's can satisfy your needs, I've got to make a good first impression for you", he throws himself onto you, wrapping his arms from behind you as you face the other way, "just a warning though, I have many needs and wont stop once I start"

And oh boy was that true.

Not even a month later, and he's already bending you over the table. The official meeting table. With nobles around the both of you as he took the farthest and tallest seat. Well, at this very moment, he's standing as he has his cock all the way inside of you. Your face buried in your arms, not wanting to face the tense nobles. Some are even turned on by the sight of you getting dominated infront of them. But, if any of them stared at you for too long, two blades would come flying towards their eyeballs. Afterall, the only one who should stare at you is Vaelius. "Regarding these problems, whose idea was it?", despite his cock being warmed by you, his personality was far from it. He was cold by nature, only warm towards you. You breathe heavily, embarrassed to be seen like this. The once crown prince, heir to the Aldoria Kingdom is now being bent over by the Emperor Vaelius, full of cock as the man towering over you holds important papers, dicussing as if he's not all the way inside you right now. "I-it was mine, your majesty", Vaelius lets out a dissapointed sigh, even you knew what this meant.

In an instant, he sits down on his seat, bringing you with him. This makes his dick sink even deeper into your hole, grazing your prostate ever so slightly that it makes your hole clench, making him grunt. He was clearly unhappy with the decisions the nobles made under his father's reign. With a hand on your hips, he moves you nack and forth, grinding on his cock. Vaelius somehow doesn't let out a sound that would make him seem weak infront of these powerful men but you do. You moan into your own arm and writhe in his touch, his cock so deep inside and hitting your prostate so good. "What made you come up with such a stupid and revolting idea", even if you aren't able to see it, just by his voice, you could tell he had a sinister look on his face, looking down on the noblemen. "I-I apologize your majesty", you watch as thr powerful men infront of you scared out of their wits when face to face with Vaelius. Though, you didn't pay their reactions any attention as you were too busy focusing on Vaelius' big cock inside.

With his strong hand, he lifts you up until they can see his cock halfway in before pushing you back down on it, he repeats this over and over again. Some of the noblemen got hard but dared not to touch themselves, but especially to you. Less they had a torture wish. "...and you call yourselves powerful? Smart? Hah!", Vaelius lets out a sarcastic laugh, it was loud enough to make them all tremble. "Your majesty..we—", "Silence.", a single word and they all felt their bodies shivering. "Get out of my face. I'll give you all a week.", they knew what he meant by this, he was goving them mercy. All of them got up, synchronized, bowing and thanking the emperor for his mercy before scurrying out the door.

This leaves you alone with the angry emperor. You wondered what would happen to you. Of course, you should have expected to be fucked dumb. Vaelius knew how to hit your prostate just right to get you screaming and slobbering over his cock. He drops the papers on the ground as of they're useless to him and holds your hips instead. You're turned around to face him and your arms wrap around his neck, "your expression...so cute", you weren't given a chance to respond, as if you could in your condition. He lifted you up and down on his cock extra rough. Those noblemen pissed him off and you're the only person who can calm him down. Using your hole. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the entire room. Even as it's air conditioned, the two of you sweat due to the intensity of it. Your prostate was basically being abused at this point, you couldn't think of anything but his cock, your brain all mushy now because of it.

Even as you came, he still continued his rough thrusts. Making you feel even more stimulated due to how sensitive you are after coming. "Take all of my cum inside, [Name], take it all..!", he says before coming inside you. Your head resting on his chest as he hold your waist. After a few minutes, he pulls out and helps you stand before bending you over the desk once more. "I love you [Name], please take all of me", in his eyes, the look of love and lust combined. The young boy, of whom you had once found annoying, has now become the man you despise. The one you wanted to rid the world of. Yet as fate foresaw it, he now stands as the dangerous emperor who has forcibly stolen your heart. But will you let him have it?

Took two months but here it is yall (Im so sorry😞)

[too-deviant]

mdni 🃏 second in command!reader is back and is very pissed off…

you’ve grown accustomed to the plush mattress of the master suite on the princess andromeda — despite never sleeping on it.

you know the best combination of pillows to pile up under your back when luke props you up onto the headboard so you don’t feel that ache in your lower spine from the awkward angle.

you know not to sit too close to the edge of the bed — more towards the middle, so that when luke spreads your thighs so far apart you can feel the burn in the crease of your groin, your knee doesn’t knock against the edge of the nightstand and make you hiss into his mouth.

you know not to grip the fitted sheet between your knuckles because it always comes loose from the mattress whenever you do, so instead you squeeze luke’s hip, scratch on his back.

you also know that the bruises on his knuckles aren’t from inflicting pain on other people, but from slipping his hand in the space between the headboard and the wall to cushion the banging noise that comes from his persistent thrusts into you. you know the blood stains on his t-shirt aren’t from a nasty battle, but from that time you bit into his shoulder so hard you broke skin.

you know that if his right hand twitches at his side, you should ready your spear for a fight, but if his left hand stars twitching, you should start loosening the straps of your armour.

but while you’ve committed all these little ticks to memory, luke remains unpredictable. sure, you know how to decipher the looks he sends you, and what combination of movements will make him cum the hardest.

but when you meet with the newest gaggle of demigods that have deflected from camp half-blood, it becomes a whole new playing field.

because that used to be you — quiet, unsure, new. desperate to please the man who would be your leader. but none of these people could become the next you, because they didn’t know the things you did.

right?

surely not.

but then luke starts sending them on missions — the same ones you went on before you got promoted to better things. he starts waking up earlier so he can watch over their training modules. modules that you used to run, but now he is insistent on taking over.

you weren’t stupid. so which one was it? was it the perky daughter of aphrodite? the rugged but submissive son of ares? which one was luke keeping that special eye on? which one got extra special attention, better missions, time alone with luke in the state room?

you shouldn’t be as bothered as you are — but it’s not jealousy. no, it’s just…worry. you worked too hard to get where you are for some newbie to come along and ruin it for you after two weeks on the ship. they didn’t deserve what you had.

that much was made abundantly clear when luke put you in charge of an extraction mission in washington. what a fool he was, picking the newbies to join your team. they weren’t ready for something so taxing. it took almost a month before you were sent on your first extraction, what was so special about them?

it appeared tyche was on your side that day. you were too angry to think rationally and just went in swinging, not a care for strategy or form. and even though luke’s new bimbos provided zero help, you managed to wrangle yourselves out alive and successful.

you stormed your way back onto the andromeda without so much as a glance in their direction. straight to the state room, straight to where luke was waiting for a mission report.

“did kronos smack you upside the head?”

well, you weren’t giving him a report. you were done — he could do whatever he wanted with his new toys, you didn’t care. but don’t send them on missions they aren’t ready for just because they’re an easy lay. your words were sharp talons, just like he’d taught you — and he stood there and took it. face placid, hands in his pockets, calm and quiet until you were done.

and when you were, he laughed.

that asshole laughed at you. perfect teeth on display, sword swinging as he rocked on his feet in complete hilarity. you could tuck your tail between your legs and walk off, let him dump you.

or you could remind him of all the things you know — all the things his warm bodies would never learn, because they weren’t you.

you’d only seen such visceral shock on his expression once, and that was when percy jackson highjacked the boat. this time, however, it was because you had folded your arms, tilted your head, and told him to take off his pants.

and he did — ah ah, slowly. he unbuttoned his cargos and pushed them to his ankles, all the while holding a sick smirk and even sicker eye contact.

and just before he could remove his shirt on your command, he huffed, “just so you know. i wouldn’t take orders like these from anyone else but you.”

you never did see those demigods again.

[jammydodger3579]

Young Lust pt. 2

Summary: Y/N needed a break from thinking about Logan... (no spoilers hehe) Read part 1 here.

A/N: Thank you all soooo much for the response to the first chapter, really my head cannot fit through the door. Anyway here is the second chapter, enjoyyy.

18+ for mature audiences only

2800+ word count.

Warnings: smut, oral fem!receiving, lil violence and a lil cursing

Still reeling after the encounter in the broom closet a few days ago, Y/N needed to clear her head. She threw on a jacket and left her room. She found herself in the garage, deciding that a ride on her motorbike would help. Her thoughts were loud. What did that mean? Logan never contacted her afterwards, he didn’t even say anything besides a polite goodbye before she left that night. It left her only longing more. Maybe that's what he wants? Y/N wouldn’t know. She was at a loss, pulling into the carpark of a bar nearby. A drink would do her good. She walked inside and went straight to the bar, ordering her favourite drink. The bar was busy due to a competition they were hosting, so the patrons were rowdy. Y/N scanned her surroundings by instinct. Two exits and a few windows. Y/N didn’t know why she was on edge, Logan kept plaguing her mind. An older man came and sat next to her. 

“Hey pretty lady, can I buy you a drink?” He sounded sleazy, he even looked like a predator. Y/N scoffed and moved away from him. “Hey come on now, is that how you treat a gentleman?” 

“I don’t want any trouble,” She said, getting up. 

“Neither do I, princess” The man stood up and cornered Y/N. Before she could react, the man was yanked back. All of a sudden, the man was pinned against the wall and punched in the face. She got out her handgun and aimed it at the two men before her. Y/N moved the handgun away when she noticed it was Logan in front of her. The bartender started yelling for them to leave the bar.  

“She doesn’t want you, bub” he growled through gritted teeth. The man, whose nose was spilling blood, squirmed away from Logan and left. Y/N finished her drink and left the bar. Logan followed after her. “We need to talk” 

“I don’t want to hear it” 

“What's wrong?” 

“What's wrong?” she scoffed, incredulously. “What's wrong is you don’t speak to me, you criticise me in battle, you fuck me in a closet and then you come in here all knight in shining armour like nothing happened. What is wrong with you?” She went to mount her bike when Logan touched her shoulder. He pulled her into a hug and held her there for a minute. Y/N wanted to sink into his arms and stay there but she pulled away. She wanted to know him like he knew her. “Well?” she pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag, “You wanted to talk?”

“I don’t know what came over me, I just didn’t want you to get hurt” 

“You’ve seen me fight, Logan, I can handle myself. I’ve handled a lot worse” She couldn’t read his face. He was like a brick wall and Y/N wanted to tear it down. 

“I don’t know where to start with you” 

“I just want you to acknowledge me, you didn’t say a word to me after we… after that happened. I don’t have the time for games. I want to know you” Y/N took another drag of her cigarette. 

“What do you want to know?”

“I don't know,” She thought hard ��Do you often take people into closets?”

“Not for a long time,” Logan said, shifting his posture. “I’m not good with other people, but you, you’re different, you’re…” He trailed off. He wasn’t ready to finish that sentence. “We’re a good team, I think because we don’t talk about it” 

Y/N nodded, understanding. She wasn’t ready to talk about it either. That conversation was a can of worms neither of them wanted to open. Who they are, what they mean to each other. She admired Logan’s ability to read her without speaking. She didn’t want to say it, but she had to. “Casual… we can just keep it casual and see where things go. The others don’t have to know. We can just keep it between ourselves and-” She was cut off by Logan's lips pressing against hers. She leaned into it, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“I want whatever you want” 

“I want you” she breathed. Logan placed one last kiss on her lips before pulling away. He had a smile on his face. 

“Here?” Logan looked around the carpark, scanning to see if anyone was near. Y/N looked up and blinked. 

“No, not like that,” She said, lightly hitting Logan on the shoulder. “Get your mind out of the gutter” They kissed again. It was passionate and soft. Maybe they didn’t need to have in-depth conversations about their relationship to be on the same page. Just as the kiss started getting heated, Y/N’s phone rang. Sighing, she pulled it out of her pocket and answered the call. It was Yelena. 

“Hey it’s me, Stark called a meeting, he wants us there too. Are you far away?”

“Uhh, a little. I took my bike out. What’s this meeting about?”

“Not sure yet, but the X-men are on their way” Y/N’s eyes met with Logans. They’re probably expecting him as well. She decided to play it cool. 

“Fitting, I’m at a bar and I bumped into Logan here. We’ll meet you at the Compound” and before Yelena could ask questions, Y/N hung up the phone. 

“I’ll follow you, let's go,” Logan said, walking over to his bike. They rode their bikes to the Compound, Logan leading the way. The ride was peaceful this time, Y/N couldn’t help but admire the view. Once they arrived, they parked their bikes in the garage. Together, they walked up to the conference room. The very room where she and Logan had shared their first kiss. It suddenly dawned on Y/N, the jacket she was wearing. Logans jacket. He’d given it to her the night of the dinner party. And he never even mentioned it, that bastard. How embarrassing, she thought to herself. The room was filled, Kitty, Storm, Rogue and Bobby were with the Professor on one side of the table. Yelena, Sam, Bucky, Rhodey and Stark sat on the other side. Y/N took an empty seat next to her best friend. Logan stood near the Professor.

She leaned over to Y/N, “bumping into Logan, huh?” she whispered. Y/N shot Yelena a look that said “Don’t test me” before turning to Tony, who was handing out files. 

“Thanks for coming everyone, we have new intel on who's snatching these mutant kids and where they could be,” He said

“Widows?” Y/N said, taking the file and skimming through the words. Her heart started to beat so fast and loudly, she swore everyone could hear it. 

“We have reason to believe Dreykovs followers are experimenting on mutant girls to make a more powerful type of Widow. His army split up after his death and has been doing this since. They have multiple outlets, all over the world. We’ve been investigating this for a while but we weren’t 100% sure how to tell you two” Tony gestured to Y/N and Yelena. Yelena stood up from her seat. 

“You knew? And you kept it from us?” Her accent was thick, indicating she was angry. “How long have you known?” Tony hesitated. Y/N looked over at everyone, she could see it on their faces. They all knew. She felt embarrassed like she had something on her face and no one was telling her. “How long have you known?” Yelena slammed her hand on the table. This made Y/N jump. 

“Yelena-” she started when Tony cut her off. 

“Three months. When Charles came to us. He wasn’t sure how to handle the situation so he came to us and asked for our help. We just didn’t want you guys to take it too personally” Y/N scoffed. She couldn’t believe any of this. There were no words to describe how she felt. She needed to flee, to get some fresh air. Have a smoke maybe. As she stood up, she felt dizzy. These kids, these girls were innocent, helpless. She had to do something. Putting aside her current negative feelings towards Stark, she spoke up. 

“I’ll help… look if these kids are getting treated the way we did, then the worst has already happened. We have to put an end to this, and stop it from happening again,” She looked at Yelena, who nodded.

“I-I suppose you’re right…” Yelena took her file off the table and left. It must’ve been too much for her. Bucky got up and followed his girlfriend. There was yelling, mostly in Russian, and then a door slammed. Tony looked around at the rest of the group. 

“There’s information in everyone's files about which base they’re gonna take out. Y/N, if you want to help, you can go with Charles and Logan. We have enough beds here if you guys want to stay the night and then fly out tomorrow morning” Stark said. The Professor nodded. 

“That would be great, thank you,” He said before wheeling out of the room. Stark followed, sparking up a conversation with Bobby as they went. It wasn’t long until Y/N and Logan were the only two left in the room. Again. That day replayed in her mind, how the room fell silent as she and Yelena walked into the room. Were they talking about the two of them that day? If they were, how much of her past did Logan know? She wanted to scream, but that wouldn’t be productive. Logan walked over to her and put an arm around her waist but she moved away. She sat down and opened the file. There were photos of men from a lifetime Y/N had long forgotten, holding young girls and forcing them into vans. She recognised some of the Widows that were assisting, thinking they had died. Her heart ached as she read through the files. 

“I would’ve told you” Logan spoke softly. “Charles forbid it, said it could compromise the outcome” Y/N scoffed. 

“I’m not weak, I was top of my class, Yelena and I. I was trained to be heartless” She said, though her words didn’t sound strong. 

“No one would judge you if you sat out, we’d all understand” 

“I said I could do it, so I’m gonna fucking do it. These kids need someone on their side, someone who knows what they went through” Y/N turned around to face Logan. He had a soft look on his face, he was concerned. Y/N didn’t know that Logan knew what it was like to be used, beaten and experimented on. She didn’t know the lifetime of abuse that he had lived through. 

“Why don’t you get some rest, see how you feel in the morning” Logan said as she stood up from her seat. 

“I don’t need rest, I need to read through these files and figure out a plan” 

“We can do that in the morning, Charles will probably figure something out” Logan put a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, let's just take a break from thinking about this” 

“I can’t just “take a break” Logan. This is my life. I live with this every day. All my sisters I let down by not finding them. Now they’re being controlled and used to do this!? I escaped and went to a semi-normal life, these girls didn’t even get a chance. I should’ve gone back and investigated more. I just decided to push it all away”

“It’s not your fault. There's no one to blame except for the men in charge. C’mon, let's get some rest” He held out a hand to her, and she took it. 

“Can you… would you stay with me? Maybe… if you want” She sounded shy. Logan smiled and placed a kiss on her forehead. 

“Thought you wouldn’t ask, princess” They walked hand in hand to Y/N’s room. Once they were behind closed doors, Y/N pressed her lips against Logans in a desperate attempt at bringing him closer to her. Her hands went straight to Logans pants, trying to undo the belt buckle. “Whoa there, sweetheart. Are you sure you want this right now?” 

“Please, can we just forget about whats going on? It’s fine, I want this” she reassured, taking her shirt off. She was in a rush. “Why, do you not want to?”

“No, I want to, just feels like maybe you’d like to talk about how you’re feeling instead?” 

“C’mon now, we work better without talking” She looked up into his eyes before kissing his neck. His breathing hitched, he was enjoying it. Logan picked her up and placed her down on the bed, before taking off his shirt. He climbed onto the bed, his weight making it sink in the middle. Y/N smiled, pulling Logan in for a kiss. It was passionate, delicate. Logan snaked a hand behind her back, uncasping her bra skillfully with one hand. Together, they undressed, tossing their clothes onto the floor. Logan looked at the sight infront of him. 

“You’re so beautiful” he breathed. 

“Shh, no talking” Y/N said, kissing Logan. He moved down, kissing her neck, her collarbone, her chest before attaching his lips to her nipple. His hand went to her other breast, massaging it. Y/N moaned, arching her back to meet Logan. He tugged slightly with his teeth, gaining yet another moan from her. Logans eyes met with Y/N’s, asking silently if that was okay. She nodded for him to continue.  He trailed kisses down her stomach before he lifted both of her legs over his shoulders. He licked a stripe up her cunt, tasting her slowly. Y/N squirmed into his face. Logan smiled, before attaching his lips to her clit, sucking gently. She moaned loudly, swearing his name. Her hips buckled, causing Logan to put both hands on her lips and hold her down. He lapped up her juices like he was starving and she was food. It wasn’t long before Y/N was close to her end, her pussy clenching around nothing. Logan took this opportunity to insert two fingers, curling them up to hit just that spot. He gained a good rhythm, as he continued to eat her out. Y/N was trembling, her orgasm getting closer, closer, closer…

A deep moan escaped from her lips as she grabbed onto the sheets. Her face, a contorted shape of pleasure. She’d never been eaten out like that before. Logan was still going at it, slowing his fingers to allow Y/N to ride out her high. He looked up and his eyes met with hers. She pulled him up to meet her face before hungrily kissing him. She needed him, bad. She moved her hips to meet with Logans, and he quickly got the hint. He stoked himself a few times before he inserted his cock. Logan thrusted in and out, moving slowly at first to allow her to get used to his size. They moved insync, becoming one together. It was intimate, as Logan starred deeply into her eyes. Y/N pulled him down to kiss, wanting to feel every inch of his body on hers. Logan started kissing that sweet spot on her neck, causing her to dig her nails into his back. He leaned back onto his knees, holding onto Y/N’s hips, and he started to thrust in deeper and messier than before. She was getting close again, her eyes locked onto Logan’s as lust and desire filled his eyes. Deep down, she knew this was more than casual. She had feelings for him that she even didn’t know existed. She just couldn’t figure out if he felt the same way. 

“I-I’m close…” she breathed out, breaking her silence. 

“I know, baby” Logan said, kissing her. The contact threw her over the edge, wrapping her legs around Logan’s waist. She didn’t want him to leave and it’s not like she could get pregnant anyway. Logan came shortly after a few more thrusts, riding out his high. He pulled out and layed down next to Y/N, pulling her into his arms. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat. 

“Thank you,” she said, drawing circles on Logan's abs.  “Anytime, now get some rest” With that, it wasn’t long before she drifted off. Y/N’s dreams were vivid. Images of Dreykov and his followers plaguing her mind. Saying she was worthless, replaceable, disposable. She tried to scream but no noise came out. She stirred, reaching her arms out to find Logan. But he wasn’t there. She sat up in bed, looking around the room. His clothes were gone. He was gone.

Next chapter here

[loz-furbies]

Zelda ages based on when their games came out. Welcome to the team EoW Zelda!

Characters and design thoughts under cut:

For starters, I did a similar Zelda piece a few years ago and ran into the problem that I can't really draw anything else than anime teen girls, which is kind of a problem in a drawing where half the characters are above 20 and their age differences are the whole point. And in addition almost everyone is supposed to be royalty with very similar clothes too. But in my defense, in general it can be pretty hard to tell the ages of 25 to 40 year old anime women anyway.

I needed a reference for the body proportions in order to even get started, so I quickly thought "who is an anime woman who doesn't look like a teenager", and used Yor's character sheet for assistance. The younger characters' proportions are a little inconsistent, since I couldn't choose if I would look at realistic growth chart or go with the anime look (where teens and children are often shorter than they would be in real life) so the result is this weird hybrid.

Four Swords (December 2, 2022) & Four Swords Adventures (March 18, 2004) - Chronologically they are different Zeldas even though they use the same promo art/character design, so I used the promo art design for the original FS Zelda and drew the FSA Zelda based on her sprite. There's not much to these designs, they have very little going on in terms of story or personality to use as inspiration and their character design doesn't offer much anything original when compared to the other more well known Zeldas either. Their only distinct element is the big red hair bow, but I thought it would look too childish when they're supposed to be in their twenties here.

Minish Cap (November 4, 2004) - There's not a lot MC Zelda that I could use for inspiration. But then I remembered that a while ago I wrote about how the pointy hat Queen Ambi wears should be used more often, so I thought I should put my money where my mouth is and draw it here, since Zelda does wear a red cap for a couple seconds in MC. In general the MC Zelda and both FS Zeldas are at a little awkward age for this picture, since they're too old for youthful child designs but not really old enough for more mature queenly designs either.

Skyward Sword (November 18, 2011) - Her design is based on her concept design, which I assume is meant to be her casual look and not the ceremonial costume she wears in the game.

Ocarina of Time (November 21, 1998) - I decided that age-wise she makes the cut of when I start using updos. Why do the Zeldas have such similar canon hairstyles anyway, it was surprisingly boring to work with them. Still not sure about the curls though, my fancy dress design artbook that I used for inspiration had so many cute curly hairstyles but I couldn't really use any here because I worried the characters would become unrecognisable. But since OoT Zelda had some curls in her "sideburns" she fell victim here.

Hyrule Warriors (August 14, 2014) - HW Zelda has a distinct enough design from the other Zeldas that it gives a lot of elements to work with, though her age here limits it a little since she's too young for bikini armour. Also because HW is a spin off, I also considered including the Cadence of Hyrule Zelda, but that led to the realisation that it would have opened the doors to CDI Zelda as well. Which I guess would have been fine, but this is already a pretty wide drawing full of adults, so while a Cadence of Hyrule Zelda would have been easy to fit on the front row, I couldn't justify adding even more adults just for the CDI games. So only HW is included because I've played it and actually like it.

Zelda 1 (February 21, 1986) - The original Zelda is at an age where it's a little awkward how there's little difference between her (38 years old) and OoT Zelda (25). But I couldn't think of any anime that would help me as reference here, and I don't think she's old enough to have that "this character is getting old" wrinkle under her eye (you know the one).

Echoes of Wisdom (September 26, 2024) - I think she looks a bit too old here to be a zero-days-old newborn but work with me here.

Breath of the Wild (March 3, 2017) - She's actually at the age where her mum died, poor girl. She's very refreshing to work with since her look is so different from the other Zeldas.

A Link to the Past (November 21, 1991) & A Link between Worlds (November 22, 2013) - Originally I also had the Oracles Zelda in this since she does have a unique design, but then again I consider the Oracles Link to be the same as in aLttP which ought to apply to Zelda as well, plus the design isn't unique in any interesting way and is just a combination of the OoT & aLttP designs, so in the end I just gave the Oracles Zelda sprite's hair buns to aLbW Zelda. Overall having to use the essentially same design for both aLttP and aLbW Zelda wasn't much fun, especially when neither really offers anything notable in terms of story or personality, but at least they're pretty far apart when it comes to age.

Twilight Princess (November 19, 2006) - I haven't played her game so I don't know a lot about her (other than reading the manga which didn't give me anything to work with either) and she's also close to her canon age (?) here so she ended up looking pretty similar to her canon design.

Spirit Tracks (December 7, 2009) - This was a tough one because technically ST Zelda does have a lot of elements to her story and character that could work for a redesign, but not really for the purposes of this picture. Anything train related is more of Link's thing, and anything ghost related doesn't really fit either since she's not supposed to be a ghost at this age. And as for the Phantom, I got the impression that while she learned to appreciate it, she didn't exactly like using it, and that personality-wise she would prefer not to go on another similar adventure. So In the end I just replaced the regular armour parts many Zeldas have in their designs with the Phantom armour and used the ghost palette for the rest of her look, and I kind of like the result. Her personality looks a little out of character though but I couldn't resist the opportunity to draw this with Grandma Tetra.

Wind Waker (December 13, 2002) - I haven't played WW so I'm not sure how accurate this is, but drawing her with the pirate design definitely added some much needed variety to this picture. I really like her twirly hairstyle in canon, but I also really wanted to draw her with short hair, so it had to go. Maybe ST Zelda can style her hair in a twirl when she gets older to compensate?

The Adventure of Link (January 14, 1987) - Really don't know what happened here, not particularly happy with the end result. I prefer to draw the Zelda 2 Zelda with her sprite design because just reusing the OG Zelda design is boring, but I really should have kept it closer to that since now she's practically unrecognisable.

[vintagehellfire]

Danse Macabre | E.M x Reader

summary: Your best friend invites you to a concert that you're less than keen on but you get much more devil worship than you bargained for.

warnings: porn without plot, plot? What plot?, choking, nipple play, blood play, bruising, oral (m receiving), sacrilege, bdsm, dom sub dynamics, just really stupid horny honestly. Eyefucking, teasing, edging???? Spit kink, mask kink, devil worship. This is just pure filth honestly, piv, unprotected sex (don’t do this with strangers ya’ll pls I’m begging) mdni 18+

word count: 8.6k

Thank you to @the-unforgivenn for beta reading this pure filth for me and for correcting my atrocious keystroke mistakes. I love you so much babe.

part two

How you got dragged to some sort of musical satanic ritual by your best friend Lilly was far beyond you. The heavy instrumentals contrasted too harshly with the light and theatrical vocals. If looks could kill, Lilly would be dead. This wasn’t your scene, it never would be, it’s what you told yourself. Sipping your gin, arms crossed, you scrunch your face, the bartender having been too busy staring at your chest while he poured your drink, resulting in a rather disgusting concoction. As if the night couldn’t get any worse. 

One of the lighter intro songs came to an end before the pyrotechnics roared to life next to you, one of the guitarists emerged from behind the waft of smoke. It was then that your breath caught in your throat, the way that he played had you hypnotised, placing you in a trance so deep that you couldn’t tear your eyes from him even if you wanted to, veins protruding. Your eyes trailed over his body, tight jeans fitting to his body and a uniform dress shirt adorning his torso, long sleeves and turtleneck underneath, hiding any soft skin. As you would be met with a face, you were surprised to find that you were met with a helmet of sorts, breathing tubes and other such accessories adorning it, as well as sticking out the top. His eyes burned red like embers behind the wide goggles, a darkness swallowing the man behind the mask and drawing you in. Curiosity got the better of you, you watched closely  when he stomped to the beat of the songs. he fans collectively let out a wave of screams, throwing flowers on stage. You rolled your eyes so hard they probably should have rolled out of your head. Were you attracted to the masked musician? In some capacity sure, but wholly? No. They just… they knew how to play well and those hands… you could admit those hands were something. You shook your head to rid yourself of impure thoughts, it wasn’t like you liked the music anyway. 

Your face was stone cold and your arms were crossed over your chest unhappily, cleavage pushed up, and the leather of your jacket creaking. That was the thing about you, you’d rather die than remove your prized biker jacket. It was your battle armour, much like the guitarists get up seemed to be the band’s uniform. To them, it protected their identity, and it protected you – you wouldn’t be caught off guard, you wouldn’t be vulnerable, you couldn’t. Your icy stare pierced through the smoke, through the flames, as you focused your gaze on the guitarist in front of you. His white guitar distinguished  him from everyone else just as your expression did you –perfectly sour.

The crowd behind you chanted along to the songs, screaming about Lucifer and the congregation and whatever other shit you chose to ignore in favour of your best friend. Lilly was one of them, jumping up and down, chanting every word of the hymns the lead singer belted out to the tune of the strong bass line and the chugging of guitars. As much as you wanted her to have fun, you rolled your eyes, this wasn’t your scene. Every song that started out heavy led to a disappointment with the vocals or the rock opera and so you just opted to be the designated party pooper and give your best glare towards the lead guitarist who seemed all too interested in your corner of the stage. He wailed on his guitar harder than you’d seen anyone wail on one before, a flash of worry briefly crossing your mind but you quickly pushed it down. 

The masked man played through his songs flawlessly, fingers moving expertly across the fretboard, mind and body completely in tandem; however your pout, your knit eyebrows, and crossed arms caught his eye, he’d stare back at you through his tinted goggles, smiling softly to himself at how adorable you looked when you were so grumpy. He could tell this wasn’t your scene and so during the slow and long intro to a song he walked over to the very front, standing just a few feet above you.  He tilted his head to the side, his mask listing as he stared, playing the intro as his eyes never left yours. 

The small movement caught your attention, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you felt like the glowing embers behind the goggles were burning into your very soul, dissecting every little secret. He slowly points to himself before he gets his queue to jump into his next riffs, stomping away as he pushed through the heavy chords that thundered through the concert hall. You dared not admit it to yourself, but something inside you snapped, a warmth starting to spread between your legs. No, no you couldn’t possibly be attracted to this, right? But just as that thought entered your mind, it shot out of your head and straight to your heart when you saw the man before you strut over to his bandmate. The two bent over backwards together, the taller of the two supporting the back of the man with the white guitar. A cute moment, or so you thought, but as soon as the shorter was up for his solo, the taller wrapped an arm around him and pawed at his cock, tugging him into his muscled body, catching the one you had your eye on off guard. He rocked his hips into the other and rested his masked head on the shorter shoulder, fake panting. He did not falter however, and that had your brain reeling. 

With a small smack on the ass, the taller let him go, strutting away as the crowd erupted in ear shattering screeches, and if what had just transpired wasn’t one of the hottest things you’d seen, you would have absolutely rolled your eyes, but instead it had you shifting in your place, all too keenly aware of the small flare of heat that lapped at you and the proximity of the other bodies surrounding you. You suddenly felt small, trapped; and you wanted nothing more than to run out and dunk your head under some ice cold water. What was wrong with you? Your eyes darted from side to side, hoping your best friend Lilly wouldn’t notice. 

What went on next was just about to make anyone lose their minds, the lead guitarist started to throw guitar picks into the crowd, plucking one last one from his guitar and marching over to directly in front of you. The song they played next was clearly well known but it was only vaguely familiar to you, it was one you would listen to ironically while doing the dishes, one that you didn’t care much for, but was catchy nonetheless. What you didn’t realise was just how suggestive the lyrics were – and so when the man with the white guitar stood in front of you, spreading his legs to put himself in a more comfortable playing stance you thought nothing about it but his next motions had your panties soaking themselves in your slick. A long and crooked finger pointed to himself quickly, then he went back to wailing on his precious guitar just before giving himself a window of about a second to stop, his ring and middle finger very rapidly turned upwards, flicking rapidly as if motioning fingering you, his goggles deadlocked on your eyes. You could tell he was watching you for a reaction, and how you knew you wouldn’t be able to tell. Christ, maybe you should have listened to Lilly when she was telling you this band was horny. Truthfully, you had shrugged it off, what, some singer in a pope mask acting all horny? That didn’t exactly get your rocks off, but the moment you laid eyes on the masked men playing their instruments, all rational thought flew out the window. 

Little did you know that the guitarist did have his eyes set on you, all queues already learned, his body moving on auto pilot, his performance was deliberately exaggerated just for you, his motions tailored to get you hot and bothered. He knew he played the best role, and as the show went on, with the lack of water, and the horrid head, he knew his veins were pronouncing themselves even more, fingers sliding around, fingering the fretboard with an expert speed. Every nook, cranny, and metal notch memorised by the calluses on the pads of his fingers, like an old lover he’d always know how to please. He would pride himself on it, on his accuracy, and he was thankful, oh so thankful, that his death metal band had allowed him the dexterity to pull something such as this off. 

Your eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from his figure, stalking his every move like a predator with their prey, A game of cat and mouse you both played with each other from the stage and the crowd. At this point, all shame was thrown out the window and you were openly eye fucking him, blood boiling in your veins and mouth starting to run a little dry. 

The final nail in the coffin was during their heaviest song during the show, a calm moment before the storm, before the stadium exploded in a downpour of black and white paper confetti. Your eyes fixated on the man before you as the song slows to a steady chug, breathy whispers sung into the microphones. It made your head spin as you were trying to compose yourself, breath hitching as the object of your lustful affection met your gaze. His black inky goggles bored you as he brought a shaky hand up, his other hand chugging the low E of his guitar. You were transfixed by the man, unable to peel your eyes from him as he slowly and seductively licked his hand, tongue expertly flicking between his fingers, his shaky breaths becoming ragged and exaggerated. Pressing his hand to his chest, he threw his head back in a moan, sliding his elegant fingers down the front of his uniform until it was level with his guitar, and exactly in time with his strumming, he fisted his hand and with a teasing motion he tugged at the air. Your mouth ran completely dry as you registered that he was feigning masturbation in front of thousands of people. He had you caught in a trance, hypnotised by his agonising motions, his eyes seemingly staring into your very soul, picking apart every last bit of you - he saw the scars inside and your desires all rolled into one. As his actions picked up, one hand still busy on his guitar, you let out a choked breath, transfixed by the man, ghoul, whatever he was, before you. He commanded all your attention, causing your mouth to run completely dry but it couldn’t have prepared you for his “release”--  letting go the moment the confetti cannon exploded. Your jaw slacked, a strangled moan flying from your mouth as you clenched your thighs together, mouth slightly agape. 

The guitarist knew he had you in a chokehold at that very moment, smirking from underneath his coverings. Flawlessly he jumped back into the song and turned away from you, the game of cat and mouse had become too much, too real. It had only taken him an hour and a half to break you down, but once he did he felt a satisfaction he couldn’t explain, and of course he would try to hide it as he continued to strut across the stage as if he owned it. The reality was that he didn’t want to give away just the way this little game had affected him as well, an undeniable strain in his lower half. If his bandmates had noticed, they had clearly made it their mission to torture him, the rhythm guitarist getting on his knees in front of him during a solo, fucking into his own guitar as he pressed his head to the lead guitarists thigh. It wasn’t until the lead placed a boot on his shoulder to push away from him that the one on his knees relented, the crowd exploding in a rain of screams, and yet all you heard was the rush of blood in your ears. You resigned, the game had been won.

As you tried to catch your breath, you looked over to Lilly, thanking Satan that she hadn’t noticed your turmoil. The rest of the show had you holding your breath, knowing that the masked musician had made it his mission to play games with you.  the show ended, you were relieved, you might have a moment yet to go home and get yourself off, forgetting the whole of the events that transpired. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here and to the merch table before it gets too crowded!” Lilly cheered, sticking her handout for you to take, but as soon as she looked over your face her eyes drained of excitement. “Oh, are you okay? You look a little pale,” she noted, tilting her head to the side. 

“Y-yeah, I,” You cleared your throat, “I’m fine, just feeling a little warm. I think I might head home but you go grab some merch. I’ll text you,” you lied cooly. You didn’t want her to know the profound effect that the lead guitarist had on you. With a nod she gave your shoulder a squeeze and darted off. 

You could finally breathe, the suffocation that gripped at your throat just moments earlier had slightly dissipated. As dirty as your thoughts were at the moment, it was in your best interest to get moving, and so, as if on autopilot, you let your feet carry you as far from the stage as possible. You slipped past the crowd, weaving in and around groups of friends, teenagers reeling about the show, displeased parents. You wanted to beeline it out of there before anyone noticed you but unfortunately your plan was short lived as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and tug you behind a closed door. 

Your brain ran at a mile a minute, trying to figure out whether it was cause for alarm, but as your back collided with the wall behind you, you were met with the masked ghoul from the stage pressing his knee between your legs, pinning you in place. All colour drained from your face as your breathing laboured. There wasn’t any fear in your body, not any longer, and if there had been any,it had been replaced with undeniable arousal, heat being sent straight to your core. It took all your willpower not to grind into his thigh.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The husky voice purred, a small accent peaking through. He smelled intoxicating, like amber and cigarettes, a tinge of iron poking through in the softest of undertones. It drove you crazy, mind spinning, dizzy with want. He cocks his head to the side, his nautical mask tilting, the black goggles seemingly bottomless, swallowing his eyes. The musician’s expression is completely unreadable and if you knew any better you’d say it was like a predator who had caught his prey. Your mistake was thinking the little game you both played was over, yet now it seems like it had just begun. The man leans into you, invading your space completely, his covered mouth coming up beside your ear. “Oh you thought our little game was over, didn’t you?” He pulls back, allowing your caged body some space. “Don’t think I didn’t see you, little one.” His sweet voice purrs, setting you over the edge, hips finally pushing into his leg as your head tilts back, smacking softly into the wall.

“Fuck…” The syllable leaves your mouth as a groan before you can do anything about it. Surely you were dreaming this, but when you opened your eyes, you were met with the same mask, the same expression that stared at you from the stage. 

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart, I’ll have to bring you to the green room. We’ll paint it red in sin .” You swore you could hear him wink from behind his coverings but you didn’t care, satan, you didn’t care as long as you could have him. You’d worship him in uniform, all sweat slicked and bloody if you had to. In this moment you had a one track mind and you’d be damned if you didn’t act on your desires… but maybe having these desires meant that you were already damned. “What, not as bold anymore? Devil got your tongue?” He mused. 

“Are you going to run your mouth or are you going to fuck me?” You spit out at him, a feigned venom behind your words, but they were too lust drenched to be taken harshly. In an instant his body was against yours, thigh pressing into your cunt, slowly rubbing back and forth.

“Earn it.” He growled out, face burying itself into the crook of your neck to pepper both kisses and love bites across your jugular. Your body caught fire, desperate to be taken by the mysterious man then and there. You hadn’t seen his face and you were mildly worried that seeing it would ruin the illusion. Would you even find him attractive under all his coverings? You didn’t have time to think about it before his hands came to the meat of your ass, tugging you against him with a burning desire, fire coursing through his veins. The strangled moan that ripped from your throat was one you weren’t expecting, but did it ever feel right, his strained cock digging into your hips as he pushed your body closer to his. You could tell he was well endowed even through the fabric of his trousers, a heat creeping up your neck at this realisation. 

“Don’t tease.” You spat, hands coming up to grip his slightly torn jacket, his arm coverings hiding any identifiers. You were going off of nothing aside from the little fire element pin that was securely pinned to the lapel of his uniform. Your hands found themselves tugging him forward, daring him to kiss you. 

“Don’t be a brat.” The stranger growled, swiftly lowering the cloth covering his mouth before assaulting your lips with his. It was all teeth and tongues, pure lust taking over every one of your senses, and it seemed to be true for him as well. You kissed back furiously, nipping at his bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from him that would turn into a groan as you rolled your hips against his, begging for some relief. “Easy, pet.” He muttered against the plushness of your mouth, a small tender moment slipping through the cracks. As much as you enjoy rough, there was a certain swell that filled your heart in knowing that he wouldn’t push too far. 

Your escapades were all tongue, teeth, and lips, strangled moans, and tugging at each other’s clothes until you both reached the green room wherethe band was supposed to be, however, your mystery man had ensured to clear it before he went out to find you. The only time either one of you broke from one another was for air or to push the door closed, locking it in the process. Both of you were too impatient, a carnal desire for one another pooling into your veins, fire spreading through you both and kindling in that very low spot in your abdomens.

“If you need me to stop, the safe word is Beelzebub.” The man’s husky voice cut through the groans, tugging your hips forward into his by the belt loops. He gave you a moment to process what he had said, but instead you grabbed onto his mask and tugged his head forward, lapping at his bottom lip in order to gain access to his mouth. As soon as he parted his lips, you were welcomed by his tongue dancing in tandem with yours. He tasted of wintergreen and cigarette smoke, a combination so sinful, so depraved that you should have been turned off, instead it flooded you with desire. 

“Need you.” You panted out between kisses, the man unrelenting his assault on your mouth. You were utterly soaked through, and you were certain that the musician could smell you but you didn’t care, not right now anyway. You should have been embarrassed by being taken like this but it just turned you on even more knowing that maybe you would get to live out your newly discovered kink instead of trying to soothe — or smother — the flames by yourself. 

“Do you need me?” The man mused. “Mmm, prove it to me, my little devil.” His hand crept from your waist down to your hips, and from your hips down to between your legs, agonizingly circling your cunt, thumb pressing into the seam of your jeans in the exact spot your clit would be in. “Show me how needy you are for me… Go on…” His husky voice teased. When you didn’t react he spun you so your back would be to him, a strong arm holding you against his body while the other busied himself with teasing you. His breath was by your ear now, and his cock pressed into your ass. He was so worked up that he began to rut his hips forward, moaning at the friction. His moan elicited a reaction in you, causing you to throw your head back onto his shoulder, mouth falling open. The tassels on his overcoat swayed with each rut of his hips, tickling the side of your face. You couldn’t imagine he wasn’t warm in his get up but you were too occupied to do anything about it. 

“Please, fuck, I need you.” You choked out, eyes screwed shut as he teased. You felt him lick a stripe up your neck before nipping just underneath your ear as a small warning before latching his lips to the sensitive spot, sucking a dark bruise into your skin. The sickening combination of his lips on your neck, his hard on rubbing against your ass, and his fingers teasing your clothed cunt was becoming too much, driving your senses crazy. A low growl emanated from deep within his chest, reverberating across your back from the proximity.

“Then get down on your knees….” He spins you around, voice low and husky as he shoves you down, a mix of fear and burning desire settling in the deepest pits of your stomach. Your knees hit the ground with a thud and you’d be sure to bruise later, but that was a small price to pay. You watched him undo his belt and pull his zipper down before bringing his hand back up to his face, licking it slowly like he had during the show. You knew what was coming but what you didn’t expect was him to give you one last order as he spidered his fingers down the ruffled fabric of his shirt. “And pray.” An animalistic snarl came from beyond the mask as his fingers trailed into his boxers this time. The man tugged his cock out and began to stroke himself, chest heaving, his breathing became laboured. 

“Oh, god.” You uttered, but the musician didn’t seem to like that. He let go of his cock, allowing it to bounce against his stomach, a stark contrast with his black attire. It looked delicious with the little opalescent bead of precum nestled on the very tip. 

“No, my pet,” he purred, his thumb coming to your lips, slipping past them and into your mouth. It tasted of brass and sweat yet you opted to hollow your cheeks around it anyway, “you answer to our savior, satanus here. You are no longer in the house of god.” There was a cruelty behind his voice, corruption on his tongue. You would have thought the theatrics would have instantly had you shoving him away, but instead it left you craving the masked man, mouth salivating at the thought of him completely ruining you. 

Without much warning, he tapped his cock on your lips, his precum smudging across your lips, and satanus, was it going to be his death. Your dark smudge of red lipstick would become ruins in the wake, the thought of a red ring around his member had his brain short circuiting, if you didn’t take him in your mouth soon he was going to lose it. Luckily you complied, opening wide to accommodate his size, letting your tongue lap at his tip as he slid in. He started slowly, almost carefully in order not to hurt you but soon enough you pushed his cock to the back of your throat, eliciting a strangled moan from him. His hands flew to your hair, desperate to hold onto something, anything, and he tugged you forward, pulling a moan from the very back of your throat. You pulled back, saliva building up in your mouth mixing with the salty taste of his seed.It wasn’t something you expected to like but you found yourself chasing it, craving more. 

Your head bobbed over his length, your moans muffled as you tried to take him deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. His delicate resolve broke then and there, slamming into you at a frantic pace. He chased his high, immense pleasure searing through his veins as he fucked into your mouth like an animal, all sense of self control was gone. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, giving him the most innocent look you could muster as you flicked your tongue over his tip, lapping at his slit. Agonisingly you pulled back, employing the aid of your hand around his length, taking only part of him in your mouth. You jacked him off as you hollowed your cheeks around his tip, tongue expertly flicking over his frenulum and eliciting the most pornographic moan from him.

“Satanus, save me.” The man hissed from above you, pulling on your hair to draw you closer. He was losing control, babbling about how pretty you looked on your knees for him. “You are so exquisitely sinful, my pet.” His chest heaved with every breath he took, fingers tangling themselves further into your head of hair, fingernails practically at your scalp. 

You take the praise and you run with it, taking it as a signal to keep going, and this time you move your free hand up his leg, rubbing over his thigh as a tease, a preamble to what you were going to do next. You took his groan as a confirmation to continue, his breaths coaxing you to keep going. You slid your hand up, opting to rub his thigh teasingly, savouring the feeling of the looser material under your fingertips, toying with it before you continued your journey up. While your mouth and right hand busied themselves with his thick cock, your left hand came up to fondle his heavy balls. Who knew that praying to a false idol could be so pleasurable. 

“Oh, oh, f-fuck.” The taller threw his head back, voice gruff and fucked out, clearly enjoying this more than he should have been. He was rapidly losing any grip on the situation and he needed to extract himself from it unless he wanted to spill into your mouth. It was his nightmare, his most sinful fantasy, having you like this after the show – a stranger, a person in the crowd. The amount of people that would absolutely kill to be in your position and it was likely that you weren’t appreciating it as you should have been. The man keened before tugging you back harshly, his hips stuttering at the sudden loss of contact from your mouth. “If you keep going like that, I’m going to cum down your throat, sweetheart.” There was a certain level of concern laced into his tone, one that you glossed over through your lust. 

“Holy shit…” You breathe out, pupils completely blown, the colours of your irises practically disappearing due to how clouded your mind was with him, only him, nothing but him, and how divine his cock was. At your words, something inside him snaps and he grabs your throat, pulling you up. You could feel yourself growing more aroused by the minute. How he had guessed that you’d be into choking was beyond you, but fuck was this doing things to you that you hadn’t even thought possible. 

“There is nothing Holy here.” He growled out, a darkness overtaking his voice. His words sent a cold shiver down your spine, one that found itself shooting down towards your core, causing you to press to him. The ember glow from behind his goggles scanned over your face, flickering, igniting a fire in the bits of your belly. “Here we succumb to our lust.” He breathes before letting your neck go only to bring his hand down to your chest and massage your breast, pinching gently through the fabric of your tank top. In an instant, his mouth attacked your neck savagely, teeth nipping at the thin skin, tongue flicking over the bites to soothe them. You tilt your head back to accommodate him, your breathy moans coming up right beside his ear as you rut into him. You’re desperate to be fucked at this point, needing him more than you need to breathe. 

He pierced your skin with his canines, an animalistic desire for you taking over him. He could no longer think, all consumed by his desires. You felt his lips trail down, soft as a butterfly’s wings, stopping at your jugular vein before he bit down, causing you to let out a yelp. Your cry of pain turned into a pornographic moan as he sucked and lapped at your salty skin, a small sheen of sweat starting to gloss over you as you burned up. If this was what being in hell was like, you’d have a hard time coming up with reasons to wind up in heaven. Your torture didn’t end there; however, as he snaked his free hand up to your cheek, holding you in place tenderly as he continued his assault on your neck. He made it his mission to mark you up as his but you were too far gone to care. 

“Oh Christ.” You moaned as he lapped at the bite marks he left, but he didn’t seem to like this. Not that you could see this much, but his eyes turned dark as he trailed his lips farther down, burying his face in the crook of your neck before he bit down hard enough to draw blood. Your pain was immediately covered in a strangled cry of pure ecstasy as he tugged you towards him, his hand on your breast moving to your hip, surely bruising it, fingerprint embedded in the skin of your hip bone. 

The taste of iron filled the musician’s mouth, his hard on reacting to your metallic taste, pressing into your hip involuntarily. He couldn’t get enough of you - the intoxicating smell of amber and palo santo mixed with the salt from sweat, and the citrus of the gin… He wanted to ruin you once and for all. 

“No, my pet, you are not in the house of God. Only the devil resides here. Will I need to have you pray to me again?” The growl that ripped from his throat has you soaking your lace panties, a choked sob escaping from your parted lips. As he took you in, he noted that you already looked completely fucked out, the bruising on your neck blooming like deep red roses, a symbol of both love and devotion. The only thing you could do was shake your head in answer to him. “Mmm,” the stranger hummed, “your body and blood are mine, sweetheart.” He teased you. As your chest heaved, you examined him, traces of your blood down his chin, and some smeared across his mask, his lips were swollen from the harsh and animalistic kisses he was giving you, and satanus were you ever attracted to him in this moment. 

“Please… Can I see you?” You plead, your hands coming to his waist, trailing down slowly, your right hand making contact with his cock. The soft cant of his hips encouraged you to grip it gently, stroking him languidly as you await his answer. “Please…” You repeated, eyes desperately boring into the void behind his goggles. 

“Oh, is my little pet desperate to see me?” He cooed out, his fingers skillfully finding your belt, undoing it at a painfully slow pace. It was your turn to buck your hips into him, rolling them into his touch. “Mmm, such a little slut, can’t wait until I get my hands on you, can you?” He teased. 

“Satanus, yes, please! Wanna see you.” You groaned, breath catching as he slowly teased you through your jeans. “Need you, need- need- ah!” You cried, throwing your head back once again, eyes fluttering shut from absolute pleasure. It’s then that the man opted to unzip your fly, pausing his animalistic activities to gently tug your jeans over your hips. You weren’t having any of this slow and sweet shit; however, and kicked them off as soon as you got the chance to, allowing him easier access to your sopping cunt. The smell hit him immediately and he moaned, head falling against your forehead, his breathing ragged and strained. His cock reacted, bouncing in your hand and you continued your teasing. 

“Then beg me for it, pet. I don’t think you’ve earned the opportunity to unmask me just yet.” His resolve crumbled with every soft touch, every stroke. He pushed into your hand and you took that as a sign to speed your motions before you pushed him back. Confusion was written across his features, that was until you let a healthy glob of spit hit his angry cock. “Oh mother fuck.” The man hissed out, crashing his bloodied lips into your own, allowing the metallic taste of your own blood to permeate your tongue. You reciprocated, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, begging for entrance. He parted his lips, granting you access, as he swiftly moved your panties to the side, his thick fingers slipping between your weeping folds. It took everything in him to not take you then and there, your pussy sucking his fingers in, tight and wet. 

“Please, please, I need to see you.” You sobbed out between kisses, but it was clear that it wasn’t enough. The musician growled at your words, dipping his index into your slick and using it as a lubricant to tease your clit with, it took him a moment but he found the bundle of nerves. The instanthis calloused finger landed on your clit, your vision exploded into stars, mouth practically running on its own, incoherent pleas and various iterations of “more” tumbling from your swollen lips. You were finally giving him something to work with, the pleas, the praises. He continued working your cunt, curling his fingers into the sweet spot deep inside you, warm walls squeezing against him. 

“Oh, darling. I’ll give you whatever your sinful heart desires.” He nipped at your bottom lip, splitting it with his canines before he pulled back, panting as he tried to catch his breath, however he refused to remove his hand from your cunt, slowing his movements only a fraction so that he could catch his bearings. “Are you sure?” He asked you, a worry laced in his voice. You nodded fervently, a saccharine look in your eyes peeking through beyond the undeniable lust. Whether you understood he was anxious about what you would think of him or not wasn’t apparent but regardless, you wanted to know who the man you were bound to fuck was. 

With a swift move he tugged the mask off, tossing it to the couch behind him and removing his balaclava. What you hadn’t expected was the sight to take your breath away completely. His hair tumbled out of the bun he had it tucked into, and the messy curls cascaded down his shoulders, doe eyes framed by the prettiest eyelashes you’d ever seen, and his swollen lips? God you couldn’t even think anymore. You immediately kissed them, nipping at his lips, taking his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking, tearing a moan from him, his lust filled eyes expanding even farther as you continued your assault on his lips. You bit down harder this time, cracking his lip. This time the metallic taste belonged to him and you couldn’t help but moan at his taste. You needed more. 

“Please, I- I need you…” You panted, eyeing the man with carnal desire. 

“Eddie, my name is Eddie.” And with that final confession he grabbed you by the hip and dragged you back to the roomiest surface he could find. It was all teeth, tongue, and the metallic taste of each other’s blood. Your hand on his cock and his fingers still working you open, movements becoming more erratic as he practically drilled into you with his fingers, setting an unrelenting pace that he seemed eager to keep up. Your knees hit the back of a couch, and his arm immediately shot to the small of your back, gently lowering you, a contrast to how he was abusing your needy body. Your hands moved to his hair in preparation for what was to come, yanking at his soft locks, releasing a deep moan from low in his chest. His hair was silky underneath your fingertips, few tangles in the way or your mission. 

“Eddie, please.” You whined, flush with desire, unable to think of what you wanted anymore than wanting him. A smirk adorned his lips and he sank his knees onto the soft cushion, knees bracketing your hips perfectly, his hands coming up to frame your face, curls ticking your cheekbones as he did so. 

“Open up, sweetheart.” He cooed. Instinctively you parted your lips for him only to feel a glob of his spit fly into your mouth. “Now swallow like the good devil worshipping slut you are.” You obeyed without question, swallowing down his spit with a pornographic moan. As you did, he took a moment to line himself up for you. “God, you look so beautiful, blasphemous doesn’t even begin to cover it, pet.” He praised as he rubs his dick against your soaked entrance, your hips rocking into him, threatening to suck him in. He hissed but slid his hand down your body, tracing your figure with his fingers, teasing in the most tantalising way, once he reaches your ass, he gives it a harsh slap at which you gasp out, choking on your breath, the sting of his hand making contact with your ass radiating a heat you hadn’t thought possible. You hadn’t expected it in the least but it was welcome nonetheless. “Behave.” He growled out, a darkness seeping into the word.

“P-Please, Eds… I need - I can’t, please.” You babbled, words completely incoherent. You weren’t even sure what you were begging for at this point. His cock? His fingers? Were you asking to be fucked stupid? In all your incoherent ramblings and begging Eddie caught one thing that made his brain fuzzy around the edges. “Corrupt me satanus, corrupt me, please.” Playing into the whole devil worship aspect had him gone, his hips violently snapping into yours, completely disregarding that you might need to adjust to the stretch. Part of him felt bad, but your immediate response was to wrap your legs around his waist, crying his name out as tears brimmed your eyes, mascara beginning to run down your cheeks. To Eddie, you looked absolutely perfect. He leaned in and peppered kisses across your face to wipe away the tears that trickled down. 

“S’this what you want, my little pet? You want me to ruin you?” His husky voice was in your ear as he dipped his head lower, his hips rolling into yours slowly. He moved masterfully for someone so scrawny, cock buried to the hilt as he rocked into you. Your mouth fell slack, tightening your legs around his waist and tugging him into you. “Come on, answer me, sweetheart.” He coaxed, pulling out of you slowly before snapping his hips into yours. The pleasure and pain mixed together in a teasing dance, keeping you on the edge and overwhelming your senses all the same. You couldn’t verbally answer and so you turned your head, tucking your face into his neck and kissing up to his ear. About halfway up you landed on a sensitive spot, causing a moan to tumble from his lips, a shiver running down your spine. You latched on like a vampire, sucking over the spot, lapping over it with your tongue to soothe any violent bites you inflicted upon him. In turn he bit into your shoulder, trying to ground himself in reality instead of losing himself to carnal pleasure, the coil in his abdomen tightening evermore. His plan had gone to shit the moment you continued to nibble on his neck, your hands tugging harder at his lock, pulling him further into you. With a slight upward tilt of your hips, Eddie hit a new angle when he snapped his hips into yours, ploughing deeper into you. The both of you moaned in unison before he released a strangled whimper. It was your turn to break skin, your mouth filled with the crimson substance that sustained Eddie’s life. Releasing your lips from the wound, you kissed over his neck and to his shoulder, smearing the fluid across his upper half. 

His pace picked up, slamming into you, deeper and deeper, nothing but the sound of breathless lovers, bodies colliding, and the sweet ecstasy of carnal desire flooding the green room. Your hand then came to his back, scratching down it and eliciting a whine from the man above you. 

“Please, please, please.” You chanted into his neck. It was as if he understood what you meant, his hand coming down between your joined bodies to rub over the bundle of nerves, little figure eights being drawn over your clit. You were going to lose your mind, and maybe even your soul. Would selling it to the devil be so bad? It didn’t take long after that for a white heat to build, a pressure that you weren’t used to building, the coil tightening, threatening to snap like an elastic band. 

“Oh, shit, sweetheart, I’m close.” The man turned his head, kissing up your neck, over your cheek, and found your lips. His kiss was searing hot, burning with need. He chased his release with you, trying to bring you as close to the edge as he could, hoping you might be able to finish at the same time. “Don’t want to finish until you do.” The devil could be generous if he wanted to be.

“S’close.” You panted against his swollen lips, unable to give any coherent answer to him, not that you cared. If laying in sin felt this good, you’d bed the devil any day. “Please, Eds… Don’t stop.” And somehow he kept at it, the same pace, same pressure, same rough and unrelenting fuck that he had been using for the past few minutes. He knew that don’t stop also meant that he shouldn’t change a single fucking thing he was doing, and rightfully so. With a cry, you closed your eyes tight, lights dancing behind your eyelids as you came, the elastic finally snapping, and your release soaking Eddie’s stage uniform. 

“Oh- fuck!” The man squeaked, his own release following shortly after. He could have sworn he saw stars in that moment, arms shaking beneath his own weight. His body fully collapsed on top of yours, your arms wrapping around him tightly, kisses tenderly placed on his shoulder. “So perfect f’me.” He mumbled into your sticky skin, reluctantly peeling from you. His brutal and domineering demeanour melted away, replaced by a certain level of care. You could see it behind his eyes clearly. “You okay, sweetheart?” He cooed, brushing your hair from your face, a few strands sticking to your forehead. 

“Y-yeah.” You shakily breathe out, your voice hoarse from the activities that had just taken place. As you try to prop yourself up on your shoulders, you wince, a pain shooting through you. “Just sore.” You murmured, suddenly shy under the musician’s gaze. You didn’t dare look at him anymore, a twinge of shame filling your heart. 

“Hey, sweetheart, come here.” He mumbled, scooting closer, not daring to pull out just yet. He pulls you up, legs entangled with each other in a pile of limbs, unsure of where one person ended and the other began. He pressed your warm body to his, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, rubbing soothing circles over your back, his gentle voice whispering sweet nothings to you. 

“Thank you, Eddie.” You mumbled into his skin, placing a tender kiss over a forming bruise. “That was something else.” He hummed in agreement, allowing his eyes to flutter close for a second, letting himself enjoy a fleeting moment of human contact while he was on tour. While the guys were wonderful and he loved them to death, there was a certain intimacy that he missed in lovers. One that he didn’t indulge in as much these days. 

Reluctantly, he pulled out and you pulled away, debating whether to say anything to him, or whether you wanted to indulge in some more pleasantries. If you were any wiser and more observant you’d have noticed the longing in his eyes, his gaze trailing over your figure as you pushed away to gather your belongings. It was odd to say that the musician would have wanted you to stick around for some more aftercare, it would have been even stranger if he admitted to you that he just wanted you to stick around post coitus and have a drink, maybe a smoke, and get to know each other. 

“Hey, hang on, let me clean you up.” His voice softened, taking you aback. “Come on, pet, I’m not gonna leave you like this.” He gets up only to tuck himself back into his slick soaked uniform, cringing as he does so. He grabs a water bottle from the nearby table and a small cloth kept on the vanity in the far corner of the room. “Come on, just sit.” He motioned back over to the couch and watched as you hesitantly padded over. You sat down on the cleanest area you could find, squirming as you began to feel Eddie’s cum slipping out of you. 

“S’fine, you don’t have to.” You mumbled, turning away from the man. He sighed as he approached you, sinking to his knees before starting to clean your thighs. He worked his way up between your legs, cleaning the leaking spend from your cunt. He placed a few gentle kisses to the tops of your thighs, your eyes flicking over to him as he did so. That was the moment you got a good look at the man. Dark ink littered his skin, barely an inch was pure, untouched, the only areas you couldn’t see his tattoos were the areas in which you had drawn blood, the dried fluid flaking slowly. He continued cleaning you up, rubbing gentle and warm circles with the wet cloth. Part of you couldn’t help but find this incredibly thoughtful, your heart squeezing at the gestures, but the other half of you believed that you were probably just an easy lay. 

“Hush, yes I do. It’s the least I can do.” His doe eyes met yours as he looked up at you through his lashes. “I made a mess of you, darling, and I need to clean you up.” His voice was sincere, soft even, and you couldn’t help but melt. You allowed him to tend to your tired limbs, and once he got to your neck, he apologised, knowing that it would probably hurt. You couldn’t help but stare at the softness behind his eyes, the fire that burned within had fizzled out and was replaced by some unnamed emotion. As the towel made contact with your neck, you winced, earning yourself a kiss from the musician. It shocked you that even after the heat of the lustful moment he was still willing to kiss you but you accepted it, melting into his lips. They were soft, a little chapped, but inviting nonetheless. 

“Thank you.” You whispered against them, afraid your voice would give out if you spoke any louder. Your hand came up to his face, brushing your thumb over his sharp cheekbone before placing your forehead against his. “You’re sweeter than I anticipated.” 

“And you’re kinkier than I anticipated.” He retorted and moved back gently, only to give himself room to fold the towel over to a clean side before cleaning up your face with a gentle hand. “Thank you for indulging me.” He cooed out to you, his sincerity going straight to your heart. You couldn’t help but nod. 

“I should go.” Your voice broke, and in that same moment, so did Eddie’s heart. There was something to you that drew him in, that he wanted more of, that he craved. It flew past just the need for human contact, part of it had to do with the way you ran with the punches he threw, you went with the game you played from the stage all the way to the back room. Eddie nodded solemnly, pushing away. 

“Yeah, uh…” He bit his lip, tossing the washcloth on the coffee table. Surely worse things had been on that surface in the past, but right now Eddie didn’t care about that, not about what was on that table, what would be in the future, or what he just threw onto it. “You don’t have to, I actually, I don’t know that I want you to. Can I at least buy you a drink?” He asked, standing up straight. You turn around, grabbing your pants so you could slip them back on over your legs. 

“You want to buy me a drink?” There’s a hopeful tinge to your voice, head shooting over to look at the musician in question. As you did, you hissed out gently, the garden of blooming roses on your neck blossoming farther across your neck, bite marks adorning your skin like dark tattoos. There was no denying what had gone on. 

“Sweetheart, I think we both left a mark on one another,” he teased, “when you pray to the devil so well, I think it’s hard for him to resist.” A twinkle in his eyes told you it was more than just the sex you both had. “Besides, it might help with the pain. What do you say?” 

“Mhmm,” you hummed as if you were deep in thought, “only if the devil can treat me right.” You mused. “You going to change first?” You waggled your eyebrows, referring to his squirt-soaked trousers, only to receive a smirk in return.  “Oh no sweetheart, I wear my battle scars with pride.” With that, he pushed back to grab his helmet, slipping it back over his head before taking your hand in his and leading you off to the bar. He wasn’t what you expected, none of it was, the show, the music, Eddie, but as you took his hand you couldn’t help the feeling brewing in your chest; the feeling that maybe the unexpected was exactly what you needed.

taglist: @munson-blurbs @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower @word-wytch (if you want) @rip-quizilla @hellfire--cult @mystish

[dragon-watcher03]

I like when ppl write their own version of mk intros, so I shall request those. I don't have any specific idea for reader's backstory so I'd love to see what you come up with o/

Thx for the motivation, you gave me a brilliant idea-

Mk1 x Gn! Doom God! Reader

Note: Reader uses mini scythes connected via chains as a Krucible and has armour more like those from Halo. Implied Doom Slayer x reader.

Ft. Liu Kang, Johnny Cage, Raiden, Kitana, Shang Tsung

Liu Kang: You are a God in your realm?

You: I'd rather go with Slayer, but yes.

Liu Kang: The fact that your realm's Seraphims see you as nothing but a weapon... doesn't sit right with me.

You: Why? It is my sole purpose.

Liu Kang: Slaying demons for many decades must have been challenging.

You: Less challenging, more soul-draining.

You: I do not intend to stay here long, Lord Liu Kang.

Liu Kang: At least grant me one last spar?

You: There is another like me, but he is a lot less talkative.

Liu Kang: I have no doubt he isn't as honorable as you.

You: The humans in this world are very different than the ones back at home...

Liu Kang: How so?

Johnny Cage: So, what exactly are you the God of?

You: I am no God, but people have no better words to describe me.

Johnny Cage: C'mon, you and your buddy would totally fit in a first-person shooter!

You: I have better demons to fight than Paparazzi, Cage.

Johnny Cage: So, this buddy of yours, he anything other than just your partner in crime?

You: Even if we were, I wouldn't tell you.

You: I have no time for trivial things like "love".

Johnny Cage: Sheesh, talk about workaholic.

You: I know what you're going to ask, and no, you can't hold my Krucible.

Johnny Cage: Y'know if you weren't such a buzzkill, I'd totally tap that.

You: Do you get anything out of flirting with me?

Johnny Cage: The possibility of courting a Goddess/God.

Raiden: Your people see you as a God?

You: Yeah, they even made a whole religion based on us.

Raiden: This other "Doom God" you speak of, he sounds like a ruthless man.

You: Oh trust me, he is.

Raiden: Is it foolish of me to request a spar with a demon-killing God?

You: Don't worry, I'll be gentle.

You: That amulet you have is fascinating...

Raiden: As is that weapon of yours.

You: Ashrah is a Demon? She looks so human compared to the ones back at home.

Raiden: Whatever monsters you deal with at home, I can assure you she is nothing like them.

You: Are you sure you want to meet him?

Raiden: When you speak so highly of him, how can I not?

Kitana: The war you fight sounds worse than Outworlds.

You: I pray this universe will never experience such a war...

Kitana: I feel like you and my sister would get along well.

You: I take from the way you say that, that it's a compliment.

Kitana: The humans of your world call you "Ruin God"?

You: They are so creative, aren't they?

You: I must say, you were right about getting along with Mileena.

Kitana: The blood coating your armour seems to prove so.

You: I have been alive for so long with the mind of a human, that I started to forget who my parents were...

Kitana: I'm... sorry to hear that, Ruin.

You: I hoped to not get attached to any of you to make my departure easier.

Kitana: laughs Guess that didn't work out so well, did it?

Shang Tsung: Well, aren't you a fine specimen.

You: Back off you cretin, or you'll see why we are called Gods.

Shang Tsung: I could set you and your partner free from the shackles of being weapons for your world.

You: And be yours instead? I'd rather serve the Seraphims.

Shang Tsung: We could have been such a powerful couple, you and I.

You: I already have a stronger and better suitor, sorcerer.

You: You are worse than the demons back at home...

Shang Tsung: Oh~ feeling feisty now are we?

You: You are playing with forces beyond your power, sorcerer.

Shang Tsung: Then let's play~

You: You look horrible. Did you finally meet him?

Shang Tsung: Tch, how you two have such power for mere humans is beyond my comprehension.

[swimmingelectron]

And firebenders can tweak the electric signals in someone's body-

But this made me think. Waterbenders can control water molecules and can bend anything the water will bring along. That is why they can bend blood. But waterbenders are also capable of NOT picking up objects that the water is carrying. So they can also dehydrate people, flood their lungs, flood their bladder, flood their digestive track, in turn giving someone diarrhoea, they can give someone a cough and a cold by increasing the volume of their mucus.

This means waterbenders would make great medics, btw. Any water is potable water. Everything is a water container. The most powerful water bender should be able to turn water into ice or steam, access groundwater in the deserts, and be able to make canals and streams.

The earth bender can bend a select range of minerals, but if they work really hard on it, they can bend any of them. Like toph did.

Strong earthbenders should be able to manipulate the very structure of molecules of the minerals so that they can sit on top of one another in a way that makes them pliable, malleable, strong, springy, etc to form the right shape and the right type of earth.

Like the water benders, they have the ability to add pressure and also control the movement of the rocks. Boomi and Toph already demonstrated what crazy fighters earthbenders can make. But i also think about how easily they can poison someone, oversalt them (dehydration 2.0), and calcify organs while the person is alive. They can cause bone cancer, they can break teeth, crush bones to powder, and puncture the internal organs. Manipulate bones did not even cover it.

They could manipulate armour to move to fight wars for the country. They could set flintstone fires without being there. They could weave metal into fabric. So many possibilities. I'm not even mentioning the industrial use, i believe LoK covered that?

Air benders and fire benders are different. Fire bending is easier to cover on an atomic level.

So they can bend heat, basically, right? But also, for some reason, they can channel electricity. The conclusion i am coming to is that they have command over the kinetic energy of individual electrons. That is why it is hard to master.

But this opens possibiliti3s. So i joked that they could modify the electric signals in the brain, but they literally could. But they can do so much more. Because this isn't atomic, it is subatomic. Yes, they can heat (and cool) things. Yes, they can use electricity. But if they can move electrons? So much more. They can change the properties of things. I can't even begin to list them. They can cut things, they can mend things seamlessly, and they can perform alchemy, changing the very structure of the atom. But that means it is an extremely volatile ability. Even the strongest bender would have to work these things one at a time or risk radiation.

Lastly, we have airbenders. There's two things that could be manipulating just air. One, they can move only free atoms. Which actually fits in with the heirarchy of molecular bonds of earth bender, molecules of water benders, airbenders with free atoms, and firebenders with subatomic electrons.

The other one would be the ability to create vacuums in space, and the air follows the small vacuums. Seeing how rigorously airbenders train, that seems the likely option despite the harmony from the other one. And then, the air bicycle is not possible. Which means. The airbenders just were into aesthetics and acting like a cult. Oh well, that's ok.

Aang has proven that airbenders can lift things with air. Heavy, dense things. They can probably aerosolise any atoms. Basically, they could pick atoms to put next to each other and let them form molecules. Airbending air out of lungs is probably the easiest thing. They can literally travel to space and make their own space suit. Out of air. Their scuba diving gas tank can be made out of literal air.

[jellymish-art]

IT IS HAPPENING LADS!! SAM VIMES COSPLAY!!

I've dreamed of doing this for years and now that I've finally gained the Secret Knowledge of Foam Armour, I can finally go for it!

Jokes aside, I asked a couple of cosplay pros for advice at the last con and they were all super nice & answered every single one of my questions, in detail!

So far the breastplate, backplate and badge are done and I'm super happy. Detailed process under the cut!

How it went:

First, the pattern! Shoutout to the guys at cosplay-atelier for the recommendation. They pointed me to kamuicosplay, because they sell downloadable patterns for all sorts of things, including armour. Which is how I got to this:

Downloaded two of their breastplate patterns, smooshed them together and altered them to fit my body and the look I wanted. I did all of that with thick paper. Then I took it apart again and traced the bits onto 5mm EVA foam that I ordered from a cosplay store.

Then I numbered and cut all the pieces and glued them together! I used hot glue, cause it's more accessible and less intimidating for me than other types of glue. It isn't as strong as other recommended glues, but works fine for me. (used many pointers from this tutorial.)

However, safety point: I've seen it recommended to wear breathing protection when heating up foam in any way whatsoever, and that includes hot glue, heat shaping and heat sealing. Use a respirator or other breathing protection that is made specifically for chemical fumes & work outside or in a well ventilated area (i.e. open ALL the windows)! Ask at your local hardware store if you're unsure.

PSA over. Now to the painting stage!

The scratches I made with my fingernails and the tip of a pair of scissors. XD Then I covered everything in 2 layers of black flexipaint (which is a water-based flexible paint/primer that works really well on foam). After that, I worked with regular artist's acrylic paint. Above you can see the first layer being applied with dry-brushing.

Then I went over it with a dark brown wash to make it look dirty (mix black & brown acrylic paint with water & apply liberally)

Then I went over it again with bronze by applying the paint with my fingers, wearing a plastic glove. (Same tutorial as before.) making sure I don't get any paint in the scratches. And then finally, another dark brown wash to make it all look nicely weathered. I did accidentally remove some paint by going over it too often with the wash, but it wasn't too hard to fix.

And this is the costume test, after adding velcro! It's really easy to put on and take off. I'm a bit worried about the velcro on the sides, but I can always add straps on the outside if it doesn't hold up.

Next was the badge:

I referenced a pin badge that came out as a collectible a few years ago (sadly out of stock), cause I love the design! Carved in the letters and lines by drawing on it with a ballpoint pen and applying a lot of pressure. Then painted it with the same process as the breastplate, just with copper instead of bronze.

And just for funsies: here's the back of the breastplate in all its glorious mess XD

On the right side you can see how I attached the badge: By cutting a slit through the breastplate and making a velcro attachment. That way I can remove the badge and add, say, a sprig of lilac, should my fancy take me there. Reason being that our biggest con is in May.

If you know, you know.

Annnnd here it is; the finished breastplate with badge:

I'm honestly having the time of my life. It's a super fun project and I am very excited to see how it turns out! I'm already working on the cape with a good friend of mine (I despise sewing, she loves it XD) and have materials on the way to make some bits of chainmail.

[sharksssm]

I Want You (As A Bear)

On AO3 Warnings: Halsin is a bear, smut in wild shape, smut, blood, biting, injuries, no beta we die like men.

It wasn’t often you found yourself in a situation where you were so exposed, cold wind nipping at your body in places usually covered with armour, daggers usually stashed at the places on your thighs now covered with goose bumps. However, what you hoped would happen tonight wasn’t something that could be explained with the word ‘often’, and the wind was the only thing that convinced you that this could be a situation at all. Earlier, wondering through Wyrm’s Crossing, Halsin had mentioned in passing to Jaheira that he was struggling to contain his inner bear, that smells were carrying in the wind and lingering so much longer than usual. So, thinking back to that night you shared, how you had been so hesitant to embrace him as a bear, and how understanding he had been… well, you decided he should be able to have you the way he desired, as you had him. You’d been preparing for at least a tenday, trying to figure out how you would have to manoeuvre to fit him as a bear, how he’d even want you to be positioned. Eventually you’d pushed your pride down far enough to ask Astarion, who despite initially laughing at you to the point you were terrified the rest of the camp would come and ask what was going on, was taking every opportunity he could over the last few days to brainstorm (and test) as many positions he could think of, including a significant amount that you didn’t think were possible for a bear to do.

That led you to now, shivering in the forest, standing in the wind that you knew was blowing toward camp, already rubbing your thighs together, both for warmth and because the log nearby had been used by yourself and Astarion just that morning to do unspeakable things under the guise of getting berries for breakfast. You paced briefly, pushing Astarion from your mind. You were here for Halsin after all, thinking of Astarion right now, as difficult as it was, wouldn’t be fair on your lover. A twig cracked behind you, and you raised your arms to hug yourself, not afraid at all. Even without your daggers, without your armour, you had faith in the weave that ran hot and crackling through your bloodstream. Besides, not much out here could harm you, and the speak with animals spell would remain until you rested. A hand, large and calloused, wrapped itself around your waist, and you immediately relaxed into the broad chest behind you.

“My heart, what a surprise.” You inhaled through your nose, the smell of leaves, the campfire and something altogether foreign to you that you could only assume was bear invaded your senses. “And just for you, Halsin. I overheard you and Jaheira earlier… I had hoped you would find me.” There was a beautiful fondness in his eyes as you turned around, the look he always gave you. You swore you could feel your goosebumps disappear as he drank you up with his gaze. His hands enveloped your waist completely, his thumbs rubbing circles on your lower ribs, what sounded like a growl sounding low in his throat. “I did more than find you, I smelled you. Not just you, but your arousal.” He all but purred. His hand travelled down your bare stomach, fingertips just reaching the delicate hair above your sex. Your knees felt weak as he buried his face in your hair and inhaled. You can’t help but wonder what he smelled, what you smelled like when you’re ready for him like this. A stab of nervousness bursts through you - are you ready? One thing you couldn’t prepare for was the size of him. His hand faltered, could he smell that too?

“My heart, what are you thinking?” He turned you to face him, your heart in your throat at the way your neck had to strain to look up at him, and his bare chest. Gods, his chest. “I’m thinking...” you trailed off, running your hands down his chest to play with the opening of his pants, working on their undoing “… that I would like you, as a bear.” It was his turn for his breath to catch, your smaller hands finally undoing his pants and working its way into his underclothes. Your brilliant eyes caught his, seeing something different in his eyes, a primal want that you’ve only seen once, although last time he withdrew from you to fight it off. You clasped your hand around him, or as best you could anyway, and put your other hand on his face, pulling him in for a kiss finally. His mouth met yours passionately, his hands pulling you close to him as your tongues wrestled for dominance, not that it took long for you to give in to him. You would always submit to him, to your bear, your Halsin. You pushed the thoughts of possessiveness from your mind as you disconnected from him, dropping to your knees on the ground, suppressing a wince as a stray pebble made its presence known to your kneecap. Your hands gripped his waistband and pulled his pants and undergarments down, as he stepped out of them to aid you. You leaned forward, holding your eye contact, as you licked a line from his base to his tip, gathering his pre-cum on your tongue. You’d never done this to anyone before Astarion, and once Gale, not that he’d be willing to admit it to anyone but you and learned quickly that the two of them enjoyed vastly different things, so you only hoped Halsin would enjoy some of the things you learned from the two of them. You swirled your tongue around the tip, positioning your hand around the base of his cock, the gap your hand couldn’t quite cover impossibly big from this angle. Gods, he really was a huge elf. Your eyes fluttered shut as you took as much of him into your mouth as you could, a groan erupting from the naked man above you, and your sex twitched in response, a signal you were ready to be filled, though you’ve known that for a while, even if your body hadn’t caught up. You pushed him ever further into your mouth, your hands on the backs of his thighs for leverage, and set yourself a pace that you desperately hoped you could maintain with the feeling of your jaw stretching to its limit to accommodate as much of him as you could.

His hand rested in your hair as his breathing picked up, and you held his thighs as hard as you could pulling him into you. You could feel his muscles tense, as though holding back, and he twitched in his mouth. You recalled Astarion’s voice in your mind, when you were with Gale. “Squeeze him right at the base, don’t let him let go yet. You’re in charge here.” You pulled off Halsin’s cock, a wet pop and a string of saliva leading to his cock making your hole clench as your grip tightened around the base of his cock. He gasped, his hips twitching towards you and his eyes opening and immediately looking at you, surprise all over his expression. “I want you to let go inside of me, my love.” Halsin dropped to his knees before you, pulling you onto his lap, your legs falling either side of his hips. His cock nestled between your lips, pressing against your hole, his lips sought yours again and took your breath away just as you took his away only moments before. He ground himself against you, slowly and teasingly, allowing the had of his cock to catch against your hole, but never letting it inside. He pulled back, relishing in your flushed face, the way your redness spread down onto your chest. “Are you sure you want me as a bear? I know it is not most people’s preference, especially since you are so small my love.” You whimpered against him, rolling your hips for any sort of friction against your body, nodding fiercely. “I want you Halsin, all of you, all for me.” The growl erupting from his throat sent tingles through your body as he moved you off his lap, leaving you on you back in the soft dirt and grass. His body moved back, light enveloping him as hair burst from his body, his limbs and face changing in almost the blink of an eye until stood before you was a beautiful bear, all soft fur and claws. The bear stalked forward (you didn’t know bears could stalk) until it stood before you, between your legs. You quivered in anticipation, waiting for Halsin to take the lead. His forelegs bent, almost as if bowing, and before you knew it his large tongue was lapping at your hole. You gasped, trying to squirm away from him, but his large paws pressed your hips to the ground, his claws drawing the smallest pinpricks of blood from along your hip bones. You moaned as he dipped inside of you with his tongue, as though testing if you're even capable of taking him like this. You could feel yourself approaching orgasm, rapidly, as his nose nudged your clit over and over as he drank you up, his tongue alternating between thrusting inside you and teasing round your fluttering hole. You could see his cock when you looked down, animal and foreign looking, and imagining it inside you tipped you over the edge. You ground yourself into the Halsin-Bear's face as you came, the vibrations from his deep growl overstimulating your already very stimulated clit. As you came down you could hear Halsin's voice in your mind.  I want you over that log, the one with you and Astarion's scent on it. I want to drown his scent out, I want your thoughts to be of only me when you look at that log. I will have you all night until I am all you can think of, all you feel when you touch yourself, until I am the reason you cannot walk back to camp.  How could you refuse?

******* Your hips bucked against the felled log you were bent over, hands scrabbling for purchase against the cold hard ground. There was nothing to hold on to except the last remaining shreds of your sanity, and at this very moment you were thanking any god you could think of (and potentially some devils) that you had a single moment of clarity to throw your undershirt over the log to avoid splinters. You had assumed Halsin would take you the second you scrambled over the log, resting your hips on it to keep your ass in the air for him, but instead he had buried his snout back into your folds, seemingly determined to draw you to orgasm over and over. You panted and writhed as his tongue pushed against your entrance, dripping onto the forest floor as he pushed you violently towards your 4th (5th?) orgasm of the night. The coil in your stomach felt ever tight like it would never go away, and you were sure this orgasm would tear you apart, split your muscles and your entire body right down the middle. Halsin’s wet nose and fur pressed against you as he somehow harshly sucked your clit, curling your toes and eliciting desperate sounds you didn’t even know could come from your mouth. Still no orgasm came, the sweet pain pleasure of overstimulation battling against your own body to avoid the bud of nerve endings from ripping more pleasure where you had none to give. Nonetheless, Halsin placed a paw on your ass, pushing your hips down into the log and continuing his beautiful ministrations, edging you closer and closer to your breaking point, filthy things spilling from your lips in infernal every time Halsin rolled his tongue around your over-sensitive bud.

One more my beloved, and I’ll give you what you want Your entire body tensed, toes curling and legs shaking as he growled into you, slick claws running up your folds, and you could feel yourself start to break, the edges of your vision blurring. Your mind wasn’t capable of coherent thought, the only thing running through it was Halsin’s name, like a chant or a prayer, blasphemy of the highest order. He was everything, the forest, the sun, you felt the knot in your stomach tighten ever further. Your legs ached from how tight the muscles were, you felt your pussy clench and suddenly, your mind snapped. You felt so disconnected from the world as your legs shook uncontrollably, liquid gushed out of you onto Halsin’s tongue as he relentlessly fucked you with it. Raspy moans and whimpers escaped from your lips as your body went limp, your hips twitching, knocking painfully against the log in front of them lamenting how goddamn empty you were. You begged for him, no clue what language you were spilling from your lips only that it was begging for his cock, begging for him to fill you and breed you over and over until he couldn’t anymore. His tongue licked up your bare back as you brainlessly murmured your desires, your prayers to him lost in translation between his native elvish and your native infernal. His cock caught at your entrance, thick and weeping, as his paws became visible either side of your shoulder, caught in your peripheral vision as he nuzzled into the back of your neck.

Beg. You whimpered, your throat dry in anticipation and exhaustion. “Pdyiwy” you sobbed, only infernal making sense to you right now. He rocked against you, huffing into your hair and almost purring at your strangled sobs when the head rubbed against your overstimulated clit. I said beg. You squeezed your eyes shut, head dropping so your chin almost touched your chest, arms struggling to hold you up off the floor. “P-Please! I need you Halsin, fuck me.”

Halsin growled, and pushed against you, his body too animal to aim himself as he rutted against you, his cock head catching on your hole and slipping out a few times. You were too fucked out to help, as you ground yourself back into him, desperate for the stretch of him, and with a purr you connected with him finally, moving perfectly for him to slip into you. The stretch strung, his cock which was significantly above average as an elf only enhanced as a bear, but you ground down on him despite his holding back. He pulled back, and thrust back into you, your voice cracking as you groaned and tried to push yourself back onto him. “Please, don’t hold yourself back, I don’t care if it hurts.”

His breath, hot and animal on your neck, seemed to halt for a moment, before a deep, rumbling growl slipped from him and he ground his hips forward in a quick, harsh motion.  The stretch was delicious, a pricking sharp pain inside you mixed with stabs of pleasure at the blistering pace Halsin was fucking you at, never pulling out more than a few inches before slamming himself back inside you, as if he couldn’t bear to take himself from your heat for more than a few seconds. He ground against you, muzzle pressed to the back of your neck. You didn’t remember much of what you researched on bear mating to prepare for this, but you were sure that if you were another bear, he would be biting you to keep you in place. That thought rocketed straight to your sex, making you squeeze down around his cock and you could swear you felt large, terrifying teeth against your neck. The pain had all but subsided now, you subconsciously knew you’d have scrapes from the wood all over you, bruises from stones on the ground, but how could you feel any of that when all you could feel was this. Halsin’s rutting stuttered every now and then, his breath coming out in wild puffs, teeth bared now, pressing to the back of your neck. Your breathing was laboured, moans and whimpers your only sounds, words and sense long since fucked out of you. You could feel that familiar knot on your stomach, but alien this time, feeling more like Gale’s ball of weave than an impending orgasm. You were sure that this orgasm would destroy you, you’d die happy and clenching around your lover’s cock, unable to even comprehend your own demise because of how fucked out you were.

Your breath hitched as Halsin’s hips stuttered, grinding into you once, twice, and then a warmth filled you, his hips still moving to fuck his seed as deeply as he could, suddenly feeling him abruptly dismiss his wild shape while still inside you. A large calloused hand suddenly wrapped around one of your horns, pulling you off the log and onto your knees, back against his chest. Cock still inside you, his other hand found it’s way to your clit, rubbing harsh circles around it. “One more my heart, you’re so close for me.” His gruff voice whispered in your ear, your whimpers drowned out by a high-pitched noise in your ears as you catapulted before what you were sure was your blissful death. The hum in your ears drowned out Halsin’s sweet nothings, the sounds of nature around you, you felt the painful pleasure of your overstimulated sex rocket through your body. The sounds coming from you were foreign and animal, and emphasized even more as you felt the last thread of your sanity snap. Your vision blurred completely as you gushed over Halsin’s hand, your body almost convulsing as you came, his hand on your horn and you leaning on his chest the only reason you were even upright. You vaguely noticed the night sky, and someone moving your body to the water’s edge.

When you came to, Halsin was cleaning your body with a cool wet rag, smiling down at you as your eyes finally focused. “Welcome back, Art.” You looked around – it appeared you were in the same place, at the same time of day. Alive. “Halsin I-“ He shushed you, putting the rag down and running his hands through your now undone hair. The collection of delicate gold chains which usually hung from your horns were in another clean rag next to it. “You are fine my love, it was overwhelming for me too. We probably should have discussed my affinity for overstimulation beforehand.” You ran your hand down Halsin’s face, drawing him in for a kiss. “I enjoyed it very very much. I wouldn’t change a thing.” Halsin aided you in redonning your camp clothes, sneaking kisses every step of the way, checking in with you, casting a healing spell that fortunately couldn’t do anything about the ache between your legs. With what was before you, the challenges, you had no idea when you’d be able to do this again, and you wanted to remember and feel it for as long as possible. He did end up carrying you back to camp, setting you in your tent with a deep kiss goodnight, stressing your need for sleep if you were to continue your journey tomorrow. As you drifted to sleep, you felt the emptiness between your legs, rubbing your things together elicited an electric shock through your body that warned you against doing that again. You were 100% sure you wouldn’t be able to deal with someone touching your clit again for at least a tenday, if not two. Now to break that news to Astarion.

Bonus: Astarion had been waiting for Art to return all night, he was nothing if not a gossip and gods, he wanted to hear everything. But when he watched Halsin carry Art back, and Art's knees all but wobble the few steps into their tent? He needed more than gossip, he needed to tadpole that information out of Art. He started the dash across the few tents between his and Art's, confident everyone was asleep before a deep voice rang out across camp with his name. Astarion's eyes flew up to meet Halsin's, where he stood half in and half out of his tent with a smile on his face. "I may not have a tadpole, but I can show you exactly what happened anytime you want." Astarion, for once lost for words, nodded enthusiastically and silently slipped into Art's tent to the sound of Halsin's rich laughter.

[neciebee]

Alright, @erisweekofficial , this is my very first foray into participating in a character week. Eris deserves everything, and here's my humble offering.

Day 1: Bonds

Title: Suffering His Scent

Pairing: Eris/Azriel

2k words

Eris desperately tries to rid himself of his mate's scent. Last night was a mistake.

He fell into the water and scrubbed every inch of his skin. No one could know. No one could know! It was a mistake to give in to his incessant desires. They wouldn't understand. Hel, he didn't even understand. The scent penetrated his entire soul, his entire being. No amount of scouring or fragrant oils could rid his skin of the essence of his mate. Briefly, he wondered if he really wanted it; to rid himself of this scent.

Resigned to his fate, he flopped into the soapy water, embers sizzling listlessly atop the eddies of his bath. Nothing could cleanse his mate from his skin. They were one, tied together by more than just their scent. It was, at the very least, a fact of their physical being. His beloved's scent now leaked from his own pores. His entire soul cried out for him. There was no masking that essence. He was ruined, in the eyes of the Autumn Court, by the will of the Mother. Nothing could return him to the Heir that he once was. His entire existence would always be tied to his Night Court destiny.

The pull of his mate was something his extensive training had not prepared him for. Weeks of torture were nothing. He could fight battles and lead troops with his eyes closed. His courtly prowess was second nature - perhaps it was his inherent nature itself. He only knew how to live his life as Eris: Autumn Court Heir, General, the Vanserra Big Brother. He was sly. He was cruel. He was a viper. This, he could understand.

All that he had learned throughout his entire life was to be the sharp tool that the Autumn Court had needed him to be. All other desires were alien to him. He did not know how to handle the delicacy that he'd received from the Night Court spymaster. He did not know how to address these feelings. The pleasure and the want it brought him meant nothing to his life as Autumn's capstone.

Throughout nearly his entire lifetime, he had convinced himself that he would not fall to the desirous pull of his mating bond. He knew better than to relinquish that power to one who was not of his Court. His self preservation and courtly loyalty had been hammered into him over all other desires of the heart. Despite the incessant gravity of his mating bond, he fell upon his training to present the stoic mask that he had always fought to display. He was to be terrifying. He was to be feared. He was to be the end of all ends. He was Beron's teeth.

He'd had many, many lovers, who'd held him close and told him he wasn't that monster. He'd reciprocated their affections, wringing out their pleasures, until he believed their lies as well.

That was Eris's life, until just hours ago.

The softness and the pleasure he had just succumbed to was not something within his wheelhouse to endure. Azriel had brought out something within him that should never see the light of day. Enemies might discover his propensity for gentle care. Beron would find the gap in his armour and beat and burn him until those gaps were welded over. It would uncover the only weakness of his that could be exploited. Eris was weak.

Skin scrubbed pink and raw, he finally fell into his sheets and was dead to the world, falling into a fitful, anxious slumber. If his only way to escape this turmoil was unconsciousness, then he would embrace it wholeheartedly. Real life was too much to deal with. Real life was supposed to be antisemtimintal. Real life was his position, his duty. To be a vapid, trusting being was suicide. To be independent of these feelings was a survival skill. The spymaster he yearned for was at the mercy of his overbearing brother. As much as he feared his own ruin, he was near panicking for the effect this might have on his mate's safety.

To be Azriel's mate was sure to be a target that others would use to manipulate the shadowsinger. Whether the Night Court spymaster acknowledged their bond or not, he was a weakness for the shadowsinger. He would never, ever, in his life, expose his darling as the lover of an Achilles heel that could be exploited. He would not be his weak point. He would not be the bait.

Fitfully, he tossed and turned throughout the morning hours until daybreak finally permitted him to leave his bed. He found himself in the training ring as sun broke over the horizon, beating his fists raw and bloody against endless training targets. The morning light glistened against his bare chest, chafing against skin that would have crawled even under the touch of cloth. After the touch it had welcomed just hours before in his dreams and in his memory, any contact felt repulsive.

His brother was approaching as if he was afraid to face his Court's Heir. As he steeled himself for an uncomfortable conversation, Eris made some poor excuse and disappeared into his private chambers, relieving Callum of his brotherly duty. Strewing his fighting finery across the floor, Eris found himself back by the tub, already brimming with bubbles and scented oils.

He slid his naked body under the suds. He slipped his hand under the frothy water. Nothing felt enough but he tried. He fisted his cock, mimicking the sweet feeling of his mate's hand as he pumped it up and down. His head fell back against the lip of the tub, eyes closing as he focused on the sensations taking over his fatigued body. Nothing compared. No-one compared. He released his mind into the sweet pull of his mate's image. His soft mouth and scarred hands and his sweet, sweet ring of flesh were nothing like his own elegant, ringed fingers. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

A letter sealed with the Night Court stamp landed upon the suds, snapping him from his ennui.

River House war room. One hour.

Then the letter disintegrated to ash.

Presumptuous brute.

Eris willed away his arousal with difficulty, as he had done many times before. This state was unacceptable for a soldier of his rank, and he fought to retain the respect of his title. He redressed mechanically, mind far from the present and attempting to unravel last night's infernal foray into temptation. The persistent vigilance of his cock was a sign that he had lost his tether. No matter how much his mind reigned it in, he could not control the threat of his erection at the thought of that fucking shadowy spymaster.

He was lead into the study by one of the half-wraith twins. Settling into the most comfortable of the mismatched chairs, he slid on his mask of cool indifference and awaited the arrival of the Night Court inner circle.

Keen eyes assessed the next arrival, his mate's brother, his High Lord, his ruler. Azriel was beholden to this vicious Fae. It left little room for Eris, not that he wanted to fit himself into those little gaps. He was better than that. He was a prince, godsdammit.

As the morning lightened, the Court of Dreams filed into the room. After Rhys, whose eyes were glazed as he mind-spoke with someone, probably Feyre, came Lucien. Silkily offering the High Lord a curt bow, he settled into an uncompromising, hard-backed chair with a smirk. He offered his brother a shallow nod of acknowledgement, which he returned. Amren stalked in, her tiny frame at odds with her overbearing presence. Cassian and Nesta broke through the stiffness in the room as Nesta shot a scathing quip at the godsdamned exiled son of Autumn and he volleyed one back. Cassian burst into laughter.

Eris Vanserra couldn't remember the words that were said, for at that moment, Feyre arrived. On the arms of Azriel.

His heart stopped. His breath stilled. He mentally grasped at his flames, but for some reason, they melted off him. He had never felt more exposed in his life. Every raw end of his heartstrings were dipped in fire as the meeting began. He wanted to sing out his desire. He needed to say that he wanted his Angel of Death. The Dreamers needed to realise where his loyalties had now shifted.

"Now that we're all here..."

His consciousness couldn't take any more.

Eris's focus faded to black.

~

The air was cool. The room was dark. As Eris stirred, Azriel immediately set down his report for Rhysand, that he had abruptly abandoned as his mate crumpled to the floor of Rhysand's study. He loped over to the modest four-poster, and sank onto the edge of the mattress. His mate had not moved at all. However, the hazy, golden feeling that Azriel had nurtured in his chest for centuries seemed to sparkle, and he could not help but rest his hand upon Eris's clammy, naked skin, in search of the distant end of their glittering tether.

Eris turned his nose into the crook of Azriel's elbow. Heaving an indulgent breath, he opened his eyes and captured his mate's gentle gaze with his accusatory one.

"You smell like me."

"Of course I do, after everything we did last night," scoffed Azriel, worry dissipating.

Eris hauled himself onto an elbow, and brought his nose to his mate's skin. Azriel did not miss Eris's searching breaths as the point of his regal nose roamed his skin. "I thought... I thought you would have washed it off."

"I see you have," snapped Azriel. He wasn't hurt. His voice did not sound betrayed. Eris had been smart to have done what he'd done.

"Aren't you... do you want people to find out?"

Azriel slid under the covers and pressed his mate into the linens. He brought his face close to Eris's and inhaled a deep, hungry breath. Essences of Eris's life floated around them both, teasing the shadowsinger with tidbits of the future High Lord's life.

He sleeps in cotton pants.

He drinks his tea with sugar.

He hunts with his hounds when he doesn't want to be found.

He searches for you in every darkness.

Azriel could not stand another secret seeping from those infernal shadows without divulging some of his own. It was now or nothing, and he would die if it were nothing.

"I'm tired of hiding. This is a thing. It's always been a thing. You are my thing. I won't hide it any more and damn the consequences. The world has been boring since we upended Koschei and I'm keen to be the new drama. Kill Beron with me and we can finally be together, out in the open. No more secrets. The Mother has chosen you as my fate. Give me my reward."

Eris struggled against the arms imprisoning his own. His heart was not in it. He wanted to know what could happen if he failed to resist, if he were to succumb to the enemies of the guards to his heart. Would he find his happiness? Would his mate finally be his?

Azriel surged his soul forward through his mind to secure his mate. Spearing his lover's eyes with his own, he captured every floating thought at if they were the dragonflies that were dancing their courtship over the garden pond.

Everything he felt he tried to communicate through his gaze, voice unable to enunciate the importance of this moment to the one person in his existence who mattered most. Caressing the golden twine flowing from his heart, he opened the bond wide and pushed his burgeoning reality into his mate's own.

Eris's eyes widened and then rolled back as love, devotion, desire, need, and possession filled his chest, spreading to the very tips of his extremities. They vibrated down the golden thread and he was overcome with feeling protected and cherished.

He dragged himself back into the present, to be with Azriel, to be with his mate. Laying a hand over the shadowsinger's heart, he threw away all his misgivings and came to a decision.

"It's time we killed Beron Vanserra."

[zvhiux34]

(the pics aren't mine obviously)

(Read the subtitles of the song to enjoy the plot)

Pairing: YN (An Empress of Austro-Hungarian Empire ) x König as a knight/Imperial Captain of the Guard

Plot: König is the Imperial Captain of the Guard, and he posseses everything a man could desire, but he lacks the most important: you.

w.c: 1.9k

Warning: Fluff and angst. Small sexual inuendo. Maybe some inaccurate history for the sake of plot lol. English it's not my first language.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

König is the captain general of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Born into a family belonging to the low nobility, he forged his own path as a notable warrior and in the name of the empire he conquered new lands, leading battles like the good strategist that he was.

Throughout the territory and even beyond the border, his bravery on the battlefield and his achievements were well known.

With his great military bearing and an appearance that inspired fear and security, diplomacy and rudeness at the same time, from the noblest of princes to the most dishonorable of the most swindlers wanted to have him as a friend, and were wary of having him as an enemy.

In his homeland the crown deservedly rewarded his great achievements.

He certainly had everything a man could wish for: noble titles, a growing fortune, the respect of all who looked at him and above all, many women who would wish to have him as a husband.

Some would even settle for being the woman who warmed his bed for just one night, even with the risk of lost their honour and being repudiated the next morning.

But with all his virtues, König caused surprise among his subjects for not having the reputation of requiring the presence of the most daring women of the court, as other men did, whether of equal or lesser position, whether married or single.

There, kneeling where he was, in front of the thrones of their royal highnesses, König, dressed in his armour, raised his head and saw for the first time in months the main reason why no woman could capture his attention enough in this life and the next.

That place in his heart had already been reserved for years, by you.

The Empress of the empire that he had been willing to give his last breath to so many times.

König looked at you as if you were a divine apparition.

But the other subjects were not surprised by the intensity of his gaze towards you, because today you were dressed in a perfectly fitted ivory organza dress and the most brilliant jewels no other ruler had ever worn, which was a pleasant reflection of the prosperity of the empire.

In part, thanks to the knight in front of you, who, like so many times before, had today placed at your feet the loot he obtained by conquering the new lands snatched from enemy hands: A prominently treasure trove filled with shiny precious stones and gold coins that were overflowing.

Everyone was amazed at such a find, the trove was so tempting that anyone would want to put their hand in to take out anything that came out of there, and they did not take their eyes off it.

They did not realize König never looked at the trove, because he was looking at something that was much more valuable to him than a thousand conquered kingdoms.

—Your imperial majesties —König finally spoke —I give you at your feet the treasure found from the last successful conquest in the name of this magnificent empire, I wish nothing more than for it to be pleasant for you.

He thought for a moment you had detailed him to make sure he was not injured, as so many other times.

But what caught his attention the most was how your characteristic smile appeared on your face, a smile with hints of tenderness and complacency.

König would be willing to return to the battlefield and fight until death finally reaches him, if that would guarantee that you would never lose your smile.

— As usual, we are very pleased with your work and your effort —You assured. It was well know to you König is a great knight and captain, he has been quite helpful to this empire during all his years of service.

At least this way, you can see him from time to time.

Your voice in his ears was like a sweet melody to his ears, like a lullaby in the middle of the storm... But said melody was finally interrupted by another voice, König turned his attention to it out of respect while masterfully hiding the look of reluctance that tried to dominate his face.

—For your last work for the imperial crown, I, the Emperor of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, have decided to grant you for your faithful work and commitment to the kingdom... the Duchy of Prague, congratulations —Announced the man who was sitting next to you, the man who owned the only thing König longed for.

The rest of the subjects were impressed by such a concession, especially by the Emperor's gesture, which indicated anything but complacency.

Although he recognized the work of the captain in charge (and found it difficult to admit it out loud) it was known he was not entirely happy with it.

Through the halls of the palace, rumors were circulating that long ago, when you were still a princess...you had maintained a friendship with the current imperial captain, there was even talk of courtship and even wedding plans.

But all that fell apart thanks to the advisors, who found König unsuitable for such plans. However, the friendship prevailed over all these years.

And that's why, most of the duchies the captain general now possessed were thanks to your intervention, as a thank you for König's hard work.

Any of the subjects present would kill anyone to wear the fine leather shoes he was currently carrying.

Internally, König laughed quietly.

Firstly because of the slight discontent his Emperor let slip by granting him the title of one of the most important counties.

Second, because despite all this time, you still thought... by granting him lands and properties he could one day fill the void of not being able to be by your side, and be the man with the legitimate right to be called “Your husband” and to walk arm in arm with you, as you were doing right now, as you and the Emperor stood up to head for the exit on the fine red silk carpet, while your attendant staff followed faithfully behind.

Night fell on the Hofburg Imperial Palace, and König could still hear from the rococo-style room that had been arranged for him, the murmur of the melody of the instruments and the people dancing to their rhythm in the great ballroom.

Tonight, a party was being held in honor of the new conquest, but after the banquet where König never took his eyes off your face, he successfully excused himself by assuring that he would like to rest after the busy days he had lived.

The Emperor, delighted he did not have to fight before him for the attention of others, did not insist and allowed him to leave, instead you looked at him with a certain concealed concern, while you wondered if perhaps the wounds from the battle were responsible for his tiredness.

Already lying on his soft bed, in the company of the candlelight that contrasted with the cold light of the moon that peeked through the window, König could finally accept to himself that he would have liked nothing more than to be able to attend the celebration.

But only to be able to dance the traditional Austrian dances with you, and see you laugh and enjoying the dance while he took advantage of the glorious moment to be able to be close to you, inhale your soft rose scent and touch your silky skin even if it was through the fabric, without running the risk of receiving repression from others.

But that was a thing of the past when you were still a princess and he was "The simple son of a Baron" as he once heard someone refer to him, in these times before you married the current Empeoror.

Since then, protocol reserved that privilege only for him, as well as being able to talk about thousands of things for hours in the privacy of the rooms of this palace and walk until you got lost in the beauty of the gardens.

He remembers how, on one of those walks, he discovered one of the most wonderful beings he had ever met, listening to the way you see life through your eyes, the way you express yourself towards nature, towards other people and the beauty of things... and the way you blushed when he confessed he's feelings for you.

König longed for those beautiful moments with you that were left in a past he did not want to let go.

Now he could not do any of those things without it meaning a lack of respect for your honor... and for that Emperor.

If he could have had the honor of being your husband, he could thus send to hell the hundreds of rules of protocol that involve the treatment of you towards him, and they could do so many things under this sky...

He would fight to give you entire kingdoms with their wonders included simply for being who you are, without having to disguise the fact as a consideration of a knight towards his Empress.

Together you would go to see the parts of the world you two have only known through books and paintings. Now, he is the only one of you two who has known those places.

He would show you the thousands of diversions that exists out there, you would dance all night long until your feet give out, and above all...

You would no longer walk alone through the gardens with only your ladies as your company, nor would you spend even one lonely night in your cold bed... As you do now, and as you probably will tonight, while the Emperor is busy having fun with the ladies that König rejects all the time at court.

But all those wishes were just that, an impossibility for his heart.

And all because you became the first in the line of succession, and the position König had at that time was not important enough to be worthy of being the man who accompanies you, making their union impossible forever.

That's why he decided not to marry.

Why? He didn't want to agree to marriage if he couldn't do it with the only woman he ever loved and the only one he'd ever want to be able to do it with.

He conceived the marriage with some other woman for whom he barely felt any appreciation as something unnatural, despite the pressure from his family and everyone around him to silence the rumors of the court, of the alleged jealousy the Imperial Emperor felt towards a simple captain of the guard.

«What an irony» he thought, the most powerful person in this kingdom felt intimidated by him, the captain of the guard.

While the only thing he wants from the emperor is not his dynasty, his power or his treasure chests...

He simply wants his wife.

Not the empress of this damned empire.

He only wants you.

In his heart he will die being married to you, since this cruel and vain world did not allow it.

It was the last thing König thought of until his tiredness was stronger than him, imagining you dancing in your majestic ivory dress while you sketched the smile that you showed to your subjects, to hide the misfortune that reigned behind your gaze.

Sadly for him, he has also heard the rumors about you.

[seetangus]

How about azula realizing she really likes the reader after they take a life-threatening injury for her?? Love me some angst

Fiery Care - Azula x Reader os

[masterlist]

Azula x gn reader, tw: blood, heavy injury

1.340 words, please tell me if you find any mistakes!

I hope I got the request right, enjoy :)

No-one had prepared you for this. Rocks were being thrown at you by an earthbender, accompanied by the combined magic of a waterbender, the treacherous, disgraced prince, some incompetent boy with a sword and the Avatar himself.

You had trained firebending a lot, because, even considering that you were born into them, one only got accepted in the upper circles of the fire nation if one was a good fighter, but normally you were kept far away from any actual, real fights by your family, as they valued you - or rather your appearance; they wouldn't want their "little prodigy" to enter the service under the fire lord with any "flaws" that originated from missteps in battles.

However, you had insisted on taking part in this battle for a very special reason.

< • ◇ • >

A few hours earlier:

Azula walked, or rather marched, through the courtyard, straight towards you. That was a very rare sight and an unnerving one too, as you had long been plagued by strong unrequited feelings towards the princess. You quickly arranged your armour to look even more orderly and clean than it already was, acting with a nervousness and anticipation that would have told anyone who saw you that it was not just, like with anyone else, fear, that Azula ignited in you, but also some much warmer feelings.

Well, it might have told anyone, but Azula wasn't anyone, was she?

Her two friends who always escorted her probably knew, but that was no matter to worry about as they seemed pretty reasonable and pitied you, because of your feelings, to a degree at which they didn't feel the need to worsen your emotional state anymore by telling Azula about your feelings.

Now Azula stopped pretty close in front of you - she could probably feel the heat your reddened face emitted, but she did not seem to care.

"Y/N. Our scouts have tracked down the Avatar. We will leave in a few minutes to confront him and his companions. Father says it would be a good first fight for you, but honestly I don't care wether you accompany us as it likely won't make any difference. So you can stay here if you want to."

With much more energy than fitting you immediately responded that there could be nothing more delightful for you than joining her in battle. Ty Lee grinned at you from behind Azula, making you blush even harder.

Azula seemed unimpressed at your enthusiasm, but you didn't care. What mattered was that you would be close to her - or at least closer to her than normally - for a little while.

Also, you should be able to convince your parents to let you go if you mentioned that the fire lord himself thought that it was a good idea.

< • ◇ • >

Well, maybe the reason you took part in the battle wasn't even that special. You wanted to impress Azula, that was about it. A pretty dumb thought, if you thought about it - she was more or less infallible, how was one, especially you, to impress her?

However, there was not much time to think about such matters, as the attacks coming from the people you were facing seemed to become faster by the second.

You dodged a fire bolt the filthy traitor prince sent towards you and melted a stone that flew towards you mid air, freeing you up for just one moment of looking around the battlefield.

The first thing you noticed was dramatic. A whip made from sharpened, magical water made its way to Azula and she, who was in any other moment completely aware of her surroundings, was just preparing to defend against an attack from the Avatar-boy - she could get killed by that whiplash!

From one moment to another, your brain was deactivated and your protection-instincts, and maybe a bit of love, took over: in an enormous leap you rushed over to Azula - for one moment, everything was red and pain, but soon relieving darkness enclosed you.

---

With an enormous wave of wind, the Avatar ripped two small trees out of the earth, throwing them at Azula. She laughed at that pathetic attempt to seize her, igniting the wood with such fire that only a drizzle of ashes arrived at her position. But that ominous rain not only consisted of the remains of the burned trees, but also of blood.

She quickly looked around herself to see from where the scarlet liquid could originate - the first thing she found was the origin of the terrible act: the waterbender-girl was retrieving a thread of water she had been bending for it to become sharp and deadly into the bottle she always carried around.

Continuing her search, she found, or rather stumbled upon you. You laid unconciously besides her feet, your shoulder bleeding furiously. Considering that you hadn't stood there a few moments ago and in which direction the whip had been flying, it did not take long for Azula to realise the whiplash had been meant for her.

Driven back by a continuously growing amount of fire nation soldiers, the Avatar and his partners fled the battlefield, giving Azula an oppertunity to lean down to you and inspect your barely breathing body further. The more she realised what had happened, the more irrational feelings rushed through her head.

Naturally, everyone would sacrifice themselves for her, right? She was Azula. She really should not feel bad for you, it had been your duty to save her. In fights, things like these happened. You had to live (or not, in some cases) with it.

Yet, she could not help telling the healers who soon arrived to be extra careful with you if they did not want to experience her wrath.

She also couldn't keep herself from waiting outside the healer's tent, anxiously expecting the moment you would leave it. You would leave it, after all. She demanded you did. There was simply no way you couldn't.

And, what was maybe the worst of all, your face did not want to leave her mind. The face she had seen so many times on the courtyard and that she had always taken for granted - and that had not lost any of its beauty even when tainted through your own dark blood.

Given the size of your wound the process of healing was a long and exhausting one, but each day Azulas hope of seeing you again grew with the increasingly positive reports of the healers she ordered them to bring her.

Quite a few times had Ty Lee told Azula, in a very subtle manner, that it was quite unusual for her to think about someone this much. To care about them, even. That it almost seemed as if she liked you.

Naturally, Azula refused to give such assumptions any credit. Romantic fantasies like this were for children, and she was the very confident princess of the fire nation, not some toddler, wasn't she?

Of course she had to admit that she valued your wellbeing a little bit more than everyone elses, but her liking you? How absurd. Ridiculous, even.

Anyways, the only thing she seemed to do the following days beside worrying about you was to emphasize that she did not in any way worry about you at all. Oh, she couldn't wait for the day you left the hospital so that she could ask you some serious questions about what you did to make her think about you.

When the day of your releasememt from the hospital came, though, any questions were quickly forgot. Alone the sight of your face made her see everything she could have ever asked for.

You too could not believe your luck when Azula was the first person to greet you after leaving the hospital; her inviting you to sit beside her at the royal dinner that evening exceeded all your dreams.

She stepped closer towards you, and your heart fluttered when you saw the same look in her eyes that you had been giving her for a long time.

[autisticlancemcclain]

prev

“This your place?” Keith asked, panting.

His host raised his eyebrow, pushing open the door.

“No,” he deadpanned, “this is my annoying neighbour’s house. He’s on holidays. I’m staying here and using all his things to take revenge for hours of small talk.”

“Oh,” Keith replied, impressed. “Cool.” He’ll have to do that next time Lance is on a solo mission. 

“No, I’m – I’m kidding, Paladin.”

“Oh,” Keith repeated, disappointed. “Less cool.”

“Just – get in the house.”

Keith didn’t argue. He followed his host into the small building, nodded as he was pointed to a guest room, and passed out the second his head hit the straw-stuffed pillow.

— — —

When Keith woke, it was dark outside. A scarred face was looming over his, and he bit back a scream, hand flying for his knife on reflex. 

“Peace, Paladin,” said Ares, holding up a hand. “I startled you. I did not mean to. It’s time for the feast. 

Keith slumped. His heart slowed from its jackrabbit pace. “Yeah. Yeah, man, thanks. I’ll be right out.”

His host nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Keith took one minute to calm himself, closing his eyes and counting his breaths. Once sixty seconds passed, he stood, glancing down at his armour. 

That was…fine, right?

They always wore their armour to diplomacy missions. Well, mostly because Keith threw a massive hissy fit the second Coran attempted to force him into the worst, most restrictive suit he’d ever seen. His armour was battered, unpolished, and honestly kind of rank, but it wasn’t like he had many other options. He held out his helmet, inspecting himself in the reflection of his visor.

Shiro would tell him to brush his hair.

Too bad he didn’t have a hairbrush. 

He walked out of his room, shrugging. His host was waiting for him by the small hearth in the middle of the house, standing as Keith approached. 

“Shall we make our leave?”

“Sure.”

He followed his host back out of the little house. They walk in silence. Keith’s feet begin to hurt by the five minute mark – he has no idea how long he slept, but it was not long enough, and exhaustion still pulled at his frame. 

Dryope had mentioned food, though. And something like a party, but one lucky thing about Ares – he doesn’t seem to be much of a partier, either, so hopefully Keith could ditch that bright and early and go right back to sleep. 

They walked along the same hills Keith’s host had led them down earlier, only this time they were going up, so it was worse. Thankfully, though, the walk was just barely shorter – they weren’t walking back to the beach, but to the hearth, the big fire pit Keith noticed walking in. All the houses they passed were empty, not even a light by the window.

“Is everyone at the – party, thing, whatever?” Keith panted.

Ares eyed him briefly, not pausing his stride. “Look for yourself.”

They crested the top of the hill, and Keith’s jaw dropped. 

The hearth was blazing. The flame burned so brightly and hugely that Keith was half-convinced it was out of control. Surrounding it in hundreds of chattering groups was every single Aegian, tall and wide and small, smiling and laughing. As he watched, an Aegian called something in a language Keith couldn’t understand, and immediately dozens of the tree-warriors rushed up to join hands in a big ring around the fire, twirling and dancing as the watching Aegians chanted and sang. 

Keith’s first thought was, Aren’t these guys made of wood?

His second thought was, This looks like a hippie commune. Time to ditch.

Unfortunately Ares caught him before he could go right back the way they can, spinning him around and shoving him down the hill.

“Real hospitable,” Keith grumbled.

His host seemed, as much as such a scary person could look, amused. “On you go, Paladin.”

Keith stomped on. He probably could take Ares in a fight, at least normally, but he was exhausted and injured and weak. Plus, if he was the reason behind yet another failed diplomatic mission, Lance would gleefully hold it over his head for weeks, and Shiro would be disappointed if Keith finally killed him. Plus, Allura would be upset with him, and having Allura upset with you kind of feels like taking a kitten that loves and trusts you and drop kicking it into the sun. Very quickly, you realise that you are the scum of the Earth and the worst person alive. It’s generally just something you should avoid.

As he trudged down the hill, he quickly recognised three familiar suits of armour. They were kind of hard to miss – even as scuffed as they were, they glinted in the light of the massive fire, shining like a bunch of precious stones. Pidge, sulking somewhere near a table of desserts; Hunk, chatting with his host; and Shiro, speaking with the Aegian leader like the tryhard little teacher’s pet he was. Coran stuck out, too, in his bright blue Altean uniform that was somehow pristine even though Keith watched him get flung at a wall and shocked by a bare wire from the broken control centre back on the dead castle. 

All the Aegians wore some kind of bedsheet, or their Tinkerbell clothes. Interestingly, the dryads were not the only Aegians present – there were others who looked a little more human, although they had plenty of strange features that reminded Keith they were not. A group of laughing girls looked like they were made from the bottom of a pool in the sunlight, skin shifting with dappled light. Several guys walked around with half a donkey hanging out of their drawers. Keith spotted some honest-to-God centaurs. One girl appeared to be made out of blowing, spinning wind. 

Hundreds of eyes seemed to follow Keith as he joined the crowd, glancing at him and then back at their friends, whispering to themselves. Keith shrunk into himself, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes – no one looked mad, or angry, or cruel, but no one looked exactly welcoming, either. Ares had disappeared at some point, not that he was what Keith would consider a friendly face. 

Keith needed to find someone he knew, stat. 

His first instinct was Pidge – the two of them usually slunked in some corner together whenever they were forced (often at gunpoint, thanks, Lance) to some stupid party. They had a running game called How Many People Can We Convince That Barking Is A Polite Human Greeting Before Shiro Finds Out. So far their score was 135-149, Pidge in the lead. (Keith very much intended to catch up.) But before he could make it over to where she was hiding, a group of water-girls descended upon her like a pack of piranhas, giggling and shouting something about braiding and eye makeup. Keith decided he would rather chew off his right hand than put himself anywhere near that, and did an abrupt 180 in search of Hunk.

Unfortunately, the big guy was still preoccupied. His host – Elijah (or something, Keith would be reminded of his real name eventually) – was showing him some kind of metal box that opened to a bunch of intricately placed gears and bobbles and wires. Hunk was staring at it like the Holy Grail. Not even Keith’s best pleading eyes and sad orphan story would convince him to babysit Keith and glare at anyone who attempted to socialise. Another dead end.

Keith sighed. That really only left –

“Hey, squirt!”

Keith went bright red, cringing with his whole entire body. He loved his brother, he really, truly did, but Shiro was as out of depth as he was at stuff like this and tended to overcompensate by being affectionate. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, except he had a bad case of Foot In Mouth Disease and knew Keith at his most embarrassing early teenage emo. 

So.

“Hey, Shiro,” he said stiffly, trying not to die inside as the man pressed a smacking kiss right in the centre of his forehead.

A tall, handsome guy somewhere to their left raised his eyebrows, smiling with amusement. Keith thought he could die. Sometimes, he thought his brother was secretly a forty-six year old suburban mom of three.

“We missed you!” cried his embarrassing brother. He was so genuine about it, it was hard not to smile back at him. “You took so long getting here!”

“My host’s place is at the farthest corner of the city,” Keith explained. “Had to hike here. Thought I was gonna bite it by mile six.”

Shiro snorted. “Drama queen.”

“Yeah, yeah. You try hiking after getting shaken around like a bobblehead. I bet your place is, like, twenty feet away from here.”

“Pretty much,” Shiro agreed, smile turning into more of a smirk. He attempted to dig his knuckles into Keith’s skull, but Keith was well used to his brand of crap and squirmed away at the last second. “Akeso’s sorta the main healer around here – at least I think? They’re not much of a talker – so they live in this building that’s attached to the infirmary. One of the big buildings in the inner circle.”

He pointed to one of the more rectangular buildings Keith had seen on the way in, with a much smaller, rounder building attached to it like one of those suction fish on a shark. It was hard to make out many details in the dark, fire’s light only able to stretch so far, but it looked pretty infirmary-ish.

“Hunk’s staying near the forges. He loves it, you should talk to him about it. He’s all cute and excited, you know that look he gets. Elatreus is impressed with him, practically made him an assistant.”

Elatreus! That’s the host’s name. And Keith absolutely knew what look Shiro’s talking about – the wide brown eyes, clasped hands, talking a mile a minute. He smiled softly. Nothing better for the soul like watching an ecstatic Hunk. 

“That’s good. Glad he’s happy.” 

“Yep. And Pidge is in a regular house like you, little more in-city. Next to some kind of trap shop? I don’t totally get it. Apparently Dysnomia needs a lot of supplies. Pidge was being all sketch about it.”

“That’s not super reassuring.”

“It is not!” Shiro agreed. He led Keith to one of the many tables laid out, absolutely covered in food. Keith realised he was ravenous, piling up a plate at least a foot high with meats and breads and foods he couldn’t even identify, but that smelt positively godly. At Shiro’s raised eyebrow, he rolled his eyes and selected a single vegetable. 

“Make sure you toss some in the fire,” Shiro advised.

Keith squinted at him. “I’m…not gonna do that, thanks.”

“No, no, you have to.”

He pointed to the edge of the fire, where, sure enough, some Aegians were scraping the edge of their plates into the flames.

Keith wrinkled his nose. “The hell are they burning their food for? What a waste!”

Shiro shrugged, stepping into the line. “Akeso said it’s an old tradition, something that their ancestors felt protected them and gave them good will and peace. No one really wants to mess with that mojo, so. Portion of the food is sacrificed.”

Keith would be less pressed about it if the food didn’t look and smell so good. Scraping perfectly good food into fire felt like spending hours polishing a sword only to scratch it three seconds later – effort for no reason. When it was their turn, though, Keith did as the custom dictated. He’d learned enough about questioning weird traditions. 

He held eye contact with Shiro and flicked his one vegetable into the flames. Delightfully, his brother’s eye twitched, like he was considering shoving Keith into them. Suddenly, this custom was Keith’s favourite he’d ever been forced to partake in. 

By the time they finally sat somewhere to eat, Keith was so hungry he was ready to eat his fingers along with the food. He inhaled his food for a good five or six minutes, ignoring Shiro’s attempts first at conversation, then at slowing him down. 

“Christ, kid,” he said, voice tinged with either horror or awe. Maybe both. “Eating like I never fed you in your life.”

“You haven’t,” Keith replied around a rib of some kind. “Adam fed me. You made ash of everything you touched.”

Shiro’s expression soured. He poked sullenly at some kind of leaf. (Serves him right for trying to be some kinda health freak now that he’s in charge. Keith once watched him eat an entire Costco sheet cake at three in the morning, and that had been his first and only meal of the day. Keith enjoyed bringing it up every time Shiro preached about the benefits of salad and watching him just start screeching to drown Keith out. Good times.) 

“I didn’t turn everything to ash, you ungrateful brat. I made muffins that one time!”

You microwaved an already cooked muffin, Keith thought, wisely choosing to eat some kind of rice dish instead of bringing it up. And it tasted like erasers afterr. So.

“Sure, Shiro.”

Shiro nodded, satisfied. He picked up the leaf, sprinkled with some…orange thing, maybe, Keith couldn’t tell exactly, and took a delicate bite. He looked less satisfied.

“So,” he said, setting down his plate like he was looking for an excuse not to eat it. He looked at Keith expectantly. “You must want an update on Allura.”

Keith blinked. “Oh, shoot, yeah. I didn’t see her. She good?”

“Yeah, from what we can tell. When we got to the infirmary, Akeso stitched up my knee, then we –”

“You had a knee injury?” Keith interrupted. “You should have said something!”

Shiro smiled gently. “I got it treated, dork.” He bumped their shoulders together, trying to ease Keith’s upset expression. “I’m fine, okay? If Akeso didn’t bring it up, I would have. Promise. It wasn’t too bad, anyway, I swear.”

Keith frowned harder. He had noticed Shiro shifting slightly when they were first confronted by Dryope and her army, but Shiro had walked away without limping, so he’d allowed himself to stop worrying. A stupid mistake, and one he should know better than making. He knows his stupidly self-sacrificial brother. 

“Keith, seriously,” Shiro assured. He leaned down, unlatching his thigh and knee braces, then pulled back the rip in his undersuit. Keith wasn’t comforted by the size of the rip – nor the placement of it – but the wound didn’t look too bad, and was stitched neatly. Some kind of salve was spread all over it, under the clear wound dressing. As he watched, the wound seemed to contract, shrinking ever so slightly.

“Healing magic,” Shiro explained, putting his armour back. He patted Keith’s shoulder. “Akeso is super practiced at it. They stitched me up but warned that overdoing magic healing is as bad as cheating death, so it’ll still take a couple weeks to heal fully. Just won’t hurt so bad and might heal a little faster than with just stitches.”

“That why Allura is still out?” Keith clarified, finally letting go of the tension in his shoulders. Shiro looked relieved. “No speedy magic?”

Shiro nodded. “Exactly. After Akeso stitched me up we went to go visit Rhea, check on Allura. She’s tucked in this massive bed-nest thing, snoring away. She’s fine. Just super drained and needs all the rest she can. She’s in good hands.”

Relief punches out of Keith like a physical force. It’s one thing if his friends are injured, a whole other if they’re unconscious – but with Shiro’s assurance as well as Coran’s confidence earlier, he can relax. The two of them can read people like no one else on the ship – except maybe Lance. She’ll be fine.

“Speaking of Lance,” Keith said.

“No one brought up Lance except your own brain,” Shiro responded patiently. That infernal smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. 

Keith went red, barrelling right on. “Where is he? This stuff is right up his alley, I figured he’d be out twirling until he passes out in the punch or something.”

Shiro frowned, looking at him funny. “He is? He’s been over –”

Just then, the music that had been playing in the background changed – there was a collective inhale, then all the instruments played something at once. Keith didn’t know much about music, but the something felt intentional, deeply so. A song was beginning, rather than endless background music.

Excited murmuring moved in waves throughout the gathered Aegians. People started shifting. High above everything else, loud and excited, rang a disbelieving laugh – a very familiar laugh.

Keith whipped his head up, roll dropping from his hand and bouncing into the dirt. At the edge of the crowd, lit softly by the orange golden flames, was Lance – but it was no wonder Keith had missed him before. He wasn’t wearing his armour.

He was wearing a dress!

Well, not really a dress. One of those ancient Greek toga things, that looks like a droopy bedsheet. Keith had noticed it on several – almost all, in fact – of the Aegians; a draped, white garment, cinched in the waist, pinned at the shoulders. It hadn’t looked anything special on them. 

Lance, though, wore it like it had been made for him. Maybe it had. Most Aegians wore the toga-thing pinned at both shoulders, but Lance’s was only gathered at one, the rest of it falling artfully on his chest, looking dangerously like it was about to fall off. The cinched golden rope acting as a belt made his waist look downright tiny, like someone could pick him up around his middle and throw him, or something. It wasn’t crazy short, or anything, but Lance surely didn’t wear it down to his toes, like some others did. A pair of simple brown sandals wrapped all the way up his calves. 

There were actual freaking laurels in his hair, along with what Keith could only assume were gold threads, wrapped around a few tiny, careful braids. A golden bracelet wrapped around his bicep, contrasting with his many Earth-made bracelets and anklets, and his plastic blue Moana watch that he never took off. 

“He looks ridiculous!” Keith cried. 

Shiro tried poorly not to laugh. “I think he looks nice!”

“He looks like a freaking Roman statue!”

The music started to swell, and Lance reached out to grab an offered hand, and suddenly Keith’s blood went cold. 

“What is he doing all over Lance,” he hissed.

Shiro raised his eyebrows. “His…host?” 

“Hosting immoral thoughts, maybe!” Keith protested. Shiro choked on his drink. “Look at his damn hand! Gripping Lance’s waist like there’s a magnet involved! What’s he want, to pick Lance up like a prize and show him around, or something? What a creep!”

But Lance wasn’t scowling, or even using his polite I-hate-you-and-can’t-wait-to-talk-crap-about-you-to-my-friends smile. He was just smiling, and concentrating hard on his feet, wrapping his own hands all over Mr. Creep. As the music got more complicated, they started dancing. 

“What’s your deal with Peithos?” Shiro questioned. “What’s he –”

Keith ignored him. “And they have some kinda dance prepared? He’s supposed to be helping Lance recover, not teaching him a dance! How long have we been here for?”

Shiro finally sighed, giving up on his questioning. He watched the dancing duo, although with significantly less (zero) animosity than Keith. 

“‘Bout ten hours? Give or take.”

“Ten ho – ten hours,” Keith said, stumbling over his words. He tore his eyes away and stared at his brother, alarmed. “We’ve been here ten whole hours? I thought it was, like, three!”

Shiro nodded, taking a long sip out of his cup. “Yep. Surprised the heck outta me, too. Went for a nap after checking on Allura, and boom, sun’s down, Akeso’s waking me up, and my leg hardly hurts anymore. Exhausted sleep is sleep, man, I feel you. Pidge, Hunk, and Coran knocked out, too. Only Lance stayed up. That’s why he’s not in armour. And why he knows this dance, apparently.” He nudged Keith’s shoulder, expression suddenly much more solemn. “You know how he is with sleep.”

Keith softened. He turned back to the blue paladin with a sigh, watching the half-Aegian twirl him around. The music got faster and faster and the man grabbed Lance around the waist and lifted him, twirling them both like it was easy as pie. Lance threw his head back and laughed, cheeks flushed and nose squinted like it does when he’s really laughing. 

“Yeah, I know. Still, though. I don’t trust that guy. Too friendly. And Lance is too comfortable.”

“That’s fair.” Shiro was staring at him, too. “I don’t really trust many people here, actually. I think Rhea is trustworthy. And Elatreus. The other people, I can’t say yet. But Dryope…”

He turned to glance at the leader, who watched the festivities over the rim of an ornate glass. She sat on a carved rock, her father next to her. The rock-seat to her right was left empty. Keith could guess who it was for. 

“There’s something they’re not telling us,” Keith finished, nodding. “Agreed.”

He turned back to look at Lance and Peithos. The song had ended, but they were still standing close to the fire, bent close. Lance was gesturing like crazy, smile lighting up his face. Peithos was intently watching his every move. 

“We’ll keep an eye on them,” Shiro promised. His smile was small and reassuring. Keith glanced at the half-Aegian, then back at his brother, nodding slowly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think we should.”

After the weird dance, the party started to die down. People slowly started to head out, first in singles, then in couples, then in large swathes. Pidge was one of the first to make her getaway. Keith looked around for his host, but couldn’t manage to land his eyes on him. He hoped he hadn’t already left – he had no clue how to get back to his guest room in the dark, and wasn’t super pumped about sleeping on the ground if it came to that. 

“You know where the house is?” Keith overheard Peithos murmur, so close to Lance there wasn’t a place they weren’t touching. 

Lance grinned up at him. “Yep! I’ll meet you there, don’t worry about me. Go do what you need to do.”

The half-Aegian smiled gratefully at him, then rushed off.

Some host, Keith thought bitterly.

His glare was apparently pretty pungent, because now that Lance’s distraction was gone, he looked over quickly. He brightened, jogging over.

“Keith! Hey! I haven’t seen you all night.”

“Yeah, wonder why,” muttered Keith sullenly.

“I hope you –” Lance frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Keith repeated, mocking. He rolled his eyes. Unfortunately he still managed to notice the expression on Lance’s face – wounded, not mad. He faltered. 

That wasn’t how their arguments were supposed to go. “You know what it means,” he insisted, but it sounded unconfident even to his own ears.

“I really, really don’t. I looked for you earlier, I couldn’t find you when everyone else –”

“You looked?” Keith asked incredulously. “I couldn’t’ve pried your eyes away from Tall, Dark, and Handsome if I plucked them out of your head!”

Lance’s already-present flush exploded out of control, so bright Keith could see it even in the dying embers of the hearth. “I wasn’t – he’s not – you’re not – what are you talking about!” he finally managed, tripping over his words in a way he usually didn’t. “Peithos and I were just – were just – we were only dancing! He taught me the Spring Dance, earlier, when he was showing – showing – me the wildflower fields, and –”

Keith narrowed his eyes. He realised for the first time that Lance was swaying, slightly, and even as he talked himself out of his embarrassment, the red didn’t totally fade from his face, staying high on his cheeks. 

“– I don’t know what your problem is, I swear, every time I have fun you live to ruin it. Gods, can’t I even have – have – have one thing, I just –”

He kept tripping over his words, like his tongue wasn’t working with him. Keith frowned harder.

“Lance, are you – drunk?”

“What? No!”

That Lance said clearly. He whirled on Keith with a new layer of clarity in his eyes, dark like pits and absolutely flashing in fury. 

“You think,” he seethed, stepping forward, “that I am so freaking irresponsible, so absolutely stupid and idiotic, that I would get intoxi – intoxish – intoxicat –”

He couldn’t even say the words. Keith stared at him in alarm, because he raised a good point – Lance liked to pretend, but he really wasn’t irresponsible like that. Keith had never heard him swear. He went to bed at the same time every night. As far as he knew, he’d never actually touched a drop of alcohol in his life – it would be out of character for him to get wasted at a diplomatic mission, late at night, when they were separated and wary. 

Something was not right.

“Lance, I think you should maybe –”

“Gods, you ruin – you ruin everything.” Lance blinked, hard, then glared at Keith, shoving off the steadying hand Keith had placed on his elbow and stumbling backwards. He held his gaze for several moments, absolutely glowering, and then – to Keith’s great horror – his brown eyes watered. Tears built up faster than he could wipe them away, tracing a line down his cheek. Keith staggered backwards.

“I hate you sometimes,” he said, and ran off. 

Keith watched him go, aftertaste of the delicious food turning sour in his mouth.

— — —

all art by @jiveyuncle!!

next

[honeyed-latte]

Thinking about a Hiccup that ran away with Toothless after the episode in DoB where Berk thought the Gods were angry at Toothless.

After his electrocution did nothing to prove to the others that it was the metal, Hiccup instructed Stoick to remove the posts- and ran. If Toothless wasn't welcome, then neither was Hiccup, which suits him just fine.

Hiccup spends all his time rescuing Dragons, hoping from island to island to help, and he forms a sanctuary of his own in a way. He and Toothless head it as a two-man defacto Queen.

The island that would have been Dragons Edge becomes Hiccups Sanctuary, this brings his warpath to The Hunters front door and after skirmish after skirmish, hunt after hunt, auction after auction is upended and the dragons all freed. Money and men being lost by the handfuls, Viggos attention is most thoroughly snagged by who his men are calling "The Black Blight".

He doesn't believe them at first, who would? A man in all black on the back of a Night Fury pushing back all their operations away from the east, getting all too close to their bigger centers for Viggos comfort.

He comes face to face with this Blight not long after he confirms the mans existence, he knew where he'd hit next and patiently waited for the mystery man to rear his head and eureka, there he was, right on schedule.

It's surprisingly less violent then Viggo anticipated for a warrior his men had taken to calling such a... resonating moniker, but it was fitting that his guest is so sure of himself.

Hes a tall, slender thing doused in blackened sturdy armour, the kind of creature that moved with confidence and calm assurance even surrounded by Viggos Hunters. He was impressed by the candor and the mind that lurked beyond the empty, inscrutable eyes of the sleek helm, but they have mush to discuss if this was going to end in a way that favoured them both.

Viggo isn't surprised when the Dragon Master agree's to talk things over as opposed to battling it out, neither of them are unreasonable after all, but he is surprised when he takes off that intimidating (and beautifully crafted) helm and the man under it...is hardly a man at all.

A boy, rather, a feral and beautiful boy with eyes as quick and green as his Night Fury's.

Once they're properly introduced, they talk.

And talk.

And talk.

And drink.

And talk...

Until they find common ground, until they find agreement; Viggo will learn how to more reliably supply his economy with trade, non-lethally and without the selling of dragons while letting the dragons he currently housed free, and in return Hiccup will help Viggo expand his reach to make up for the gap in his gold and stop attacking all Hunter ships.

The sun is high up when they sign their names to the document outlining the agreement, its a thing that makes the feral scoff, what good is the name of an Exiled viking really, but who cares if it makes Viggo stop hurting dragons.

They work together, closely together, to make sure neither of them goes back on their word. True to form, Hiccup teaches Viggo how to appeal to a dragons gentler nature, and Viggo opens up Trade in the east- scaled armour, recycled metal and scrap from traps, Gronkle Iron, weaponry.

They help eachother scout new dragons, forge new inventions to trap and release them. They end up being a Team more often then not as the Hunters undo their years of harm, and Hiccup undoes years of loneliness (in Viggo and himself.)

Slowly, Hiccup and Viggo enter a more romantic relationship as well, they're a perfect match and together they build a stronger empire. Hiccup is free to come and go as he pleases, he saves even more dragons with Viggo as his partner, and having Hiccup around further soothes Viggo's people- he's a kind man after all, helpful. Even if Ryker loathes him, even if Viggo is at risk of assassination at the hands of old allies, even if Hiccup see's Berk less and less. Its all worth it, because they have eachother and they're making the world safer for dragons.