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just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace · 21 days ago

Text

Inspiration (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you struggle coming up with new designs for the Nine, and the Lord of Gifts helps you overcome your creative block

Warnings: smut (p in v, cockwarming, tease and denial, dom!Annatar vibes), reader hesitates at first because she’s surprised by Annatar’s advances but she’s on board with it, manipulation cause she doesn’t know Annatar is Sauron, small discrepancies with the canon timeline for the sake of the fic’s (very little) plot, unrealistic(?) method of solving artistic blocks (the irony is that I wrote this fic to get out of writer’s block with another one and it worked😆)

Mature content below the cut - minors DNI!!!

“How fares your progress?”

Lord Annatar’s voice nearly startles you when you see him approach. You thought you were alone in the forge room, with nothing but your thoughts and the unfinished Ring designs currently staring in defiance up at you from a piece of paper.

“Well enough,” you say, reflexively. Then sigh, letting your pencil fall on the table. “Well, in fact... it is slow,” you confess, glancing at Annatar as he walks towards you. You wince internally when he looks over your shoulder at your sketches. “My skills are no match for Lord Celebrimbor’s, and even he has had difficulty finding the right designs.”

“And yet he chose you alone to carry on with the efforts in his absence,” he argues, even when faced with what you deem to be your far-less-than-satisfactory attempts. Looking up, you find him offering you a sympathetic smile. “You sell yourself short, my friend. It is a real pity.”

You avert your gaze, attempting yet surely failing to conceal your fluster. His compliments, however small, always have a sincerity about them that touches you deeply.

Lord Celebrimbor had, quite literally, worked himself into oblivion after one too many failed attempts at crafting the Nine, and more hours without rest than even an Elf could endure. He had refused to retire to his chamber for some much needed sleep until he had fainted upon his own worktable, and even then, he had refused for anyone but you to even attempt to create new designs for future tries in his absence. He had been odd, of late, mistrusting and, dare you say, even irresponsible at times. But you were his oldest and most trusted apprentice, and that seemed to earn you some of the good will he still had left.

Not that you feel he has made you much of a favour, leaving you to labour alone on such an intricate task. You are not exactly freshly rested yourself, and you have seen so many Ring designs in the past few weeks, you seem to have been drained of the ability to come up with any fresh ones.

There was only one idea you had that might help you, and you had risen from your seat and sat back down two or three times already, changing your mind about whether you should seek out Lord Annatar or not. Whether it would be appropriate. Now that he has come to you, however...

“I was wondering...” Your eyes wonder about the room, hesitating to meet his. “If it isn’t too bold to ask...”

“Be at ease,” Annatar intercedes with that same gentle smile, and it isn’t so difficult to look at him anymore. “My very purpose here is to aid you in your endeavours. You need not hesitate to ask for my help.”

All of a sudden, you feel quite silly for ever doubting you could speak with him openly. He has been most willing to share his knowledge as he worked closely with you these past few weeks. It’s just that now, he has taken on Celebrimbor’s duties as Lord of Eregion as well, and you hate to feel as though you are keeping him from more important matters simply because you cannot seem to handle your own given task.

“It’s just that I feel so... utterly uninspired,” you confess, casting a dismayed look to the sketch-filled papers in front of you. “The proportions, the aesthetics... I cannot seem to get all the elements right at the same time and the more I try, the farther I stray from the desired result.” You raise your gaze to Annatar’s. “Might you spare a moment to assist me, if only with one design? I’m sure it’ll be inspiration enough for me to finish the others whilst you tend to the affairs of the city.”

“Of course,” he says, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. With the other, he picks up the piece of paper, and you are now grateful that his attention is solely on the drawings, for the sudden contact has made you rather flustered. “You see,” Annatar says, contemplating the sketches, “sometimes the artist’s mind, though creative as ever, tends to... restrict itself, in the most frustrating way. So great is the desire for perfection in the end result, that it stifles the natural flow of the precious ideas without which no result may be reached at all.”

You resonate with the wise words, but you are not sure you understand the advice they carry.

“Are you suggesting I... draw whatever design I like first and worry about the practical aspects of it later?”

“I am suggesting,” he says, putting the paper down, “that you do not worry at all.” You frown. With that, you do not resonate at all. But your main focus now is that Annatar steps behind you, this time placing his hands on both your shoulders. Your heartbeat quickens as he speaks, at leisure, “That you do not even... think about the task at hand—not entirely—and that you simply... give in to your most natural instincts.”

“I am... not sure I understand,” you say quietly.

After a moment’s silence, Annatar asks, “May I show you?”

You knit your brow, unsure. You had expected him to help you by simply completing one of the sketches, or even just discussing some new ideas. These cryptic words, along with the physical contact, is all quite peculiar.

But you do trust him. You more than trust him, if you’re being honest. That is why the sudden closeness feels rather nice, though you do not wish to make a fool of yourself by showing it.

In the end, you give a small nod.

“Very well,” he says, and you hear the pleased smile in his voice. “For that, you need only resume your work, and trust me.”

Failing at producing quality designs right before his eyes doesn’t sound exactly ideal, but you put your faith in his methods, whatever they are. You pick up the pencil once more, bring a fresh sheet of paper before you, and begin your fumbling attempts anew.

You note—how could you not?—that Annatar has yet to remove his hands from your shoulders. Because of that, you sit more upright than you usually do, but you doubt changing your posture is his sole purpose. Slowly, he begins to move, thumbs brushing your skin, then softly pressing down onto it in a languid rhythm.

You are grateful that he cannot see the wide-eyed surprise on your face as it dawns on you that the Lord of Gifts himself is giving you, a common Elf, a massage. His thumbs come to knead the flesh at the base of your neck on either side of your spine, and the slight pressure feels divine, especially when you have spent so many hours hunched over the table. You bite down an audible sigh, willing your hand not to waver while you work. You still do not feel particularly inspired, but if he meant to bring you relief from the constant stress of the past few weeks, his efforts are most certainly appreciated.

You mean to offer him a polite and rather bashful thank you, when one of his hands begins to stray. His fingers leave a tingling trail across your skin as he draws them up your neck, softly cupping your jaw from behind. You are quite stunned by the gesture, and find yourself retracing the same pencil line a few unnecessary times before you move on. His fingertips graze their slow way up your jaw, straying briefly through your hair before they reach your earlobe. It’s almost as though he is drawing his own intricate pattern along your skin, and your hand slows in its movements as your heart races in your chest.

Surely, he would not— oh, but if only he did—

And he does. His fingers take their sweet time tracing the shell of your ear, and finally, they reach the tip, where they catch the pointed bit of flesh between them, tugging ever so gently.

Your breath catches in your throat, shivers rain down your spine, and your hand freezes on the page. Because your kind do not touch one another’s ears in such a manner unless they are, or wish to be, courting. The simple reason is that, as you are now vividly reminded, those pointed tips are quite sensitive to touch, erogenous in nature for most Elves—including yourself.

You do not question Annatar’s wisdom or the grace with which he has assimilated into your ways of life, but perhaps he is somehow not aware of this particular intimacy-related aspect? Should you let him know, as courteously as possible? But then how would you explain that you had felt his intent, and despite having been given all the time in the world before his fingers had reached that most tender spot, you had done nothing at all to prevent such a caress?

Before you can decide, his hand returns to your shoulder, any movement halted.

“Is something the matter?” he questions, concerned.

You cannot tell him. You simply cannot. In truth, you miss the touch already.

“No—” you clear your throat, willing the waver out of your voice. “No, my lord.”

“Then, why have you stopped?”

He sounds genuinely curious, as though he could not fathom what had affected you so. You give no answer, other than to put pencil to paper once more. The moment you resume your work, his hands resume theirs—massaging, caressing. He does not touch your ears again, though his fingers do come dangerously close to doing so as he runs them through your hair, and you berate yourself for hoping each time that they would find those sensitive peaks again, catch them in their delicious hold.

So distracted you are by the prospect of it and the images you strive to continue creating, you do not even sense Annatar leaning down. Not until you catch a glimpse of long, blonde hair at the periphery of your vision, and then there is the soft graze of his lips over your neck. You draw in a sharp breath as your skin is set alight, and the pencil slips from your fingers.

“My lord!” you gasp, chest heaving as you whip around to fix him with a most alarmed look. There is no misinterpreting the intent behind that particular gesture, and he knows it very well.

But he doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest as he stands to his full height, seeming to you more majestic in appearance than ever as you look up at him.

“Keep drawing,” he instructs calmly. “Unless you wish for me to stop.”

Your brow furrows even further, your confusion growing, and then—

It all clicks in your mind.

The rules he has demonstrated thus far are simple enough: you stop, he stops. It’s both a condition and a reassurance. You do not have to outright refuse him. You need only refuse to continue drawing, and he shall leave you be, and all will return to the way it was before. But if you do pick up the pencil, it would be tantamount to confessing to the desire you have held secret within your heart for weeks, and that would change everything. Not to mention it would be unprofessional. Most inappropriate.

Your skin still sings where he has touched it.

Be it courage or folly, you turn away from him, pick up the pencil, and draw.

You think you can feel a smile on his lips as they return to your neck. This time, you close your eyes, finally able to savour the sensation—only for a moment, though, for the blissful touch depends on your ability to keep forming shapes on the paper, so you open your eyes and do your best to conjure some semblance of a coherent design as Annatar peppers your skin with unrushed, tender kisses. His lips are even softer than you had imagined, and you tilt your head lightly to offer every inch of skin within his reach. Now that the door has been opened, there is no more use pretending like you do not crave his affections.

Before long, his fingers ghost along the neckline of your dress, then his hand ventures below, to the swell of your breast. You do not make the slightest move to stop him. In fact, you pray to the Valar for the ability to keep your hand drawing at least somewhat relevant lines on the page. For you keep reminding yourself that if you stopped, so would he, and you cannot fathom the loss of his delicate grasp of your soft flesh. He easily finds a stiff nipple, peaking through the fabric of your dress, and tugs it between his thumb and forefinger. You shudder, holding back a whimper—but to your embarrassment, the beginning of one does escape you when his hands and lips suddenly leave you.

“Do you need a respite?” he says with a tinge of admonishment. You’ve abandoned your efforts on the paper without even realizing. You shake your head, not trusting your voice, wishing for nothing more than to feel his touch again, and resume scribbling lines on paper.

“Very well,” he says, and his hands return to you.

It’s increasingly challenging to keep drawing through each graze of lips, each brush of your ears, each tease of your nipples through your dress. It’s already so much, so fast, and yet it only makes you long for so much more. You’ve given up biting back the soft moans in your throat, lacking the power of concentration to spare for that purpose as well. And you certainly cannot help how your thighs press together in a futile attempt to ease the ache growing between your legs.

The sketch of one Ring is already finished, but you don’t even stop to consider whether it’s satisfactory before you begin another. His method shall be most efficient in increasing the quantity of your work, if not the quality. Would he do this with any other smith, you wonder, simply as a means of encouragement? Is this what he has been doing to Lord Celebrimbor on the late nights when the other smiths have gone to sleep, and they alone remain to carry on working in the forge? The thought stings, but the only question on which you can truly focus at the moment is how much further will he go with you, right here and now? As if in answer, his hand begins a most tantalizing descent, over your stomach, down to your navel, and you desperately repeat to yourself to do not stop drawing, no matter what, as you part your legs to receive him without shame.

When he cups you intimately through the fabric of your dress, you truly do not know by what force you are able to keep the pencil on the page, let alone keep wielding it. But thanks to the muscle memory acquired over many years of training, you do, even as you whimper and rock your hips into Annatar’s hand, even as he massages the throbbing bud which had longed for his touch on the shamefully many nights you had stroked it yourself while thinking of him. You wonder if he can feel how wet you have grown for him even through the fabric of your dress, wantonly hope that he does—

He stops. Even though you haven’t—you are so sure of it, you’ve been so careful. You only cease drawing when he lifts himself from you and you turn to him with a questioning, pleading look.

“Stand,” he instructs simply.

You nearly protest. But you remember yourself, that you are meant to be putting your trust in him, and do as you are told. You are hyperaware of the wetness between your legs as you stand, leaning against the table for support. The haze of desire has left you pleasantly weak.

Annatar steps towards you, facing you fully for the first time since he has begun to touch you intimately, and it is both relieving and electrifying to see that desire darkens his gaze as well as he takes in your breathless state. Taking gentle hold of your chin, he lifts it so your eyes meet his, and not a moment later his lips are upon yours, soft and tender. It’s barely more than a short peck, just enough for you to melt into the kiss only for him to pull away before you can fully savour it. This teasing of his is so maddening, like a game to which the only rule you know is that you either submit to his rules, or forfeit altogether, and you can only hope he will not leave you wanting in the end.

Stepping back, be pushes his robes to the side, and proceeds to unfasten his trousers with relaxed, steady movements under your longing gaze.

He pauses whilst he is still decent, and patiently asks, “Will you welcome my flesh?”

Welcome it? You could think of little else for weeks.

“Yes, my lord,” you murmur.

Only then does he bear himself to your gaze. He is a masterpiece, hard and swollen and glistening at the tip. The state of his cock denotes much more impatience than he demonstrates as he gracefully seats himself in your chair. Your cunt clenches around a gnawing emptiness at the mere sight.

“Return to your seat, then,” he invites with a cheeky little smile.

You find it strange that he has not pulled the chair away from the table, sitting in it as though he means to work there himself, rather than receive you in his lap. But you obey either way, a daze of elation coming over you. It’s such a foreign, illicit feeling, pulling up the skirts of your dress with trembling fingers as you step between the chair and table to face Annatar, ready to straddle him.

Before you can lift one knee onto the chair, he stops it with a gentle but decisive hand.

“I do not believe you have finished the designs,” he says. “Have you?”

Frowning, you give a slow shake of your head. His tone nearly makes you feel like a chastised student. Disoriented, you are nothing but pliant as his hands guide you into turning around so that you are now facing the table. Surely, he cannot mean for you to keep drawing once he is inside you? You could barely manage to control your pencil strokes whilst you sat relatively unmoving with his hands upon you, you could not even manage to find the paper if you begin to ride him.

You are about to ride him. Lord Annatar. The thought banishes any such concerns from your mind, leaving nothing but blinding lust in its wake. He adjusts you so that your legs are bracketing his thighs, pulls your garments out of the way to expose your soaked folds, and guides you down so that the tip of his cock is only just breaching your entrance.

That initial stretch alone pulls a small whimper from you, and you plant your hands on the arms of the chair for support, trying not to make any rash downward movement that might hurt you both. But his hands are strong and so safe on your hips, and you surrender to their guidance as he eases your joining. He slowly teases the tip of his cock in and out of your cunt, each time reaching a little deeper than before, until you cannot take it any longer and and sink onto his length completely.

The stretch pulls a mewl from your throat as you finally settle in his lap. You strive to catch your breath, looking down as if to reassure yourself that this is, indeed, real. Your dress covers the place where he has disappeared inside you, but you are so heavenly filled by the length and girth of him, you fear the sight alone might cost you your sanity. You whine, your eyes falling shut as Annatar pulls you to his chest, one hand pressing down on your belly whilst the other gently wraps around your neck, and he whispers in your ear, “How does this feel?”

Your voice is no more than a trembling whisper, “Wonderful.”

You cannot bear to wait a moment more. You try to circle your hips in his lap, moaning as his cock begins to prod at all the most delightful spots within you—

He plants his hands on your hips, trapping them in a firm hold.

“Be still,” he demands. It’s no easy feat, but you settle down, awaiting his direction. “Good,” he purrs in your ear. “Good. Now...” he pauses, letting you quiver with anticipation, “you shall remain still until you have finished the designs.”

Your eyes shoot open, wide and confused as you twist your head to look at him. There is no trace of jest in his eyes. Even the pleasure he feels in the warm embrace of your cunt is a faint glimmer beneath the surface of his determination, subdued with utter discipline. You realize he truly means his words, and you despair.

“But...” You cannot even make a coherent plea. So dreadful is the thought of enduring the pleasure of having him inside you without pursuing it, you are reduced to little more than a pitiful whine, “My lord—”

“Shh,” he coos, tenderly kissing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, aiming to soothe you as if he is not the very source of your torment. “I know,” he murmurs. “I feel it too. This all-consuming ache to reach fulfillment, this longing for release... the wonders of your mind crave the very same. Open the door to set them free, as you have opened yourself to allow me in. You managed well enough before .”

“Yes, but you were not...” You grimace, clenching around him without meaning to in your anguish. “It’s so deep—”

“And you are so warm. So tight,” he breathes out, hoarse with want. “Yet I shall wait, patiently, for as long as I must. For your sake.”

His tone leaves no room for argument, which only worsens the ache between your legs. But you know by now—either play by his rules, or stop the game altogether.

You sigh, defeated, and nod. “All right.”

Annatar presses a light kiss to your temple, a gesture so sweet and chaste, it makes your head spin as much as his praise. “Good girl,” he rasps out. “Go on, then.”

He offers some support as you will your limbs into cooperating and begin to lean forward, towards the table. The movement jostles his cock within you ever so slightly, and you groan as you withhold from moving your hips in search of any further friction. The position is somewhat awkward, with you leaning over the page from a slightly too high angle, but you plant your elbows on the table and get on with it, determined to see this through.

If someone had told you this was how you would finish the designs—seated in Lord Annatar’s lap, his cock buried snugly inside you, so perfectly stretching you out that it drives you to the brink of insanity—you would have called them a most impolite adjective, and slapped them for good measure. But even less probable, even more scandalous, is that it’s almost easier this way. After a few moments of adjustment, you no longer scratch out attempts before they’ve even begun to take shape, or overthink each stroke of the pencil to the point where you forget what your overall intention had been in the first place. The wonderfully torturous stretch of Annatar’s cock within you takes over that part of your mind, and what is left of it is high on the thrill of it all, the anticipation, the graze of Annatar’s fingers as they trace the occasional languid line along your spine, so tender and encouraging.

The practical knowledge is there, deeply rooted in your mind from years of practice, and the creativity is a gift that’s never truly left you. But it is only now that you finally understand how to let them intertwine without trying to control it, to give in to the flow of inspiration the same way you are giving in to him.

And he keeps his word, sitting silently until the last stroke of your pencil, his hips never once giving the lightest stir. Only when you sit back to show him the finished sketches does he lean forward slightly, taking the paper from your hand as you take deep breaths to cope with the new stimulation.

You plant your hands on his knees for support, nerves filling you now that the creative haze is over. You are left only with great unfulfilled lust, and the creeping doubt that, perhaps, your work is no more adequate than it was before. You’d found a way to push through so far, but you are not sure you could manage such a feat a second time if he asked it of you.

But you would try. You would try anything, if it allowed only the sliver of hope that your Lord Annatar would finally take you, unrestrained and to sweet completion, at the end of it.

To your great relief, when you turn your head, you find him studying the paper with a most appreciative smile.

“See what you can accomplish when you give yourself permission to do so?” he says, caressing your thigh as if in reward. “These are splendid.”

“Thank you, my lord,” you murmur. Before, you would not have dreamed to ask for more than such words of praise. Now, you bite your lip and entreat, “May I... May I, please...?”

“Seek your pleasure?” His voice is knowing, teasing, as if he is not furiously hard within you this very moment. Even after all this, a bout of shyness makes you avert your gaze briefly as you nod. “No,” he says seriously, and your eyes snap to him in alarm. “Not in this manner,” he goes on. “I wish to look upon your face.”

You have no doubt he meant to have your heart lurch in your chest. There is a wicked side to this messenger of the Valar, a shadow hidden within the light with which he surrounds himself. It only arouses you further.

Annatar helps you stand, and the emptiness left behind as he slips from within you would render you an inconsolable mess, if it weren’t for the promise of soon-to-be-found relief. You can’t help but eye his cock, drenched in your arousal and bobbing enticingly as he rises to his feet as well. He sets the precious sketches on the table with care, then turns to you with, at last, unveiled hunger, and reaching to the back of your thighs, hoists you in his arms in one swift move.

You wrap your legs around his waist, cling to his shoulders, and gasp as he carries you to the nearest wall, pressing your back against it. He holds you up effortlessly, even as one hand slips between you to touch your clit directly for the first time. The bundle of nerves has been helplessly throbbing for so long, it only takes a few firm strokes of Annatar’s fingers to have you fall apart with a brisk whimper, burying your face in his neck.

“How sensitive,” he muses, quite content as you pant through the sudden burst of pleasure. “You have craved my touch for a long time, have you not? I admit it has been quite distracting.”

There is the slightest hint of accusation in his voice, and you know he doesn’t just mean since he first touched you today. You must have failed, in all those weeks you worked together, to withhold the lustful thoughts he invoked in your mind from showing in your eyes. And so you had distracted a messenger of the Valar from his work on the crucial task to save all of Middle-Earth.

“Forgive me, my lord,” you whisper into his hair.

“Whatever for?” he asks as though you’ve said the silliest thing. Cupping your face, he tilts your head up so your gaze meets his. “Have you forgotten my name?” he speaks softly. “I am here to give.”

And give, he does. He slides inside you to the hilt, gladly welcomed back by your still-aching cunt, and this time, finally, finally, he withdraws and sinks back in once, then again, thrust after thrust until he builds to a quick rhythm that has you drowning in the pleasure after which you had thirsted for so terribly long. A string of ‘pleases’ leaves your throat, unbidden, even though you can hardly ask for more than the stretch of him inside of you, the relentless press and drag against places so sweet and deep within, the ceiling is filled with all the stars in the night sky as you throw your head back against the wall with abandon. Annatar leans in to kiss your neck, his tongue setting your skin even more ablaze. Your sole remaining ability is to moan and cling to him, receiving the pleasure you are being given.

Sauron is deeply satisfied as he takes his own. He has been aching as well, though the Maia is far more skilled at mastering the urges of his flesh. You had been quick to obey, eager to follow his commands, even without his influence nudging at your mind to suit his purpose, which in itself was as pleasurable as having your tight cunt wrapped around him as you worked. And now you are so pliant in his embrace, moaning in sweet submission as you reap the reward he most graciously offers—the very picture of the peaceful surrender he seeks to accomplish through the Rings. If only every being in Middle-Earth would accept the blessing of his authority as easily as you have, they would spare themselves so much wasteful bloodshed.

Perhaps he will keep you safe from it. Perhaps he will keep you to himself.

But you don’t know what is to come, nor would you care as your pleasure crests towards its peak, and you cry out with the force of your release, clenching around Annatar’s cock.

“Thank you,” you mindlessly gasp in between whimpers as he generously fucks you through it, “thank you, thank you, thank you—”

With one last, brutal thrust that pins your hips to the wall, Annatar groans, long and deep as he throbs and spills inside of you. It occurs to you that he has barely made a sound besides his laboured breathing throughout your coupling. Before he even slips out of you, spent, you wonder if you might have the privilege of hearing more in the future.

He is gracious enough, as your high subsides and you catch your breath, to carry you back to your chair. You doubt your legs would support you this very moment. He sets you down, fixes his robes, then stands before you as poised as ever. If it weren’t for the spark of mischief in his eyes, one would think you had done nothing but discuss Ring designs over a cup of tea.

“Thank you, my dear,” he says, retrieving the sketches from the table, “for your most valuable work.” He admires them for a moment, then gives you a knowing smile. “Do not hesitate to ask for my aid, should you need it again.”

With a polite nod, he leaves you sitting in your chair by the table, much as you were when he had found you. Only, at that time, his spend had not been pooling between your legs, and it was hard to imagine it ever would be.

You smile to yourself. What an unconventional emissary, and how lucky you are that the Valar have sent him to guide you in your endeavours. For indeed, you are sure you shall require his assistance again quite soon.

Sequel -> Further inspiration

#annatar x reader #sauron x reader #annatar smut #sauron smut #the rings of power

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l13 · 1 year ago

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what kinda kinks do you think hobie would have? :33

first of all i wanna apologize for this lazy ass writing i'm just UNHINGED i've seen so many hobie edits my mind cannot take this madness i'm seriously in love with him it's not a joke anymore, like i need him bro, I N E E D HIM

NSFW 18+, MDNI

❥ i haven't heard a lot of people say this about hobie but i think he'd REALLY like power exchange, like let my MAN BE A SWITCH PLEASEEEEEE guys please trust me okay hear me out, picture this: hobie laying naked on the bed, chest rising and falling rapidly as you continue to jerk his cock in an torturously slow pace, he's already cum once, so his hips jump every time your fist closes around his tip, and he's groaning, the sound trailing off to a breathy chuckle as he glances up at you, grinning lazily "Y're killin' me, y'know that?" throw in a little nipple play and man's GONEEEE

❥ definitely and i mean DEFINITELY likes dry humping ohhhhh?>>my god??? literally starts as a joke on the rare occasion he sees you bent over, or braced against a counter or smth, he HAS to come and hump you, and it's fine cause you literally do the same thing to him (you're the one that started it). the first time you did it he had laughed the sound giving you goosebumps as he glanced at you over his shoulder with a tiny smirk "You're mental,". but then proceeds to do the same thing to you every chance he gets. One day, you just rolled your hips back against him and the whole vibe changed. You shivered when you heard him inhale sharply from behind you, and his hands circle around your frame to pull you closer. and then he's thrusting against you hard, his clothed cock rubbing against the swell of your ass making you both moan as he drops his head on your shoulder to pant, "About fuckin' time,"

❥ random horny thought and not really a kink: he loves fucking you doggy style in front of a mirror, hand holding you by the throat, his fingers skimming your jaw as he tugs you back to him every time he thrusts forward, his other hand holding onto your ass securely as he snaps his hips against you. And then he's pulling at your throat and suddenly your back is flush against his chest, and the hand that was holding your ass travels around to your pussy to circle at your clit. You're both moaning when you tighten up so much around his cock "Look at you," he's groaning, snapping his hips up instead of forward and your mouth drops open in a silent scream as his cock touches that spongy spot inside you, and he's moaning "Yeah? Right there? You're so fuckin’ pretty, baby, should be fuckin’ illegal," and you're mewling, “You’re so good to me Hobie.. Can feel you so fucking deep inside me oh my God-” “Shit- don’t say that or I’ll cum-” DAAAAAMN okay i got sidetracked again

❥ lil bit of a voyeur maybe, he'd take you even at a secluded space at HQ (would first make sure if you're 100% in tho) he'd fuck you against the wall, with his hand over your mouth as he mutters against your shoulder, "Wanna hear you so fuckin' bad.. but we can't, right? Can't let them know how much of a good girl you are f'me.. Ah, fuuck-S only for my eyes."

❥ CONSENTTTTT consent turns him on so much- and let me explain okay imagine you're just getting ready to suck him off, unbuttoning his jeans, still giggling at his face when you'd said "no, the belts stay on," and then your fingers are finally under the waistband of his boxers and you're looking up at him- "Can I take these off?" and he's so confused bc he's never actually had anyone else ask him that question before "Wh- yes?" and when his cock is finally out in all its glory, and you're licking your lips, you ask again, "Can I touch it?" he can't hold back his smile this time, letting out a giddy laugh, "Baby, 'f course you can, you don't have to ask," idk he just thinks it's the hottest thing ever

❥ extra crack hc cause it just came to me: imagine him being like "You wanna try slapping me in bed?" and you're just looking at him like he's grown two heads but nod slowly nonetheless "....sure?" and then you actually slAP him like 10 minutes later and he's like :C "That felt personal love, m'feelings are kinda hurt." and you're just apologizing over and over and he's laughing at you- "m just playing wit' you. but yeah absolutely not doing that shit again,"

#•ूᡣ𐭩 — hobie #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader smut #spiderpunk x reader #spider punk x reader

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mawvax · 12 days ago

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I’m kind of baffled by the amount of people saying Megatron was right. I totally get being sympathetic to him and his anger but right?

Brother was literally doing the exact same thing as Sentinel by the end of the film. Tearing down the previous government forcefully through violence with justice for the self and only using their own judgement of morality. Hell, he even ripped out Megatronus’s cog like Sentinel - dude is probably rolling in the allspark from this desecration of his cog.

Not to mention? Trying to kill OP again to make it stick??? Cause the first time didn’t?? I get being angry and done staying the “follower” like you have been your whole life, but oh my days. The crashout is galaxy threatening - above all, he needs a therapist. Get Rung in this universe.

How in the span of a few hours he villainizes Orion in his mind from being his best friend to another lying leader just like Sentinel is mind boggling. Never seen a person get more blinded by rage.

By all means, Orion could and should have been a better friend and listener - but he did NOTTT deserve all that aftermath.

Sentinel SHOULD die imo - there’s no argument against that. But it should be done fairly through the people and not decided by one mech. Maybe they even decide on something more fitting than a fast death. A new peaceful age really shouldn’t begin with an execution.

Optimus was more worried about exposing the truth to the people, while Megatron was more worried about tearing out the lie for his revenge.

Also, the “why did he banish Megatron?”. Like, what ELSE could he do??

1. he's absolutely dangerous. This mech was just about to singlehandedly take Cybertron's future into his own hands with the support of the old high guard behind him.

2. Optimus can't kill him - one, he still cares too much despite one murder and another attempted murder on himself by Megatron. Two, that would be massively hypocritical of him.

3. He sure as hell can't arrest Megatron - can you imagine the fallout? Optimus arresting another new faction leader as one himself immediately; it's asking for the High Guard to a fight without anyone to even arrest them in the first place.

So can’t kill him, can’t arrest him, sure as hell cannot hug and makeup - 1. You just tried to kill me again?? 2. You’re probably going to try again??? I don’t trust you anymore too after you literally killed me. The last words you said and I heard as I DIED was “I’m done saving you.” - so really, banish him and hope for the best when they meet again. (It goes the worst possible way)

#ramble #tf one #Megatron #Optimus #d 16 #orion pax

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roseblog-rog · 3 months ago

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Dog of War Changed My Life For the Better

Okay, I know a smut fic doing that sounds silly, but trust me this post is really important.

I wanna take a moment to talk about Mindcrank’s HDG fic Dog of War. Now I could go on and on about how well it’s written, how engaging the story is, how…hot it gets 😵‍💫…but that’s not what I’m here to do. No, I want to talk about the part that really helped me come to an important realization: Princess’ plurality.

//spoilers ahead for DoW up to the end of chapter 33

While not the center of the story, Princess’ plurality is an integral part of their character, being explored and explained throughout the fic. They were, as the fic has said, “two parts of one whole.” Now, to cut to the chase, the specific moment that woke me the fuck up was towards the end of chapter 31, where Princess and her other half “cut themselves in two.” The moment itself sent me into hysterics, prompting a full on panic attack and spiral. I was not only scared for Princess, actually having to contact a friend who had already read the whole thing to confirm her other half would come back, but also for myself.

Because you see, what made this moment so raw and powerful for me is that I too am plural. It’s a fairly recent realization, one that I am only just coming to terms with after reading this, but I did much of the same thing as Princess did. My alter, Skye, is the conglomeration and personification of years and years’ worth of repressed and stifled feelings. Emotions I hated having and experiencing, pushing them away in fears I would hurt someone. Being pushed down and getting cramped together for so long resulted in a fairly recent personification of these repressed emotions. It was terrifying, making it all the more likely I completely lose myself in the feelings, quite literally losing control of myself. Despite the personification, as well as the few times they fronted being almost completely non-harmful, I continued to push them away, down and down until I couldn’t feel their presence at all. I believed I hated them and everything they stood for, having intense trauma towards the feelings of anger and numbness that originally sparked Skye’s formation.

But when I read the moment where that same thing happens to Princess, seeing that split secondhand and not knowing if her other half would ever come back, I screamed out in pain. I realized I didn’t want to lose Skye, that we too were “two parts of one whole.“ I didn’t want to lose them, I don’t want to lose them. I was SCARED. When that breakdown ended, I finally realized that I couldn’t push my other half away anymore.

It will still be an arduous process of healing for the both of us, and it will definitely take a long time before they’re right up at the front with me, side by side, but it’s a start. And when Princess’ own other half came back, saying “we don't truly exist without both reflections, we can't be apart for long”, I couldn’t help but feel the same about myself. Or, I guess, my selves.

Long-winded ramble aside, I wanted to thank @magicalgirlmindcrank for not only producing an absolutely beautiful and incomprehensibly hot story, but also for helping me realize that I’ve been pushing my other half away for far too long. Words cannot describe how grateful I am.

And if anyone reading this is also plural, or going through a crisis of realization or something else of the sort, know that you are not alone. While the journey will be perilous, know that you too will find peace with your selves.

Thanks for listening, I really appreciate it.

#hdg #human domestication guide #dog of war #plurality

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that-was-anticlimactic · 4 months ago

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i will never understand how or why the httyd movies did the books such an injustice.

the movies aren't even an adaptation - they stole the name of the series, the name of some of the characters and places, and the general idea that there are dragons. honestly, i would be fine with the movies and maybe even like them if they didn't capitalize off of cressida cowell's incredible books that never get any credit.

the books are an amazing story about the cycle of violence and how vengeance and revenge is dangerous. hiccup says that the past is a ghost story, one we need to learn from to better ourselves. the books are about how everyone deserves freedom, how every creature, every being on the earth deserves to be free. we see that in the slavemark, with the dragons.

and like... hiccup is so different. they did him a severe injustice. he's scrawny and intelligent and learned to talk to dragons simply by observing them! he chooses kindness first above all else; instead of yelling at toothless to train him, he is kind. and in the end, that kindness is why toothless chose to save him. bc even toothless himself says that dragons are inherently selfish creatures who care only for their survival. hiccup is brave - his beliefs differ drastically from both the vikings and the world.

hiccup is a child who chose to do the right thing even at the expense of himself. he agreed to free the slaves on nobert's ship, and in return, they gave him the slavemark which is easy to give but cannot be removed. he was like twelve. and having the slavemark means he cannot be with his tribe or his family, it means he isn't considered a human being anymore. and he keeps it a secret for awhile until it's revealed and when it is everyone turns their backs on hiccup. his family, his tribe, his mentor, people he TRUSTED. everyone except fishlegs, and, once she got over the shock, camicazi. he was thirteen. and even when he lost his memories and was really injured, he persisted. he was told to go to tomorrow and to save the dragons and he did bc in his heart he knew it was right even though he didn't know who he was or how he got there.

and fishlegs,,, oh my god FISHLEGS!!! the did him SO DIRTY!!! fishlegs is hiccup's best friend, one of the main motivators for hiccup. he steals norbert's potato for the sake of fishlegs, he gives fishlegs his dragon and goes to retrieve another, he takes the blame for fishlegs. and fishlegs does the same for him. he takes the slavemark with pride. he refuses to turn. he gives hiccup his lobster claw necklace which is his most prized possession. he is brave for hiccup, he believes hiccup is alive. he fights for hiccup harder than anyone else ever has. he does not turn. his is loyal, has allergies, has asthma, has a squint and a limp, has glasses bc he's blind without them... and he's still a hero despite being a runt, despite everyone even the adults telling him he's hopeless, telling hiccup to leave him behind.

and they cut camicazi! i'm sorry, but astr*d is nothing compared to camicazi. camicazi is a tiny, feral child who can easily best hiccup, fishlegs, and pretty much anyone in a sword fight. she can bring a grown man to tears with her rudery and smack talk. she is recklessly brave and craves adventure and follows hiccup blindly bc she trusts him that much. she isn't in love with hiccup - in fact she doesn't care about romance and love. she gives up everything to help hiccup bc she has a strong sense of justice. she is the motivator, the cheerleader, she finds a positive in everything. she never gives up. literally never gives up. and that's one of the most inspiring things about her: she always has hope.

and toothless! god!!! toothless is *thought to be* a common or garden dragon. he is horrifically tiny, he is literally toothless, and is the biggest brat in the world. he will cause problems on purpose. he has a stutter, he's the most selfless selfish dragon around. he and hiccup can talk to each other. he masks his fear with singing and being annoying. his growth is remarkable. he starts off refusing to obey hiccup, doing the opposite of what he says, making life harder for literally everyone around him, and he's still somewhat like that. but he's also braver, more caring, more willing to make sacrifices for the sake of others. he's clever, which he needs to be to make up for his size and aggression. he protects hiccup with everything he has, therefore, he protects what hiccup cares about just as hard. he was the only dragon that didn't abandon the vikings in the first book bc he cared about hiccup.

and snotlout,,, god,,, i will never forgive the movies for butchering snotlout. hiccup's cousin, the bully character, the one who is horrifically jealous that hiccup's dad was born before his. the one who desperately wants to prove himself, to be worthy, to make people proud. and you hate him, you despise him. he betrays everyone many times bc of the nothing promised to him by alvin and his mom. he loses himself, turns his back on himself, all bc he wants to prove himself. all bc he wants to be better than hiccup. and hiccup still forgives him and gives him chances, sometimes out of pity, but also bc snotlout is his cousin. he can't just turn his back on him no matter how miserable snotlout made his life. and in the end, snotlout sacrifices himself for hiccup. he gives up his life for hiccup in one last attempt to set things right. his death and the events preceding it are one of my absolute favorite moments in the book. gives me chills. makes me cry.

that's the thing with the books - they're so realistic. there is no inherently happy ending where everything works out. the first book begins with "there were dragons when i was a boy", implying that they're gone now. the books show there are consequences to our actions. they enslaved the dragons, they fought against them during the dragon rebellion all bc alvin and his mom said to, and now they're gone bc a simple apology doesn't fix hundreds of years of enslavement. and the only way for the world to move forward was for the dragons to leave and heal on their own. and now they have to learn to live without them. and yeah i've heard the third movie ends like that but. it doesn't have the build up. it doesn't have "there were dragons when i was a boy". it doesn't have eleven books of development to back it up, to make it feel meaningful.

i know that the movies are really special to a lot of people. i know that, on their own, they're genuinely good movies. i can acknowledge that the soundtrack is amazing and the animation is beautiful. i just can't see past the way they butchered the world that i love, the world that i grew up with. i can't see past the way people yelled at me for saying i liked the books better, the way that people gave me weird looks when i showed them a picture of the original toothless, when i tell them that nightfuries aren't even a type of dragon. cressida cowell created hundreds of different dragons, and the movies couldn't even pick from that. i can't forgive the way that barely anyone knows there are books bc the movie barely gives credit to them. i cannot forgive the way they capitalized off the books and then shoved them aside. i know cressida thinks they're good movies and i know a lot of httyd book fans also like them. but i just... i cannot get over how much they changed and how they missed so much and ignored the books. also they got rid of camicazi so hiccup could have a love interest and that is unforgivable to me.

if you disagree, that is a-okay. we're all entitled to our own opinions. i just ask that you, perhaps, try the books out. give them a chance. bc they're amazing works of art and also just like. don't yell at people who don't like the movies? whether it's bc they prefer the books or just aren't into that kind of movie. and just remember that dreamworks didn't come up with the story; cressida cowell did.

#corey talks:)#this has been in my drafts forever but i saw something that made me have feelings and so i finished it and here take this iuygfcvghuij #i justgod the books are SO GOOD and barely anyone knows theyexist #and i think that's what makes me the kost upset #or some [people chose to ignore they exist or don't give them a chance bc... i don't even know why. ppl are just so quick to dismiss them #the books are so important to me (literally got a httyd book tattoo) and i get most book fans also like the movies #but it sucks bc i can't go through the httyd tag without being bombarded with movie stuff #i'll even look up 'httyd books' and half of it is still about the movies.#i'll look up snotface snotlout and only finds movie stuff even tho ig they changed his last name in the movies???#i'll look up camicazi and find it filled with astr*d. WHAT.#i'll look u toothless and only see the freaking nightfury. not the original.#like god movie enjoyers at least tag correctly. i get you want ppl to see your posts but the more i see movie stuff in the book tag the mor #i hate the movies lol like the movies are so much more popular than the books let us have our tags okay #sorry if any of this sounds bitter also i hope it doesn't sound like i want to argue or fight #this is just my opinion and i have feelings and i just want ppl to know there are books #also i am not shaming anyone who likes the movies like i already said you do you boo just don't come at me for doing me #bc yes that has happened to me multiple times :) which is one reason why i get so upset :)#i just personally cannot separate the two. i know some ppl can and i'm glad! but i can't and that's okay too #httyd #httyd books

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ninchen1909 · 1 year ago

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Side by Side

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless x Reader

Warnings: Death, angst, fluff, best friends to lovers

Word count: ~2.800

"Ivar, please think straight now. You cannot sail with Ragnar, you will die, he is no longer the great king everyone took him for. He has left you and your brothers alone for many moons, and you have always been loyal to him, always believing in his soon return. But he is no longer a warrior, he has lost his trust in the gods and they have lost faith in him. How can you still follow him like an orphaned dog?"

The steady sound of his crutches dies away as he drops into one of the wooden chairs. For the first time since he revealed to me that he wants to sail to England with his father, his eyes find mine. Ice blue gazes bore into my iris, making me forget to breathe for a few moments.

"(y/n), he is still my father...."

"Yes your father, the one who abandoned you and who now has to pay warriors to sail with him. Quite some time ago, it was everyone's greatest honor to go on plunder with your father, but those days are long gone. Your father's time is over Ivar, you are sailing to your certain death if you follow him."

Ivar's grip on his crutch tightens and I realize he is struggling with his anger. I am also aware that he would have killed, or at least maimed, anyone else who would speak of his father in such a way. But beeing best friends for many years, seems t to allow me certain privileges.

"(y/n)..."

"No Ivar, why are you so intent on sailing to England with him. You can make a name for yourself here and achieve great things. You can stay with me, we will find a way to bring you glory. Isn't it enough for you to be with me? A plunder in England, moreover without a proper army, is far too dangerous for a man like you..."

As soon as the last of these words leaves my lips, I realize that I have made a big mistake. Horrified, I clasp my hands in front of my mouth, my eyes widen in shock, and I watch tensely as Ivar stands up with the help of his crutch and stumbles a few steps toward me. The look in his eyes squeezes the air out of my lungs and I feel like I'm becoming a blood eagle myself.

"Ivar, please..."

"A man like me? What are you trying to say with that?"

"Ivar..."

"Shut up..."

Abruptly, I close my mouth and bury my teeth in my lower lip, the vile taste of iron spreading across my tongue.

"I really thought that at least you wouldn't see me as a cripple, that at least you...my best friend, the person I trust the most and who occupies the most space in my heart, would see me as more than a failed man."

Everything in me cries out to apologize, to tell Ivar that I didn't mean it, but the look in his eyes alone tells me all I need to know.

"And coming back to your question, no, being here with you is not enough. YOU are not enough."

I can literally feel the color draining from my face and I'm sure in that moment that a blood eagle wouldn't have hurt as much as his words. My lower lip begins to tremble suspiciously and my eyes fill with tears.

"Ivar...please...you don't mean that."

"I mean every word I said exactly as I said it..."

The coldness in his voice makes me shiver and the first tears fall from my eyes, tracing a fine trail down my cheek to my collarbone.

"....and now go, I don't want to see you anymore. And even if I die in England, it's better than living an insignificant life here with you."

After these words, he turns his back to me and I watch in despair as he disappears into the back rooms of the great hall. Loud sobs escape my throat and I feel my legs give way as I fall to the cold stone floor. My desperate sounds echo off the stone walls and I bury my head in my hands to avoid seeing anything. A few weeks later, the news of Ragnar's next great raid spreads through the streets of Kattegat. Again and again I try to talk to Ivar, to convince him to stay with me, or at least to be able to apologize so that we don't part in a quarrel. But each time I am met anew by one of his brothers, each of them desperately trying to explain to me that Ivar must do this to prove himself a true Viking. I know they are right, I know that Ivar desires nothing more than to prove himself worthy in the eyes of his father. However, this does not prevent me from caring for him. To be scared for him.

So it happens that a few weeks later I am standing on the dock and watching with eyes clouded over with sadness as Ivar ponderously makes his way to the ship. His gaze wanders again and again, searching, almost longingly over the crowd of people that has gathered on the pier. It gives the impression that he is searching for someone, as if he is on the lookout for someone. For a brief moment I hope that it is me he seems to be looking for, however, his words keep coming to my mind, deeply burned into my heart. Which is why I quickly banish the thought of him looking for me from my mind and push further into the background of the crowd.

My heart sinks as I watch the ships begin to move and Ivar moves further and further away from Kattegat and therefore away from me, unsure of whether we will ever see each other again or if the news of Ivar the Boneless's death will soon haunt Kattegat.

Many moons pass, the pain in my heart seems to consume me, every day I wake up hoping that things would get better, easier. But rather the opposite is the case, every day I send pleading and begging to Odin, promising him a great sacrifice, all so that Ivar, my Ivar returns safe and sound. Even if he will not speak a single word to me in his entire life, I still want him to return in one piece.

Winter is approaching Kattegat in great strides, the few things that grow here have already been harvested and everyone is diligently preparing for the impending cold that will soon come over Kattegat.

Light sweat forms on my forehead as I throw the last ingredients for my stew into the large cast-iron pot in the center of my hut. The warmth spreads comfortably as the open fire casts mysterious shadows through the cabin.

I wince abruptly as a loud, muffled knock shakes my front door, puzzled as to who would be disturbing me at this late hour, I don't move from the spot.

"(y/n) it's me....please open the door."

A soft gasp escapes my lips as I move with quick steps to the door, a loud noise ringing out as I let it crash backwards against the wall. But all this could not be more irrelevant to me at this moment. Eyes widening, I look at the hunched person in front of me, half his weight propped up on my door frame, while his other hand holds a tight grip onthe crutch next to him.

"Ivar..."

My emerging joy however is quickly shattered by the sight of him, swollen, heavily reddened eyes staring back at me, making the blue of his eyes shine even more strongly. His whole form seems to have fallen apart, deep worry lines run through his beautiful features. At this moment, he looks like a broken man.

"May I come in?"

His broken voice startles me out of my dull thoughts and I take a step to the side, nodding to give him enough room.

With a loud sigh, he lowers himself onto the wooden bench next to the fire, for a moment closing his eyes in pleasure as the heat of the flames caresses his skin. Silently I watch him for a moment, soaking up the sight of him, trying to make my heart understand that he is really sitting here in front of me.

"Would you like something to eat? I put on some fresh stew."

His silent nod is answer enough and just a few minutes later, I fill two wooden bowls full of stew before holding one of them up to Ivar. He accepts it with a grateful smile and sinks the first spoonful into his gullet.

An awkward silence spreads between us, the quarrel before his departure still hanging over our friendship like a test of endurance, unspoken questions on my tongue but not daring to leave my lips. The sound of wood on wood startles me from my thoughts, and I watch as Ivar sets his bowl down on the floor in front of him before rubbing his hands together in a warming motion.

"Thank you."

Noisily, I swallow my bite before replying.

"You're welcome."

Briefly, an uncomfortable silence threatens to fall over us again, but Ivar breaks it faster than it could have spread.

"My father is dead."

With a loud noise, the bowl slips through my frozen fingers, the stew spreading at my feet, seeping into the spaces between the wooden boards on the floor.

"Ivar..."

"My father is dead."

A glazed expression enters his eyes and only a few seconds later the hut is filled with Ivar's sobs, his whole body is shaken with sobs and he buries his head in his hands.

It takes a moment for me to really process his words, for their meaning to really settle into my inner being. With careful steps, I move toward the man in front of me and carefully place my hands on his shoulders. A silent cry escapes me as he pulls me onto his lap without warning and buries his face between my breasts. Without thinking about it for long, I begin tenderly stroking through his full, brown hair. The individual strands glide gently through my fingers, leaving a pleasant feeling on my skin. Again and again I whisper words of encouragement in his ear, but even when his body has calmed down and his breathing seems even again, he doesn't even think about loosening his grip on my body or putting distance between us.

Only when the fire is extinguished, and the cold has returned to the hut as the darkness is broken only by the few candles that I have lit, I lean back a little, causing his face to slip from my chest with a discontented sound.

A mixture of sadness and weariness lie in his eyes, any radiance gone from them as he presses into the motions of my hand almost longingly.

"When's the last time you really slept?"

A worried expression comes to my face as a guilty glint flits across his features.

"It's been a while."

With a careful movement, I rise from his lap, careful not to break his vulnerable bones.

"Let's make sure you get some sleep this night then."

A short time later, we are now lying pressed tightly together in my narrow bed. What gave me a sense of security and friendship back when I was a child now comes with a fast-beating heart and an unfamiliar blush to my cheek. But Ivar doesn't seem to feel any different.

"It's been some time since we've been in the same bed together," he says.

"Yes, the last time was when we were children."

A hotter laugh escapes his throat.

"Yeah, everything was easier then..."

His words just a whispered sentence, soon lost in the darkness of the room. Silence overtakes us and for a few moments I think that Ivar has already fallen asleep. But the sudden emergence of his voice proves me wrong.

"I want to apologize...for everything I said to you back then. You were, are and will always be the most important person in my life. I'm sorry for making you feel like you weren't."

His words send a warm shiver through my body, a pleasant warmth spreads in the pit of my stomach, and a wide smile creeps onto my lips.

"An apology from Ivar the Boneless. Thank you gods for letting me live to hear this."

"If you tell anyone, I'm afraid I'll have to kill you."

The joking undertone of his voice elicits a bright laugh from me and I search for his with my hand, carefully sliding my fingers between his and then interlocking them together. Tentatively, Ivar begins to draw delicate patterns on the back of my hand with his thumb.

"You know what was odd?"

"What?"

Asking, I turn my head toward the sound of his voice.

"During all that time, even when we were in captivity and my father's fate had been sealed. I could only think of you. At the time when it was not clear whether I could ever again perceive the bustle and smell of Kattegat, I could only think of you. Your face, your laugh, the way you squinted your eyes when I tried to explain something to you, your stubbornness, your gentle fingers running through my hair...it was all I could think about. I hated myself for not saying goodbye to you, that the last words I said to you were not the loving, tender words you deserved, but the words of a scared little boy..."

"Ivar...."

With a jerky movement I sit up and look down at him . The light from the candle on the nightstand casts a, warm orange glow on his face, making his skin glow and his eyes sparkle.

"Please let me finish. I don't know if I'll ever be able to muster the courage again, if not now...."

A silent nod from me is all he needs in response, as all at once he lifts our still joined hands to his lips, leaving a tender kiss on each of my fingertips before continuing.

"...With each night that I have not been able to be close to you, I have come to understand the real reason why you can upset me so, why only your opinion matters to me, and why your doubts about me and my manhood, my ability to plunder have hurt me so deeply..."

"Why?"

My voice is just a hotter whisper as I wait in anticipation and excitement for his next words.

"Because I love you. Because the stupid crush I had on you as a child has turned into a real, true love."

Tears of emotion rise in my eyes and run down my cheek in hot, salty trails.

"Ivar..."

"I love you (y/n), so much."

My incredulous laughter fills the darkness and I can't help but bridge the distance between us, pressing my lips to his, lit by the candlelight. A surprised sound escapes him before he joins in my steady movements and returns my caresses. Our lips mould together and moving in perfect harmony. A hot gasp escapes his lips, swollen from kissing, as I finally break away from them. He lovingly strokes individual strands from my face before letting his cool hand rest on the overheated skin of my cheek. Amazement and joy are clearly readable from his eyes.

"Does that mean....?"

"I love you too Ivar..more than you can imagine." With a loud, hearty laugh, he wraps his arms around my body and pulls me onto his torso. I can feel his pronounced abdominal muscles clearly through my thin sleeping robe as he does so, his body heat surrounds me and again and again I noticed how he presses tender kisses on the crown of my head.

My head, meanwhile, rests on his chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat calming my senses and allowing an inner peace to settle over my body.

"I will go back to England to join my brothers in revenge for our father's death."

I can clearly feel his body tense beneath me after those words, much like he's afraid of my answer. Which I can't blame him for after our last argument.

"I know. And this time, I'll go with you. Side by side"

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #vikings #vikings imagine #vikings ivar #vikings x reader #ivar fluff #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar angst

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runninguplenorahills · 2 years ago

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I just wanted to remind everyone that no matter how much better Lenora objectively was for Will than Hawkins, he was not happy there!

Will might’ve not been bullied in Lenora but he had no friends either which was not a deliberate decision btw. I see a lot of people claiming that Will could’ve made friends if he wanted to but didn’t because he rather spent time with El and I just don’t think that’s the case. Will is not an extroverted person who makes the first step when it comes to making new friends. He’s introverted in general and shy when he’s surrounded by people he doesn’t know so making friends is a struggle for him in general and has nothing to do with him sticking with El in Lenora. And while we don’t know anything specific about if Dustin and Lucas sent letters or called Will, we do know that Mike did not. Furthermore it’s canon that Jonathan wasn’t really there for Will during the time spent in Lenora either and while it is never specifically said it is heavily and obviously implied, it’s shown, that Will was in utmost need of his brother’s help and support! And El did not replace Jonathan in that aspect! Jonathan being distant from Will does not and did not equal Will and El becoming close on the level that Will and Jonathan are. I know I talk about this a lot (that willel isn’t as close in canon) but I just had to say it again because to me it seems really clear that a lot of people think that Jonathan not being there for Will somehow led to Will and El sticking together. Like it’s them against the world while that was never the case ever! Will did not once seek comfort in El because Will didn’t simply need a sibling, he needed Jonathan. Jonathan and Will have a close and deep bond and it’s unique because Jonathan isn’t just fulfilling the role of a sibling for Will. So Jonathan cannot just be replaced by another sibling or anyone at all. Point is, when Will realized Jonathan was being distant he started bottling up everything he wanted to talk about. He did not talk to El instead because quite frankly, they don’t have that kind of relationship (El also didn’t tell Will about her and Mike’s problems and the lying).

So Will had no friends in Lenora, he almost lost all connection to his closest friend whom he’s also in love with and his big brother whom he could always count on for support wasn’t really there for him either. Mike and Jonathan are literally the two people Will always knew he could trust with anything because he knew they’d understand in one way or another. But then neither of them was there for him anymore for reasons unknown to Will which lead him to feel as though he can’t talk to either of them anymore. He wanted to talk to them! Desperately! But he just couldn’t. And all of a sudden Will was all alone. Lenora wasn’t fresh and happy and so much better than Hawkins. Lenora was lonely.

Did Lenora allow more room for personal development due to the lack of the upside down and bullying/rumors? Of course it did. Will’s willingness to make and present a project about Alan Turing is hinting at some positive development. In that aspect Lenora was better for Will than Hawkins but in every other aspect it wasn’t, simply because Will was on his own.

The fact that Will felt lost and alone in Lenora is also important for byler’s love story btw. Will telling Mike that he felt lost without him throughout the months he’s spent in Lenora is so significant because it’s a reply to Mike telling Will: “It’s Hawkins. It’s not the same without you.” Mike has called Hawkins his home throughout his entire life but once Will wasn’t there anymore the feeling of being at home left as well. And Will could move anywhere with his family but if Mike’s not there he feels lost nonetheless. The place where they feel like they belong is not a place at all, it’s the state of being together. Will feels found with Mike and Mike feels at home with Will. Mike makes Will feel better for being different and Will makes Mike feel like he’s not alone. Hawkins, Lenora, that doesn’t matter because it’s not about the place!

Will not being happy in Lenora without Mike is exactly as important as Mike not being happy in Hawkins without Will. Erasing that creates a different narrative, destroys the story they’re trying to tell. Simply because people are making it seem like Will can do just fine without Mike while Mike loses his mind without Will which is just not the case. The whole of s4 showed us that Will is not happy without Mike and that he needs him! Will literally tells Mike that he’d fall apart without him and still there are people that try to depict Will as having a good time in Lenora without Mike. Feeding into Mike’s insecurities and undermining Will’s love for Mike! And this is honestly something that makes my blood boil! People who constantly feel the need to undermine Will’s feelings for Mike are completely missing the point.

And this is kinda a different topic but I’ve seen this trend where people headcanon Will to have been on a sports team in Lenora and I just think that these people are once again missing a point that’s been made in the show. Will not being into sports serves a purpose in the telling of his story, It’s a story telling device. And while I do of course know that the focus is on baseball specifically, baseball seems to stand as a symbol for sports in general which then again are a symbol for conforming to society. Being into sports is what society thinks you should be into as a boy. “You shouldn’t like things just because people tell you you’re supposed to” is what Jonathan tells Will in s1 in regards to Will going to baseball games with Lonnie. Will does not like baseball = Will does not like sports = Will does not conform to societal standards. And Lonnie dragging him to the baseball/sports games is him trying to force Will to conform to societal standards. And Basketball was this big symbol of forced conformity in s4. Therefore being into sports and joining a team in Lenora totally defeats the purpose of a rather important story telling device in canon and therefore just isn’t compatible with the character. I’m of course well aware that Will wore a letterman jacket in the stranger things experience clips but owning a letterman jacket doesn’t automatically equal being on a sports team. It was a popular fashion item in the 80’s just like it is today. And I think it’s more likely that Will wore the jacket because he liked the jacket and not because he’s on a sports team because, again, that’d be missing the point. And as I said, the Alan Turing project hints at positive development while Will joining a sports team would hint at negative development so it simply doesn’t make sense for Will to have been on a sports team in Lenora.

#byler #time for lenora’s opinion #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things

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cuddlyscribe · 1 year ago

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Hello! I hope you don't mind but may I request fem or gn dating headcanons (sfw & nsfw) of Hwoarang, Steve Fox, and Forest Law from Tekken please? - 🌱

🌱 anon??? you are speaking my language!! some of my fave tekken characters here and so underrated! hope you enjoy! ❤️

[TEKKEN MASTERLIST]

sfw

Dating Steve Fox is very similar to what it would be like to date a celebrity. He's been in more than his fair share of Iron Fist tournaments, and was well known for being a boxing prodigy well before that.

You get to enjoy all the trappings of dating a famous athlete, all of which is enhanced by the fact that Steve just naturally wants to spoil you rotten.

And if you knew Steve before he became a boxing champion, you know that that's always how he's been; doesn't matter if he had two million dollars or two dollars, he is treating you like a queen.

Plus he's just such a gentleman. You will have people turning heads with the way he treats you.

Steve will literally carry you over a puddle because he doesn't want you to worry about messing up your shoes, or encourage you to talk about things you're passionate about in public so he can show off to other people how amazing you are.

If you want a man that's gonna be obsessed with you and everything you do, Steve is the one you want.

nsfw

Despite how intimidating he might look on the outside to everyone else, Steve is such the ultimate softie. Like the kind to pour his soul out to you while he's hitting it from the back.

It might be an unpopular opinion, but I think Steve is a bit of a sub. And if not a full-blown one, then at the very least he's got to be a switch.

Steve has been on his own for most of his life and hasn't ever gotten the chance to fully relinquish himself to anyone, to let himself release his control and his fear.

Being submissive with you means not being afraid anymore, and he trusts you so much to show such a side of himself.

He also is a NOISY guy... Like all my people that love a man that moans in their ear? Steve does that and then some.

Steve is also the master of begging; good luck holding out for even a fraction of a second against this hunk of a man on his hands and knees, desperate to taste you at any cost.

sfw

Arrogant, snarky Hwoarang. The bastard is irresistible, really, once you really get to know him. Chances are you'll hate each other before that happens, though.

He loves to annoy you with his constant flirting, always standing just close enough to watch you squirm and blush. And being as tall and broad-shouldered as he is, he figures it's easy to get you flustered.

For my friends that are masters of banter, you're in luck. Hwoarang can take as much as he gives, so go all out. He loves seeing you get fired up, especially if it's directed at him.

When you're dating, Hwoarang just soaks up your attention. When you're talking to him, spending time with him, he simply cannot get enough of it. It's like an addiction.

Expect him to get a bit pouty if he's not the center of your attention for a bit. He won't be toxic about it, of course, but he will give you puppy dog eyes for as long as you can stand it, which he bets will not be long at all.

nsfw

Hwoarang being cocky translates perfectly to the bedroom. The man is a dom through and through and he loves it. But particularly being the caring, loving dom that emphasizes aftercare.

He will fuck you for hours and hours, until you feel like your legs are jelly and your thighs burn, and Hwoarang will have energy to spare. What with his kind of stamina and enthusiasm, he knows you're sure to be tuckered out.

Let this man pull your hair because you will love what he does. It's a gentle but firm tug, one that burns ever so slightly but adds an extra layer of feeling. It will have your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

He also loves giving you the illusion of control. You can ride him and let him eat you out, boss him around even, but Hwoarang knows that he can instantly be the one in charge because he knows your weaknesses so well.

But cleanup, getting water, all the kisses and cuddles, Hwoarang has got it covered. He knows he can be rough, and the least he can do is take care of you with all his heart afterwards.

sfw

The polar opposite of the initial Hwoarang Experience™️, getting to know Forest Law is literally the most pleasant experience ever.

He is very energetic and friendly, and when he sees you for the first time (and falls head over heels) he doesn't hesitate to come up to you and introduce himself. Please prepare for his attempts at impressing you.

And dating him is just as exciting and wholesome. Like you can imagine the kinds of crazy adventures you two get up to; it's never a dull moment in the Law house.

It's also a must that you know his dad. Forest and Marshall are super close and train together a lot, so chances are you will see his father a ton. But don't worry, as long as you treat his son right then he will be a big fan of you.

Forest is not very rich and thus doesn't have the means to take you on fancy dates. But that doesn't matter much; it's the thought that counts!

His favorite places to take you are on long walks in the city at night to admire the lights and people watch. Then afterwards you can watch him beat up street criminals and get ice cream after.

nsfw

Forest is extremely gentle, perhaps to an extreme. Because he's so ripped and possesses the ability to break nearly any solid object in half, the last thing he wants to do is hurt you.

Now he won't treat you like a glass figurine or anything, but he naturally just wants to not be aggressive or rough. It's kind of just how he is.

This man will fuck you slow and with so much feeling behind every little movement. And being as enormous as he is, he will make sure you can take every inch of his cock comfortably before he starts to move.

Will shower you with pet names and chant your name over and over because you make him feeling incredible. Like this man adores you so much and you are his world! He can't fathom how he got so lucky.

Forest also just loves when you tell him how good he's making you feel. That way he can just make you cum over and over again, which is quite possibly what heaven would look like for him.

#smuttyscribe #tekken #tekken x reader #tekken x y/n #tekken x you #tekken steve fox #steve fox #Steve fox x reader #Steve fox smut #hwoarang #Hwoarang x reader #hwoarang smut #forest law #tekken forest law #forest law x reader #forest law smut #cuddly.anon.🌱

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