#like he says he likes being private and its like !! you are so right king gatekeep your life from us- its none of our business !!!

[technolilly]

This is the funniest comment I've ever seen everyone else go home

[yanderemommabean]

Silly Royal Yandere Idea-

Imagine being a worker for a royal family, you're a farmer who brings the goods to the kitchen every day and make sure all vegetables and fruits are fresh, not bruised, cleaned and ready to be prepared for their meals.

You usually make the trek alone, no big deal right? Just some heavy baskets and such but the job itself isn't really that bad. It's made even better actually when the young prince finds he fancies the way you work and how you farm, loves to walk with you on your way out of the kingdom and listen to you and your stories.

He's cute, you'll give him that. Curious and finally able to explore without much of an issue now that he's finished his training, his father boasting proudly today even that they shall share a feast in celebration.

The walks are nice, you aren't alone and are even safer as the highwaymen shrink away and know to stay back when they see such fierce eyes. Those calloused hands from fighting and training lay on your hips, pulling you closer to his side as you share yet another walk to your farm and get the baskets ready for another delivery.

These sweet meetings grow in size as time goes on. He's been given permission by the king and queen to bring you to the main rooms of the castle, though they aren't too happy that he disregards their rules about what you can and can't touch.

He's so puppy-like, grabbing your hand and pulling you everywhere he can, showing his favorite art, his instruments he's been playing while he waits for you to return, the things he requested be made to remind him of you, and some other odd but - at the time- well meaning items.

The prince however gets more and more demanding of your presence. So much so, that one morning you wake up to begin to water the crops and fetch some in your buckets but you opened the door to the man standing there, royal suit and all, a wide smile on his face as he greets you.

You insist you'll be at the castle soon, that you have work to be done, but he just pushes you forward as he walks with you, -not harsh, but definitely firm, making sure you couldn't turn away from him as he leads you.

"Just one day can't hurt right?" he says, "I just wish to spend the day with you, only you. It's why I took my own horse! He loves your carrots, you know? Only yours...He's very much like me in that regard". 

You decide that, on one hand, denying the prince anything could be dire, the royal family having all say in what is done and you're lucky they have been so benevolent. Risking your business because you didn't want to indulge the odd prince...It isn't worth the reward of just keeping up with the crops and farm work. 

But this one day out by the river and having the man buy you whatever you laid your eyes on, while sweet and very enjoyable, wasn’t enough. He shows up every morning now, you hear how exhausted his parents are when you reach the castle every time, they demand he act right, that he stop leaving without notifying any of the guards, but he just laughs it off and says “Why should they embark with me on my and my lovers adventures? Private matters are private father, remember?” 

They know what's going on but it's so much darker and more twisted than anyone could have imagined. Boundaries get pushed more and more, you keep trying to keep your farm alive for not just the royal family, but yourself and the others who need you too, but the prince insists that your time is to be spent with him, only him. 

It reaches its boiling point when you deny him a walk. No runs to the river, no waltz in the woods, not even a chat over tea. Your farm is sick, it needs tending, and you yourself are weary and exhausted from trying to balance it all out. 

He goes silent, hands clenching at his side for a moment before he just smiles, wide and friendly as usual, and he kisses your hand before apologizing. You assure him you aren’t exactly mad, you just have things to finish, and he at least seems to understand that. 

Or, so you thought. You crack open your eyes after waking up in a bed that wasn’t yours, hearing the horses outside neigh and chuff in terror as if something was very very wrong. You recognize the royal emblem on the wall, and you shoot straight up, knowing this was a carriage. You shove and knock on the doors, the smell of smoke filling your senses as you can only imagine the worst, but the heavy wood doesn’t budge and you can only make out garbled words as a man screams demands. 

You manage to break open the boarded window of the carriage and watch as your farm is engulfed in flames, horses neighing in terror, ashes falling all around, your cabin falling in on itself from the blaze. And you gaze upon what you can only assume is the incarnation of death and war itself, a sign of the end times, as the Prince rides up on his own horse and tosses a lantern, the blaze only erupting hotter as he cackles in triumph. 

You feel horrified tears well up in your eyes, so many emotions coming together at once. Everything you worked for, everything you had built from the ground up, all your memories and all of your belongings- gone. 

Ash and embers fill the sky as the knights who came begin marching back to the carriage, staffs in hand as they finally open the doors. You lunge, wanting to tear your teeth into the heart of that evil, sick, twisted man, but he just laughs. It’s a soft amused laugh like when you told him your stories in the market or on your many many walks. 

“Ah, I hadn’t expected that mixture to wear off so soon!” he boasts, stepping down from his own horse. His stride is slow, like he’s taking in the view of a beautiful field or admiring someones art. You want to spit at him, claw at him, break him in any way you could fathom. 

His feet stop, the crumbling building behind him still a blazing orange and red, opposite of the cold features the prince wore on his face. His hand comes to gently cup your cheek, his thumb stroking across where tears are falling down your heated cheek. “Why so upset? I took care of what was keeping you away from me! I know, I know, you’re sad, but I made sure nothing of importance was hurt! Which wasn’t much. A picture or two should still be safe-” he says with an expression of after thought. “ Anyway, dearest, I fixed the issue! And you can now come where you’re meant to be! “ “I’ll kill you-” “Ah, even when murderous and livid you strike my heart with your beauty. Do tell me every wicked way you wish to end me! It thrills me, makes my skin crawl so pleasantly imagining you touching me in any manner” he taunts, squeezing your face a bit tighter. “Be it anger and resentment or true love, I’ll relish any touch you bring to me” “My lord, the sun will rise soon” a deep voice says from the side, your own eyes too stunned to look, uncaring as everything else sets in. Your home is gone, your fields are ruined, your possessions all roasted and incinerated. Nothing left but the haunting image of burned rubble and some charred remains of any item you owned. 

You’re trapped. Imprisoned in a golden cage as this wild man declares that he and you are meant to be, whether you want it or not. 

“Get some rest darling. I’ll lead us back to the castle” He says with a kiss to your forehead, allowing the knights to force you back inside. “Don’t be so angered! I promise to treat you like royalty! Since you will be, once the marriage is announced and all”

(Hope you liked this! Feel free to comment and tell me your thoughts! Especially spicy ones :3c -Mommabean)

[ladyempty]

Hello dear! Can you do daemons reaction to his darling being set to be viserys (his brothers) new wife?

"Only a dragon can love another dragon"

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life. | ° | pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Sister!Reader ° | English is not my first language

For Daemon it was a mix of troubled emotions. Anger, sadness and the bitter taste of betrayal. As soon as the news reached his ears, an uncontrolled rage took possession of his body.

How could Viserys do this to him? Such a lack of consideration? Was he punishing him so cruelly for the recent trouble he's been causing?

It just wasn't fair. If anyone should be her husband, it was him. Your weak brother could never love you with the same intensity that Daemon did or satisfy you like Daemon could.

Fuck all that, the Targaryen prince didn't think twice or give himself more time to stew in his anger before leaving for King's Landing with Caraxes, his anger only increasing with every minute that was wasted by the trip.

The ground shook as the great red beast, older than many who inhabited the fortress, landed in the dragon pit. The caretakers looked at each other for a moment before they stepped back slightly, the beast seemed to share the same agitation and fury as its rider, seeming ready to devour anyone.

Daemon's footsteps were strong and hurried, eyes furious enough to drive anyone out of his way. He didn't wait or ask for it to be announced before entering his brother's private quarters, a dark aura surrounding his figure.

"How could you do that? Aemma's body was barely cooled before you tried to deflower our sister." The prince exclaimed through clenched teeth, fists clenching tightly at his sides, daggers being met by his gaze.

Viserys turned his head quickly to meet his brother's gaze. He was bewildered, almost letting the small dragon sculpture that was carefully carved fall to the ground.

"What are you talking about, Daemon?" He had harshness in her speech, Aemma had always been and always will be a sensitive subject and dangerous territory when it came to the Targaryen king.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about'' He mocked in an accusatory tone, entering further into the room. Viserys's eyebrows furrowed, causing a wrinkle of concern to appear. A tired sigh escapes her lips as he stands up from her seat, facing her younger brother.

"Daemon, it is only the right thing to do. It is my duty and our sister's duty. She must marry and I must marry again." The Targaryen prince gave no room for his older brother's calm words to enter his ears. His mind was well coated with stubbornness and the bitter feeling of betrayal.

"So that's why you denied her to me, for your own selfishness?" Viserys looks slightly offended by the other's words.

"Selfish? I just do my best to keep the kingdom safe and the stability of our home. If anyone is selfish in all of this, it's you, Daemon. Always neglecting your duty in favor of your personal pleasures." Daemon hated that tone, that disappointed father tone that Viserys always used to scold him as if he were still a child doing childish mischief. His jaw clenched, biting the inside of his mouth to keep from saying something that would strike a nerve with the king.

"Marry her to me. I promise to follow what is expected of me as a prince if you agree to give her to me." With the lack of immediate response he continues. "When I support you above anyone else in your claim to the throne, you said I could choose anything as a reward. Give it to me.That will be my reward.”

"If you had asked this sooner, it might have been considered, Daemon." The response was like a cold bande. He expected his brother's refusal, but a small part of him hoped for the best.

"I do everything for you, I've never been anything but loyal to the crown and you but this is how I'm rewarded? Even damn Otto is more respected by you than me."

"Enough, Daemon, keep Otto away from this conversation... It's already decided. Conversation over."

Daemon did not respond, nor stubbornly denied, nor did he agree in submission. He just studied the king for long seconds that stretched into what felt like hours before quickly turning on his heel, the door being slammed shut.

Well, Daemon always got what he wanted in the end. Especially when it was the love of his life that was included in it. He would get what he wanted one way or another. The king cannot accept the already deflowered bride…

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Lucifer + Alastor - [ NSFW 3 ]

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A/N: Had this song on repeat since its release and it reminded me of these two so much…

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON ]

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Sharing is caring, but when it comes to being between the King of Hell himself and his newly established opponent - the all too cocky Radio Demon- you don’t have much say in who gets fair claim of your existence.

Sharing is caring, but only in the ways that matter to the men wrapped around your little finger. Lucifer needs your physical touch; he can’t go one moment without it, and god help you if you’re around other flirtatious sinners -he’ll be all over you for no reason at all. Hand on your hip, lower back, even on your ass if he’s feeling possessive. His height doesn’t matter, not when he can back hug you just fine, plant kisses on your head or temple, and sit you down on his lap without a second thought. Lucifer is a sucker for praising you, every word out of his mouth is sweeter than honey, and the knowing smile on his lips when you get all soft and shy from his gentle admiration swells his already massive sense of pride.

“You’re a sweet little sinner, aren’t you, baby doll?”

“I’m so proud of you, my love.”

“Oh, aren’t you just the cutest thing!”

“I’ll do anything you ask of me, sweetheart..”

“Atta girl…keep going…just like that…”

The King of Hell never runs out of patience for you, spending his free time in your presence without a care for his rival's foreboding aura. Though at times they blatantly argue, the drop of your sweet smile into a solemn frown has them both rushing out an apology. However, Lucifer is quicker than Alastor to admit his faults. He makes up for mistakes with sincere gestures, visiting you in the dead of night with the promise of pleasure radiating off him in tangible waves. By the following day, you can’t even begin remembering what you were angry about.

Sharing is caring, but Alastor has a hard time with both concepts. He’s not one for physical affection, preferring acts of service and gift-giving as alternatives. You don’t seem to mind, always at his side when he calls, a pretty little thing on his arm while he struts about hell running conspicuous errands, and a genuinely engaging sinner he doesn’t mind having deep conversations with. You contrast him in all the right ways: expressive but gentle, lethal but only when provoked. Unlike most demons, you hold value to Alastor, drawing out a softer, more honest version of the stag that most will never see. In private, you’re allowed to babble off his ear while he works, cuddle up in his lap when he’s feeling ‘vulnerable,’ and sometimes you’re lucky enough to get a few somewhat kind words from the overlord amid lingering kisses.

“What a pretty little thing you are,”

“I’m tempted to keep you all to myself, ma chere… Would you like that, hm?”

“I know you can’t help being a greedy girl, darling, but I’ll always be better than that pompous excuse for a king.”

“You love to provoke me, don’t you, little one? Prancing around the hotel like you do, smiling at every little thing, and showing off for attention..”

“It’s rather pathetic, but lovely things can’t control what they attract..”

He’s possessive, outright toxic in some instances, but you’re quick to manipulate the stag into an agreeable state with the threat of seeking out Lucifer’s company over his. This tactic occasionally works, but sometimes it enrages Alastor to bloodlust. His semi-polite exterior falters, causing the overlord to be on edge with everyone -especially Lucifer- and the king won’t let a chance to irritate him further slip by.

“Something bothering you, Rudolph?”

Lucifer snickers as Alastor enters the parlor through its shadows, automatically glaring at the sight of you straddling the blonde fallen angel with his hat lazily set on your head, and you giggle at his obvious disdain for the scene. “Oh, don’t look so upset, Al. I just wanted to play with Luci for a bit.. “ you flash him a cheeky grin, purposely shifting on the devil's lap to feel his growing erection and show more skin hidden underneath your fluffy oversized jumper. Lucifer chuckled, ducking his head to give you a quick kiss as the crackle of static resonated around the room, but you were far from scared of Alastor’s fury in the presence of his rival.

Sharing is caring, but later that night, when you snuggled under your bedsheets with Lucifer, lying on his bare chest, only wearing his dress shirt, soundly asleep, and listening to his undead heartbeat, you’re jolted awake by the distinctive coolness of shadows lurking over your skin.

“What made you think I wouldn’t put you in your place, my dear? That I wouldn’t remind you he’s not the only one who can lay claim to your very existence?..”

Alastor’s voice echoes through your head, coaxing you awake as his specters entangle around you. They tug, pull, squeeze, and ravish your small frame with his every word. Your cunt starts to pulse with need, leaking arousal in steady drops as a shadowy tentacle prods your entrance before sheathing itself in your warm walls with one sharp thrust.

“Ahm!” You yelp, eyes shooting open as a satisfied whine leaps from your lips; quiet moans soon follow as the bulk of shadows touches your womb with tender strokes. Two more snake up the borrowed dress shirt, swirling under the white silk with precise menstruations, encircling your fragile body ruthlessly until you’re forced to sit up in hopes of gaining more fleeting touches. “Alastor, you’re being mean…” you groan into the darkness, hips rutting down in timid circles, a reflexive action you try to maintain to avoid waking the man lying under you. Alastor’s low laughter shifts from your mind to the confines of the room, signaling his physical appearance in the space, and you’re tempted to search for him but aren’t given a chance to as the scrape of his sharp claws manifests along your sides. He’s close, so close you can feel him leering behind you, breathing in your ear as if he needed your scent to survive.

You lean backward, humming at the familiar firmness of his chest meeting your back,” Just wanted you to be a little nicer, that’s all…” Your explanation for earlier does nothing to quell Alastor’s jealousy; his hands hovering over your sides clamp down harshly, and his claws shred through Lucifer’s shirt to prick your skin. Your heart thuds wildly as a scream threatens to fall from your chest from the pain he causes, but your cunt clenches with excitement from his aggressive treatment. “Reasoning won’t help you now, darling. It seems you only understand one thing..” he purrs into your ear, red eyes glowing as they trace your flushed form, “A-and what’s that?..” you mumble fearfully, feeling a coil build in your core, but a pang of shame in your chest overrides it as Lucifer begins to stir below you. He’ll awake any second, and though you weren’t afraid of him seeing you in a whorish state, very used to being intimate with him, the unpredictable reaction he’d have to Alastor taking advantage of you right in front of his eyes was still nerve-wracking.

Sharing is caring, and Alastor’s response to your feverish question makes more sense than you care to admit. “Attention, my dear. You’re shamelessly addicted to it,” he drawls, smile widening when you whine helplessly, back arching as his shadows wrap around your breasts before swiping over your pert nipples while your cunt no longer resists forceful strokes of his shadows. Your vision blurs as the sensations blend, erasing mannerable actions from your thoughts the closer to cumming you got, and the riveting shivers vibrating your body were evidence enough. The subtle tremble of your thighs mixed with the combined noise of your soft moans and Alastor’s hushed taunting drew the King of Hell awake with a gentle start. Lucifer ruts his hips upwards on instinct before groaning tiredly, mildly aware of the familiar stickiness your arousal causes on his pale skin but unsure as to why it’s there. “Baby, what’s the matter-���He’s at a loss for words for a long moment, almost panting at the sight above him, confused at first but gradually intrigued as sleep waned from his consciousness. Alastor smirks, lips against your neck as he stares down at the fallen angel, daring him to instigate a fight. “Ah, looks like you awoke your preferred lover, ma chere. How rude…” the deer demon taunts you, clearly unbothered by your disagreements and conflicted writhing. “N-no, that’s not ah- ah- mmm fuck Al, please d-don’t!” A bright blush coats your cheeks, tears brimming your waterline as the demon nips at your bare shoulder before lapping up the blood that trickles from the wound. His gaze never leaves Lucifer’s as his tongue collects the red liquid, humming triumphantly as a prominent red color floods the ladders’ cheeks and eyes. “How fucking dare you..” the blonde hisses, voice thick with an indecipherable emotion, and you whine anxiously as embarrassment rushes your veins. It wasn’t your fault Alastor was taking his anger out on you this way, disregarding his aversion for touch in the hopes of getting back at you both, but it’d be a lie if you said you weren’t enjoying the intense situation brewing.

Sharing is caring, and you're afraid neither entity will consider doing so as a heavy beat of silence engulfs the room. The only sound is your rushed breaths, growing heavier with every thrust and twist of Alastor’s shadows in and around your body. You try to break free from the overlord, gazing down at Lucifer pleadingly for a better chance at forgiveness. Unexpectedly, his displeased expression morphs dramatically seeing the desperation in your eyes. He’d never been the type for sadism, let alone encouraging it, but your need for his help stirred a primal desire in his chest that he’d only felt sparks of recently. It was no help to him that Alastor, a demon with no remorse or pity for your plight, was the one indicting pleasure on you. He’d seen the stag agitated, irritated, and maybe even flustered but never lustful. It was new and undeniably attractive. Why waste an opportunity to use it against him?

Lucifer took a slow breath, stamping out his rage in seconds as his eyes shifted from your lidded ones to Alastor’s, “How dare you have fun without me, hm?… that’s a little unfair,” he pouts, stifling a groan as his cock twitches to life. The radio demon scoffs, forgetting his grudge against Lucifer for the mutual benefit of desire, “If you wished for fairness, you shouldn’t have fallen from heaven …” he taunts back.

Sharing is caring, but the instant sting of Alastor’s insult doesn’t anger Lucifer like usual. It eggs on the blonde, prompting him to reach for you, and you welcome the gentle coolness of his fingers trailing up front. Unlike Alastor, his claws do you no harm, never breaking skin even as he cups your jaw firmly. “C’mere, little one. M’ not going to hurt you…” he coos quietly, eyes glowing as brightly as Alastor’s as you leer into his touch like a wounded lamb. “Yes sir…” you whisper compliantly, surprised that Alastor relents his hold just enough to let you follow Lucifer’s lead. He’s relatively calm watching you, admiring how your hair falls like a curtain over your flushed face, skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, and the dress shirt slipping off your shoulders but sticking to your skin at every curve you had. There were reasons he wanted you to himself but dealt with sharing you with another, and this sight was one of them. You could be so good to them both, on all fours, cunt creaming from his actions and Lucifer’s words, and your loyalty to them both on a whole show no matter the implications.

Sharing is caring, and to some degree, you believe it’s a possibility for your relationship with a prideful fallen angel and an egotistical demon. Lucifer lay beneath your trembling form, muttering encouraging praises against your lips when he wasn’t connecting them with his own in heated kisses.

“Mhm, good girl…go on, come for him like you do for me.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby doll..”

“Fuck, you like that hm? Want more? Ask him nicely, sweetheart…”

“Cum for us, my love…”

“You’re doing so well….taking us so well. There you go, baby, all of it just like that…”

Alastor loses track of himself within moments of watching you come undone in his shadows for the first time, hungry to feel the warmth of your cunt for himself as puddles of your cum form on Lucifer’s crotch. You don’t fight him when he replaces his specter's task of fucking you, welcoming the length of his cock with a grateful smile and melodic moan of his name. “Alastor!… nghh yess, please r-right there!..” you yelp into Lucifer’s neck, letting him cradle your head as he talks you through the rise of your next high, “You sound so precious like this, baby. Give em’ what he wants.” His tone is strained, leaning towards a moan as he watches your expressions switch between pleasure and pure wonder. Alastor is fixated on the both of you, ears twitching at the top of his head with every satiated moan you let out and sinful word Lucifer says. His hands find purchase on your hips, gripping them harshly as he snaps his roughly, plowing his cock into your cunt with so much pent aggression your legs refuse to stop shaking. “Oh, fuck…” he groans in the air, tearing his gaze away from your arched back and leaking entrance to try and slow the impending peak of his high. Self-control was something Alastor prided himself in, but it was spiraling from his grasp the longer he fucked you.

Was this what the King of Hell had been enjoying with you?

Milking you of every drop of lust in your body?

Filling you with his overrated seed in the hopes of one-upping him?

If so, Alastor could never blame him. You felt divine, after all, and had no complaints about being used for pleasure.

Sharing is caring, but you forget all about it when Alastor yanks you away from Lucifer, a hand tangled in your head so tight you’re sure he might rip into your scalp if he holds you any tighter. Luckily, the overlord refrains from doing so, opting to groan into your ear as he buries his length to the hilt in your fluttering cunt, spilling ropes of warm cum into your abused womb with no remorse. “Don’t waste a single drop, ma chere. See it as a gift for being so well-behaved,” the radio overlay in his voice is gone, giving way to an accent you couldn’t resist mewling at. Lucifer chuckled, eyes fixed on where Alastor and you were connected, smirking at the mess you’d both made on top of him. “Need a taste of that…” he mumbles more to himself, tone hungry, demanding. You’ve yet to catch your breath before Alastor lets out a short laugh, flinging you forward into Lucifer’s chest without much care as to how weak you still are, “Greedy bastard,” he snickers, slowly pulling out of you with a satisfied grin at your attempt to keep him in. “Now, now, dear. I’ll have another turn with you soon. No need to be selfish..”

Sharing is caring, and oh, how wonderful it is when you’re sat in Alastor’s lap, facing away from him, one leg bent over his while the other rests on Lucifer’s shoulder. The King of Hell kneels before you both, inhaling the scent of your cunt, and smiling at the steady stream of cum drizzling past your folds. He’d done this many times before, a being addicted to the taste of women, of you specifically, but you still shied away from his vulgar eagerness. Your coy reactions only worsened when the notion of Alastor’s cum mixed with your own eventually settling on Lucifer’s tongue came to mind. They hated each other after all, and despite getting along most of the time in your presence, you never imagined this to happen, but neither backed down from the ordeal.

“W-wait Luci, you don’t h-have-“ you start to protest quietly, squirming in Alastor’s hold to avoid Lucifer, but your refusals don’t hold any weight to them.

“Mm, but I want to, love…I can’t help it,” the blonde whined as if he’d die without getting the task done, hands cupping your inner thighs tenderly as he flicked his tongue over your slit and swollen clit. You jolted in Alastor’s grip, biting back a whimper as he mumbled into the crook of your shoulder, “It’s impolite to refuse royalty, so let him have his fill …”

Sharing is caring, and you’re sure Lucifer could survive off eating your pussy alone just fine for the rest of his immortal life. He makes a show of it, diving his tongue in and out of your stretched entrance, moving to suck on your clit every so often before putting both actions into tedious repetition. You couldn’t remain coherent as he explored your insides with expert focus, letting his tongue linger in the spongiest and sweetest spots in your cunt just to draw back and generously spit on your clit. He’d learned your body, when to hit nerves, or when to overwhelm them. As of now, every sense you had was heightened, intensifying when Alastor’s eyes studied your facial expressions, your smile growing an inch more expansive when you rushed out a warning to Lucifer.

“Gonna cum m’ gonna cum…!”

The devil perks up, delving two fingers into you, red irises dilating completely as they hit a tender spot in your cunt immediately, curling against it at a languid pace. He met your gaze with a proud smile on his face, tongue lapping at your clit leisurely, begging you to come undone without hesitation. Alastor curses under his breath, agitated by the fact that your moans are turning him on again, and you feel his cock twitch under your weight.

Sharing is caring, and the euphoric bliss of releasing in Lucifer’s mouth felt divine, bringing small tears to your eyes as he buried his face in your mound, moaning at the taste of you drenching his tongue. Alastor grunts as your hips rock to meet Lucifer's pace, hands creeping up to cup your breasts, kneading the plush flesh mindlessly to avoid bucking his hips against your backside for better friction. He couldn't give his rival the triumph of seeing him worked up at the sight of you cumming so reverently under his touch. You felt powerless between them, shaking in Alastor's arms and pleading for Lucifer to join. One look is all it takes for the two to agree, giving into your minuscule wishes and thoroughly enjoying themselves the remainder of the evening.

Sharing is caring, but if you dare to utter a word of what transpired that night in the presence of others, both will deny the implication of tolerating one another. Although, you find yourself being used by both more often, stuffed full of their cum night after night, and keenly aware of the mutual trust growing between them when you finally collapse into sleep by their sides. They're capable of fair behavior with you, but only in private. Away from the eyes of others who’ll never witness how obsessed The Radio Demon & The King of Hell are with you and you alone.

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It's just a filler post cause I'm getting burnt out with requests! ❤️ I love your ideas, so I'm trying to write them all in my style but as concisely as possible. It's tiring but fun…

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

They may not be able to stand each other but I’ll gladly take them both (not in a fight) ❤️ credits to creator

[boop-le-snoot]

kinktober #3

Strangelove

kinktober day three | restraints, bratting (if you squint, he's very polite) | cw: 18+, sub!Gil, service dom!gender neutral! Reader, inappropriate use of Elvish rope, mouthy princess gil, oral sex (m receiving), safe sane and consensual | word count 4,1k | author's note under the cut | click here for the full kinktober list |

“Now,” a majestic voice rolls over the room like thunder.

You cannot see its owner for that he is hidden behind several of his advisors but your mind paints a picture familiar and amusing.

Face scrunched in petulance, crown slightly askew, the High King bends down to bring his face closer to the dignitary. “I have spoken all there is to say on the matter. Do not make me repeat myself!” He straightens promptly, dark eyes flashing in flickering golden light, and addresses the expectant crowd. “I have exceeded my quota of patience for today! Take your leave! Ego!” The command comes off as harsh even for the King when he is in one of his moods, so he hurries to soften the blow. “We shall continue on the morrow.”

Golden robes billowing out behind him, High King Erenion Gil-Galad takes his leave without sparing a second glance towards the disappointed Elves. Some nod in understanding, knowing just how heavy-handed some of the advisories can get when vying for the King's favour. Some frown and rush off towards the main exit, muttering displeasures to themselves. You linger, letting the crowd disperse into smaller groups, and nimbly make your way towards the side exit, unnoticed amongst various discussions and arguments.

The narrow hallway greets you with a silence and a chill, this year's autumn exceptionally windswept and grey. Erenion's abandoned outer robe stands out like a sore thumb: carelessly thrown over a toreutic statue, it glistens with what little sunshine pierces through low-hanging clouds pregnant with rain and fog. You pick up the garment and fold it at the waist before throwing it over your shoulder, adjusting the pile of notes to your chest. Well-worn soles of your shoes make no noise as you near the King's private study.

The door stands open, no more than a hand's width, and most of your field of view inside the room is occupied by the broad back of your King. It is tense, hard at the nape and taut at the seams of his shirt. Often, you have privately wondered of the possible incident that may finally cause him to burst out of his clothing - once or twice, you were sure Lady Galadriel had come very close to causing Erenion to simply spontaneously combust.

Such he stood with his back turned to you. Pent up, hard-boiled and simply done. A mostly empty carafe of wine at his left hand, a drained glass in the right.

“More wine,” he said the moment you announced yourself with a light step and a creak of the door.

“Yes, my Lord,” you replied evenly, racking your brain for the probable location of the nearest servant. Erenion Gil-Galad was a fair king and a kind ellon but that did not stop all servants from clearing his path when he got into a particularly sullen mood. A sulking King was no good company to anybody.

You trotted over to the nearest chair to place his outer robes onto. He turned swiftly. You needn't raise your eyes to see him struggle to swallow whatever bitter remark had been curling on his tongue; even so hotly angered, stupid he was not. Erenion knew better than to bestow unjust abuse towards his most dutiful and loyal attendant.

He spoke your name and you nodded in acknowledgement before smoothing out his robes and placing your stack of parchment on a nearby table. Not engaging in chit-chat but simply offering a quiet, steady, ataractic presence to the disgruntled King. Soft swishing of the parchment as you rearranged it invited a soothing ubiquity into the cool room. You felt, not saw, your King's shoulders drop. The clink of an empty glass being put down followed suit.

“These noxious vultures!..” Came the predicted grumble. Erenion's footsteps, unusually heavy and resounding for an Elf, traced a path from that corner of the room towards his desk. “Arguing for the sake of it...” Some of the more passionate choice words got lost in the pull of drawers being opened and paper bags' crinkling.

You hid a secretive smile. The Royal Snack Shelf, having been restocked by yours truly, was doing splendid at its job. A whimsical, silly detail even, but nevertheless quintessential at easing the burden of your King's day-to-day routine. A mentor in your past had given you valuable lessons on sweetening the bitterness of all that is tedious and mundane and you had taken them all to heart.

Periodically interrupted by crunching, the King's mouth ejected a day's worth of vitriol into the world, onto you and onto nobody at large, as he paced the long, spacious office like a caged lion. With every sentence he seemed to deflate a little and you counted every tiny victory as you mindlessly sorted and re-aligned your pages. The ranting was a canonical event and you did not interfere.

“... Grach! What secret information do your scrolls contain that is more important than listening to your King?!” Erenion's exclamation was not loud, but his deep and rich voice made it sound petulant and harsh.

Ah. One of those nights.

You straightened your back, taking your sweet time to readjust the muscles of your spine that were beginning to cramp from your hunched position and rapidly evened the stack that had previously preoccupied all of your attention. The bottom of it connected with the table with a sharp, resound tap, and Erenion immediately froze in his tracks.

You turned around slowly, body coiled in perfect precision, a masterful image of picture-perfect regard. Wide-eyed, Erenion frowned, dark brows creasing over the bridge of his nose. Your voice was even when you spoke.

“I am your dutiful servant, my King.” Bowing at the neck and not at the back, you crossed your hands behind yourself, looking him directly in the eye. “It is my job to thoroughly inspect all that concerns you and see to your comforts, which includes your spiritual well-being. At the present moment, it is imperative I allow you to vent your frustration without risk of scrutiny and judgment.”

Erenion, ever the imperfect perfectionist, scoffed. A knee-jerk reaction you harboured no ill will towards, for that you knew it would serve to be so much more rewarding when he finally decided to yield. As the King's brow darkened further with peevishness, his body language spoke of unmistakable interest. A creature of greatness and great contrasts was your King, most exhilarating. Bittersweet, like sour cherry wine.

“You think you know me better than myself?”

You pretended to think about it. “In certain areas, yes.” Jerking your shoulder a little, you took small, short steps towards him, observing him for any changes. Although his face was now contorted in a kingly version of a pout, his chest remained open and shoulders lax.

Looking down on you, Erenion seemed almond amused. “And what is it that you think I presently require?”

“Temperance,” you crooned. The air between your bodies thickened. With your eyes, you traced the fluid lines of his arms covered by his form-fitting undershirt. The hills of his biceps tapered down to wide forearms and sturdy wrists; towards broad palms, adorned with multiple rings but calloused from practice of warcraft. Erenion Gil-Galad was a beautiful King, all smooth lines and luxuriance from the regal curl of his plush mouth down to his shaking fingertips. “You need a lesson in temperance, my King.”

“Is that so?” He inquired lowly. Amusement, intrigue and apprehension all mixed up in his voice, colouring it with hoarseness usually reserved for lovers of a capricious occasion. Erenion was not known for those, but then again, it was unbecoming of a Noldorin High King to voluntarily overturn control of his persona to an assistant, even if it was temporary.

But you were just so good at what you did. How could he not surrender? With a gentle touch and a sharp word, you beheld the King within your eye as if nothing else outside it existed at all. The usually reserved personal aide, you became anything he needed you to be behind closed doors, be it a punching bag filled with sharp nails that cut him right back at every snap or a firm palm, offering rich handfuls of well-earned praise.

There was no diplomatic school advanced enough to lecture anyone on how to handle a King, so you could say that it came naturally. And proof was in the (re)actions: the willingness of Him to acquiesce, the intensity with which you handled him and just how far you were willing to go.

Erenion Gil-Galad stepped back. Again, and then again, until he landed noisily in the nearest chair, his broad, tall body sagging into the comfort of soft upholstery. Like this, you were just about eye-level with each other, and you beheld him with genuine sympathy and utter devotion. He stared back, eyes wide, deep irises seamlessly blending into dark pupils.

A cursory sweep around the room while he was contemplating your expression revealed an unexpected treasure: a thick roll of elvish rope laid on a nearby chair, likely accidentally left behind by a commander rushing in to receive or confirm orders. You smiled and looked away, least your plans be ruined by Erenion's inherent reaction to do the opposite of what people wanted him to do.

Carefully, you raised your hands to rid him of the crown. It always had to go first - dutiful servant as you were, it was most cumbersome to be reminded of his higher status when doing something scandalous with the King's body. Not that the situation lacked appeal, as a concept, but the crown had a weight attached to it. You were set on freeing the King of his burdens, after all.

Erenion's eyelashes fluttered as you gently carded your fingers through long, thick chocolate hair. Tugging lightly at the roots and brushing over the shortened warrior's edges at his temples. Tracing his strong jawline to brush a teasing thumb over his lips just to withdraw before he licked it like a playful kitten. You caressed the sensitive leaf shape of his ear and were immediately rewarded with a pleased rumble coming from the depts of his chest. For now, Erenion was much content to sit back in his chair and hold the outside of his palm against your leg, but it would not last.

Not when your fingers made swift work of the laces on his shirt and freed him from it. As the fabric landed on a nearby ottoman, his large palms settled over your hips, possessively kneading the meat there.

“Impatient,” you chided with a gentle shake of your head, eliciting a displeased grumble from the King, followed up by his fingertips digging deeper into you, clinging to your bones. A tap on his nose caused his eyes to shoot open. Your smile only grew. “Impertinent.”

Opening his mouth, Erenion's eyes shot to his crown abandoned nearby and back at your face. He pursed his lips, and, in lieu of a response, leaned in to rub his cheek over your clothed chest. You stood still, letting him find his comfort, but did little else. Until the very moment Erenion withdrew, his famous kingly pout back on full display.

“Melmë.”

“Erenion.” You echoed, matching his tone. “Are we in a rush?”

“Yes!” He grumbled. Looked at the window, where the clouds had obscured stars and the moon, blanketing Lindon within an impenetrable darkness. Several candles illuminated the room and that was it: not a single torch was lit outside the window. Erenion sighed. “Well, no, alas...”

“We are not in a rush.” You placed your palms atop his own, squeezing them once: a wordless command to release you. He did so and you stroked his face, his eyes, which he closed. Placing a kiss on his forehead, you swiftly grabbed the rope and returned with it, unfurling the roll as Erenion grew visibly more restless from the lack of touch. He dared open his eyes and immediately gasped, aghast. “Temperance,” you reminded him.

“No!” He protested, but made no move to get up or otherwise interrupt your planned activity.

You were sure many would call you mad for enjoying this exact moment of your games: the feigned resistance. Erenion would gripe and groan and complain and inevitably ruin his trousers in the process and there was no sweeter reward for your troubles that could be. The more he objected, the higher he riled himself up. That final leap over the edge beckoned you both in the distance. Erenion fell apart beautifully and...

A sigh. “Yes,” you stressed, wrapping the rope around his chest and the back of the chair before weaving it swiftly and delicately over his forearms, effectively securing them to the armrests. The length of the rope allowed for a safe amount of movement and several pretty knots.

It should withstand a good deal of resistance; Erenion's awareness of his own size and strength and their comparison to yours put an upper limit on just how physical these games would get. Ever cognisant, Erenion would flat out refuse even the possibility of causing you pain with his body so certain workarounds had to implemented. And even then, you found yourself wistful, wishing nothing more than for your King to lose himself to simple, mindless pleasures.

When was Erenion Gil-Galad ever simple? Effectively prevented from seeking out touch, he sat poised and regal, chin pointed in defiance, as he watched you shed your outer robes and and miscellaneous clothing. His eyes roved over you hungrily, yearning, as you stood before him in nothing but your underthings. Veins of his hands thick with rushing blood, what little was south of his trousers anyway: obscured by his breeches, the outlined of his hard cock stood as tall and proud as him.

You sat astride it, reveling in the hiss that came from his lips as you pressed your weight atop it and stayed still. The line of his jaw was fascinating to explore: you enlisted your lips, your fingers to do so.

As you'd predicted, his patience was... Not there.

“Well?”

“Hm?” You rumbled at the root of his ear, hot breath ghosting over the lobe.

“What now?” Centuries at Court kept his voice steady; his body was the biggest traitor. Blood rushed, a siren's song to you, enticing to switch your attentions to the other side of his face. Tenderly and thoroughly, you lavished it with attention, attacking Erenion's erogenous zones with tempered precision. You were in no rush to reply. He could not wait to feel. “I am sat in my office, indisposed and restrained, for the sake of your amusement?” He spat.

“No,” you murmured. And immediately corrected yourself because lying to your king is wrong. “Well, yes. But you are restrained for your own sake, as well. Good things come to those who know how to wait.” You preached, finishing off with a quick bite at the ball of his shoulder. Your hands slid lower, palming his thick pectorals, flicking his nipples.

There wasn't much to do but feel and bestow sensation and Erenion knew that. And enjoyed it so, his length twitching against your leg as you alternated between hard and soft, fast and slow, biting and kissing. Periodically, you withdrew enough to observe the changes on his face: how it grew from annoyed to flat to quivering. He panted softly through parted lips, groaning upon coming in contact with your own sex.

The buck of his hips straightened you up atop his lap. “You are much too impatient, darling,” you whispered against his lips. “Rushing to start one thing before the last has even ended,” withdrawing from his cock, you kissed him gently, pulling away as soon as he leaned in to envelop your tongue with his hot mouth. A whine slipped out instead and you smiled, brushing your closed mouth over his, moist and spit-slick.

“Multitasking is a necessary skill!” He objected, the ‘for a King’ hanging heavy and unsaid.

In lieu of a response, you ran your hands through his crown-free hair and gathered it in a loose ponytail, arching his head back. He moaned, low and long, and you rewarded him with a kiss to his lips. He did not misbehave this time as you mouthed at each other, losing time and space where your lips connected. You heard the creaking of wood, felt the bulge of Erenion's muscles as his body released all of its pent up tension.

Slowly, you lowered yourself back down to sit over his cock. Swallowing his moan and a noise of your own, you felt sparks fly as a sloppy movement brushed over where you were most sensitive. It was a sobering action. There was very little time for pleasure while you were doing your job, or, rather, the pleasure came from granting your King such. Boldly, your tongue snuck into his mouth to coax out his own so you could suck on it with conviction.

Erenion moaned, back arching within confines of his restraints. A wet spot was steadily growing under you, the result of your combined desire. Your mouth slid off his, smearing spit over his cheek as you panted. To pretend to be unaffected would be pointless and foolish. A pair of dark eyes sparking with amusement met yours: he looked too smug for an Elf who was at the brink of coming undone.

Cheeks flushed and mouth wet, Erenion Gil-Galad gave you a little smirk.

You wished nothing more than to bite him. So you did. Teeth clashed as you initiated another kiss, taking full control of it this time. It was wet and messy, full of growling and fangs as you temporarily abandoned your gentleness. You fucked his mouth with yours until your tasted bloody meat, and only then you withdrew, observing the momentary change in his behaviour. He was surprised, conquered, staring at you with reverence.

Your game of tug of war continued. He pushed and you pulled: he arched his chest and you bit down on his nipple, pulling it taut and letting your teeth scrape the surrounding sensitive tissue until his gasps descended into whimpers and bitten-off, broken Quenya. You raked blunt nails over his sides as he shuddered with sensation somewhere between pleasure and pain. Very few knew their King was ticklish and even fewer had the skills to incorporate it into ardurous sensual torture. You could have given any experienced courtesan a run for their money with how you played the High King akin to an instrument.

Maglor's incredible and terrifying singing had nothing on the broken noises coming out of the hot wet mouth of your King. Erenion was no songbird, no, he was a lone wolf howling at the moon. You observed the results of your handiwork as he shook with desire. There was little else to do but marvel.

Erenion Gil-Galad was a vision. Arms and chest criss-crossed with angry red welts where the ropes had rubbed a webbed pattern into his skin, he sat flushed and panting. Mouth red, as if wine stained, and eyes lidded, moved in wordless pleas for release. The need was showcased at the apex of his thighs where he'd leaked right through his trousers. Brown fabric was stained nearly black all around his sizeable bulge.

It was when you found yourself kneeling before it that reality sharply hit you in the face. Here you were, a servant, kneeling at the feet of your King, and he could do little else than plead for your mercy. And there was nothing else you wished to see more than give it to him - to see his face fall slack and easy, to see his twitching fingers finally find rest. But it was not the point of this. One release just bought the two of you a little time until the next.

The only thing you truly had control over was the amount of time it passed between the two. Not when you gave it and not how you gave it, for all that Erenion had to do was dismiss your advances and you would go back to sorting his mail and compiling his daily schedule.

Distracted, you nuzzled into his crotch, and fiddled with his trousers. His erect cock greeted you with a throb; the King moaned and threw his head back, straining the ropes to a point you began to consider they would lose their magic at once and simply snap. No such thing happened even as you blew gently onto the heated head of his cock.

“Cruel!..” He mumbled in between curses in languages you did not even know. “I was patient!” He objected to your withdrawal from his cock with fervor.

You were simply adjusting yourself. Not that he saw it, nearly delirious with need.

“Patient on account of lacking other options,” you teased him mirthfully.

He chuckled, but that noise quickly turned into a moan as you stuck out your tongue to trace the thick, prominent vein curving along the underside of his cock. Taking care to avoid the sensitive head, you took some tablets to lavish the shaft with soft licks of tour tongue. The sweet-salty taste of him beckoned you, clear droplets sliding down his cock just so you could curl your tongue around the middle of it to catch as much of the nectar as you could.

You went downwards, popping each of his testicles into your mouth. A whine in a pitch very few had ever heard echoed in the room; the chair creaked, it's back legs lifting off the ground. You immediately withdrew, placing apologetic kisses all along his cock as you ascended towards the tip. Erenion had been patient indeed and was now firmly stood at the edge of total overstimulation.

Sensitive Elven bodies, used to hard wars and tender lovemaking, had a very fine line that separated pleasure and pain. It'd been a steep learning curve to learn how to pluck the strings of your King just right, but once you figured out how to get him in that sweet spot betwixt the two and never firmly on the side of either, your sessions became something beautiful.

You wrapped your lips around him - he shuddered - and hollowed out your cheeks, tonguing along the frenulum as you swallowed as much of your King as would fit in your mouth. What couldn't fit was taken up by your hand, working him with all your might, going in for the winning round with single-minded abandon.

Erenion bucked his hips wildly, adding to the cacophony of your coupling. Moans, sighs and wet squelching, the creak of the chair that surely was to be replaced come morning - it all faded into the background as you kept your eyes firmly on the face of your King. Contorted in sweet agony, he gasped for breath once, twice, before his brow turned lax and a torrent of bittersweet nectar flooded your mouth.

Kneeling in awe and reverence, you swallowed it all. Erenion's chest heaved, covered in a translucent sheen of cool sweat, and he remained moaning softly all throughout it, reacting only when his flaccid flesh slipped from your mouth. His mouth was open and eyes closed as you undid the knots, content to ignore your own discomfort until the moment to relieve it offered itself.

You rubbed his wrists, eyeing his face for any discomfort. There was none - Erenion remained as timelessly beautiful when disheveled as he was in his golden garb. The corners of his mouth turned up in a lazy, absent smile, he freed a wrist to pull you in. You mirrored his smile.

“Come,” he spoke, voice rough. Unsteadily, he stood up, and pulled you towards the hidden door leading to his chambers. “We are not finished yet.”

Pretending to be surprised, you chuffed softly at the lack of care he showed at his own state of undress. He truly cared not, for he was the King, and managing his reputation (and any missteps of his in that regard) was your responsibility as his personal attendant anyway.

Would he ever make it easy for you? No. But, perhaps, one day you might get him to beg...

Someone said slightly bratty sub gil x service dom reader? OK I said it. I am pretty sure this is gender neutral, but in case it isn't, point out gendered things/words to me. I didn't bother to proofread it because I got too horny while writing it. I don't like this as much as I wish I did but oh well.

a/n: the bigger sub/smaller dom is an actual issue if you get physical during your scenes. I've dommed men roughly the size of Ben (I'm 5'4 130?lbs) and there are scenes and things that we simply cannot do safely, unless the sub is at least somewhat restrained. Even further, taking into account that canonical gil-salad is 7+ft... Tie that elf down before you let him brat/overstim or you'll get flat out 💅yeeted💅 across all Lindon.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Lord Husband (Chapter 5)

cregan x reader

word count: 1,606 words

series masterlist

A private carriage. You thank the gods for small victories. Being locked in a small box for a month with nobody but Cregan Stark for company would’ve been the thing that pushed you over the edge of insanity. Or, you likely would have killed him.

Perhaps it was more his safety they are concerned over rather than my comfort. You think to yourself.

The preparations for your departure have been immensely extravagant and your mother has already commissioned ten new dresses and five nightgowns just to tie you over until the royal family flies in for the wedding. You’ll spend another whole month courting Cregan (in Winterfell this time) before the ceremony and you don’t know if you want the spectacle to be drawn out more to prolong your unmarried freedom or if you just want it to be over with.

You ignore the thoughts as you make your way down to the courtyard with Baela and Rhaena on each arm and Ser Robert trailing after you.

“I’m going to miss you awfully.” Rhaena says sentimentally. 

“You’ll have to write to me with every bit of court gossip. Gods know that the boys won’t do a very good job at keeping me filled in.” You roll your eyes dramatically, trying to keep it all lighthearted.

“You’ll write to us plenty as well, tell us all about the joys of marriage.” Baela says with a little smirk.

“I hardly believe there’ll be many joys to rave about.” You say with a scoff.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. From what i’ve heard, northern men are very good with… their tongues.” The elder twin says scandalously. You think you hear Ser Robert choke on water from behind you.

“Baela!” Rhaena scolds but she giggles too.

“I don’t want his tongue anywhere near me.” You say as you shoot her a glare.

“Then you are as dumb as you are pretty.” You roll your eyes at this.

“His assumed skills don’t matter if I do not like him.” You say primly.

“You don’t have to like him to appreciate the look of him.” Baela says as she lifts a hand to inspect her nails.

“I agree. You know what they say about men with large hands…” Rhaena trails off and you glare at her as well.

“Do not team up against me.” You say.

“We are only trying to help you to look on the bright side. You’ll be with him for the rest of your lives.” Rhaena says softly. It’s a thought that you don’t really want to think about.

“Perhaps after I give him a son, we will become estranged and he will allow me to retire to Dragonstone.” You reply wistfully. The twins exchange a look.

“And what of your son?” 

You sigh and say, “Any child I have will be his, not mine.”

“But they will also be Valyrians. They could be dragonriders. They will need a Valyrian to teach them.” Baela says. The idea of a child with a dragon, not knowing its history, not knowing how to care for it, is a sad thought.

“Motherhood is as noble a path as any.” Rhaena says, in an attempt to make you feel better.

“Not if it’s forced.”

There is an awkward silence after that and you feel bad, being the one who caused it. Your closest friends, your sisters, they only wanted to comfort you, to make you excited about the journey and you’ve made them feel bad for trying.

“I do quite like some of the dresses her Grace commissioned for me, though.” You say with a little grin and both of the girls light up.

“Oh yes, they’re all so beautiful. I don't know if I could even pick a favourite.” Rhaena gushes.

“I can.” Baela says. “The deep maroon velvet one. Ugh, the sleeves on it are to die for. It’s far too hot to be wearing such fashion in King’s Landing. We’d be sweltering.” Baela pouts a little at that but then grins. “You’ll be the icon of the North when it comes to gowns.”

“I intend to be the icon of the North when it comes to everything.” You say with a faux level of superiority as you come around to the stairs that go down to the courtyard.

There are many nobles waiting to see you off and Cregan Stark stands right at the front, waiting for you and looking as disgustingly handsome as ever. You ignore him and make your way to the ladies who won’t be accompanying you first, hugging them and trying not to tear up. You hope Cregan is offended by how you brush by him. Then, you reach your siblings. Your goodbyes to your family are short and proper, you’ll see them at the wedding anyhow. Your goodbye with your mother is… tense if nothing else. 

You turn to Cregan at this point, knowing that you need to have a public interaction before you get into your carriage. Even if you enjoy being the centre of attention, you don’t want to waste the creation of gossip if you’re not there to see how it all goes down.

Lord Stark bows deeply. “Princess, I am glad to be accompanying you to your new home.”

“I thank you for your protection on the long trip that lies ahead of us.” You say in response, your voice cordial and dripping with charisma. 

“It is my honour.” He holds out a hand and you take it, allowing him to help you up the steps, into the carriage. Your two handmaidens follow after you. When the door shuts, you sigh, ready for the long trip to be over already.

~~~

As the trip properly starts, you begin to remember how much you hate carriage rides. Short ones are usually fine but you’ve been sitting in the wheeled contraption for hours now and it's making you awfully dizzy.

“Your Grace? Are you well?” Rose, your handmaiden, speaks up. She looks concerned for your state.

“I am fine. I perhaps just need to rest for a moment.” You say, a bit breathlessly, as you shift to lay down, resting your head in your other handmaiden’s lap.

“Are you sure, princess? You look a little green.” Safia speaks up as she begins to stroke your hair.

“It’s this stupid carriage. And the road for seven hells. How can it be so uneven?” You groan and Safia starts to rub your temples.

“It is awful, I know.” She soothes but her kind words don’t help. You just feel more and more nauseous.

“Oh gods.” You groan.

“Princess, are you going to be sick?” Rose asks, and to your dismay, you believe you are about to be sick.

You nod a little and she stands, banging on the roof. “Stop the carriage!” She calls out to the driver.

Before you’re even fully stopped, Rose pushes open the door and Safia helps you to your feet. You stumble out of the carriage and unceremoniously, onto the grass. You fall to your hands and knees, breathing heavily. You thank the gods when you don’t actually throw up and the churning of your stomach begins to slow with the help of a stationary position and fresh air.

“What is happening? Is the princess alright?” 

Oh gods why does he have to see this? You think to yourself as the young Lord Stark’s voice rings through the air.

“The movement of the carriage makes her unwell, my lord.” Safia says.

“Oh of course.” He murmurs and wanders off for a moment. You feel hopeful that he just decided to leave you but he’s back before you know it and kneeling by your side. “Here, eat this.” He says and gives you a gentle smile as he holds out ginger for you.

“Why would I eat tha-” He seems to know that you were going to kick up a fuss so as you are mid-sentence, he puts the piece of ginger in your mouth.

“Chew.” He says simply. Your eyes are wide and you want to refuse but you also don’t necessarily want to spit it out like a spoiled child. So, you apprehensively begin to chew the root, trying not to make a face at the peppery flavour. “Good.” He speaks again. “You’ll feel better now.” You think he looks far too pleased as he stands up in front of you and offers you his hand. You begrudgingly take it and he pulls you up with so much ease that you hardly even had to try and stand.

You brush your skirts off, feeling spiteful even if Cregan just helped you.

He just looked far too smug about it. You assure yourself as you make your way back into your carriage. 

Before the door is closed, your betrothed speaks up, “Perhaps I could join you, princess. Just to make sure you’re feeling better.” The smile he gives you is almost sneaky, as if there is some sort of hidden innuendo in there. You feel that he enjoys toying with you.

“That would be terribly improper.” You speak only loud enough for him to hear.

“Yes, of course.” He says but the cheeky grin never fades, even as he walks to his horse.

“Strange.” Rose says. “Most lords would enjoy the comforts of a carriage themselves.”

“Perhaps it would be an excuse to sneak into here.” Safia says scandalously. 

“Then he shall be perpetually disappointed.” You say as you settle into your seat.

The procession begins to move again and through all the bumps and uneven roads, and as more time passes, the nausea that plagued you never returns. 

taglist(comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

Lord husband: @feyres-fireheart @possiblyafangirl @hb8301 @marihoneywk @youn-jo @velvet-spider @janelongxox @ninastyless @nyctophilic0vitnir @m-a-s-h-k-a @delicious-xx @weepingfashionwritingplaid @happinessinthebeing @betelrus @joliettes @black-swan-blog27 @mxtokko @valeridarkness @karolalolla @satan-s-ass @synindoodles

[lostinforestbound]

And for my grand finale of my Rolan brainrot thoughts, the moment you probably have all been waiting for:

Rolan NSFW Headcanons

MDNI

Disclaimer: If you think differently than what I write here that is totally okay! These are just opinions!

First and foremost, I believe he's a switch (or a Verse)! It can also depend on his partners preference, but he doesn't mind doing one or the other. I will say that he can have trouble bottoming/submitting super early on because it can be a very vulnerable experience, and he may get overwhelmed quickly. Will he admit that? Of course not, he's too prideful and his communication skills are horrid.

There's a lot of talk about with whether Rolan is a virgin or had a couple flings in the past during his time in Elturel, and I like either one! The most important thing is that he's definitely inexperienced. He doesn't know what he likes or dislikes yet, and would like to explore that with his partner once he's comfortable.

Bite him! Mark him! Give him hickies! Gods he goes absolutely insane for them, especially when he's on the receiving end. He would prefer all of it to be under the collar, but one of his favorite places is that tender spot right between the jaw and ear. It's one of the many ways to get him mewling. He'll definitely bite back if his partner likes it.

I would say he's pretty vanilla in general, but is open to trying something new if his partner is kinkier. It's something he would have to work up to as it can be intimidating, but with enough reassurances he's willing to try anything once. Besides, if he doesn't like it, he's pretty vocal about it and they know not to try again.

He wouldn't like being heavily restrained or gagged (at least at the same time), it feels too demeaning for him. I think he would like the idea of him being blindfolded, but would request that his partner keeps a hand on him at all times so he knows that they're still there. This would be a once in a while type of deal as it can get overwhelming quickly.

Speaking of dislikes: deliberate pain is a turnoff. Anything that would intentionally hurt he's not into. So things like whipping, harsh choking, smacking around, or any kind of pain infliction, he can't do it whether it's giving or receiving. (But he would still be into marking like I said earlier!) I don't think he would outright dislike degradation but those kinds of nights are on the rare side.

Now for the likes: Praise!!! For the love of the gods, praise this man, he loves it and his cock throbs when he's receiving it. It's the best way to get him worked up as well. Ordering him around is also good, he's very obedient and an incredible listener.

The act of intimacy is private for him, so public sex is definitely a big no. He wants everything to be private and only with his partner. He doesn't want to be anxious about getting caught while in the middle of things, it ruins his mood. Besides, his partner wants to keep his whines, moans, whimpers, and begging to themselves. They're such pretty sounds.

He tends to feel guilty whenever he's not in the mood or has to stop anything they're doing, it's instinctive and frustrates him. He knows he has no reason to feel guilty, his partner reassures that all the time, but sometimes that guilt crawls into the back of his mind. His depression and panic disorder cause him to have low libido, so he's not in the mood for intimacy most days. Though he's still just as satisfied with purely focusing on his partner and not himself. (When he works on himself and finds solutions to help him with his mental health, his libido increases!)

King of Oral Sex. After learning about his partner's body and practicing for a few sessions, he's incredible at it. It ends up being one of his favorite things to do, some nights he evens pleads for it, begging to taste them.

The best way his partner will find out he's horny is the way the base of his tail arches upward. That tail has a mind of its own, and he can't quite control it. He uses his tail a lot, using to either hold their thighs apart or wrap around their torso desperately. (Or if his partner is a tiefling/dragonborn, wrap around their tail!)

His more sensitive areas besides his neck are the insides of thighs and his pelvic area. If you play with his chest enough though, that becomes sensitive as well.

He definitely starts bringing in magic bedroom as soon as he gets comfortable. Imagine what they could do with some of these spells! Mage hand (or multiple of them), disguise self, entangle, maybe fly as well...ah, telekinesis is also a good one! How about enhance ability? If either him or his partner can't use words, they'll both gently cast detect thoughts to check in.

Aftercare is extremely important to him, whether he's giving or receiving it. He and his partner switch depending on who wants to do it that night. Though being on the receiving end of it, it makes him feel so loved. It won't take long for him to start purring, falling asleep in their arms. When it's his turn, he takes his time and is incredibly tender. He'll get anything they ask for and more.

(And we're done! I hope you enjoyed!!! I had a lot of fun making these and I hope to make more in the future when I reopen requests! If you have your own headcanons, please share!)

[mydearesthrry]

Spill your Guts or Fill your Guts - h.s.

a/n: heavily inspired by billie eilishs segment of spill or fill, harry isn’t in here a lot!!

🎀 warnings/cw: nothing

🐇 pairing: famous!reader x bf!harry

💐 wc: no clue i wrote it on tumblr :p

“So, Miss Y/l/n, we all know that you’re notoriously private with your love life,” James starts, pausing when he gets cut off by the artist.

“Oh f**king Christ,” She mumbles, placing her head in her hands. The word gets bleeped out due to being on live TV, but the laughs that follow after her words make it quite obvious as to what she said. “Mhm, continue.”

“Oh, snarky one isn’t she?” James laughs.

“Oi shut it, just get on with your question.”

“Alright, alright! As i was saying, you’re notoriously private with your love life, in and out of the prying eyes of the media, so my question is,” He pauses for suspense. “Is there any famous celebrity that you have kissed?”

She rolls her eyes, flipping her straightened hair behind her shoulders and tucking her hair behind her ears. She flushes red, a soft red tint making its way over her complexion. Y/n is silent for a few beats before she lets out a small giggle, picking up the gross dessert in her hand. “James, you know I love you, and I would of course tell you who it is, but… We’re on TV! So you don’t get to know at all!” She smiles prettily, trying to avoid looking at the olive and onion quiche held between her fingers.

Corden lets out a surprised gasp. “When was this?”

“Can’t tell you, they’re probably watching right now.”

He was watching. He was sat in their shared hotel room, the hand which displayed a small tattooed cross splayed on her pillow that was held in his grasp. He was laughing as well, his phone laid next to him as he texted his reactions to his girlfriend.

“The person, um, is, well…” She pauses. She thinks it over in her head, before ultimately shaking her head no and taking a bite out of the quiche. She hangs her head in disgust, letting the quiche fall out of her hands as she holds a bite in between her teeth. The crowd is murmuring with disgust and pity as she ate the disgusting food. She rolls it back to her molars, chewing slowly and softly. 

“Y/n! Oh my God!” James shouts in loud laughter.  A gag falls from his lips, a gasp overcoming him. “You need to tell me who it is! Or else I’ll call Harry up and tell me who it is, I bet he knows since you two are best friends.”

A smirk overcomes her naturally, covering the side of her face that was facing the cameras and the audience, mouthing ‘it was him’ before spitting in the bin like it was nothing, a gag taking over her as she spit. She looks over at James after she washed her mouth out with water.

“Interesting.” James hums, y/n nodding along with him. The audience screams for them to say something, but they only keep their gaze trained on each other.

“We’ll talk later.” Y/n winks, blowing a kiss to james.

“Well, that’s all the time we have today, thank you so much y/n for coming back on our show, and I’ll miss you very much!” James smiles, closing out the segment. The mics soon get removed from them, and James runs over to y/n, shaking her shoulders. “What the fuck!”

She giggles, hiding her face in her shoulder. She pulls out her phone and unlocks it, showing him her homescreen which was a picture of her and Harry in the bathroom, facemasks on their faces and wide smiles on their lips. Harry’s hand was resting on her tummy where it met with her hip, shirtless. His other hand rested on the counter that was seen in the mirror, and she was wearing one of his old tattered band shirts that went to her mid thigh, no pants underneath. “Surpriiiseeeeee.”

[lawsvalentine]

Calling Them Funny/Embarrassing Pet Names • OP Men HC •

Characters: Monster Trio, Law, Ace,

CW: Fluff, Humor

Cee’s Note: I missed doing these silly hcs 🤭 hope y’all enjoy

Luffy

Pet name you call him: Shorty/shawty

He is your short king 😌

Even if he is taller than you, he is still your short king 😌😌

At first Luffy would get all pouty, because he thought you were making fun of his height

“M’not short Y/N, watch this!” *does that one move where he inflates himself like a big balloon*

“Nope, you still my shorty” 🤭

After a while the nickname kinda stuck, and now he finds it amusing.

He starts calling you mami/mamas as a nickname

“Shawtyyyy!”, you yell, jumping on his back, arms around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist for support.

“Hey, mami hehehe” he snickers, giving you his famous grin, as he holds your legs, spinning around causing you to squeal.

Zoro

Pet name you call him: stink/stink stink

This one is pretty self explanatory sgdjjd

Jk…not really

You started giving him this pet name whenever you were in the mood to bother his ass lol

“Whatcha doin, stink”

“Can’t you see I’m train-WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?”

He gets so mad SHDJJD

You had to explain to him you weren’t actually calling him stinky that it was just a joke

“I still think you’re making fun of me”, he turns his face away from you, frowning.

“You know I love you stink stink” 😙

“Would you STOP!”

Never gets used to the pet name and gets mad every time you do it

Zoro is pretty basic when it comes to pet names so he will usually call you babe or baby

Sanji

Pet name you call him: babygirl

Look at him 🥺

He is SO baby girl

You call him this whenever you just want to shower him with affection

“Babygirllll” you cooed, as you peppered his cheek with kisses.

“But I’m a boy, my love” Sanji’s cheeks were flushed red at the amount of affection you were giving him.

“I knowww…but baby girl fits you more” you wrap your arms around his chest, giving him a tight hug.

Sanji absolutely cannot handle the amount of affection. Mans is on cloud nine

Sanji is also the KING of pet names

My love, princess, darling, angel, gorgeous- the list goes on

Law

Pet Names you call him: pookie/pooks

You’re so unserious for giving him this pet name sgdhdj

You definitely do this when you’re feeling a bit bratty when he’s being stern with you

“ Y/N-ya, I have work to do right now. You have to leave”

“But pookieeeeee” *pouts*

“……”

Literally looks at you like 🤨

Gets so embarrassed when you say it in front of the crew

“Hey pooks” you wink at him.

Bepo and some other crewmates start snickering behind Law, he lowers his hat trying to hide his pink cheeks

He was debating whether to shambles you or himself from that room sgdhjd

You both came to an agreement: he will let you call him it ONLY IN PRIVATE

He lowkey likes being called a pet name even if he tries to put up a front

He will call you babe or baby but if he’s feeling a bit frisky he’ll call you kitty

Ace

Pet name you call him: bubby/bubba

You didn’t know whether to call him “baby” or “hubby” so your brain just mashed them together and created bubby

Somehow that perfectly fit him

“Did you just say bubby?”

“Yes ” 😁

“Wha-“

“LISTEN! YOU’RE BUBBY NOW, DEAL WITH IT!” 😤

He actually deals with it lol

Lowkey thinks you’re a genius for creating it sgdhdj

He’s such a dork lol

This man gets puddy in your hands whenever you call him that

Ace has a praise kink (its canon bc i said so 🤭) so this just feeds into it

Loves to give you pet names like baby/babe or cutie/beautiful

[dunmeshi-darlings]

Hello

Can I request a laios x reader, with the reader as laios ex-fiance, since their arrangements was broken off when he ran away without explanation reader have been sad and mad about it. But then someday laios mother told reader about laios become a new king after defeating a demon, reader decided to go there, because reader want to know why he ran away

I'm sorry if this is difficult to understand, English is not my first language, thank youuu

Oh you got no need to apologize its all ok. i understand what you meant. id be happy to do this. thank you so much for sending an imagine in.

Even though its been many years since laios cut off the arrangement and disappeared you still found yourself getting upset at him. He just cancelled it all and ran off to not be heard from again.

Of course over the years that anger and frustration faded greatly but every so often your mind would wander and you would feel your cheeks heat up at the thought of being abandoned like that. but over all you figure it was probably for the best anyway, you dont mind your life and that touden was always...strange to say the least even if he was a looker.

One day though as you are going about your day when laios mother approaches you, asking if she can come in. You agree and let her inside, despite your feelings about laios you had no bad blood with her. you get the both of you some tea as she starts speaking. "Did you hear about the rise of the golden kingdom?" she asks, you nod and say of course you had. it had been the talk of the entire world ever since it rose up out of the sea, seemingly out of nowhere one day. Apparently some group of adventurers defeated the mad mage and seemed like those rumors about becoming the new leader of it was true. You say casually as you take a sip of some tea. "yeah well apparently Laios was the one that defeated the mage and rules the golden kingdom now." she says so casually causing you to spit all the tea you were drinking out, shouting in confusion you ask her if you heard that right? she nods and explains what she had been told from letters from falin, you knew that falin had stayed in touch with there parents but laios had apparently cut them off a decade ago much to your surprise.

You decide to pay a visit, you feel like you almost HAVE to. you need to know why he just left you like that, why he did what he did all those years ago. It took you a bit to get to the new golden kingdom, laios definitely had travelled a far distance since your last time you saw him. By the time you reach the kingdom a full month has passed, you ask the guards to message the king telling him that "Y/N from his arranged marriage wanted to see him." of course you werent sure he would even respond, i mean why would he. he didnt want to marry you obviously so why should he care about seeing you, especially now that he is a KING of all things. However you were surprised when the guard came back and agreed to take you to the king.

When you entered you saw him sitting on a throne. To his left you see a young elf woman with twin braids beside him, This must have been his royal advisor maybe? you werent sure. However you did notice his sister beside her chatting with her...except she was different, she wasnt a tall man anymore..atleast not fully. you noticed a plume of fluffy white feathers poking out of the opening on her chest and down her arms. It was clear she had been changed by some form of magic.

As you walk closer laios asks if everyone can leave the room for a moment, he wants to talk privately with you as they agree and leave leaving only you and him. "So Y/N, how have things been?" He asks awkwardly, its clear he is uncomftorable and doesnt know what to say. You had thought of the things you would say to him for years now, over and over you had gone over in your head what you were going to say to the man that just up and left you like that. you would be furious and scream, sob and cry, all the words you planned to say just dissapear and all you can say is a single word. "why.."

He sighs as he rubs his neck and begins to explain, He tells you how he had began to despise his parents for how they let falin be treated, and how instead of supporting her and her talents they sent her away to the magic school on a different continent. He had grown to hate his parents (more so his father but he had no fond feelings towards his mother either) even though falin kept in contact with them. He also explained how he never felt comfortable around people, that he had always felt more comfortable around monsters...and that in truth he hated people. Plus he admits he wasnt the richest person in the world so would have been able to give you a proper dowry. All of these together made him feel like he wouldnt have been able to give you the life you deserved, he didnt want you to be stuck with a man that hated everyone around him and hated where he lived and wanted to leave and get as far away as he could. He figured that wasnt fair to you, and he didnt know how to properly convey this and let you down easily so...he ran.

The weight of his words hit you harder than you expected...all this time you thought he just didnt like you or hated you ever, or he didnt care about you at all. All this time you hated him for what he did and that you swore you would get answers one day...but these werent the answers you were expected. It would have been so easy to continue to be mad at him, if he said he just didnt like you or hated you that would have been fine..you expected it at this point, but no...he did this because he didnt want to subject you to a miserable life with him..he knew you would be miserable with him if he had stayed there and he didnt want to put you through that...god this was so much harder than you were expecting. "You know....now that im king of the golden kingdom money isnt an issue..and ive made sure the kingdom is a kind place that treats everyone with kindness." you see him slump down a bit. "and since monsters come nowhere near the kingdom...if you want, we can get to know each other better..and see how we feel about each other then?" he says softly, damn that man he was a looker. you sigh, almost relieved its turned out that way. saying you would like that

[pinejayy]

hi there! Can I request of Muzan x Slayer! Fem! Reader ? :)

Muzan meeting slayer! reader who’s traveling with Tanjiro and Nezuko and they’d meet for the first time after Tanjiro was able to track him down by his scent and when Muzan turns around, he was distracted by the reader and her beauty.

Thanks!!! :))))

sure thing, I hope you enjoy this. uwu // the reader is also over 18+ and wow I did three requests today!! I have two more to do and apparently people want a part 2 for I'll make you remember ,, so imma do that and if you wanna be tagged for part for that story please let me know

Demon Queen (Muzan Kibustsuji x F!Reader)

Tanjiro, Nezuko and you were walking around, as you guys were taking a small break, a well needed break. The three of you seem extremely tried for looking for the Demon King. There was no trace of him. As you guys were walking around the small village you were currently staying at, you could tell Tanjito was acting more weird than usual. He was sniffing the air like crazy.

"I have his scent! Come on guys let's hurry." He said all of the sudden and with that he ran off, leaving you and his sister behind.

You were both confused, but you grab Nezuko's hand and then ran off, chasing the Demon Slayer. And he was pretty quick on his feet. As both of you chased after him he was standing in front of a man who was pale as ghost and who had a fancy outfit, along with a fancy hat. You couldn't but admire him, but something was off of him.

Both you and Nezuko walked next to Tanjiro, and he was yelling at this man who looked confused. You sigh and walk next to Tanjiro and place a hand on his shoulder and whisper against his ear. "Hey what's your deal?"

"MY DEAL! MY DEAL IS THAT THIS IS THE MAN WHO KILLED MY FAMILY!" He yelled out, and he started getting looks from people who where around you guys.

You sigh and shook your head. "Dude you can't go around yelling at people, its very rude of you." You say, looking at the man. You blood went cold as you saw his eyes. You laugh nervously and grab Tanjiro by the shoulder again and started to pull him away. "I'm sorry about him Sir."

Muzan couldn't help but admire your beauty, he didn't pay attention to the brat who was yelling at him. He just kept on staring at you, it honestly made you uncomfortable. "Does your friend need help little one?" He said. As the Demon stared at you he couldn't help but frown as he noticed your sword, hmm he might do something about that.

'Oh no he's fine, he's just tried that's all...sorry about him once again sir." You say and started to drag Tanjiro off, and he was screaming still. "I'LL KILL YOU, YOU KILLED MY FAMILY."

As he was being dragged off, the three of you got somewhere more private. "What's is your problem Y/N?" He said. "Do you know who that was?!" He said, sighing as he sat by a near by bench, Nezuko sat next to him placing her head on his shoulder.

"Yes! I know who it was...It was the Demon King himself...but do you really think it was the best idea to go yelling at him?" You say, shaking your head at the boy.

He looked away for a few second before looking back to you. "No..but-"

"No buts, look I'm sorry that he killed off your family but it's not the best idea to go running and yelling at him. He could have killed us!" You say, shaking your head as you rub the sides of your forehead. "And besides...we aren't ready to take him on. Yet."

Tanjiro sighed, as he looked at his sister who was already falling asleep on his shoulder. "I suppose your right. I'm sorry Y/N. It just hurts...he took everything away from me." He said, as he started to pat Nezuko on her head. "One day he's gonna pay for what he did."

"Hey I'm sorry if I was too harsh, but I promise you he will pay for what he did." You say, walking towards him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him. "But come on now. I'm sure your sister would appreciate some rest. We all need it."

"Right!" He said, and soon after the three of you found a place to stay at for the night. Luckily the place you guys found had two bedrooms. Tanjiro offered you a bedroom for yourself, assuming you would want privacy. As you guys were saying your goodnights he looked at you and smiled. "I'm sorry for the way I reacted early but we will bring him down.." He said smiling at you. "But please get some rest, we'll head out in the morning."

You smile and nodded at him. Saying your goodnights. As soon you guys went your separate ways you lay your sword down besides your bed and then lay down, taking a deep breath.

You were thinking about the Demon Lord, you couldn't wait for the day he dies. As you were ready to drift off to sleep you felt a presence in the room. You sit up and look around and saw nothing. Until you heard a voice, making you jump.

"Wow you're more beautiful up close."

Looking at the person you saw the Demon from earlier. Your blood went cold, as you were about to reach for your sword but Muzan hand grabbed your wrist, gripping quite hard making you whimper in pain. "I wouldn't do that if I was you."

"What do you want? Are you here to kill me?" You say softly, as you didn't want to alert the others. Afraid if you did they would be killed.

Muzan chuckled, letting go of your wrist. He slowly started to trace a finger across your soft skin. Then he started to drag his nail across your cheek, but not hard enough to draw blood. "I want you as my Demon Queen."

"No way! I would rather die!" You hiss at him. Making him laugh quite loud. Surley Tanjiro would hear it.

"You don't have an option my love.." And with that he grabbed your sword in a quick motion and smacked you in the back of the head with the bottom of the sword knocking you out cold. He sighed and looked at the sword "You won't be needed this anymore." As he stood up and threw the sword against the wall.

"Y/N HEY ARE YOU OKAY? CAN I COME IN!"

Muzan ears perked up as he heard the voice of the Demon Slayer from earlier. Smirking to himself, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

"PLEASE IF YOU DON'T ANSWER ME! I'LL COME IN!"

Still not hearing a word from you, Tanjiro opened the door and was shocked from the view. It was Muzan holding your body! And with that Muzan ran off with you on his shoulder. Running at super sonic speed, Tanjiro would never catch up to him..

Leaving Tanjiro shocked at the slight. He then fell onto his knees crying loudly "This is all my fault! First my Family and now Y/N" As he cried on the floor, he was shaking. He lost you too now...

Little did he know that you were still alive, and how Muzan is going to force you to be his Demon Queen. Not only Tanjiro had to kill off the Demon King later on he also had to kill you off...the soon to be Demon Queen.

[homicidal-sheep]

I will defend Eurylochus to my dying breath because what the fuck yall, he is not the malicious monster people are making him out to be?? Like these characters are so morally grey its not even funny.

I love Ody with all my heart but the man did fuck up. He is human, and a plaything of the Gods, which is a very dangerous position to be in at the best of times.

I've seen people saying Eury has no moral high ground on the Scylla thing because he wanted to leave all the men at Circe's. Now firstly, I highly doubt a simple scouting mission would include all the men (see Cyclops saga, when only a fraction went). So they would be running to save what men remained, not ditching the entire army. Secondly, what exactly did you want them to do when facing Circe? They didn't know Hermes was there. All they knew was there was a magic lady who could turn people into pigs. So what, were they gonna ask really really nicely? Somehow I highly doubt that would work. Without the Gods intervention, I just don't see them winning. Eury was cutting their losses because from his POV, there was quite literally nothing they could do for the men. Best case scenario they snuck the men/pigs out and, idk, kept them as pets??

As for the wind bag, yeah it was a really dumb decision. But Ody is the one who decided not to trust his men, especially Eury. Ody has already given up on the crew, and they likely feel that distrust. Why should they put their blind faith in a man who refuses to clue them in? Why should they believe that he has whats best for them in their hearts? Ody's own guilt caused him to embrace an ideology that got a bunch of them killed. (remember when he said the only one who's lines he hasn't crossed were his own?) And we can see some of this growing resentment in Perimedes cut song. We as viewers have context the men simply do not.

Sidenote, people say Eury would have gotten them lotus'd. Yeah maybe. or maybe Ody would have recognized the fruit before they ate it, like he did with Polites. We cannot know.

The other point I keep seeing, that I find absolutely baffling is "well they deserved to die for mutinying, they should have listened to their king and captain" I'm sorry when did we all become monarchists. Kings and captains can absolutely make bad decisions? We should not blindly trust authority?? Yeah Eury kept questioning the captain. He was second in command and the voice of the crew, not only is he voicing their discontent, I'd argue that a good king should have someone who is willing to disagree with them. While Ody is right, that in the middle of a dire situation isn't great, and it would have been better to address those issues in private, they are very legitimate worries. If your captain has admitted he would burn the world to see his son and wife, I think being a little worried is absolutely fair.

The Gods keep appearing and helping Ody but they are also incredibly dangerous beings who constantly play with the lives of mortals.

On to the cow thing. Ya it was fucking dumb. But I can understand why. The man is fucking tired. They don't see a way out and at that point, starving to death slowly, so desperately afraid, probably sounded like a terrifying fate. Better to get it over with.

And he still cares! Ody is his literal brother in law. They bandaged his wounds when they could have idk, sacrificed him to Posideon or something. What Ody did to them was 100% betrayal and I understand why they mutinied, with what information they had. For petes sake he kept singing "I need to get home", I, not we.

Again, I love Ody, but good lord, the man is the definition of an unreliable narrator. Let them all be complicated, tragic characters without labeling them as cookie cutter good guys and bad guys.

[37-drc89]

painting with h. hyunjin

This week really did you and your boyfriend dirty. Everyday you would come home yawning, shoulders slump, complaining about how much you dream of getting into the bed. You find Hyunjin at your shared apartment, already grumpy, most likely splashed on the couch looking absolutely dead. You would just lay down on his back, nuzzling face into his hair. The drama king he is, Hyunjin would whine in fake pain, throwing you off of him, just to grab your tired body and lock it tightly in between his arms. Usually you fell asleep like this, having to rush yourself the morning after to take a shower and do everything people normally do after work. Monday, tuesday, wednesday and thursday, they all looked like this, they all felt like world just chew you up and spit you out on the ground for no reason.

But today's friday. The only thing keeping you alive at work was thought of weekend starting, knowing that your boyfriend stays home with you for these two days and you can have him all to yourself. Maybe that's why you got just slightly disappointed when you found him sitting in front of a blank canva with all his painting set already on the table. Of course, you absolutely adored Hyunjin's artwork and watching him focused on his hobby was your favorite thing to look at, ever. You once spent four hours just admiring his relaxed face, eyes wandering around the canva and brushes making soft, comforting sounds swiping on it. Obviously, Hyunjin wouldn't be himself if he didn't complain about it, trying to move your face the other way or throwing random shirt at your head so you don't stare at him so deeply, but the truth is, he liked the attention. He would always pretend it annoys him, but he wouldn't change it for the world. However, today it's you who needs his attention. The whole day you've been thinking about being in his warm embrace and watching some scary movies or comedies. But you know Hyunjin values his private space, especially when he's creating things. You couldn't help but frown, only patting his shoulder softly as a greeting, not to interrupt him. You go to your shared bedroom and slump yourself on the bed, sighing into the pillow. You play some podcast and let yourself sink into the softness of the covers. Not even half an hour passed when you started tossing and turning in desperate need of your boyfriend's presence. You quietly make your way to the livingroom, the only sound coming from it is Hyunjin's calm playlist playing from the phone. His eyes don't catch you standing in the door frame, too focused on his progressing artwork.

"Hyune," you mumble something barely above the whisper, taking small steps towards his sitting figure. You start playing with the ends of his hair, scared that any more physical touch might distract him at the moment.

"Hm?" his attention immediately goes to you and your heart melts a little. He once told you, you're the only one he would ever pause working for, and that's true, he could never ignore you.

"Can I stay here with you for a second? I miss you," your arms carefully wrap themselves around his shoulders and your chin rests on top of his head. Hyunjin leans into your touch slightly, short chuckle leaving his mouth.

"Do you want to try painting with me, buttercup?" he asks looking up at you and your eyes go wider, taken aback by his offer.

"I can? Won't I disturb you?" in response he just grabs your hands and guide you in front of him, pulling you onto his lap. His chin finds its place on your right shoulder and he takes your hand, forcing a brush in between your fingers. Hyunjin guides your hand to the canva and you try to stop it with your own strength. Before you can manage to say "I'll ruin it", or "I don't want to force you to anything" he just grabs your head with his other hand and turns it, pressing his soft lips onto yours, succesfully shushing you. You melt into the kiss instantly, finally getting your desired attention. "Shut up," is the only thing he says after pulling away, sending you the warmest smile you've ever seen and you feel like every worry bothering you since last week washes away. So you let him guide your hand as he pleases, after some time letting it go, grabbing his own brush and painting along with you, making your shared masterpiece. He helps you with every unfortunate stain of paint or wrongly mixed colors, laughing it off, nothing but love burning in his eyes when your face gets flustered or angry at your mistakes. Hyunjin praises your part a lot, paying his attention into the smallest details, clearly impressed by the amount of effort you put into the painting.

After all, it's now hung above your shared bed, exposed like a masterpiece it is, for everyone to see. And Hyunjin has never been more proud of any of his artworks, no matter how good they looked. Because this one he created with you, with the love of his life.

masterlist

[souvenir116]

all the lestappies are up in arms about this lando situation and rightly so. the side eye max was giving on the podium....(i'd be pissed if my so called friend did this on national tv but max is a bigger person than me). i was happy for lando's first win but with his antics yesterday and what he's been saying the last couple of weeks, not to mention the trump thing he's on think fucking ice again. max gave him grace and nothing but praise for his race win, shutting down the implication that the sc gave him the win and he repays it like this. our humble kings focused on themselves and how they can improve could never behave like this. lando has short man inferiority syndrome change my mind

Nahh the podium was crazy, it's not about being friends at all, its about having respect for your colleague.

Max looking at him for a while then tilting his head down and George's judging face? He knew something was not right, but Lando just kept smiling so big which is, not really nice in my opinion.

And I really don't understand how and why Max handles him as one his best friends on the grid because even recently, he said he gave his all bucket hats to Lando, he takes him to his private jet + Lando usually hangs out with Max during driver's parade, on the grid, and Lando just prefers to snap with "we are not friends. dont ever say that again."

As @valyrfia said, I believe that he's having more fun being called a wdc's friend rather than Max's friend.

I wont even talk about tr*mp case, but all in all, just thinking of how Max always encourages people, which it's George, it's not someone he usually hangs out, how Charles is nice to the other drivers, as well as when he told Tifosi to stop booing Max... You can win races and push your luck but it won't make you a good driver when you have no respect to other drivers.

Also, paraphrased, "Max wouldn't win without safety car." So do you.

[atopvisenyashill]

Why do you think Jaehaerys sexually assaulted his own daughter?( I'm genuinely curious)

I have two dedicated tags to this if you want to dig in a bit more - "gael and the bard" and the newly added "jaehaerys the cruel" tags, with this meta here being the kind of jumping off point into that whole theory/analysis. gael and the bard is more focused on gael targaryen herself and the mystery surrounding her pregnancy and suicide; there's a lot of bael the bard imagery surrounding her, being called the winter princess, gael being one letter off from bael, the father of her baby noted to have been a singer, and her status as like, an eternal maiden because of her relationship with alysanne. the jaehaerys the cruel moniker is just a reference to maegor the cruel - i think the play between maegor being outwardly monstrous and jaehaerys being privately monstrous is very interesting! but also it's not like a fun tag name lol so i might change it, haven't decided yet!

but i guess to break down my thought process here - i have never liked that man lmaoooo, i am an og jaehaerys hater. my lil journey here is, i read this series in high school, roughly around the winter of 2012, but i didn't read twoiaf when it came out in 2014, i read that just before i started this blog, so like....idk 2 years ago, roughly, but i was Aware Of Its Existence (they didn't have it at school, the library was kind of far, and it felt like a stupidly expensive book to ask for at the time). i had kinda skimmed over the short stories the princess & the queen and the rogue prince (don't ask me when they came out, icr), and had read all the twow preview chapters so it wasn't like i wasn't up on all the asoiaf world stuff, i just hadn't been able to get my hands on twoiaf, which I do think impacted my view of jaehaerys because the thing is...i just didn't understand the jaehaerys appeal. i won't get into the wanky aspects of fandom (i mean i will if someone asks but idk if you care lol), but i would say in the like 2010-2014 era the fandom was p staunchly and loudly pro targaryen, and not just in a "i love the rot" way but in a "they are the promised heroes" type of way and i never jived with it. i did not enjoy the vast majority of dany's chapters on my first read, nor did i enjoy this weird "well if you like the starks you're a NORMIE" takes that i was constantly seeing, and the sansa v arya war was insane (i'm blocked and have blocked just so many people lol).

i say all that because everyone was UP jaehaerys' ass. i won't name names but i remember a common rebuttal to the "well george is kinda critiquing incest-in-fantasy here and i'm not sure this series is going to end with an incestuous targ restoration" stance was "well if incest is so bad why do jaehaerys and alysanne exist huh? check AND mate incest hater" and it was like............alright, so this is a fandom of deeply unserious people who like to think they are the Expert On Themes instead of just another schmuck with a blog like everyone else. it was just a very condescending tone, always, and it turned me off the targs but especially turned me off jaehaerys.

and it was also like....but what has he done to be so beloved in this fandom??? again, this is pre twoiaf, and then post-twoiaf but pre f&b, so all we know about this dude is that he was called the conciliator because he pardoned the people who sided with maegor, he "protected the faith", he married his sister who gave the watch the gift, he abolished prima noctus, he built a dirt road, he was besties with barth. okay? i always thought the move with the gift was annoying and goofy behavior & i feel very vindicated on being right there esp if aegon’s dream was real, and i’ve always thought the marriages for his kids were kinda weird once we got those in twoiaf and WHAT DO YOU KNOW. like, pre twoiaf everyone was hyping him up as this great king, this paragon of valyrian supremacy, oh he’s so smart and politically minded but he’s not overly cruel, and it was like. we know little about this man in his day to day life though. we know damn well whatever good robert did as king was largely jon arryn's influence so Why are we pretending like just because jaehaerys passed a few good laws it means HE was the one responsible for those ideas (and again I WAS RIGHT). is what he’s doing even that good??

AND THEN FIRE AND BLOOD CAME OUT. and everyone was crying screaming throwing up about how stupid he is, how cruel he is, how weird he is about his daughters, and then people started saying “well you’re being unfair if you don’t like him because-“ i don’t give a shit because i’m validated for not liking that man’s vibes thanks!!!! like…yeah he IS a paragon of targaryen supremacy and this is not a good thing! and especially when you factor in how often the patriarchs of the series have these deeply rooted, very disturbing flaws, i thought the backlash to f&b re: “he ruined jae & aly!” so silly. of COURSE he was weird about his daughters, he eloped with his 12 year old sister and when confronted over it basically said “i do what i want fuck you” that’s not romantic it’s INSANE BEHAVIOR and i’ll stand on that forever!!! marrying your siblings is deranged and idgaf about what magic or political reasoning they have ESPECIALLY when jaehaerys himself refuses a valyrian marriage several times over when it makes more political sense to go that route (in both his own marriage and in the marriages of his grandchildren).

so! i always thought he was boring and weird, then f&b came out and i was vindicated. the thing is, as i read, i guess i was also like. but what is the fuckijg POINT of this guy! he dominates the f&b narrative when there’s way more interesting characters, he has no redeeming qualities, every good thing he does is usually overshadowed by his reasoning being heinous and disturbing, but this book is pushing this idea that he’s the good one, he’s the blueprint, so is it JUST an exploration of like, what ~being a good person~ really means and how reputations & history are very malleable depending on who is recording it??

And then i really started to dig into Saera. Her isolation, her drinking, her sexually tormenting the court fool, the way jaehaerys is always giving her gifts and "indulging" her, the way she's brought before the throne instead of in a private room because what she did is considered like, treasonous basically (what she did being, of course, having sex without her father's permission, lmao!), her very hysterical confrontation with her parents, Jonquil Darke forcing her to watch her boyfriend be murdered, Jaehaerys' insistence on refusing to forgive her and calling her a whore, and of course this weird exchange:

“What have you done?” the king said, when at last the princess ran out of words. “Seven save us, what have you done? Have you given one of these boys your maidenhead? Tell me true.” “True?” said Saera. It was in that moment, with that word, that the contempt came out. “No. I gave it to all three. They all think they were the first. Boys are such silly fools.”

"They all think they were the first." they all think it. i don't think any of those three boys were the first - i think she'd lost her virginity well before she started fooling around with them and when I first read that part my first thought was "I think Jaehaerys knows damn well who she lost her virginity to" and I started spiraling from there.

I decided to do a write up of Jaehaerys Being Deeply Weird Towards His Girls and while there's some things I would change - in particular, I think I'd add more to the Alyssa, Viserra, and Gael sections - there's a reason that the Saera section in particular seemed to really spark off a lot of conversation (not to toot my own horn here lmao) and that reason, imo, is that a lot of people read about what happened between Saera and jaehaerys and go "now what in the goddamn hell is THAT about." Saera more than any of Jaehaerys' kids is imo the canary in the coal mine, so to speak - whatever George intended with F&B, I do think he meant for us to look at the way Jaehaerys talks about Saera and go "this guy has some fucking ISSUES." I don't know that he meant for it to go all the way up to "Jaehaerys is molesting his own kids" route but I do fully believe he meant something in that realm of "Jaaehaerys is cruel to a sexually abusive point to his children" the same way that like, Tywin and Cersei sexually abuse Tyrion but don't outright rape him themselves. I think Jaehaerys was always meant to be aman who is remembered fondly but was an absolute monster in his private life, in contrast to both the kings he succeeded (maegor and aenys) and as a point of comparison to our "modern day" patriarchs who have their own hang ups surrounding their daughters in Tywin, Doran, Ned, Robert, Jon, and Hoster.

[calciumdeficientt]

what do you think context was behind justin's dialogue "derby told me last night i was his best friend"

Ohhhhhhh I’ve been ruminating on this ever since i listened to all the quote videos (please dont ask me why i did that i really really dont know) i pride myself on being somewhat of a stickler for the most inane and pointless background stuff.

Today i plan to answer the question:

WHY THE HELL DID DERBY SAY THAT?!?!?!?!?!?!

The easy answer here would be to say that Derby was drunk, and simply feeling very loving(that sentence feels so insane to me for some reason).

Harrington house feels very much to me the hotspot for “gatherings” of the bullworth’s brightest, best and most sickeningly rich. The little guest list on the desk as you enter, as well as Bif on the door in the weed killer mission, and obviously the general worldview of the preps points towards a general pickiness to guests, likely not accepting anyone by on their own social circle. Another key background factor to consider is the little bar that derby cowers behind in Glass Jaw during his bossfight and also the bar in the beach house, leading me to believe that the events hosted at Harrington house are usually organised with the intention of drinking copious amounts of excessively strong and exceedingly expensive alcohol.

There’s bound to be a few contentious objectors to drinking, at least excessively, on school grounds and on school nights and i think the ever-pining proto-jock Justin probably doesn’t partake as much as Derby “I’m too rich to bother attending class” Harrington. All this to say, Justin was 110% more sober and therefore 110% more receptive to derby’s drunk babblings than any other partygoer, prep or otherwise.

In my mind, Derby Harrington, despite having everything he could ever conceivably want at the snap of his fingers, is one of the loneliest students at bullworth academy. He mentions being beaten by his father for fraternising with a nanny, and shows a general disdain for his betrothed, pinky, by not even bothering to show up for their dates. He cannot truly get close to anyone because of his position as an heir to a pretty substantial oil empire. Great care is needed to avoid being sliced right out of the will and being condemned to hush money by his father. Bif is great, but he’s not all that much emotionally, at least not in derby’s mind anyway. He’s far far beneath Derby, that’s made abundantly clear when Bif loses his boxing match to Jimmy; he’s sneered at with the kind of vitriole that can only come from someone who views himself as king of his own private universe. Justin is in the same boat just presumably with a lot less petty cash at his disposal. He’s a weird ass bitch who’s so incredibly desperate to expand his social circle into the Jocks’ because he feels somewhat inadequate in his own. To use his verbage, he’s a peon in the prep hierarchy. He’s weak and scrawny and of little use in the stature department, at least not when compared to Bif anyway.

This night, Derby is drunk out of his mind, as usual, and Justin is beside him, a little buzzed but not enough to put him off his studies for the next day. They are sat on opposite ends of a chaise longue in the drawing room. Well… Justin is sat, Derby is more slumped, folded over the armrest in a way that does not look comfortable in the slightest. He’s telling a story from a recent trip to Europe, about a girl he met in a city that his drunk brain just can’t seem to decide on the pronunciation of, gulping scotch out of a crystal glass like its going out of fashion. Justin is listening actively, trying to piece the story together amongst the many asides derby seems to be wandering off into. That’s when the bomb drops “know, i like to think you’re my best friend here Justin” “what?” “You heard me….. anyway this damn woman”

Safe to say it was the best night of Justin Vandervelde’s life.