#lord have mercy this took a long long time

[exilae-moved]

INSIDE JULIETTE KING'S MODERN, TWO BEDROOM, TWO & A HALF BATHROOM, GOTHAM PENTHOUSE.

note: juliette's apartment is very modern, & sits on the 35th floor of her building. the elevator does not lead directly into her apartment due to safety issues her mother had concerns about when they were looking for a place for juliette to live. that is a great part of the reason why they chose this one.

FIRST FLOOR:

living room: juliette's living room has a wall of windows in the back left corner. above the sitting area is a modern chandelier. she has two couches, & two sitting chairs. in the corner of the windows is a modern sculpture. she has a piano as she took piano lessons growing up, she rarely plays anymore, although she does have a decent skill.

kitchen / dining area: juliette's apartment is an open floor plan. when you walk in the front door & turn to the right you will see her kitchen. most of her furniture is black / sleek / modern. juliette is not much of a chef at all, however she can cook homemade pasta ( her one go to recipe ). in her kitchen she has an espresso machine & takes her coffee as an iced americano with honey & oat milk. her dining area is directly next to the kitchen & seats six people ( plus the three barstools ).

office area: the stairs to the second floor are near the kitchen / dining area. behind the stairs sits the office area. juliette has a long desk ( wasn't one long enough in the sims so ignore the two desks pushed together ). juliette has two computers & a bookshelf in the office area. she has a desktop & a laptop. her desk is fairly disorganized, with her materials spread throughout the desk as she stays up into late nights either doing law school work ( past tense ) or working on research. in the corner of the office she has a pile of files, most of which tie back to her father. these get locked away in a hidden safe in her desk when people come over ( the code is completely randomized, & she resets it every month ).

guest bedroom: the door next to the office leads into a simple guest bedroom. it keeps the black & gold themed guest bedroom. the bathroom contains a shower / bath combo. juliette rarely has guests stay over, when she does it's usually members of the batfam, or influencer / socialite friends of hers if they are too tipsy for juliette to feel comfortable sending them home.

( the bottom floor also has a half bathroom, the door is also near the office ).

SECOND FLOOR:

landing: the landing looks down into the living room & kitchen. you cannot see the office, or dining room from the landing.

lounge area: juliette is not a big fan of television but finds herself sometimes wanting to rest & watch comfort movies. ( i got lazy here, so it's not decorated ).

juliette's bedroom: juliette's bedroom is very much white & black with small silver accents. her bed is in the center of the room & she has a few black & white art pieces throughout. on her dresser is a pack of cigarettes as well as muscle relaxants that she has a slight dependency on. she also has more documents in regards to her father, her mother, the court of owls, & so on. in the corner of the room is a file box she keeps. she keeps her bedroom locked whenever she leaves, as well as the front door ( obviously ). her room has a mixture of industrial & modern feeling to it.

juliette's bedroom, con't: juliette has a walk in closet with a head to toe length mirror. it is filled with close ( not seen here ) both custom & store bought clothing / shoes. she also has a bathroom with a few plants / art pieces.

[paganminiskirt]

haii gooseberry number one fan here. whats yr thoughts on phylis ... i lov lov lov yr posts abt picking apart coyles character and lore hehe

“You're too delicate! You're too precious! You can't go!”

Well first of all, I love that she’s fat, in part because you can bet your ass that if she wasn’t, she’d be overeroticized and made the object of those shallow copy-pasted “awoooooooga step on me mommy” screeds that fandom regurgitates to avoid having to put coherent thought into female characters. Much like queerness and the role it plays in Coyle’s storyline, fat characters that are conceptualized to act as fonts of horror have traditionally reinforced fatphobic social norms. And because of the gory, grotesque conventions of horror as a genre, these cases are often distinctly more damaging and offensive than, say, a fatphobic character in a sitcom. (You can read more about this topic here and here.)

The voice acting carries all of her appearances, too. Her now infamous cocaine song is the first example to come to mind; that overwrought, wavering tone she adopts makes it sound like she’s always on the brink of breaking down entirely. The sustained anxiety created a harsh juxtaposition between her tone and the lewd lines share’s parroting (“fucking and fighting.”) The quote that I highlighted at the top of the post also shines. Gooseberry’s great vocal performance is cool not least of all because the last major fat antagonist in the series, Chris Walker, didn’t get a lot of lines. I’m midway through replaying the first Outlast, and I think the game treats Chris Walker with a lot more pathos and significance than many games treat fat characters of his kind, although that assessment falls apart once you get to The Murkoff Account.

Chris is the main villain of Outlast. He’s portrayed as brutal but also competent and deliberately ruthless, which implies that he’s capable of complex thought in spite of the dehumanization he endured as a variant. The contradiction there underscores the game’s main theme & the overarching tragedy and atrocity of Mount Massive. In the end, Chris is brutally murdered on screen, and you could argue that the imagery incorporated in his death scene - that of expanding and blowing up - has fatphobic undertones. But unlike Rick Traeger and Eddie Gluskin, who meet similarly grizzly fates, the audience surrogate Miles directly suggests that the viewer should sympathize with Chris after his death. Somehow, Chris emerges as the least monstrous of the three, no matter how much abuse was piled onto his body and mind, and no matter what crimes he committed under that duress. Overall, Outlast presents him as a relevant, memorable, and fully autonomous character. Not bad, for a game that came out while The Biggest Loser was still airing on NBC.

But the comics have a lot less time to develop Chris than the game did. In The Murkoff Account, his main purpose is to act as a human example of broader institutional cruelty, much like Billy Hope did in Outlast. That position naturally invites the audience to view Chris as victimized and, to an extent, sympathetic, but his only notable characteristic outside of that victimization is a childish inability to control his aggression or prevent himself from being bullied. Those two details seem to form a paradox, right? Chris is a former military police officer, he brags about knowing judo, he should be able to get his coworkers to shut up and stop making fun of him. But he lacks the drive, conviction and strength of will necessary to do that. He’s basically a big baby, characterization which is reinforced by the comics’ art style.

Compared to the thin characters, Chris isn’t allowed to act with nearly as much autonomy as he did in the game. What happens to him in the comics could happen to anyone, and the only distinctions relevant to him as a person are crass stereotypes revolving around his body. The cost of expanding on the game’s lore was that the main villain got whittled down to the latent antifat tropes which had always lingered just below the surface - Chris doesn’t get to be a mad doctor like Trager or an abhorrent admirer like Gluskin. Instead, he’s the stout strength trope, he’s the fat idiot trope, and he expands on the pig imagery. Not great times.

And Gooseberry was probably influenced by Chris. She’s fat, she’s strong, she’s associated with an animal, and to an extent, she’s infantile! Although I think that her characterization as hysterical and not fully in control of herself is less a manifestation of fatphobia, as it was with Chris, and more a direct allusion to antiquated perceptions of mentally ill women. “Goose” is itself old-world slang for a silly or witless person. If one thing has emerged from my thoughts on Coyle, it would be that the writers of Trials are a lot more conscientious of social perceptions and stereotyping than the writers of Outlast were. It’s natural for a series that’s been going on for this long to begin to develop redundancy, but Trials’ 1950s setting and new game mechanics help gloss over that. Phyllis’ asserted sexual relationships with in-game characters struck me as unnecessary, but fat women (like dark skin women) are often depicted as masculine and drained of eroticism, so. You win some, you lose some.

You can read Gooseberry as a sort of a combination between Chris and Eddie, with her body and maturity interconnected to present her as disturbingly naive and immature in contrast with the great violence she enacts. This is a concept also explored with Eddie Gluskin: his hand-wringing need to preserve his would-be victim’s “chastity” becomes bizarre and unsettling when pushed up against the graphic, vindictive misogyny. Similarly, one reason the chases with Chris are so unbearably scary is because the sound of his clinking chains gets louder and louder as he gains on you, but he also does this laborious breathing when he runs which emphasizes his weight. When Phyllis chases you, you hear Futterman’s drill and the sound of her mindless shrieking - it’s terrifying in a way that doesn’t incorporate her fatness into the fear factor. Love that. The same unfortunately can’t be said for her implied DID, a demonization which is unfortunately very common, very old and very damaging all at once. (You can read more about that here, and in tons of other places.)

Michel Foucault used a two-pronged framework to examine popular narratives about The Plague and pandemics in general. Within this framework, there is one “political” story model which is defined by a controlling environment and another “literary” dimension which is defined by a collectivized, frenzied environment. Perhaps because Outlast: Trials was developed amidst a pandemic, I think Foucault’s framework translates nicely to examining Trials’ narrative about the cold war and the red scare. Some common themes include mass hysteria, xenophobia, heightened interpersonal suspicion and a seemingly unprecedented increase in government control.

On the surface, Coyle would represent the “political” dimension of Trials’ horror, acting as an exaggerated, kinda ridiculous extension of the extreme social control that white supremacy & patriarchy enforce. Within this dichotomy, Gooseberry would represent the “literary” dimension of the game’s horror, acting as a chaotic dissolver of all social barriers rather than an enforcer of them and creating a frenzied, carnival-like effect within anyone who comes under her spell. The children who watched her old show and took to violence and drug consumption come to mind; regardless of background, parenting or culture, Phyllis changed them. She didn’t even have to see them in person. She did it over the TV.

Gooseberry [hosted] a children's variety show known as 'The Mother Gooseberry Hour” [produced by Futterland Studios] which started airing in 1951. Following Dr. Futterman's death, the cause of which is still unknown, she had a hysterical episode and began experiencing dissociation. The tone of the Mother Gooseberry Hour shifted accordingly. Throughout her tenure on the show, she used her television platform and mail-order "dental drops" business to get children addicted to narcotics, violence, theft, and possibly murder. Over the years, the children watching her show became cult-like, engaging in immoral behavior, drug use, and other shenanigans, leading to larceny and assault. In 1955, Futterland Studios was raided by the police, after which she was charged with racketeering, kidnapping, and conspiracy to commit murder. The raid left two police officers dead and five others injured, as she escaped into the tunnels beneath the set to attack them with drills. It is unclear exactly what was inside Futterland Studios, but police captain Stanley Hoad described the contents of the studios as "The most grotesque architectural perversion since H.H. Holmes’ Chicago Murder Castle.”

Trials is the first Outlast game to allow us to have character customization, and unlike the previous protagonists (who both get stand out from the other characters by being in some way Special within the setting,) the Reagents are intended to act as an endless supply of nameless, faceless grunts, the vast majority of which will die gruesome deaths during the guinea pig stage. In this game, we play as the people who would’ve been those nameless, faceless heads we see on the shelves in Outlast, or hanging from a tree branch in Outlast 2. The game’s customization elements are justified in-universe by the notion that they’re so addled that they can’t even establish a stable perception of their own features: an example of the collectivizing, depersonalizing nature of the literary dimension if I’ve ever seen one. As the popularity of the customizable character feature ebbs and flows, other franchises pull it out just out of laziness in the creative department. With that in mind, I’m really glad Trials did something cool and innovative with the concept instead of just dumping in RPG elements for no reason.

Phyllis’ multiple personas mimic the changeable qualities of the Reagents themselves, though they’re grounded in her stated backstory: there is the doll, the dead abuser, and there is her, the child-turned-woman reenacting that trauma seemingly without fully grasping what’s doing. We’re left with this character who’s genuineness we’re always unsure about, in hard contrast to Coyle’s blunt, undisguised self-servingness and complete lack of conscious guile or shame. The first time the player gets up close with Phyllis will be in the kill animation, where she nods at the puppet she thinks is her father before slaughtering you unceremoniously. Who can say for sure, if Phyllis is more malicious or misguided? Not us, not the other Reagents, not Murkoff, and least of all herself. I’m glad she was included.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Part 2 🖤I made the demon king a black man. I don’t see many Yandere POC OCs 🖤

Yandere Head Canons:

Defying Destiny

Yandere Demon King x Isekai Saintess Reader x Yandere Hero (mentioned)

TW: imprisonment, kidnapping, stalking, uncomfortable themes, sexual themes, Somniaphilia, Dacryphilia, etc.

Part 1

You woke up wrapped in the silk sheets of snow unfamiliar bed. Your eyes wild and your heart raced in your chest like a startled animal. Where were you and where was Reinhardt?! Why were there candles everywhere in this dark bedroom? Was Reinhardt planning to… oh god you were terrified.

You felt a sob rack through you when reality set in. Had Reinhardt stolen you away to live out some sort of sick fantasy instead of going through with his quest to slay the demon king? No… Reinhardt wouldn’t bring you to such a luxurious home. But who on earth brought you here?

“I see you’re awake, my delicate flower.” Your head snapped to the doorway to see the silhouette of a large man. You felt your blood run cold and a shiver run down your spine by his presence. That raspy baritone voice belonged to a stranger.

You flinched when the man suddenly slapped his clawed hands on the end of the king sized bed. Your eyes met gold for the first time and you seeped your heart stopped in your chest from pure terror. There was no mistaking who your captor was… he was the demon king.

“What’s the matter, saintess?” He chuckled as he reached a taloned finger out to hook around a strand of your hair. “Cat got your tongue?”

You felt tears stream down your cheeks when he flashed his long fangs at you. He was bewitchingly beautiful with his burnt umber skin and golden eyes. There was no doubt he was a demon and that fact terrified you. What did he want from you? Was he… was he going to kill you?

The demon king sighed at your shivering form before he moved himself to sit beside you. His hand moved to hold yours. “It’s alright, darling. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You sniffled when he began to wipe away your tears. “W… what?”

“I’d never hurt my saintess.” The demon king gave you a toothy smile. “My beautiful, merciful saintess… my salvation.”

You gasped when he brought your right hand up to his lips to press a tender kiss to the back of it. “It’s so wonderful to finally have you here with me… you’ll be safe here.”

“I’m just a bit confused about all of this…” You felt so small under his intense gaze, like he was about to pounce on you at any second. “Who are you and why have you taken me?”

The demon lord chuckled as he rose up from the bed to stand at his full, intimidating height. His curved black horns nearly added another foot to his height which made he give you a smirk. “Why I am the Demon King but you can call me Amon.”

The demon king- no, Amon, bowed his head to you. “And I took you to save you.”

You were surprised to see a tray of freshly made food in front of you when Amon snapped his fingers. Your stomach growled at the delicious sight, but you were hesitant to accept… Amon quickly caught onto your hesitance and took a bite of the food for you. “Don’t worry, it’s real and completely edible. Only the best for my saintess.”

You shyly took a bite and smiled at the taste. It was lovely…

Amon smiled warmly at you, his golden eyes studied your satisfied smile in pure joy. He was so happy to please you!

Amon ran his talons through his long black hair with a smile. “I’ll take care of you from now on. You’re safe here.”

As the weeks melted into months, Amon kept his word. None of his demon nor monster henchmen were mean towards you, unlike the hero’s party. Sure Amon was never far from you, but his company was much preferred over Reinhardt’s. Amon would bring you meals and made sure you had fresh clothes. He pampered you like a beloved pet.

Though it was never officially stated, you were Amon’s lover. And thus, you treated as such by his subjects. They’d wait for you on hand and foot. You received various expensive clothing and jewelry, they were eager to make you smile. It was such a stark contrast compared to your treatment prior…

You often gazed out your window at the volcanic city below. It was fascinating just how different monsters and demons lived from humans… so why did the humans want to destroy them so much?

You jumped when Amon entered the room to wrap his muscular arms around your waist, his nose pressed onto your shoulder. A few of his box braids tickled your skin. “I missed you so much… I just wish the humans would leave us alone. I grow tired of the hero and his party. They’re so much weaker without your barriers and healing. To think they never treated you well. What a bunch of losers.”

You turned to gaze at Amon in interest. “What is it that they’re after? Why do the humans hate your people so much?”

Amon gave you the softest of smiles, a bit of his fangs peaked out from under his lip. “Our magic stones. Monsters and demons produce enough magic stones to fuel humanity for eons… they’re worth a lot of money to humans.”

Amon pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, his gold eyes stared expectantly up at you. “You’re the only human to ever question their greed and motives. You don’t wish to be bound to a destiny thrust upon you by the world.”

Amon bent down on one knee and pressed his lips over your palms and fingers. “Join me. Together we can defy our destiny. You don’t have to be a Saintess forced to marry the hero and I won’t have to be a page in the history books.”

You felt a blush on your cheeks when he tilted his handsome face at you. “Let’s watch the world burn together.”

And now you had a choice to make. To fulfill the destiny predetermined for you or to defy your destiny.

[phantasmique]

Synopsis: You're pregnant by the King of Curses, but as violent as he is, there might just be some gentleness beneath it all.

Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism; a tiny, tiny dash of blink-and-you'll-miss-it spice; murder (it's sukuna).

Part two.

There were many things to consider as a consort to the King of Curses. His proclivity for violence, his cold indifference towards humanity. He's crushed thousands of lives beneath the palms of his hands, spilt blood and sliced flesh beneath his talons simply because the urge had struck him. He's cut down women just like you, for something as simple as breathing too loudly.

It hardly comes as a surprise whenever you wake in the morning, long before the sun has crested past the horizon in shades of gold and lilac, only to learn that another one of your fellow concubines has fallen to your lord's ire. Slain for reasons that you have longed since elected to ignore. They mattered little in grand scheme of things, and they often came down to small, tedious motives: She took too long to respond to one of his questions, she stuttered when she responded to him, she gazed at him for too long without permission.

You've learned long ago not to care. You've snuffed that part of yourself out. Crushed it underfoot as easily as one would do to a troublesome insect. Empathy will not ensure your survival in the King of Curses courts, and you've done well to persist after all of these years.

To nod when expected, to keep your eyes leveled to the floor unless ordered otherwise, to speak only when spoken to even while the urge to berate him burns at the tip of your tongue like something molten. A hot ember in your mouth, but you refuse to spit it out.

You learned how to read him. To see the subtle ticks and expressions that would show on his face, using them as a guide for his fickle moods. You knew your place. You knew how to survive. And as exhausting as it was, it was manageable. All was well, until it wasn't.

❃ "You're pregnant." It was clipped, blunt, detached. Said so candidly, as though he hadn't said something that had your heart plummeting down into the pit of your stomach like a stone. You had looked up at him then, wide eyed and openly gawking from your place posted at his feet with something like a scoff threating to spill past your lips. Your mind had scrambled, crawling for an explanation, longing for an answer.

That isn't possible. Curses aren't capable of reproducing. You know that he was human once, a long time ago, but that bit of his humanity must have long since perished. Right?

Pregnant. That shouldn't be achievable for you to produce a child with a curse. That had been a small shred of peace, a truth that you had clung to. That you had kept close to your chest, knowing that regardless of how many times he'll take you, carving a place in you for his pleasure, that you'd never have to bear his heir.

You do love your lord, in a twisted sort of way. He isn't merciful, or kind in any capacity. The brutal, corrupt entity that he is. But he does provide a safety that you might not otherwise had, a home and leniency towards your village that others have not been afforded; thus, a grace extended to your family.

Still . . . someone like Sukuna as a father. Was he even capable of such a thing?

It's true that your time of the months was late, but that had been easy to excuse. Your monthly blood had been overdue before. Delayed by stress and anxiety. And with Sukuna as a lover, you would not dare to sleep with another man. Not that you'd want to, anyway.

But surely he was lying. That wasn't possible. You couldn't be pregnant. Not by a curse. Not by him.

Your mouth had opened, lips parting to speak. To gasp or to deny his claim you weren't sure, but he had silenced you before you could even attempt to force a word out. Lazily lifting a single hand while all four of his eyes slipped down to settle on you, glaring red and piercing in the dark of the shrine.

"I wasn't a question." His nose twitched just the slightest, as though he's caught the scent of something odd, but you were certain the there was a smile nudging at the corners of his lips. As though some part of him was pleased.

Your voice was snagged. Dead in your throat. You had to draw in a tight, shaky breath to even attempt to form a sentence. "That's not pos-"

"I can smell it on you." He answered. Still lounging on his throne. Undisturbed while your world crumbled. " It's practically wafting from your pores. Make no mistake woman, you're carrying my heir."

❃ You had expected a swift death after that. There was no way that the King of Curses would ever entertain the notion of a lowly human bearing his offspring. Tainting his blood line. But the killing blow never came. It nearly made your unease worse. You aren't ignorant to his diet. His taste for human flesh. For the blood of women and children. It made you feel like a pig for slaughter. Meat being preserved for a feast. You've always been a prisoner here, a slave to his wiles, but now you were an animal, a brood mare. You've only ever had to try and save your own skin. To worry for your own life, but now you weren't afforded the luxury of selfishness. You had an unborn life growing in your belly and it had terrified you.

❃ But instead of shunning you, Lord Sukuna was showering you with a sense of possessiveness that you have never experienced from him before. Sure, you were used to the marks. The blotches of plum and blue and crimson that he would scatter along the flesh of your neck and breasts, the tender pink lines that he would mar along your skin, branding your hips and thighs from his talons. But his greed extended little beyond that. You were free to wander the courtyard with the other courtesans at your side. Small moments of serenity that you were all given in between your duties. Free to gossip, and read, or nap beneath the Sakura and plum trees; admiring the petals as they fall and glide across the currents. Carried off far past the shrine walls.

Sometimes, you'd imagine that those petals were you.

Now those small blessings are a peace that you are no longer extended. Guards now follow your every move. Stalking behind you closely like shadows. Silent, constant, and close. Always looming. Always there by Sukuna's decree to monitor and scrutinize you.

❃ You were no longer ordered to sit along the steps, posted at his feet like a loyal dog. He had you perched on his lap instead. Cradled on his thighs. Constantly gripped by at least one of his hands in some compacity. He had become keen on holding a palm to your stomach whether he fully realized it or not. Keeping it flat on your abdomen as though he was shielding your unborn child from the world, with the massive height of his body pinned along your back. Keeping you clutched to his chest as he was waiting for a threat to try and snatch you from him.

He'd keep you there for hours, seated between his massive thighs while peasants and aristocrats alike would get on their knees at the base of the throne's steps, bowing on their knees and begging for mercy and exemption from his slaughter. All while you were in something that was suspiciously close to an embrace. Not that you would voice such a thing to him. Not even with the safety of carrying his child offering some sort of immunity. Not at the risk of invoking his anger. But with how tightly he kept you secured in his arms, his chin raised over the crown of your head, there was little else to call it. And you loathed how much you were beginning to find comfort in it.

❃ Of course, he'd always find ways to shatter that sense of delicate security, whether or not he truly meant to. Namely when he had a servant executed. All because the young man had paid you too much attention; foolishly asking you if you needed any assistance navigating the gardens given your "delicate condition" as he had put it, offering his hand for you to take in the means to help you in your steps. All it had taken was for his fingertips to brush along yours.

In second he was there. Living, breathing, rosy cheeks and a kind smile. And then red. A crest of blood fanning out from his neck. And those gentle eyes. A brief flicker of life in them, and then dull. Muted like a set of worn marbles.

His severed head met stone with a heavy thud, rolling and rolling softly until its traction was halted by grass and moss. His body followed only moments later. No longer held up by spirit and blood, it gave beneath its own weight; knees buckling to collapse like a felled tree.

Despite the balmy nature of the breeze, gentle and humid, you felt frozen. As though your veins had been rushed with chilled water. You couldn't breathe as you stared at his body, disconnected and lifeless like a child's toy that's been carelessly broken and discarded.

"Pathetic vermin. He should know better than to touch things that don't belong to him." His shadow stretched over you then, eclipsing you from the light as the moon does the sun. His cursed energy prickled over your skin, seeping past the barrier of your garments to brush over your flesh, locking your limbs in place.

"A simple warning would have sufficed," you mumbled. Forcing your words out past the heavy feeling of your tongue. They feel broken and hushed all at once, but you can't stop looking at the way the rich maroon seeps out across the fresh green of the lawn, mixing with the morning dew.

His voice slips out into your ears then, a low rumble, possessive and unyielding. "I don't do second chances."

❃ You could hardly call a being like Sukuna soft. He was all hard edges. Harsh. From his brash, unyielding attitude to the rigid planes of his body. Taut muscles and serrated talons. Violent teeth that were honed to tear through flesh and snap bone, but it was undeniable that something in him had relented. Turned malleable by the sight of the bump peeking out from the layers of your skirts. Not quite tame, but . . . tolerable.

❃ He had requested - ordered - that you sleep with him in his quarters from that point onward. A command that split through the haze in your skull like the snapping of a neck.

Your brain was still cloudy. Fogged over and drawn blank by an intoxicated thrum, limbs lax and exhausted after he had drawn orgasm after orgasm from your body. Tipping you over the edge and under a rush of pleasure with a sadistic kind of delight; a sharp, wolfish smile had been split across his face.

The mere idea of getting up from your place on his bed and shuffling your way back to your sleeping quarters on wobbling legs, smeared with cum and sweat had seemed horrendous, but you knew what was expected of you. It had been muscle memory when you nudged your body up from the bedding, slipping your legs over the edge as you scanned the floor for your tattered jūnihitoe; ripped and torn in his fervor to have you naked. Discarded somewhere carelessly.

Then a hand was gripping you. Holding you tightly by the nape of your neck as one would scruff an untoward cat. It had a cold dose of fear skirting beneath your flesh, shivering down your spine and locking you in place as easily as the grip on your neck.

"You're to sleep here from now on."

It was firm. Final. No room for you to argue. And you didn't.

❃ It's lead you to an unexpected discovery. The King of Curses can purr. You had hardly believed it when you first heard it. A low, repetitive hum that had roused you from your sleep in the night. A guttural noise right beneath your ear, breaking periodically in between the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It had caught you entirely off guard. So much so, that in the moment, you assumed you were imagining it. A hallucination brought on by sleep. But the longer you stayed awake, forcing your eyes to remain open as you lifted your head to stare at the slumbering King of Curses, it was unmistakable - he was purring.

Like a kitten would. A soft, gentle sound that juxtaposed horrendously with an entity like him. It nearly made you laugh, but you had just enough wit and self-restraint to contain the sound before it could bubble up to the surface.

You aren't certain how long you had remained that way. Slightly propping yourself up to admire him in the dark, tracing over his face as the light of the moon poured into the room, painting over his skin in hues of blue and soft white; painted by the night.

His scowl softens in his sleep. The furrow between his brows fading into something placid, that arrogant grin - more of a snarl, really - now neutral. He almost looks harmless in moments like these. No glinting teeth or glaring, burning eyes. It's here that you can imagine that he isn't a possible threat. That he won't place you between his fangs and bite until there's nothing over left except for scraps and shards of bone.

❃ He's kind in his own way. A thought that you never once expected yourself to have. Not in regard to him, at least. But he tries, in his own way, to be gentle. When walking with him in the past, you were always expected to trail after him by a few paces, never at his side, but now he makes an effort to guide you at his side. Keeping a hand secured to the small of your back so that you don't fall behind. Now he he's forgone that all together and has taken to totting you around all together as easily as if you were made of feathers and cushion.

It's become a chore to move. Your sense of balance has been altered for the worse, thrown off by the weight of your belly that longs to tip you forward. And the swelling of your feet does little to help, smarting and uncomfortable. You're a stranger in your own skin. Sluggish, as though you've been packed in tight and tugged down by stones.

He's rushed you before in the past, glaring down at you from over his shoulder without a shred of sympathy. He appeared as though he was possibly considering in finally smiting you down, inconvenienced by your lumbering as you willed yourself to follow after him down the corridor in a sluggish waddle.

"Walk any slower and you'll truly be testing my patience."

On any other occasion you could have brushed it off. Ignored it as simply as the other comments he's made at you before, but your ability to control your temper has become poor as of late. Turned brittle and weak by the changes in your body. It's made your tongue loose and sharp, and without thinking you had snapped:

"My apologies for my current state, my lord, but this is just as much your doing as it is mine. So unless you intent to assist me, I suggest keeping your comments to yourself."

As soon as you blurted it out and registered the sound of your own voice, you fully expected to have you head struck clean from your shoulders. You always imagined that the last thing you ever see would be the carmine flash of his eyes before your vision went dark.

His eyes are indeed on you. Still observing you from over his shoulder. They narrow, thinning down into a familiar scowl, and you're certain that this is the end of line for you. It's fallen silent. The world drawn to a hush as you count down the seconds till your death. It's involuntary when your hands drift down to cover your stomach, fingernails clinging at the silk as though it might possibly protect your child.

But the killing blow never comes.

"You're a testy thing today. I'll ignore it - just this once." The rumble of his voice is the only warning you get before he's shifting on his feet to face you. A pair of hands fasten around your hips, a single strong arm slipping around to support your spine as you're suddenly lifted from the ground to be held to his chest. It happens so suddenly that it nearly disorients you. A complaint rises up from your chest, but as soon as you register the relief that melts over your feet at the absence of carrying your weight, it has you falling silent. Settling to sit complacent, and at ease in his hold.

❃ He's come to tolerate your defiance. No doubt pardoning you because of the heir you carry. But there were many instances where he would not relent, no matter how stubbornly you tried to remain in your opinions. Namely in regard to the denial of indulging in a very particular craving.

Initially you had thought nothing of it when Masami had tripped. Somehow stumbling on her skirts and collapsing down onto her knees in a nasty fall. You had rushed to her as quickly as you could, some of the other girls following in suit to crowd around her.

She had raised her hands then, facing them up towards her face so that she could inspect the skinned flesh there. Inflamed pink and riddled with small red abrasions that marred the heels of her palms.

Small wounds in the grand scheme of things. Something that you yourself have obtained throughout the years, but not once has the sight of it achieved such a response. You're certain that you could smell the blood beading past the parting of the skin. It wasn't a scent that you've learned to associate with blood, all pungent and iron. This was pleasant. It was rich, enticing, melting along the summer air like something buttered and warm. It made your mouth water. Suddenly your stomach was too hollow. Famished.

Your focus narrowed down, and you couldn't help but to admire how the sunlight glinted delicately along the red. Glittering faintly like flecks of gold on the seeds of a pomegranate. You wondered then, what it would taste like to run your tongue along her palm. To have the blood spread into your mouth.

It wasn't until someone said your name, loud and sharp, that snapped out of your daze. Jerking in place as though you had been stung. It wasn't until you met Masami's stare, her eyes wide and a little panicked that you realized that you had been staring. Focused intently on her wounded hands with the same hunger of a dog eyeing a slab of meat.

Sukuna had found out, of course. He had eyes and ears everywhere, shadows tucked into every corner; and no matter how quietly one might whisper in the amongst themselves, he always manages to hear.

He had shocked you honestly, when he had taken to approaching you about the topic rather than opting have Uraume slip human flesh into your meals. Still, you had refused. This was something that you could not possibly get yourself to budge on. The thought of it made you nauseous, it had your stomach turning despite the hunger pinching at your gut.

Reduced to a complete stranger in your body as the child in your womb altered it into something unrecognizable. Riddling it with twisted urges that made you want to run away from yourself. Haunting you with a hunger that would keep you awake at night, fantasizing about a craving that should make you fall ill. That should have you trembling with dread, and yet your mouth would only water at the thought.

The stare that he had leveled you with unamused. Arresting as it fixed you in place and forced you to still. As motionless as a statue as he looked down his nose at you, all four of his eyes latched onto your form in glints of searing red; a glint of fangs showing past his curled lips.

"Do not forget that it is my child you're carrying. Denying your hunger is only prolonging the inevitable. You'll cave eventually."

And he was correct. He typically dines alone, but since your pregnancy he's taken to having you accompany him for his meals. He had respected your demand that you were only served human food. Though you never missed the almost arrogant way that he would observe you as you plucked rice into your mouth. Like he was relishing in yourself induced suffering. Like he was waiting for you to break. The curiosity in his eyes always present, but like a challenge you tried you hardest not pay attention to the scent of cooked flesh permeating around the dinner table.

Try as you might it wasn't long until you had all but stolen a cut of meat from his meal, cooked rare and bleeding. And like some sort of ravenous animal, you had scoffed it down, clutching it with trembling fingers that shoved it in your mouth quicker than you could fully chew. Unable to pay your guilt, or the delighted expression on his face any mind as the famished pit in your gut finally felt something close to relief.

❃ As much as you love your child, there are times where it's already begun to display too many shared characteristics with their father. Namely the ability to disturb you and ruin your sleep. They get restless in the night; like clockwork, tossing and turning in your belly and battering the inside of your stomach with a near constant stream of kicks.

They weren't even born yet, and already they seemed to be throwing a tantrum. Pitching a fit as though they were demanding to be released.

It would force you awake, keeping your eyes wide open while sleep stung at them, weighing them down with the temptation to slip closed. But as soon as you would begin to nod off, it's as though the baby in your womb knew, and they'd make sure to punish you with a harsh nudge of their little foot. It's a wonder how something so small can deliver such a harsh strike. Enough to have you wincing; the air hissing sharply through your teeth while you glare up ceiling like you might find salvation in the shadows settled there.

"Are you determined to interrupt my sleep, woman? Why do you keep whining and huffing?"

As enticing as you usually find the sound of his voice, the sudden sound of it rumbling across the quiet is only grating. Your annoyance flaring, worn thin by the bout of kicking that's being delivered to the tender stretch of your stomach.

It had your voice cracking out with equal irritation. Unrestrained in your ire. "That's because your child won't stop kicking at me."

You can't stop yourself from turning your head over to glare at him, meeting his scowl, finding the intense red of his eyes in the dark.

"How annoying." He grumbles, face pinching into a peeved grimace. It makes you tempted to try and climb up from the bedding and leave his quarters all together. Perhaps you could take a walk around the estate until the baby settles. Sometimes if you speak to it, or hum lowly in those old lullabies your own mother had sang to you as a child, they calm down. Soothed by the sound of your voice.

It's as though Sukuna can sense your intent, and in a blur, he's gripping you by the torso to tug you up to his chest in a grip that's uncharacteristically gentle. Nestling you against his body as though you could possibly break.

He's done it before and yet it always manages to shock you into silence. To have you fall quiet and motionless lest you break whatever spell has fallen over him.

It makes you wonder if this is what it would feel like to be a rabbit drawn in to slumber with a wolf. Nestled against its fur, expecting a flash of snarling, drooling teeth, but only finding comfort and warmth instead.

"Troublesome, aren't you?"

There's the desire to retort. To give some sort of scathing remark in defense of yourself. To remind him that the child in your belly is very much his doing just as much as it is yours. Then one of his hands is slipping across the swell of your stomach, smoothing over the skin in a gesture that should be too soft for a man like him.

Using the same hands that are covered in blood from slaying thousands, sorcerers, men, women, and children, to cradle where your child rests. It clicks then that he isn't talking to you.

You dare to glance up at him, and it quickly confirms that his attentions are pinned down on your stomach. The expression on his face is tired, exasperated, but you swear that you can see something almost tender melting at the irritation there.

You wince when the baby lands another kick just beneath your belly button, directly where Sukuna's palm sits, as though they can feel the pressure of it.

"Restless, are you?" He muses, caressing his thumb along the bump. "There's plenty of time for all of that later. There will be many a sorcerer for you to torment once you're older, but for now it's time to rest. Let your mother sleep."

It's so conversational, the way he speaks to them. Talking as though they might possibly answer, and with how strange a being like Sukuna is, you truly wouldn't be surprised if he revealed to you that he could communicate with your unborn child in some manner.

You can feel the baby shifting, some part of its body brushing against your stomach as it moves. And act of defiance possibly, and you half expect to receive the sting of another kick, but it never comes.

You're practically holding your breath as you await another strike, yet there's nothing. Only calm. Only the dim sound of your steady breathing and the soothing hush that's fallen over the dark of the room.

Finally, there's peace. The warmth of Sukuna's body seeping into your back like the steam of a hot bath and just as easily it has your limbs unwinding. The weight of sleep engulfing your body, causing your eyes to fall heavy, the lure to slip shut falling over you like the comfort of a blanket.

His voice purrs out then, low and hushed, thrumming along your shoulders while he whispers a delicate command.

"Sleep."

But that time, you're certain he was speaking to you.

[eunuchve]

tags: mdni, smut, dragon!morax, MONSTERFUCKING, rut/mating cycles, predator/prey, double dragon cocks, double penetration, CERVIX FUCKING, size kink, mentioning pregnancy, mating, bro has a worship kink, breeding kink hints (he's in a rut dont hold it against him) a.n: (what have i done) this is the first porn with plot I've written and I gotta say; it is damn long.... happy valentines my dears, enjoy! pairings: zhongli x afab!reader

Lord Morax is a god; but he is more than that, he is an adeptus. illuminated beast. this fact needs no introduction, everyone knows. 

so when he took leave to a remote part of liyue somewhere, unknown to even his retainers, no one dared to bat an eye. the rain has fallen heavy, the season has become damp, and the scheduled time is near; Rex Lapis will have his rut.

it didn't take long for people to figure out the reasons for his absence; not when the lord became increasingly unfocused during stately meetings a week prior or when his eyes would turn to slits with a whiff of a woman's perfume for a month’s time.

You, the lone herb picker of a local pharmacy, didn't know any better when you stumbled upon a large hollowed-out cave that wasn't supposed to be there. you are familiar with the terrains, hell, you know it like the back of your hand -- so imagine your surprise when you find a nesting dragon inside, heaving, grunting alone; its horns glowing with a bright amber before its head snapped to your directly, eyes instantly turning to slits.

at first, you stumble backwards, watching as the figure slowly but surely towers over your frame; your neck cranes to meet its molten bronze eyes. it didn't take you long to realise whose privacy you had so ungraciously barged into; your mouth dries and you dropped your basket full of violetgrass, your heart beating out of your chest before your feet finally got some sense and took running to the woods. 

'fuck fuck fuck.'

you are going to die- you are so sure you are going to die. when your feet stumble and trip over branches and air, when you can hear him gliding through the sky; undoubtedly searching for you. The sounds of his scaled body burst through the leaves of the ginkgo trees, or of his deep, rough growls that echo through the forest. With every heavy step you take, you can feel him getting closer and closer. The thrill and fear mix inside of you, your body stirs with blood coursing through you. Weirdly amid the fear you feel-- somehow excitement came into the mix; something about your life being in the mercy of a chase?

Why is he there again? Rut? So will he fuck you or will he kill you? You certainly prefer one to the other. 

Your legs continue to run, even as you trip and fall, or when you stumble upon a rock or two; searching for an exit to a nearby village or open path; but no matter how far you run you can't seem to find the correct way. Your eyes scanned all directions before your body was suddenly pinned down under a sudden force and unmoving weight.

The paws of a creature so large that it covers your entire back, its talons digging into your back. The smell of freshly dug earth and exotic spices violates your nostrils and your heart can't help but thump against your chest just a little faster. You turned your neck, finding the dragon’s face mere inches from yours; his hot breath grazing the exposed skin of your neck. 

“Please don’t kill me.” god your voice sounds so desperate; with a hint of a broken whimper- even you are embarrassed by that fact. but your god didn't seem disturbed, instead he let out a low grunt, before hissing back a reply.

"don't beg."

"...huh?"

"don't." he spat the word, seeming holding something back. "beg."

"b-but--"

he didn't let you finish, picking you up by the scruff of your neck before throwing you to his back. he flew you back somewhere, you didn't care to notice since most of the flight back you are scrambling for something to hold on to; whether it is the golden spines or his actual body.

by the time you both arrive at the entrance of the familiar cave, he has waited for you to get off his back. you inclined, of course, shakily getting a feel of the ground below, catching your breath whilst adrenaline courses through you. once you get a feel yourself, your eyes travel to him, catching his large form walking slowly to the back of the cave.

"you won't kill me?" you find yourself asking; his head then slowly turns to you before, a visible look of confusion etched on it.

"Why would I?" his deep rough voice replies. he is definitely holding something back, the way his lips parted a bit to let steam out of his mouth, the sharp teeth that are visible from them make you gulp the pooling saliva in your mouth.

"Because... cave..."

weak reasoning, you'd have to admit, but if he won't kill you then you'd have to be sure of the other possibility. "then would you fuck me?"

the look on his face deepened before his head hung low, and a soft whisper came to you for a reply. "what makes you think of that?"

"It's your- Rex Lapis it's your time of..."

embarrassed, incredibly embarrassed; that's the feeling you felt, with the heat of blood rushing to your cheek and thumping heart against your chest only enforcing the fact.

"it is time for my rut, yes," he confirmed, his gaze thrown to the floor, avoiding your figure, "but I am not one with lost senses; sleep, it is night, it will be safer to leave in the morning."

you nod weakly, shuffling your way to the walls and plopping down on the dirt before curling up. the heat in your cheeks refuses to prevail as you watch him walk back, his long tail moves with each step he takes, the tuff at the end resembling that of golden clouds.

"My lord why are you moving so far away?" you asked, instantly biting your lip the moment that question escaped your mind, realising how desperate you sounded with that pretence.

"your arousal," he states matter of factly. "you. I can smell it."

you look at him wide-eyed, your face now comparable in its heat to the sun, your lips agape.

"it's safer for you this way," he continues.

"do you not want to?" archons you are greedy aren't you. "your rut- I can.. help..."

"I doubt it." his voice is precise, he says it like it's a fact, not even letting you have a space to express your desire. "they are the size of your thigh and their length..."

"I can try." bold- now you are being too bold. the size of your thigh he said? now you can feel your ears getting heated up from the shame. your thigh now pressed together as you imagine him inside of you; a second pass and your arms no longer placed nicely on your lap, instead instinctively protecting your chest.

his gaze looms over you, his snout now only a hairsbreadth away from your neck; a long deep breath he takes is audible before he groans out a reply.

"Do not test me human," something inside of him is threatening undone, you know it, "I will breed you till your womb is full and your consciousness lost-- if that is not what you desire then stay quiet and sleep; I shall bring you the village in the morning but until then speak not of this."

you gulp, now your lips parted before you crane your neck and place a shaky kiss on his scaled cheek, the heat of his body contrasting the cold of your flesh. "... that is what I desire--"

with that your clothes are torn apart; the valuable silk you spend months of your wage on is gone and your naked skin is exposed. the cold air hardened your nipples and he took notice, his head travelling down, his long forked tongue lapping sweetly onto them, earning your strangle out a moan.

"getting aroused from a chase," he breathes out, almost teasing you; hot breath contrasts that of the cooling saliva on your perked buds, sending vibrations down your spine. "thinking you can take a dragon's cocks, wanting to be the mother of my offsprings -- what bold actions you possessed."

you let out a whine, his tongue now travelling down, ever so subtly closing down to your cunt. you pressed your thighs together; embarrassed, already feeling your arousal seeping out of you before his claws forced them wide open, earning your moan.

"you are pooling my dear," he almost chuckled, his eyes narrowed as he licked his lips, his breath now grazing your quivering folds, unexpected whimper broken out of you.

"please?"

with that word you can feel the air snap hotter, his eyes now meeting yours; his form towering over you before he chuckle, training down kisses, his tongue now making sure you are covered in his scent.

"didn't I tell you not to beg?" his claws hold your thigh open and he took a lap of your cunt, almost smiling at your taste. "do you know why my dear?"

"n-no--"

your moans escape, feeling his tongue entering you, fucking you, stimulating your walls, not letting you escape. you arched your back, biting your lips as another whimper persisted. you feel his hand moving, now pressing his claws to your other hole, expecting you to open up; and you let him, your holes now stuffed full of him before you feel his tongue slip out of you, your whine tells him as much about what you want.

"Because if you beg..." he now moves his hands to your ankles, folding you in half and you watch helplessly, his two golden cocks decorated with geometric lines and veins on either side, one on top of the other- he does not lie, the size of those things are comparable to your thigh, its length will most likely penetrate your womb- "I will answer."

he chuckles subtly, aligning his cocks to both of your holes, its weight now pressing down on you, precum leaks out of them, lubricating you further.

"i am a god, my dear; I always answer."

with that he presses his cock head to your holes, hoping both of them will ease up. you moan his title out, causing him to snap his head to you, making him greedy.

Your little groan and hiss only help you muster up the strength to let loose, feeling your holes easing up before they let his cockheads in, making your chest heave.

he grunts against your neck; and you feel his teeth subtly tracing your shoulder, little nips that satiate his hunger, burying his head in its crook.

"Celestia." the way you feel around the tip of his cock is incomparable; the dragon finds himself clenching down his jaw, controlling his urges to slam you down to its hilt. "you are made for me my dear."

he grabs a hold of your hips, and you feel him sliding you down. you let out a low moan, your back still arched as you feel him inside of you more and more. the burn from the stretch doesn't scare you, even if you feel like you are being split in two- you only know the pleasure that waits for you not so out of reach.

not even halfway and you already feel him brushing against your cervix, your broken moan coupled with the way you rolled your hips almost makes him snap. his other cock too now deep inside of you- almost too deep; you feel the pressure against your throat, feeling his cocks twitch, almost making you jolt, your hand searching from his arm, nails now digging into his scales.

he looks at you, his parted lips letting out steam before his uneven breathing stops to let him speak. "I shall move now."

you look at him, biting your lips and nod firmly, affirming your readiness. you feel him trying to go out of you, your cunt and hole tightening around him, almost hungry before he slams into you, earning your cry of pleasure.

it persists; he goes out of you before he slips inside, messaging your walls before they tightened around him again, hungrily seeking him, your face now fucked out with pleasure, feeling him abuse your holes.

"I'm not even all the way in my dear." he almost smirks, you can see it. before you know it, you suddenly feel him picking you up, your walls being freed from his cocks, suddenly empty and you whine; letting him flip you to your stomach and holding your ass up in the air.

he marvels at the sight, seeing both of your holes gape yet clench down on nothing, it almost made him giddy.

"my beautiful follower," he mused, his claws now digging into your flesh before you feel his cocks lining up with your holes again; embarrassingly you can feel your cunt relaxing, ready to take him in once more. "will you be my mate now darling?"

"yes!" your desperation stays, you want him inside you so bad, "please Rex Lapis please!"

you didn't know what did, but you certainly awaken something in him. he brings you up in the air before slamming you down on his cocks, your walls now taking him fully, your stomach bulging out with his shape. your breath knocks out of you; you can feel him all the way in your womb, your hand can't help but trace the raised flesh, your spine almost shivering from the sensation.

"keep begging."

that sounds like an order; even your now fucked out brain knows that. so like the good follower you are you follow that order.

"Please make me your mate," you choke out, his slow rhythms that know your breath slowly but surely going faster, brushing up against all your pleasure spots, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. "please please please please I wanna- I want--"

he chuckles, the way you mewl your pleas, the way your warm flesh tightens around him; he can even feel your walls hungrily sucking him in so nicely. in his mind he is thanking Celestia; because fuck, you are a masterpiece.

"a human could die from this," he grunts out, going in and out of you with an inhuman pace, your cunt and hole loosening with his movements. "not you my dear; you are made for me."

you whine from his statement, the bludge he created only drives you to the edge, feeling something inside of you tightening, your nails digging into his scaled flesh, your face supported by his nose. "R-rex Lapis i- my-- i'm--"

"you want to cum my dear?" he almost teases you with the question, his cock brushing, bullying your g spot, making you dig your nails further, your head could only nod desperately at his question. "hold it, you could only cum when I do."

you whine out with his order, and he lets out a subtle groaning with it, chuckling at your reaction. his hand moves down, large talons brushing against your hard clit, teasing the nub; knowing exactly what it will make you do.

you wrapped your arm around his neck, his golden mane brushing against your flesh so softly; and your tug your face on them, muffling out your long moan and desperate cries.

"fuck- please lord mo- morax- r-rex lapis please- i want- i wanna- please please please-"

he kept his word, his face moving and kissing your neck, feeling you move your pelvis to fit him better, your inside hungrily brushing against his shaft. his brow knits, he feels himself almost coming undone.

"now."

with a final thrust, he fills both of your holes with white ropes of cum, you yourself arching your back, feeling your orgasm hits you harder than ever before. he hear your pants before he coils around you, closing gaps between the two of your while still being inside of you, wrapped up by your own warmth.

"i shall make the wedding preparation after the season's over," he breath out; your mind finally able to join the sentence together before you move your head, repeating the most important word again.

"wedding..."

"of course my dear," he kisses you, his snout pressed against your jaw before he tugs his head onto your collar bone. his hand travels to your stomach, rubbing the visible buldge that only grows with his cum, almost making look pregnant.

"the little ones will be coming soon."

[entitled-fangirl]

A gentle wolf.

Cregan Stark x Arryn!reader

Summary: Rumors had spread of the Lord's fierceness. When the reader marries him, she fears if the rumors are true. He defends her at the ceremony, and she believes that perhaps he's just a gentle wolf.

Warnings: talks of sex, cursing, blood and death, crude comments, attempted s.a. (not from our boy), a bedding ceremony, read at your own discretion

A/n: This was based on a few different asks!

Masterlist

..................................................

Y/n's father, Lord Arryn,was a firm man. Headstrong, he fought for the best for his children. 

When Rickon Stark accepted the proposal of Y/n Arryn to his only living son, Cregan, the smile that came to her father's face was the only one she'd ever seen graze his features.

This betrothal was the highest honor her family could have received.

She had never met Cregan before, but only being eleven, there was much time before she had to worry about such things. 

…

The years had moved by quickly, a rapid approach to the girl's end to childish things. 

The rumors through the years of Cregan's growing formidable northern spirit increased tremendously. 

Perhaps some of them were true. 

He's ruthless. Heartless. More animal than human. 

She grew fearful of how her future husband would treat her.

"Perhaps he'll finally get the bratty behavior out of you," her brother mused. 

Her brother's wife, the future Lady Arryn, hit his chest, "Be gone with you. Do not frighten the poor girl."

When he had left, the woman turned to Y/n to speak, but Y/n beat her to it.

"Will it hurt as bad as they say?" She asked in a hushed tone.

She paused to answer her, careful of her word choices, "It… may not be pleasant, my lady."

She had to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat. 

"But I'm sure Lord Cregan will be merciful to you."

She wanted to believe her sister-by-law. She really did. 

But even she could not believe the tense look in the woman's eyes.

…

Cregan was just as intimidating as the rumors had made him. 

Strong. Hardy. Gruff and unforgiving. Stern and harsh.

Yet his eyes always held an unfamiliar look to them, as if his next move was completely undecided to the person that stared into them.

A small smile came to his face as he held a hand out to her, "I'm sure your family wishes to rest from their long travel. I would be overjoyed to show you Winterfell if you'll allow me."

Y/n looked over to her father, who gave his stern look that he always gave. A silent warning to behave.

She took Cregan's hand with her own, trying to still the small tremor to it. Her voice was meek, "I'd like that, my lord."

"Cregan."

"Hmm?" She questioned.

"My name," he began, "It's Cregan. Please use it."

She nodded, "Very well… Cregan."

His smile grew as he studied the girl. As the two began to walk from the main hall, Cregan softly murmured to one of the servants to show her family to their chambers. 

"I do apologize that Winterfell has no lavish garden or beautiful art to view. It's rather lacking in color." He spoke lightly after a while.

She let out a soft breath, relishing in his voice finally. It was low, yes, but not the growl that she had thought it would be. 

"However," he continued. "It has formidable walls and a strong structure. Those who stand on this side of it are safer than King's Landing."

She hummed, "I don't believe the North really focuses on color and art over warmth and survival."

A chuckle escapes his throat, "Aye." His steps slow as they near one of the few balconies, "But perhaps you may breathe life into it."

She wanted to turn and question him, but the view from the balcony caught her attention. 

He made a motion with his hand, encouraging her to look out.

She took slow steps, reaching the bannister as she looked out at what Winterfell had to offer outdoors. 

What she didn't notice was what laid within the walls as well, for Lord Cregan Stark's eyes had softened tremendously as he watched the young woman. 

"I'm afraid I don't know how to be a lady," she lightly remarked as she looked over the courtyard.

He stepped forward to her, meeting her at the bannister, "It is not a matter you know, it is one you learn."

When she looked over, she finally took him in.

The man was every bit the wolf they had said. She knew that. 

But like every Stark, he was still a man. 

"I became the Lord when I was only three and ten," he said. "It was frightening. I was hardly old enough to know the sword, much less to lead such a people as the Northerners." His eyes softened again as he looked into her eyes, "It will come in time. Do not fret."

"Thank you, my lord."

He head tilted lightly, a small twinkle to his eyes.

"Oh. Cregan, I meant," she bit back a small smile at her words.

A surprising chuckle bubbled from him as he looked out over the bannister. "You're a quick learner, pretty girl."

She fought to keep the blush rising to her cheeks at bay.

She couldn't let the wolf sink his teeth into her just yet.

…

She was completely zoned out for the ceremony. She wanted to be involved and remember it, yes. But everything was just too much.

Right now, she focused on the heavy feeling of Cregan's cloak draping over her shoulders as he stated his vows to protect her under his house. 

She had already stated her part, leaving her to stare up at Cregan. She couldn't look away from how his breath could be seen in the cold chill.

Her attention reverted back when his hands cupped her cheeks and he leaned down to her, placing a heavy kiss to her lips.

Her hands gripped his wrists, thrown off at the feeling.

When he pulled away, a wide grin was pulled across his face. His forehead rested to hers. "I am yours, and you are mine," he whispered to her.

A breath escaped her lungs at his proclamation. 

Perhaps she truly was a lamb brought to appease the wolf. 

But then why was the wolf's smile so charming?

…

She sat in her seat anxiously, her entire body practically shaking.

She was supposed to sit with Cregan and enjoy the feast. 

But she couldn't stop worrying of the bedding ceremony.

To be naked in front of all these people? It made bile rise in her throat. 

"Something amiss?" Cregan asked as he leaned towards her.

She quickly shook her head, "Just nerves is all."

He nodded slowly, debating a thought. Finally, he handed her his own cup, "For the nerves."

Y/n took it gratefully, sipping the dark wine.

She barely noticed when Cregan stood and kissed the crown of her head. "I'll be back momentarily. I've a few guests to greet."

He straightened himself up, leaving the table to disappear into the crowd.

Perhaps a moment alone in her thoughts would be good-

"Excuse me, Lady Stark," a new voice mused. 

The lady paused, looking up to the voice. Across the table was a man no older than thirty, his surcoat a bright red. His smile was all teeth, and it put her on edge.

"Lord Bolton, my lady." He bowed his head before letting his eyes rake her form, "I was hoping to ask you for a dance."

"Ah," she quietly acknowledged. Her eyes began to look around for her husband. "I was led to believe that a first dance is required between a husband and his w-"

"-Lord Stark doesn't dance, my lady. Most northerners don't."

"I suppose that makes you… different." She said as she studied him.

He grinned again, "Aye. I suppose so."

With no Cregan in sight and no reason to say no despite wishing to, she nodded and began to stand, "Very well, Lord Bolton."

When she rounded the table, she took his hand, forcing a smile to her face. 

The two descended down to the floor as the small quartet began to play.

Lord Bolton's moves were careful and calculated, that much was clear. That alone seemed to describe him wholly as a person as well.

Another man rushed to Bolton, a smile on his face as he leaned to him, "Is it time yet?"

Bolton sighed mid step, "No. I will inform you when it is."

The man sulked off. Before the woman could ask, Bolton made a quick effort to spin her, distracting her from the conversation before. 

She tries to ignore the feeling of Bolton's hand on her waist. It's forced, uncomfortable. She feels controlled under his grip. 

As the song comes to an end, he makes no move to step away. "I must say, my lady, I have been most eager for this."

"Hmm?"

"The ceremony, I mean. I am quite eager for it."

"What do you mean, my lord?"

His hand reaches up to her cheek, his thumb running along her bottom lip as he stares at it, "To tear your clothes from you and watch you be throughly fucked by your lord husband."

Cregan stood with a cup of ale in his hand, his laughs loud through the hall as he joked with a friend of his. With his back turned to the high table, he had yet to notice his wife's absence from it. 

Until a voice whispered in his ear. 

His head turned, his face suddenly serious. "Repeat that?"

"The Lady… she danced with Lord Bolton."

His attention was completely lost from the previous conversation as he looked over to the busy floor. 

Sure enough, he saw Bolton with his filthy hand on her cheek, his eyes full of lust. 

When Bolton reaches up to the shoulder of her dress and tugged harshly, Cregan moved. 

A downright mob formed, eager to begin the bedding ceremony of stripping the couple and marching them to their room to consummate. But any body that moved toward Cregan was met with injury. 

He pushed and shoved bodies left and right, finally getting to Bolton.

Y/n laid on the floor, pushing Bolton's hands away, as well as others, as they pulled on what material they could. She cried out with every sound of the ripping dress. 

Fire filled the Stark, and his voice showed it. 

"GET THE FUCK OFF OF HER!" His voice echoed through the hall.

All the attention shot to Cregan, silence filling the room.

He forced himself to breathe. "I said," he muttered lowly, "Get. Away."

One by one, the people stepped away from the girl, creating distance. When Bolton stood, he straightened his clothes, huffing as he did so.

Y/n sat in tears as she pulled up what material she could to cover herself. Her dress was all but tatters, her shift containing large rips that only chilled her already shaking body. 

"Bolton," his voice growled out.

A shiver ran down Bolton's spine at the sound of Cregan's voice. He stepped to the man, "My lord?"

"Explain yourself before I murder you at my wedding."

"The bedding ceremony," he said as if it was obvious, "We were beginning the ceremony."

"And I told you there would be no such thing. Did I not?'

"Aye, but it is tradition," Bolton continued. 

"Aye, but I'll have your fucking head for this," Cregan mocked him.

Cregan knelt down to Y/n, helping her cover herself in what he could, as well as his own body shielding some of the stares. His voice was soft in her ear, "Are you harmed?"

She moved to speak, but her breath was all hiccups from her tears, so she shook her head instead. 

Cregan turned his head to look at the nearest servant.

"Bring me Ice."

Whispers moved across the hall immediately.

What would Lord Stark need with his longsword?

Soon, Ice was in his hand, and he stood from his wife to glare at Bolton. "I'm going to take something from you. But I'm noble enough that I'll let you choose."

Bolton's eyebrows shot up, "Take, my lord? W… What do you-"

"I was not finished," Cregan growled. He paced back and forth in front of the man. "I can take your hand, your tongue, your feet," he paused as a smirk came to his lips, "…or your cock."

"This is outrageous-"

Ice was suddenly pointed at Bolton's throat, "The next words from your mouth will be your answer or I will take your head entirely."

When silence filled the room again, Cregan turned his head barely to his servant again, "Get my cloak for my wife to cover."

When the warmness returned to the woman's shoulders, she pulled the cloak to her as much as she could, hoping it would sooth the chill and embarrassment that had settled into her bones.

"Take her to our chambers," he muttered lowly, not letting his eyes leave Bolton. "I'd hate to ruin her wedding night with the sight of blood."

…

Cregan met her a few hours later as he entered their chambers. His shoulders were still tense and his eyes still held fire, but it was better than before. "Forgive me."

She looked up from the sofa, a new, unripped shift covering her body now. "For what?" She asked softly.

Her eyes were still puffy, her nose a bright red from irritation. 

It didn't help his anger.

"I made a vow to protect you under my house and my name and I've already failed you."

"No, forgive me," she sniffled. 

His mouth opened to rebut against her, but no words came out.

"I… I did not mean to mislead Lord Bolton. I… I have sullied the Stark name. Dirtied it with… with a mere dance. I am sorry."

Cregan wanted to scoff. "What?"

"I mislead him. He-"

"Quiet," he said. "You've done nothing wrong."

"I've not angered you?" 

He took a step to her.

Her sniffles grew to hiccups, "Please don't."

His confusion grew, "What are you speaking of?"

But when he stepped to her again, she flinched away, pushing herself further down the sofa. 

"My sweet wife, please speak plainly," he tried to reason with his hands up.

"I… I can be better. Give me a chance, please."

"B…Better?" He scoffed. "You are an image of the Mother herself. I hold no anger to you."

She hiccuped again as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve, "None?"

"No. Only a creature of a man would ever be angered at his wife so. I defended you, did I not?"

Y/n considered his words. She was deep enough in thought that she didn't notice Cregan's closing steps until he was sat on the sofa next to her. 

His hand reached up to her chin, pushing her face up to look at him. "I promise. I promise to be entirely too gentle with you."

This was no wolf at all.

All of this time, she feared the Warden of the North. The wielder of Ice. The Stark Wolf. 

She hadn't considered that she had married Cregan. 

"What have you done to Lord Bolton?" She dared to ask him.

His head tilted, "Enough to help him learn better."

He may have been all of those frightening things outside of their chambers. But for her, he was only Cregan. 

He laid her down with careful movements, his touch light as he began to undress her. 

…

She was unsure what happened to Bolton that night, but rumors spread throughout the castle that the man's blood had to be cleaned from the Winterfell floors over a dozen times over to get the stain out.

................................................

Taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, 8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest,

[rebelliousstories]

Can I request suggestive headcanons for Remy, Logan, Wade, and poly Logan & Wade reacting to his shy gn s/o immediately covering their eyes while apologising profusely because they accidentally saw him half-naked because he was changing clothes please?

Walking in on Their S/O Changing…

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Brief Strong Language, Fluff

Word Count: 1,043

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine

* Okay, so keep in mind that this man has been alive for more than 200 years. He’s seen a lot. He’s done a lot. There is not much else that can surprise him in terms of learning new things

* However… You can still surprise him

* I completely see him as a man that would just casually steamroll past the fact that you were only in your undergarments. He’s not phased, nor does he care.

* Logan will definitely take the time to ogle if he gets the chance, but he’s aware there is a time and place for that.

* “Hey, we were out of beer so I took the truck to go get some… oh shit.” And with that, he was speechless. Logan’s eyes would trail up and down your figure, even though part of it was obscured by the tshirt that was pressed against your body

* Silently, he would stalk closer and closer to you, never once taking his eyes off of you. His hands would gently pull the shirt away so he could get a better look. Feather light touches would cascade themselves down your arms, and chest; all the while his eyes would drink it up

* Picking you up, he walked over to the bed while holding you and pressing his nose into the crook of your neck

* “What about the beer?”

* “Forget the beer.”

Wade Wilson/Deadpool

* Oh, the beloved merc with the mouth. How do I say this gently? He will both make you love and hate him walking on you. It all started because he had gotten you a new suit that he wanted you to wear.

* Wade had begged and begged you to wear it, but there was no appropriate timing to do so. It had gotten to the point that he had accepted that you weren’t going to wear it. But when you finally had been worn down enough, he got super giddy at the prospect of you wearing it. But you had taken too long in his mind which prompted him to take matters into his own hands.

* “What’s taking you so long, angel cakes? Oh, hello.”

* “Wade! Get out!”

* Throwing things does not deter this man, oh no, my friend. For when he gets a glimpse of you, half undressed with the suit on the bed, he’s gonna need his special sock. Wade is frozen in a state of bliss and was unable to move himself. Not until you forcibly pushed him out, and shut the door on him. When you had finally put the suit on and came out to show him, he was still unable to form complete sentences or even words at you.

* Safe to say, you had finally silenced “the mouth”

Remy LeBeau/Gambit

* Ah, Le Diable Blanc. See, I know, you want me to come on here and talk about how big of a flirt Remy is. But no! That boy is a southerner, and southern men are raised to be gentlemen. I truly, in my heart of hearts believe, that if Remy caught you changing, he would blush and book it out of there.

* Hear me out! Just, imagine it, okay…

* It’s late and Remy hasn’t come home from his night out playing cards. The hour was nearing one in the morning, when you finally decide to call it a night, but you’re unable to fall asleep quite yet. Fearing that you’ll have to spend another night watching horrible late night reruns in the motel, you began changing into one of his tshirts to sleep in when you heard the door open. Struggling to get the shirt over your head to have some sort of coverage, you weren’t quite fast enough.

* “Ooh, I tell you cher, it was a goo- oh lord have mercy.”

* And like that, the door was shut again. Maybe you let out a squeak, maybe a gasp. But either way, your ragin’ Cajun was outside the room, breathing heavily and holding it shut. After a few minutes, he pressed his ear to the door to hear inside.

* “Cher, you dressed yet?”

* “Yeah. You can come in.”

* When he does, you’re already under the covers with the remote to the tv next to you, looking at the door. Gambit just grabbed his change of clothes that didn’t smell like sweat, alcohol, and smoke, and went to change in the bathroom. When he came out, he assumed his place with you in bed. On his back with you tucked into his side.

* Although, the only mention he ever gave, was a whisper of, “You look real pretty under all that, cher. Like an angel sent straight to save ol’ Gambit.”

Poly! Wolverine and Deadpool

* Prepare for trouble and make it double! Two lovers with a regenerative healing factor that makes snarky comments? Sign me up!

* This is definitely happening after a morning food run. You’re living with them, and Mary Puppins, and Blind Al, and Wade decided that today was the day for donuts and good coffee. Logan was thoughtful enough to leave a note on his side of the bed stating where they were going and that they would be back.

* This left you and the dog to get ready for the day by yourselves. After a lengthy shower that you didn’t have to share, you had made your way into the room to get some fashion advice from the sweet little pupper.

* “Okay girl. Do we go with the yellow dress, or the red dress today?”

* There was a noise, and two men bumbled into the room.

* “Avert your eyes, sweet summer child. But you should just forgo the dress. And the under garments while you’re at it.”

* “Can you go five minutes without something becoming sexual?”

* Wade gave an mhm while shaking his head, and turned back to his partner. Logan had to do a double take at your state, but there was appreciation in his eyes.

* “Can you two give us girls some privacy?”

* Logan had to drag his counter part out of there even though he managed to break free from the mutant’s hold on a number of occasions. As he left, the Wolverine sent an affirmative grunt and nod towards the red dress in your hands.

[sareeen]

Unknown Touches for a Lady

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N never thought she would be married to the spymaster of the Night Court. However, they are undoubtedly married and nothing will save her from the night ahead of her.

Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, lovely azriel

Here –> Part 2 Masterlist

A/N: The idea that popped into my head today and I didn't get up until I wrote it. :)

English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistake.

Y/N felt the bed sink in beside her and someone, her husband, fold up the edge of the blanket and slip quietly under the duvet.

Y/N felt as if she would suffocate with fear.

Two hours ago, they had gone through the ceremony where she was forced to marry the spymaster of the Night Court in a luxurious setting.

For a purpose, her father said as he adjusted her veil.

It was nothing more than a means to make a deal for the benefit of the Court of Nightmares. More food, more power in exchange for soldiers and a girl.

In fact, her family had eagerly offered her to the High Lord as a prospective bride, and as she was educated and intelligent enough to be chosen over the other women in the Court of Nightmares.

For a long time Y/N did not know to whom she was to be married. She had been raised from a very young age to believe that she was destined to be a wife and mother, but she never thought that it would be him.

But now she was given a chance. A chance to leave that damn evil place and be away from her family.

Today, for the first time in her life, she could see the stars and feel the gentle touch of the breeze on her skin, bringing tears to her eyes. If she was lucky, perhaps her husband would never send her back there. If she obeyed him – though the very thought made her feel sick. All her existence had consisted of nothing but submitting to others. She would have liked to have ruled over herself, but it would always be a dream, now that she was married.

The shadowsinger moved beside her, causing every cell in Y/N to warn her to run.

Well, it's happening, she thought despondently to herself and closed her eyes.

She knew exactly what her duty was. What must happen.

For this marriage to be legitimate, Y/N must give in to her husband and willingly spread her legs.

“I know you don't want to,” he said softly behind her back before gently placing his hand on her hip. Y/N jumped at the sudden touch. “But we have a duty, Y/N.”

She shuddered as the spymaster spoke her name out of his mouth. His voice was soft, but still a warning tone mixed into the words. She had no doubt that he was not often contradicted and may the Great Mother have mercy on whoever tried.

Y/N licked her lips and let out a shaky sigh, then nodded. Trembling, she turned onto her back and it took her a few seconds to gather her courage and look at her husband.

Azriel watched her silently, his figure illuminated by the faint moonlight that filtered through the gaps in the drawn curtains. Y/N could see his broad shoulder, the swelling muscles in his arm, and even the dark outline of his tattoo in the dim light.

Y/N could feel the golden brown eyes watching her warily as they scrutinized her. She was surprised to find that the shadowsinger did not return her stare for a moment and kept his gaze on her face the whole time. Perhaps he was waiting for her to make a move.

Maybe he was waiting for her to initiate.

Y/N's mouth went dry at the thought that he might have wanted her to. However, she had been raised to do what others wanted, so with all her presence of mind she slowly touched her palm to Azriel's chest. She felt warm, silky skin and felt a steady heartbeat beneath her hand as she slid it a little further away. She heard the Illyrian take a deep breath and the scarred finger she had put the gold ring on a few hours ago gently stroked the cool back of her hand.

Y/N was so startled for a moment that she forgot to breathe. Never had she imagined that the dreaded shadowsinger could be so gentle as he was now.

Perhaps behind the scars and shadows there was not a monster, but a feeling being.

A tiny germ of hope began to blossom in Y/N and she continued to caress him a little more boldly. Her hand glided down Azriel's muscular arm and Y/N was startled to find herself enjoying it.

The way the steely muscles tighten under her touch, the heat radiating from his body as if beaming up at her, inviting her to slide closer and enjoy it.

Azriel, as if hearing her thoughts, took hold of her waist and gently pulled her towards him until their chests touched.

Y/N's nightgown was so thin that the spymaster could easily feel that her nipples were hard and straining against his chest.

Azriel groaned, barely audible, and something inside Y/N stirred at the sound.

Confused, she felt wetness between her legs and some primal longing that she had never experienced before took her. She almost longed for him to return her touch. To have him caress her heated skin. It was so unfamiliar to her, and yet it was as if her body knew how to press herself against him.

Unexpectedly, she felt the hardness against her belly that made her go rigid, but Azriel just squeezed the soft flesh of her hip and didn't let her move away.

“No,” he whispered and buried his face in her hair, his thumb tracing soothing circles around her waist. “Don't be frightened. This is what happens when –“

“I'm not so clueless that I don't know what it is,” Y/N said, blushing. She thanked the Gods for the darkness. “The women explained everything to me before the wedding anyway. That this is what it takes to conceive a marriage and it's the natural reaction of every man when he touches a woman in a loose fitting nightgown.”

Azriel remained silent, but eventually he involuntarily chuckled to himself. Y/N smiled vaguely, but the man's shaking chest and voice filled her with a certain joy. It reassured her.

“Not all men,” Azriel said, wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger and tugging it gently. “But you're certainly beautiful and you're wearing very little nightgown.”

“I didn't choose it” Y/N muttered grumpily as she lowered her head to look at the said piece. It was a little translucent and she felt a twinge of anxiety when she first saw that she would have to wear it tonight.

“I thought so,” he muttered. “If it's any comfort I think it looks good on you and I like it very much.”

She had heard rumors of the shadowsinger that he hardly spoke, but they were now lying here and he was obviously talkative.

Y/N finally understood that this was Azriel's way of distracting her and calming the emotions that were raging inside her.

Her fear of the unknown and to make her comfortable with the situation. No one had ever done anything like that for her, not even her mother.

She swallowed hard and, not giving herself time to drift away from the thought, leaned into him and pressed her lips to his. She didn't know how to do this, since tonight she was getting the first kiss of her life from Azriel at the altar in front of hundreds of guests. It was more like a little peck than a kiss.

She understood this when Azriel recovered from his momentary shock and kissed her back. This was different.

The spymaster's hand slid into her hair, his fingers tangled in her ringlets as he gently tilted her head into position and everything just got better.

The angle of the kiss changed, deepened much more and something like an excited tremor began in Y/N's belly. The scent of Azriel filled her senses, the cool night mist and cedar balming her soul, her nails involuntarily digging into Azriel's biceps and it was as if he lost all restraint at that small movement.

He rolled Y/N onto her back, then towered over her and kissed her fiercely. His tongue stroked along her lower lip as if asking for admission and she hesitantly opened it and Azriel's tongue immediately made its way to hers. Y/N let her husband guide her and she was almost giddy with pleasure.

She enjoyed the way Azriel's tongue glided over hers, the weight of him pressing her almost uncomfortably into the mattress and the hot hardness between her legs.

The shadowsinger's lips moved to her chin, and Y/N gasped for air as he moved lower and lower, finding a spot in the hollow between her shoulder and neck that made her hip snap away from the bed and involuntarily rub against Azriel.

Heat flooded her face, but she was unable to pull away from him and with long, sensual strokes she wanted more, which he acknowledged with soft moans.

Strong hands now gripped her thighs and Azriel moved lower, then bucked his hips and pushed against her. His pants and Y/N's underwear blocked them, but Azriel touched a space between her legs and moved as she imagined he would when he will be inside her.

She never thought it would be like this. This overwhelming feeling of his body moving over her, which he'd then elicited from her. Sighs erupted from deep within her body and Azriel kissed her as if to absorb the sounds she was making.

“That's it” Azriel gasped as Y/N arched and their hips met. “Just like that, my beauty.”

She groaned at the endearment and watched the wings spread wide on Azriel's back with a glazed look.

The membrane made the room even darker as it blocked out what little light had crept into the room. She wanted to feel the feel of it under her fingers.

“You can touch them,” he whispered, his breathing labored by Y/N's ear. “But only if I can touch you.”

“But you already do” she gasped, a thin layer of sweat beading on her forehead.

Azriel then let go of her thighs and slid between them, then reached down to her panties and pressed the outer curve of his hand to the spot where Y/N's body throbbed and almost burned. Gasping for air, panting, she made sounds that she should have been ashamed of, but her mind was in a fog and she could not contain herself. She would be ashamed later, but for now she could only cling to Azriel's strong shoulder.

“Here, Y/N” Azriel chuckled. “This is where I want to touch you.”

Y/N bit her lip at her husband's lustfuled words and nodded.

“There –“ her throat was tight, she could hardly get the words out. “It's good there.”

“Is it?”

“Yes” she cried softly.

His hand had pulled her underwear aside and was now touching her bare skin, causing Y/N's head to bob to the side and she clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle her voice.

However, Azriel stopped her hard and gave a disgruntled squeak.

“No, Y/N,” he muttered darkly. “I want to hear you.”

His wings fluttered, drawing her attention, and she stretched out her arm. When she touched the taut, silky membrane, Azriel shuddered and rubbed her harder between her legs.

Y/N loved what she was eliciting from her husband, so she repeated the motion and this time touched her fingernail to it a little, letting it gently scratch the inside of the wing.

“Cauldron” Azriel almost gritted his teeth in pleasure and buried his face in her neck. “You drive me crazy.”

Y/N felt the same way. His hand between her legs, his lip now brushing tiny kisses on her neck. It was killing her and she felt like a bowstring being stretched, ready to snap at any moment. Something was building inside her, the warmth in the pit of her belly seemed to be tightening and it was almost unbearable.

Then Azriel slipped a finger into the wetness between her legs and she gasped for air. It was a stinging sensation, but as he curled his finger he hit a good spot in her and she began to moan.

When Azriel gently pulled it out and then slipped back in, she heard that wet squeaking sound and it made her even more excited.

She wanted to touch him too. So much so that she had the courage to slip her hand into Azriel's pants and touch his hardness.

“Y/N” Azriel gasped as he pulled away from the delicate skin of her neck and peered down at her in the darkness.

“Teach me, please” she whispered with heavy lids. “How to touch you so that you feel as I feel now.”

Azriel closed his eyes and laughed softly.

“I already feel like that” he panted, but he helped Y/N and showed her how to take him in her grip. How tightly to squeeze and when he moved his hip to move into her hand, Y/N felt herself die instantly in admiration.

“Honey” Azriel sighed. “I need to be inside you.”

She knew what he meant.

She was a little afraid, because the women had said it would hurt terribly. However, what they had just done with Azriel had never been told that she would feel like this, so she hoped the sex would be different. Just as fantastic as this.

She opened her legs wider, giving him permission to make her his. Azriel immediately pulled her underwear off her and his own pants, then took her in his arms.

He adjusted himself between her legs but stopped and the golden brown eyes almost burned her face.

“This might hurt a little” he whispered to her and stroked her cheek affectionately. “But I'll try to do it as slowly and gently as possible.”

“It's fine, Azriel” she wrapped an arm around his shoulder and that's when she felt him shiver slightly too. Well, he was nervous too. “I'm used to the pain.”

Azriel froze, then sank down on top of her, so that their naked bodies were touching.

“From now on, no one will ever hurt you again,” he growled, his voice hard and purposeful.

Then he entered her, very slowly and Y/N gasped. She tensed in pain and whimpered and Azriel took her head in both hands and kissed her.

Finally when she thought she would pass out, she felt she couldn't take it. They lay there for a long time, but Azriel pushed forward and forward and then stopped.

Y/N sighed shakily and when her pain turned into a dull throbbing, he moved.

It was awfully strange the way Azriel moved inside her. It was unfamiliar, but after a while it got better and she gasped and clung to Azriel as if he would hold her and not let her fall over the precipice.

Emboldened, he thrust his hips faster and harder toward her and pulled her toward him with one hand, making them both gasp for air.

“Gods” Y/N broke from Azriel's lips and she groaned. Somehow the man moved in a different way and it drove her mad. “There!”

As if born to pleasure his wife, he repeated the motion again and his hand slid to her breast. He took one of her nipples between his fingers, then leaned in and licked it, whereupon Y/N clamped herself around her husband's member and moaned.

“Come for me, honey.”

His finger slid to her clit and rubbed it, which triggered something inside her.

Lights exploded behind her eyelids, her insides clenched and an animalistic moan tore from her. The heat was overwhelming her and she was sure it was over, she would die here and now, but Gods - if it is death she will be glad to go with it.

Azriel's hips slammed hard against her and she felt something warm flood over her and he shuddered. She wrapped her arms around him as if to protect him and their sweaty foreheads touched as they panted with the sensations that overwhelmed them.

Y/N opened her eyes and studied Azriel's face in the dim light. His handsome face was now relaxed and a small smile lurked at the corner of his mouth, his long black lashes casting shadows across his cheek. Her breath caught as she opened his eyes and his golden brown gaze locked on her.

There was an air of kindness and contentment that was evident in the way his hand stroked gently down her side.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly and pulled out of her, careful not to hurt her. The sheet was a little bloody, but neither of them cared.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered and turned to face him as he lay down next to her. Azriel covered them with the blanket and took her hand. “It didn't hurt that much.”

He smiled and kissed her hand.

“It won't after this.”

“Will it be after this?” asked Y/N shyly but hopefully.

“There will be a lot after this.”

Y/N almost burst with joy. Maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all.

[martyr-inthedark]

Favorite Food

Tw: food whump, aftermath of torture, unreliable narrator, unreality

"Whumpee, what is your favorite food?"

Whumpee's eyes snapped to look up towards Whumper (not at him, never to look at him).

"S-sorry, sir?" It's best to ask for clarification than to do anything too soon. It was a lesson that caused Whumpee to chip a few too many teeth. Their heart pounded in their ears. It's been so long since they've heard their own name.

"I said," Whumper's fingers tapped the table he was sitting at, and his nose crinkled, "Whumpee, what is your favorite food?"

Dread swelled in Whumpee's chest. There was a right answer, surely. They took a breath, a whimper escaping their throat. Did they really have a say? Was this just another trick? A test Whumpee was doomed to fail? There were two options. They could be honest, and risk Whumper ruining another part of their identity. Or, they could lie, and Whumper could punish them for lying (he knew every time, the bastard-).

"Everything okay?" An intense blush filled Whumpee's pale face. Shit. Shit, they took too long. There was a right answer to this riddle. There had to be.

"Sorry, my lord. I am only deserving of what you give me," Whumpee finally choked out. They did not see but rather felt Whumper's eyes fall on their face for the first time all day. They could do nothing under his gaze except tremble on their knees and silently pray for mercy. They sat listening to the gentle 'hmph' from their master.

Whumpee flinched when Whumper stroked their hair, their first sign of affection in a long time. Whumpee wilted into their hand as cold finger tips traced down the side of their head, pushing hair behind their ear, falling down their cheek and finally landing under their chin. Whumpee's lip trembled as their gaze was directed to Whumper's fierce expression.

"Oh, my poor doll," Whumper tsked. Whumpee's new tears followed the same route Whumper's fingers did just moments before. "Whumpee, what is your favorite food?"

"I'm sorry," Whumpee started, mostly to soothe the risk that Whumper was getting frustrated with them, but also to buy themselves a moment to think. They had not thought of their favorite food in so long, after realizing that going home was not an option (anything to ease the pain of loss). Thinking back to a time that felt far away, it came to them, what they missed most. "I'm s-my apologies, sir. Um. I really love... it's hard to pick. Potato soup, or really any soup. Mostly potatoes. Sir."

"That's really interesting." Whumper let go of their chin and their eyes finally fell to their rightful place on the floor.

"Sorry," Whumpee whispered, falling quiet once more. They braced themselves for a bitter insult, a smack on the back of the head, anything, and nothing ever came. They continued to silently cry. What was Whumper going to do? They answered the question. Was it right? The not-knowing was killing them. How could they be good for Master if they didn't know what he wanted?

...

Evening rolled around and Whumper beckoned Whumpee to sit at the table. Dinner had been set, and Whumpee sank into their seat, not wishing to further annoy their master. It wasn't unusual for Whumper to want Whumpee to sit with them. However, it was rare that they had a plate or bowl, and the conversation from earlier still haunted their day. Whumper gestured, and Whumpee lifted the cover off their meal, and—

Potato soup.

Slack-jawed and wide-eyed they dared to look up at Whumper. This wasn't for them, it couldn't be. Whumper had already started eating, and though he had his mouth full, he commanded Whumpee to eat. Tears swelled in their eyes and they shook their head. They weren't supposed to eat until Master was done.

"Whumpee," Whumper warned.

Whumpee flinched. Whumper's chair scraped against the floor as he stood up. Whumpee shuttered at every slow step toward them. Finally, Whumper crouched down below Whumpee, taking their quivering hands.

"Look at me, sweetheart," Whumper said, gently stroking Whumpee's forearm. Whumpee sniffled and did as asked. Whumpee, for the first time all day, saw Caretaker's loving and concerned eyes. "The soup is for you, Whumpee. Just for you. You can eat it, or not eat it. Whenever you want. If you want to wait for me to leave, that is okay. If you want to eat it now, that is okay, too. Your decision is safe here, okay?"

Whumpee nodded, and wept. And they wept hard. No sniffles. No simple tears. They properly wept as Whumper-no-Caretaker pulled their starving frame into a hug.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"I'm so sorry, Caretaker." All Whumpee could do was breathe out the words between sobs. They never felt more broken, more irreparable, than right there in the reality of Caretaker's arms.

"I know, doll, I know. You don't have to be."

"I thought—I must be an awful person—I thought you were him."

"You're okay. You're not in trouble. I'm glad you see me, now. I'm glad you're here."

Whumpee felt sick of themselves. They wished for a day they could wake up in the morning and feel whole. They wished for a day they weren't afraid of blinking wrong. They wished for a day where they could just eat their favorite food and it not be cold from waiting on them to get over their meltdown.

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (15) - Acquaintances

Summary: Astarion meets a friend of old and quickly realises it might have just cost him something very dear to him.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past trauma and abuse. Mentions of abuse.

Note: This post on reddit shed some light on Cazador, so I definitely giving it a read!

Word count: 3.3k

Series masterlist . Ao3

In times past, Astarion would have found momentary solace in the person standing right before him. After all, silence and whatever could be called normalcy were hard to come by in Cazador's palace.

The servants had been the very embodiment of the life he had long lost. In fact, they had been the only life that roamed the vast halls. All had accepted  being there willingly and under the foolish illusion that Cazador would one day grant them the gift of immortality. 

If you could actually call it a gift…

And even though they were loyal to the vampire lord to a fault, they were, for the most part, quite amicable to his spawn as well. Some would even tend to the vast and deep wounds inflicted by Cazador after he had spent his wrath.

Astarion had been quite fortunate to be on the receiving end of their mercy on numerous occasions, when his field of vision was nothing but a pool of blood ��� a sore reminder that crossing Cazador Szarr was not to be taken lightly.

Eyla?

He did remember her name and her kindness and gentle touch amidst his wails of pain.

“Surprised to see me?”

The slim figure took a few sure steps in his direction as he cradled your limp form in his arms, still overrun with shock.

Astarion tried to talk, but no words left his mouth.

“I suppose your silence is a novelty,” she said, coming to a halt as she pushed the hood down, revealing her pleasant face. “After all, you were always the loud and troublesome one.”

For better or for worse, navigating through undeath and the unpredictability of his circumstances ever since he was snatched from Baldur's gate, had taught him a thing or two about being prepared and always on guard.

The dagger tightly strapped to his thigh was proof of it. He would only need to move his hand slightly under you to reach the hilt.

“What have you done to her?”

The woman's lips were pressed into a fine line for a long while, as if examining his question.

His patience was running thin, and he tried hard to keep her engaged enough so he could find a way to incapacitate her.

“Do not fret – she will be fine,” she said with a sigh, drawing even closer. “Not that it wouldn't give me great pleasure to put an end to the so-called hero of Baldur's Gate and her role in what you did to the master.”

Ah.

He should have known that this had something to do with Cazador. It seemed that he was destined to have him haunt him even in true death.

The sudden realisation hit him so hard he held you even closer to his body, shifting along the bench as if that would create a safe distance from Eyla.

Surprised was soon drowned out by the ever-growing anger that took root within him. He was known for his temper and outbursts, and clearly not the most sensible man when cornered.

But this was something else entirely.

Astarion had over two hundred years of having the worst atrocities being inflicted upon his body and mind. As far as he was concerned, he had managed to find useful ways to deal with imminent threats to him.

But he wasn't so lenient when it came to you.

You were off limits to anyone.

And he wasn't going to allow any harm to befall you.

“You'd be wise to undo this right now, or this conversation will be rather short.”

She had the nerve to snicker, eyes flickering under the moonlight. “Freedom has made you even more insufferable and entitled. Godey ought to have been harsher to you back then. I reckon one hundred more lashings would have made a difference each time you crossed the master.”

Rage swirled throughout his body like poisonous fumes, and he found it hard to stay put through the taunting.

But she was a fool to think she could best him in his natural element. After all, he had a tongue sharp enough to rival the blade of his dagger.

“Well, darling,” he started, slipping nearly effortlessly into his usual demeanour, “Godey is now nothing but a pile of dust, so unless you intend on joining him for a tea party in the afterlife, I'd make sure to tread lightly.”

And like clockwork, the first cracks began to show.

Her face dropped ever so slightly and he figured he had one - maybe two if the gods above even cared to bestow him any grace - sneer remark left before she lashed out at him.

“You insolent and ungrateful brat,” Eyla spat out through gritted teeth, both fists clenched at her sides, allowing him to infer 

Well, he had clearly exhausted her patience already, hadn't he?

No bother.

His right hand now gripped the handle of the dagger firmly, as he readied himself for an imminent physical confrontation.

But something made him freeze almost instantly, and his gaze dropped briefly to your face.

Maybe, just maybe, it was merely his mind playing tricks on him and feeding off his desperation, but he could swear he felt you shift slightly against him.

And then he saw your face tense.

A sudden wave of relief washed down on him, his free hand giving you a reassuring squeeze.

Good girl.

It was in moments like this that he vaguely wished – much to his utter disgust – that the wriggling worm was still a . He would have made good use of them right now.

More than relief, he felt pride.

He had yet to meet someone quite as resilient as you. Whatever incantation had been cast on you surely wasn't enough to contain the tempest within you.

You had been shaped by the elements and woven into a sorcerer whose magic wasn't so easily put out. He had been foolish to think a mere vampire lord servant could ever be a match against your mind.

“Isn't it enough that you turned on your master and betrayed him?”

Oh, what a bloody nuisance. He had no patience to entertain speeches of heartbroken servants whose wet dream had been crushed.

However…

You shifted again, but no sound came from your parting lips.

Astarion knew then he had to play the waiting game. There was no denying you were slowly but surely coming to your senses, but he couldn't draw attention to it.

More than friends, you two had grown to become teammates, taking in on each other's queues to know when to make the right move.

He knew you needed time, and time he would give you.

Meeting her eyes with defiance, he took on the challenge. “What Cazador sold you was naught but a fantasy.”

Your hand shifted next.

Mentioning his name so blatantly made her visibly shudder. “How dare you? You utter his name with no regard that he saved you from certain death.”

He leaned back with a roll of his eyes, further reeling her into his trap. “Oh, please. And what would he save you from, exactly? Idiocy? I am afraid it would take more than a vampire bite to fix such ailment, dear Eyla. Eternal life can only do so much.”

Warmth began spreading under his palm, letting him know that you were returning to him.

Still, you needed more time.

“Your words might work on the weak, but not on me.”

“And yet… you managed to serve a vampire lord who had no intention to ever deliver his promises.”

Eyla was young and naive, so he couldn't truly fault her for being so passionate and loyal. Cazador's grasp reached far and viciously. Astarion had once fallen for his 

“That does not make me weak.”

A crooked grin curled his lips. “Just an idiot, then.”

He tugged on his dagger slowly, allowing his fingers to glide down across the blade, knowing that, sooner or later, he would have to make use of it.

Eyla scoffed, crossing her arms, apparently unaware that you were no longer unconscious.

Come on… you're almost there, darling, he urged sweetly in his head as if his words could ever reach you.

“The others warned me that you had become rather insufferable.”

Others?

“Oh, how very interesting,” he said, trying his best to ignore your hand clawing at his shirt. “Ava?”

Were they… friends? In on this together?

Her brows furrowed. “The monster hunter whore you befriended? Don't insult me.”

Clearly not.

Well… 

“Does this rendezvous even have a purpose?” Astarion said with a forced yawn. “Are we to swap snarky remarks until one of us perishes? I had more engaging plans for this evening.”

The serenity in her face had given her away. 

She wasn't alone and he was a master of shadows.

Even in the poorly lit area, he could see silhouettes drawing near right behind her. That was certainly yet another nuisance he would have to deal with.

“Astarion…”

Your voice snapped him out of his bloodbath scheming right away.

For a brief moment, he let his guard down by meeting your hazy eyes.

“There you are.”

His voice was almost shaky from relief, but it would come at a cost.

It had been an unfortunate distraction.

He wasn't sure how he managed to tap so quickly into his reflexes, but he soon felt the warm and familiar splatter of blood hit his face, making him wince from bloodlust.

In the midst of chaos and footsteps and hisses surrounding him, he was able to spot the man he had hurled his dagger at, slicing clean through the pulsing artery in his neck. The obscene gush of blood that ensued as he hit the ground was enough to drive any vampire mad.

And he was not immune to it.

He hadn't fed in days and he could use this to his advantage. In fact, he reckoned it would be the only way out.

Droplets streamed down his face, hitting his lips, and he wasn't strong enough to deny himself of an added burst of power. As such, his tongue darted out and a rumbling groan tore through him as the liquid progressively took over his senses. One by one.

Blood was blood.

He would have preferred yours, but he was far too hungry to be picky.

He had pushed you right behind him as he leapt from the bench, determined to take on anyone who dared to come close.

By the time he had managed to retrieve his dagger, Eyla had a smile dancing on her lips. One that had his eyes wide.

Astarion was fast and agile, but he was also severely outnumbered.

Two other men had rushed to his side, and he flinched as something began poking at his lower abdomen, as they looped strong arms around his own, immobilising him in place.

Wooden stakes.

“Astarion…”

Your voice was still void of the life it usually held. It was evident that you were still weak and in no condition to fight.

And, in truth, he wasn't even sure he wanted you to.

“Drop the dagger.”

It wasn't a request.

It was a command and he wasn't sure how to dodge this one. He usually carried knives and other daggers on him just to be on the safe side, but he didn't think he would need those tonight.

Fucking idiot…

No amount of self-deprecation would get him out of this one.

They wanted to kill him for what he had done to Cazador. They wanted revenge and he wasn't sure how his wits and snarky replies would talk him out of this one.

He groaned as one man drove the stake harsher against him, from under his shirt. Still, the pressure wasn't enough to break skin. Not yet, at least.

As a reflex, he immediately let go of the dagger, hearing it land with a muffled thump on the grass.

Eyla's spirit had been renewed and she took measured steps towards him. 

He heard grunts from his side as you struggled to sit down on the bench, flickering snaps of lightning emerging from your hands.

That almost made him smile.

You were a fighter through and through, and he wouldn't mind parting this world in these terms. Knowing you had been enough to ease the pain of centuries of hurt. He had been given a second chance at life when he met you and not when he was made immortal. 

He had never felt more alive than in the moments he had spent with you and he would wish to have more, but he couldn't wish for that at your expense. After all, you had your whole life ahead of you. 

He had had his fill. 

He was ready to meet whatever fate awaited him, as long as you were kept safe.

“You're coming with us.”

His brows furrowed, caught by surprise.

“Do not harm her.”

Eyla was so close he could feel her hot breath on his skin, fanning the blood on his face that had begun to dry into sticky patches.

“We are not harming anyone,” she said viciously. “But we've had enough of you running around unscathed after what you've done.”

He wished he could tear his eyes from you, but it was like a force field. Your arms trembled as you tried your best to rein in the elements inside you. Lighting and fire swirled erratically from your hands. 

Yours was wild magic.

Hard to harness and bend to your will.

Even harder when thrown off balance unexpectedly.

“Look at me, Astarion.”

The two men pressed the stakes harder and he had no choice but to comply, meeting her eyes again.

“Did you really think we were going to allow you to have your happily ever after? That you could off into the sunset with her once you found a way to not burn to ashes?”

She was mocking him… goading him, knowing he was rendered immobile.

“Have you been the ones sabotaging this all along?”

A surge of outrage nearly burst from deep within as her silence answered his question. 

“Surprised?”

That would be an understatement. He couldn't even begin to describe the turmoil that gripped him from the inside out.

“Why…” His voice faltered momentarily, “why not just kill me right when you had the chance?”

At this, Eyla laughed. “Is there a bigger punishment than the illusion of freedom? Killing you would have been the kinder way out for you,” she went on, each word dripping with poison. “No. No, Astarion. You were a fool to hope. You were a fool to hope your misery was over.”

A part of him was still in shock at the revelation, and he had no smart jabs that could possibly help him right now.

But the truth was that, the rest of him, had begun to accept that. He had been a fool indeed to think he could have had any other ending than this.

That he could have had a semblance of happiness with you.

“But I think that we are tired of playing this game. Maybe it's finally time to kill you.”

Just like a punch to his gut, he was quickly overtaken with dread as he heard a faint whimper from you.. “If you're going to kill me, don't do it in front of her.”

“You are in no position to make demands.”

“Please.”

He was running out of time. 

He thought he had bought enough for you to recover, but you couldn't even bring yourself to sit upright, let alone save him from whatever awaited him.

Most importantly, he was running out of ways to ensure you weren't scarred for life for witnessing him being destroyed.

“Oh, you're going to beg? The way you used to beg Cazador to stop carving the scars you carry on you, hmm?” Eyla said, visibly satisfied with the effect her words had on him. “Get on your knees and beg, then.”

“No… fuck…” you said in between groans. 

He'd rather you had lost consciousness once again, for each word from you was as a dagger that was carved into him.

“Astarion. Do not kneel…”

The two men holding him tight chuckled darkly as his knees began to cave in, but before he could go through with it, Eyla raised one hand, halting him.

“What if we kill her instead?” she chirped, making her way to you. “I think we should. Astarion would have an eternity to suffer for having killed the only person he has ever truly loved.”

Blinded by anguish, Astarion lurched forward, feeling both men struggling to keep him in place. He felt the sharp tips of the wooden stakes break skin just enough to draw blood, but he powered through the fear that loomed over him.

“I will fucking kill you if you touch her!”

With a click of her tongue, Eyla sat next to you, one hand caressing your head as you spilled curses at her, still drained from whatever magic had been cast on you.

“You'd be staked before you could even reach me, silly boy,” she said, revealing a knife from under her sleeve. “Now that I think about it, killing her seems the most reasonable choice here.”

You tried to flinch away from her grasp, and Astarion felt himself go mad from the sight in front of him.

He was about to scream when they muffled him with a piece of cloth, robbing him of his voice.

Reflexively, he tried to break free once more, but he was far too weak to put up a fight.

He knew it was futile, but he had abandoned all reason. Even though he had savoured blood, he was still too weak to break through the hold they had on him. Each pull from him and each attempt to break free were quickly met with an immovable force.

When his eyes met yours, he saw you mouth something.

And it broke him.

He didn't need to hear it.

He knew what you were attempting to say.

Thank you.

He doubted any torture Cazador had ever inflected on him could ever match the pain he was currently experiencing.

Eyla suddenly grabbed a vial from her robes, spilling the clear liquid along the sharp blade.

“Isn't it poetic justice that you are a master of poisons, and she gets to die at your hand?”

He recognised the vial as his.

It was his poison.

He couldn't tell which one, but it hardly mattered. Each poison he concocted was terrible through and through. They were designed to hurt and, ultimately, kill.

Soon, you began to sob, swirls of fire engulfing your hands as frustration gripped you. You were unable to get your magic under control and you were going to die.

For him.

Because of him.

Eyla threw him a final glance, positioning the top of the knife right across your neck. You stilled immediately, knowing any sudden movement could have the blade slice right through.

He tried to speak again, but all his words came out unintelligible. 

“If you scream, they'll stake you.”

Eagerly, he nodded, and they swiftly removed the cloth from in between his teeth.

“Please. Don't!” Astarion said in sheer despair. “I will do whatever you want!”

She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment. “You have nothing to offer us.”

He had to try.

He had to try to buy himself more time in the hopes that someone had heard him and might 

“You want eternal life, don't you?”

Silence. Dreadful and agonising silence.

“I can find a way to help you. There are other true vampires out there.”

Eyla tapped the side of her blade to your skin as she pondered his words. She then exchanged looks with both men.

“Should we take his offer?”

Had he made it? Had he managed to bluff his way out of this one? To possibly get you somewhere safe?

Hope.

Eyla lifted the poisonous blade and Astarion felt a crushing weight being lifted from him.

She locked eyes with him for what seemed like a lifetime.

Please. Please. Please. 

Eyla clicked her tongue with a pout. “I don't think so.”

And he watched in horror as she moved her hand to swiftly bury the knife into your abdomen.

“NO!”

Astarion felt his body go limp as his field of vision got flooded with a golden and warm beam that tore through the night sky akin to how the sun breaks the dawn. 

Next chapter: When All Things End

[dragonmonstermilk]

I'm soon normal for Aventurine and Childes boss forms, I swear🙂

Mean Aventurine and Childe Boss forms fucking an unfortunate secretary/+ assassin as a reward for doing so well!

(Threesome, like I said, so normal for both of them, I swear😃)

Anon, you're so right. I've been obsessed with Foul Legacy Childe since i've been playing genshin ! He's just so big that it makes my size difference kink CRAZY! And Aventurine boss form? Lord have some mercy on me because I love how cunty it is + size difference here too. Tbh??? A dream to be sandwiched between them!

Bosses reward

Thanks to anon to they request! This was my first time writing a 3some so sorry if some things aren't quite clear! I really hope you enjoy it though !

tw: threesome, dubcon, bossform!Aventurine × Foul Legacy!Childe x hiddenidentity!Reader (formal IPC secretary but works as an assasin), gn!reader, slight choking, lots of cum, cumming inside, mention of public sex

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚༘⋆࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Your mission was finished. The target that your bosses needeed you to eliminate now was gone. You sighed of relief, using your hand to swat way some sweat mixed with blood. You didn't really want to kill him but he was talking some nonsense shit and wasn't being rational, at all. You would have, gladly, saved his life but he preferred death.

As your footsteps echoed through the empty and long hallway you soon arrived to your bosses door. Taking a big breath you pushed the door open and saw them in their monster form: Foul Legacy Childe and Aventurine of Stratagems. The two of them seemed too busy to show off each other's strength, so you thought it was better if you came later. As you were to go away, Childe grabbed your hand and with a swift move took you in between his arms, both of you levitating in the air.

"That's how you wanna play, Childe?" asked Aventurine, a tone lower than his usual voice. Childe huffed, and keeping his eyes on Aventurine, he circled your nipple with the tip of his pointy finger while the other hand was on your neck, applying a slight pressure. You gasped, your eyes searching Aventurine's ones. Childe continued to circle your nipple, whispering sweet nothing into your ear. Aventurine got closer, your body shaking from the fear.

"Ow, poor little one. Why are you shacking?" mocked you Aventurine, twirling a strand of your hair, making you feel embarrassed. Childe still tortured your nipple, now teasing the other one as the hand on your neck was now in between your legs. Aventurine opened yours legs, him too levitating in the air.

"N-no, wait, please..." you begged, your voice cracking and eyes teary. You didn't want this! Why they were doing this to you? If they had some business between them, well, it's their problem!

Aventurine gripped you chin "Be a good pet and let us use you, mh?" His tone intimidating. You nodded in fear, afraid of what they could have done to you.

Childe licked your ear, his forked tongue making you shiver. Childe chuckled as he ripped of your pants. You instantly tried to close your legs but Aventurine was holding your ankles. You couldn't move, no matter what you did.

You were scared but at the same time it was all so exciting. Both Aventurine and Childe laughed as they felt your wetness. "You're so ready for us, little one" said Childe, talking as if you weren't right there, trapped in between these enormous monsters.

Still levitating from the ground, you could see the shape of Aventurine's cock, feeling Childe's one. You swear they were so big that worried how could they fit inside you or in any of your body parts. While you were in trance Aventurine was touching your sensitive area, circling your neediest point, even using the tip of his clawed fingers. Your moans bought you back to reality. None of them really spoke, too busy to make you feel good. Childe was leaving a trail of wet kisses and hickeys on you neck. Aventurine made sure your legs were spread enough to him.

Childe looked down, seeing your pretty hole clenching around nothing. "My, my, you sure are excited about this, aren't you?" teased Childe, his cock throbbing. Aventurine stroked his cock, leaking precum and you felt yourself clenching a few times, salivating at his size. Withouth warning Aventurine pushed himself inside you. You arched you back, gasping at the feeling of the stretch, pain and pleasure mixing it together, again.

A few tears came down your cheeks as Childe pumped his cock, taking then your hand. "Jerk me off" he said, his tone even lower than Aventurine's ones. You nodded, hand pumping down his shaft, squeezing his tip as his precum fell down his cock and on your hand, "Good pet, that's it. So nhgg good". Your moans and Aventurine's and Childe's groans filled the room. You cried out when you felt both Aventurine's and Childe's claws sinking into your skin, both of them going faster and faster with their thrusts.

"C-cumming!" You screamed, Aventurine pounding hard into you, touching your deepest spot. You were seeying the stars and didn't care about anything. The door was still open and you didn't care if everyone who passed could hear all of your moans and cries. You squeezed Aventurine's cock, cumming all around it.

"F-fuck, yes, that's it baby, squeeze me like that. I'm going to fill you up so good" moaned Aventurine, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he came inside you. You bited your lips, feeling all of his warm seed inside you. Childe thrusts came to an end too, his cum spurting all over your hand and on your sides.

You were all spent up, so much that they became humans again. The tree of you now laying naked on the ground, taking deep breaths. You closed your eyes, too tired to start a conversation with them. Childe and Aventurine looked at each other and then looked down at you, caressing your sleepy face. Then, the two guys kissed your cheeks.

"Have a good sleep" whispered them in unison before closing their eyes and falling asleep on your chest.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚༘⋆࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

[ladyempty]

"Do you think you can just deny me? No, the answer is no"

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

You were certainly a cursed woman for arousing the almost immediate interest of the cruel king after his bloodthirsty ascension to the throne.

Maegor already had three wives at that time, two wives he liked and one he despised with increasing hatred.

But you were different, it was an overwhelming feeling that caught you off guard in the first contacts.

There was something fascinating to the king in his every little gesture and movement. Her so easily adorable personality and impeccable looks.

So this was love? This flame that burns without being seen? That feeling he despised when bards sang softly on banquettes and celebrations, and now it had taken over his body.

Already convinced of the strength of his feelings, the king did not delay in a proper court, he thought he had already made his obvious interest clear. The king's way of showing interest was something... Peculiar... Certainly constantly chasing you, ordering guards to follow you and always so fixedly analyzing your slightest movement, it wasn't the most gallant way.

In any case, the engagement was not long in consideration, with Maegor coldly threatening you father:

"I will have your hand beheaded or I will have your daughter's hand in marriage" His tone was as cold as the blade of his sword held firmly at his hip.

The wedding was only in Valerian traditions, the king's warm crimson blood mingling with his own and the taste of copper on his lips.

Maegor would never stoop to marrying in the faith of the seven. An action that only caused more chaos and anger from the religious.

The wedding night was certainly not a fairy tale. The king was focused on creating an heir and finally freely exploring his body. His touches were rough, strong and not at all gentle.

You better not consider moontea...

As a husband, Maegor is not the kindest. His displays of affection are not delicate and he does not demonstrate his love through words at all.

But compared to his treatment of other people, he is much softer on you.

He will still punish you if you disobey his numerous and strict rules.

Jealous and possessive are an understatement to describe feelings and behavior. You are His in every aspect of the word. Your body and soul belong to him and him alone. And not even his other wives have the right to take their You attention away from him. Your world should revolve around him the same way his world revolves around you.

Maegor is simply crazy about you, he loves you in a way he's never loved anyone else, even if it was in a distorted way, he doesn't want anyone to get close to you, touch you or even breathe and look in your direction. Anyone who approaches you will regret it bitterly when the blade of your sword pierces the person's neck without mercy.

He admired strength... But you couldn't get hurt, he liked your bravery, but there is no way he will allow you to get hurt. Never.

Maegor will not change your reason if you don't trust him. He will even think you are smart. For a while. After your patience runs out, he will simply demand your complete trust in him.

"I am your lord husband, who is more deserving of your trust than me?"

And things only got worse after Alys's deformed stillbirth...

Tyanna's whispers in her ear about infidelity and the child being nothing more than a bastard only served to increase her paranoia. The mere thought of you cheating on him was enough to make him simply lose his mind.

He imprisoned you in your private chambers, no one was allowed to enter unless authorized by the king. Guards guarded the door to his quarters.

Then, in an act of desperation, Maegor took three wives at once. But all three had deformed stillbirths just like Alys… Tyanna had lied and the king simply didn't know what else to do. He was desperate for the first time in his life.

But like a ray of light... Were you pregnant? For the first time in almost decades... Maegor smiled widely.

[thealtoduck]

Sweet Juice

Clark Kent x Male Reader

Content: Greek Mythology AU

Warnings: Smut, Bottom!Reader, Top!Clark, semi-public sex, anal sex, unprotected sex, drunken sex, skinny dipping, spit as lube, missionary position…

Summary: You’re a member of Dionysus following and during a feast you meet a demigod son of Zeus, Clark, also known as the man of steel…

——

You were a lesser deity in a world filled with powerful gods, monsters and heroes. You were the son of the now famous naiad, Daphne. Unfortunately though your mother was no longer with you as she had been turned in to a laurel tree as a form of mercy.

It was considered mercy because the only other option she had was to be violated by Apollo, who was under the spell of Eros after an argument between the two. Apollo feeling bad about the whole ordeal apologised by finding you a place in the retinue of Dionysus and Ariadne.

You didn’t mind this as your duties were pretty much drink, dance, fuck, drink more and generally just to have a good time. It was just constant partying and celebration.

One night when the party had yet to start a visitor came for Dionysus. You were sat close to the god’s throne, you were petting one of his pet leopards when a strange man appeared and entered the god’s camp. He walked slowly towards the olympian. You noted his handsome appearance as he stopped in front of Dionysus.

”Lord Dionysus, you sent for me” the man said in a deep tone. ”I did” Dionysus confirmed before standing up saying loudly ”Everyone! Let me introduce to you to Clark, you may know him as the man of steel!… And also one of my younger half brothers”.

Dionysus followers broke out in cheers for the hero, who seemed slightly confused by the big welcoming. ”I’ve called him here to save us all from the cyclops that has been attacking in the night” Dionysus declared and everyone once again cheered.

”What?! You never told me of any cyclops?!” Clark asked agitated. ”Actually I didn’t tell you anything but you showed up anyway” Dionysus teased him. ”Why don’t you save them yourself?” Clark questioned. However Dionysus only responded with a simple ”Where’s the fun in that?”.

Clark looked irretated at Dionysus and said ”I will not be tricked in to fighting someone else’s battle”. Making the on looking crowd let out disappointed murmurs. Dionysus walked up to the hero and put a hand on his shoulder.

”Come on Clark, do us this favour and we’ll give you the biggest celebration you’ll experince in a life time, with the finest wine and feast, our best music and dancers and if you want you can take to bed anyone you fancy, we don’t judge” Dionysus offered.

Clark took a moment looking around at the crowd surrounding him until his eyes landed on you for a swift moment. He then turned back to Dionysus and said ”Very well, i shall do you this favour”. Once again the crowd including you broke out in cheers and applause for the demigod.

The very next day gifted Clark with a sword, armour and food by Dionysus as he and his followers saw off the hero on his way to save them from the threat of the cyclops.

I didn’t take long for Clark to return as he was back at the camp by next day. He came back in the afternoon covered from head to toe in dirt, dust and a little cyclops blood. Throwing the red painted sword by Dionysus feet.

”Well done” Dionysus complimented looking at the blood drenched sword. Dionysus then turned towards you ”Y/n, take our hero somewhere he can wash off” he commanded. ”Yes, lord Dionysus” you said with a quick bow. He then turned back to Clark and said ”When you return, we feast”.

You went and collected a basket with a bottle of scented oil, a strigil (a tool they used in ancient greece to wash themselves) and a new chiton. ”This way, my lord” you said to Clark and started guiding him through the forest. ”Please, just Clark is fine” he said humbly following you.

You guided him to a secluded pond. ”Impressive, how did you find this place so quickly?” Clark complimented. ”My mother was a naiad, it’s an instinct” you explained putting down the basket next to the pond.

”Would you like me to bring you anything else?” you asked Clark as he started undressing out of the dented armour and dirty chiton. ”You’ve already done enough for me, thank you” he said gentlemanly. Clark was now naked, revealing his muscled body and impressive manhood, which you tried not to look at.

He stepped down in the pond, the water reaching up to his hips. ”Why don’t you join me?” he suggested gesturing towards the water. ”I’d love too, but i have to help the others prepare everything for tonight” you said. ”Come on, only for a short time” Clark tempted. ”Okay” you said with a smile, taking off your chiton and sandals.

Clark watched your naked form with interest as you stepped down in to the water. ”See, it’s nice” Clark said starting to wash himself off using the scented oil you brought for him. You tried not to stare at his oiled up chest but you were 90% sure he caught you looking but he didn’t say anything, he only smirked.

You relaxed in the cool water for a while until you remembered you needed to get back to the others. You climbed out of the pond and started putting on your clothing once again. ”Thanks for the company, hope i’ll see you tonight” Clark said. ”Hope, i’ll see you too” you said and started walking through the forest back towards camp.

That night the music rang loudly through the forest as you celebrated the death of cyclops and your new hero, Clark. You drank and danced wildly with your friends. Some others were already passed out from drinking, some were gambling and playing games and one couple were fucking against a tree.

You saw Clark sitting on a pillow next to Dionysus talking, goblet in hand. You made your way over to the olympian and the demigod. ”Y/n” Dionysus exclaimed happily as he noted your presence. He patted a pillow next to him saying ”Come sit down”.

You took the offer sitting down next to the god, he made your empty goblet instantly refill and put an arm around you. ”I was just telling Clark of my inner circle” Dionysus revealed and continued ”Y/n, here you’ve met, he is my and Ariandne’s favourite attendant and friend” he said sweetly.

”Also he has a body as if sculpted by Pygmalion, carved and smoothed to absolute perfection. You should hope to have a look upon it someday” Dionysus said taking another sip from his goblet.

”Actually i already have” Clark stated boldly making Dionysus spill some wine on himself. ”Y/n, joined me for a swim in the pond” Clark explained making your cheeks heat up slightly. ”Is that so?” Dionysus questioned looking towards you.

”Well, i’ve got to go find Ariadne” Dionysus said getting up leaving you and Clark. ”Are you and Dionysus-?” Clark started but you cut him off saying ”No, he and Ariadne just have a very open relationship”. ”How has your night been?” you then questioned the hero.

”Enjoyable but i’ve never been much of a party person” he said then taking a sip from his cup. ”I get it, before i came here i wasn’t either” you told him and then got an idea. ”Wanna go for a walk for some peace and quiet?” you asked. ”Sure, i’d love too” Clark said and the two of you stood up and walked off in to the forest behind you bringing your goblets with you.

You walked and talked for a while, drinking until your goblets were didn’t have a single drop left in them. Dionysus must’ve brought out the strong stuff because you and Clark were stumbling around and slurring your speech, you were laughing loudly at each others stories, sitting very close together.

Finally the two of you ended up behind some bushes close by to the party. You started to passionately make out, you laying on your back in the soft grass and Clark on top of you. Clark tore open your chiton and undressed you, leaving your naked form beneath him.

He then took off his own clothes revealing his muscular body and his hard cock. Clark took his hand and brought it to your mouth, you sucked on his fingers to get them wet, then he brought his moist fingers to your enterance and started pushing finger inside you.

You let out a small gasp as Clark started to finger you open, he added another fiinger and then another until you were ready to take him. Clark spit in to his hand and rubbed it over his erect manhood.

”It’s time i claim my reward” Clark said spreading your legs, he lined himself up with you and started pushing his hard cock in to your warmth. Clark loved the seeing the face you made as his cock slowly filled you up.

”Fuck your so big” you hissed as the demigod was fully sheated deep inside you. He then slowy started moving pushing himself in and out of you as a wave of pleasure started washing over you.

Your legs were wrapped around Clark as he thrusted in to you. ”I’m gonna fuck your little nymph hole full with my seed” Clark groaned in to your ear and placed kisses all along your neck. The demigod started speeding up his thrusts.

”Clark, fuck yeah! Take me” you said in ecstasy grabbing at his back as he fucked your hole. Both of your bodies had started gleaming from sweat as he mounted you under the moonlight, as his reward for defeating the cyclops.

Clark’s thrusts became rougher as he wanted to take you like a real demigod would, he loved how your walls clenched around his thick cock. He brutally fucked you with all the strength of his godly heritage to bring you to your release.

You let out breathy moans as Clark pounded your gaping hole, thrusting against your prostate. You felt yourself getting close to your orgasm. You dug your nails in to the grass below as Clark’s cock made you see Mount Olympus.

”Clark, i’m gonna cum” you said panting heavily making Clark thrust deeper as he wanted to push you over the edge. Then your cock started spraying cum all over your and Clark’s stomachs. Clark’s own release was getting close.

”I’m gonna plant my seed deep inside you” Clark moaned and his rough thrusts became uneven and sloppy. Clark delivered one last deep stroke in to you and he erupted inside you, he flooding your insides with his cum.

Both of you panted heavily and Clark rolled over and layed next to you in the grass. ”You were amazing” Clark praised while softly stroking your cheek. The two of you then used your torn clothes as blankets as you cuddled close together and you both fell asleep under the starry sky.

[heytheredelulu]

Simple

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Imagine

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

Word Count: 1k (It’s a quickie)

C/W: It’s all smut. It’s literally nothing but cock sucking, okay?

Bucky Barnes enjoyed the simple pleasures in life.

A heaping stack of warm, buttery pancakes drizzled in maple syrup.

A glass of oaky, barrel aged bourbon, neat.

The sultry, nostalgic, slow jazz of the 40’s playing over the speakers he still couldn’t quite figure out how to connect his Bluetooth to.

His copy of J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Hobbit”, worn and weathered from all the times he’d read it cover to cover while lounged lazily in his oversized armchair.

But perhaps the greatest pleasure he enjoyed was the feeling of his pretty baby’s pink, swollen lips wrapped around his thick and needy cock.

He’d had plenty of blowjobs before, many hot, wet mouths gagging on the impressive length of him but none, none of those encounters could ever compare to your ministrations.

He was smitten with you long before you’d knelt before him but it wasn’t until the first time you sucked the very soul from his body through his throbbing cock that he was fucking done for.

You were his, forever.

There was just something so beautiful about the way your soft hums of contentment vibrated through his shaft like you were singing him the chorus to the sweetest song ever composed.

The way your eyes fixed on him half lidded, attentive and responsive to his every twitch and pulse against your tongue. It wasn’t just the sheer skill of pleasing him that you possessed but the level at which you so clearly enjoyed the act itself.

Your eager wiggle on your knees while you suckled at his frenulum, your hand wrapped firmly around the girth of him as you traced the sensitive, velvet flesh of his cockhead against your soft, plump lips.

Oh God, the wanton groan that rose from your throat when you teased the tip of your tongue to his slit, lavishing the salty flavor of his precum on your taste buds.

And you hadn’t even put him in your slutty little mouth yet.

He’d always let you lead, slowly descending on him with your hands splayed on his muscular thighs, batting your lashes at him once he brushed the back of your throat as if waiting for him to cup your jaw and stroke your cheek affectionately with the calloused pad of his thumb like he always did while you ‘took a moment’ to adjust to his size. Part of him wondered if you really needed to adjust or if you just wanted to savor the look in his eyes as he committed the lewd image of you to memory.

You’d breathe heavily through your nostrils- the exhale blowing gently against the soft, dark curls at the base of his cock and the inhale shuddering like you were basking in the scent of him.

The first time you’d lapped at the seam of his sack with your tongue while he was seated to the hilt down your throat his toes curled as he gripped the arm of the chair with white knuckles, hissing out a string of curses.

Always so responsive to his body, you slowly eased off him, your hand stroking languidly along his thick shaft, applying firm pressure to the tip as you dipped down to gently draw his heavy balls into your mouth. The whine that erupted from his chest was a sound he’d never made before but then again, he’d never had a woman show much- if any attention to his sack during a blowjob, let alone roll them around in her mouth like they were a goddamn delicacy.

Lord have mercy when you descended on him again, your cheeks hollowed, your tongue flicking and swirling along his length, one of your dainty hands holding him firm at the base as you cupped and fondled his saliva-slicked balls with the other.

Somehow you even made gagging look seductive, inhaling sharply through your nose while your eyes watered and drool dripped down your chin, trailing across the hollow of your throat and leaving a wet sheen across your pretty tits.

Oh yeah, you absolutely had your tits out. Hell, you loved to be naked on your knees for him. It only made it that much easier for you to snake a free hand between your thighs, rubbing slow, gentle circles over your aching clit with the sweet arousal that wept from your cunt with how utterly turned on you were by sucking his cock.

You’d lose your fucking mind when he twisted your hair around his fist, shameless moans bubbling up from your chest as he bucked his hips, fucking himself down your throat. As soon as he’d pick up that merciless rhythm you’d slip two, sometimes three fingers into yourself, frantically pumping them to mirror his tempo until you came with a strangled cry, tears pricking at the corners of your lust-hazed eyes.

Holy hell that’d be his tipping point.

He’d hold your head firmly in place, his massive hand flexing against the back of your skull, his cock pulsing as he throws his head back, a deep and primal moan ripping through his chest as he comes hard enough to make his fucking ears ring.

Words of praise would fall from his lips in a breathless whisper as he caressed your cheek, lazily rutting his hips forward while you greedily swallowed down every last drop like it was your well deserved reward for your tantalizing efforts.

“Such a good girl.”

“So fucking pretty when you choke on my dick.”

“Oh baby, yes. Fuck, swallow it.”

“Shit, you’re so goddamn perfect.”

Sometimes when you were feeling extra submissive you’d sit back on your heels and open your mouth, proudly showing him the pearlescent fruits of your labors, pooled on your tongue.

You’d wait patiently, drooling unabashedly with a slack jaw as he tucked his spent cock away, zipping up his jeans and slowly buckling his belt while he kept you naked on your knees awaiting his order.

He’d pinch your cheeks in his large hand and dip down to press a kiss to your forehead, his chest swelling with pride at the power you allowed him to hold over you.

All the while, you’d stare up at him obediently with smoldering eyes until he’d nod, his lips twitching up into a crooked smirk before he’d finally speak his command in a low, gruff voice.

“Swallow.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@badbunnybabygirl01 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe @ihavetwoholesforareason @km-ffluv @shortnloud @mrs-katelyn-barnes @somnorvos @22rhianna2006 @misshale21 @angelbaby99 @deans-spinster-witch @kezibear @acornacreacure @buckys-wintersoldier @terry2227 @wintrsoldrluvr

A/N: Yeah, idk where this came from-

I was feeling feral again.😅

💋Sj

[oneforthemunny]

light my morning sky |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: three wedding ceremonies, and it's stop number two in vegas. a night with your friends, celebrating you the way both of you love, and it leads to a rather intense wedding night for the two of you in sin city.

contains: minors dni. smut. fluff but mainly smut. drugs and alcohol, overall just partying in vegas. getting married in vegas. dom!eddie x sub!reader. bratty overtones to sub!reader. more of a soft!dom with rockstar!eddie bc he's in loooveeeee. spanking with implement (paddle/crop). thigh riding kinda. crawling. pinvsex. language. nothing too harsh or mean bc it's their (second) wedding night lol.

"I now pronounce you married." Elvis, or one of his many replicas on the strip, rasped in his low, exaggerated drawl mimicking the beloved singer. His hair perfectly coiffed, sideburns trimmed, and dressed in a black jumpsuit with wings, red and gold sequins trim.

Flamboyant, over the top- it was Eddie's dream.

Eddie grinned at you, his hands in yours, thumb brushing over the large stone on your left hand. He looked like The King himself in his white tasseled suit, pointed collar, and blue beading down the deep V of his shirt- an identical suit made to look exactly like Elvis' infamous jumpsuit from his time in Las Vegas in the 70's. It had been a prop in some show your father was producing, one that you and Eddie borrowed after the wedding.

"Eddie, you may now kiss your little darlin' here." The officiant grinned, stepping back towards the faux-rose garland, strung with bright lights.

Your heart swelled in your chest, just as light and giddy as the first ceremony, letting Eddie cup your face, pulling you in to seal with a kiss, far more passionate and needy than the ceremony in California.

Cheers erupted from the small crowd of friends you'd rallied for the big day- well, the second big day. Their booze soaked giggles and screeches mashed to the tune of Can't Help Falling In Love pouring out of the static filled old speakers. Flashes blinded your vision, even behind your closed eyes, camera clicks and bright snaps of camera light capturing every moment.

For a moment, you tensed, aware of your rounded shoulders, of Eddie's hand grabbing at your ass, eyes opening and cutting towards the aisle. Jonathan stood there, face hidden by the camera. Eddie had insisted his friend from Hawkins come instead, replace the snooty photographer that had done the ceremony before. Your parents had raved about him, but Eddie didn't see what the big deal was with him. He just made you both look so stiff, so unnatural in your portraits.

Eddie's hand slid up the silk material of your tiny dress, gripped onto your hip, bunching the material. You could feel his wedding band in the small of your back when he pressed his hand there, steadying you before he tipped you back. A deep dip of a kiss, your thigh hiked around his hip.

The small bouquet of white roses you'd bought at the front of the chapel fell onto the patterned carpet, your friends' screeching and whooping laughs ignited by the dramatics. They expected nothing less from Eddie- from both of you.

"Lord have mercy," The officiant laughed, fanning himself dramatically, long metallic sleeves rippling. "These two have lots of hunk-a, hunk-a burnin' love, don't they folks?"

Eddie could feel your lips twitch against his, a snort of a giggle, hot air blowing against his lip. His dopey and dimpled grin met you when you finally pulled apart. It left you weak, blistering in his intense, love filled gaze.

A pop of Perignon filled the room, Gareth and Farrah bumbling closer with two glasses, trying to stop the excess spilling over. A celebratory toast to the two of you, to keep your buzz going after the break in the bender you took for the ceremony.

Since you'd landed on Thursday night, the party hadn't stopped. Liquor flowing, loud music, sloppily piling into a stall with your own friends, taking bumps off your room keys before stumbling back to the club in your designer shoes, ready to keep the party going.

The afterparty was no different. Tucked away in a private villa at Ceasar's, you didn't make it to the club. Eddie had insisted he had to go first, nearly pushing Jeff over to get to the door, scooping you up in his arms and walking you through the door.

"Watch your fuckin' head, baby- don't lean back." You could smell the alcohol on his breath, a pungent mixture of too many to name, mixed with the faintest whiff of smoke from his cigarettes.

It didn't take long for Nick to find the boom box, blaring his party mixtape at a wall shaking volume, everyone scattering. Some to the kitchen to scour through the piles of empty bottles for a full one, others to collapse into the couch and let someone line up a pick me up before plunging in the hot tub outside.

"You," Eddie slurred, his head dipping down to press against your forehead. "Look so fuckin' beautiful." Nose brushing against yours, red from his own party favors.

You giggled nasally, blinking blearily eyed to focus on him to close to you. The effects of the tequila and champagne and hodge podge of liquor you'd mixed and consumed catching up with you.

"You know what, baby? You look really good, Mr. Munson." You whispered, hand cupping his jaw. "Like- hic!- too good to be fucking true."

"You're sweet talkin' me? Huh? Bein' s'nice to me?" Eddie grinned, fingers sinking into your hips.

"Yeah." You hummed.

"Tryna get my pants off or somethin', huh, baby? G-Get in my pants by bein' so sweet? You think that's gonna work?" Eddie teased, tilting his head to the side.

"Yeahhh..." You nodded, staggering against him, manicured nails raking down his bare chest. "We have to- to consummate the marriage, Ed."

"What?" Eddie furrowed his brows. "We gotta do what? Wait- I thought you wanted to fuck."

You laughed, head tilting back letting out that mean little cackle that always got Eddie worked up- a little mocking, mostly genuine. It left him flushed in heat, crawling up his chest and splattering over his cheeks.

"You dumbass, that is what that means." You rolled your eyes at him.

Eddie's eyes narrowed with you, catching your chin easily. "Oh? That's how you wanna play tonight, hm?" He shook his head, your body erupting in a fiery heat. "You're not gonna be nice to me?"

"I'm always nice to you." You countered, hand closing around his wrist gently, steadying yourself. "You're the one who's mean."

"Yeah?" Eddie grinned, eyes shining, glimmering in the low light of the room, the music from the other side thudding in a low roar, still shaking the walls. "You want me to be mean to you tonight? That's how you wanna do this?"

"Yeah." You sighed, a devious little grin that had Eddie's heart swelling, body buzzing with bouts of electricity. A shock to his system that brought him into something animalistic and primal and thrilling. Something new he only felt with you.

"I was hopin' you'd want to. Figured you would. Went ahead and got you a little somethin'." Eddie hummed, pulling you close into him. His breath hot on your cheek, booze soaked and warm on your skin.

"A gift?" Your eyes lit up, bright and devious all at once. Positively troublesome.

"Yeah. A gift. Just for you, baby." Eddie's lip dragged over your cheek, nose, hands sliding up your neck into your hair. "A wedding gift, but-but not for the wedding. For the after."

"Mm," You moaned lightly, his lips brushing with yours, teasing. Just enough to make you want to kiss him fully, leave you waiting and wanting more. "It's after now, Ed." You batted your lashes up at him.

"Is it?" Eddie muttered, fingers curling around your hair the back of your head.

"Yeah." You whispered, voice raspy from the liquor. "Time to give me my gift."

"Ooh, you're gonna be demanding?" Eddie pulled back from you, holding you at arms length so he could see you. Your pout, glassy eyes rounding instinctively- a classic look, teetering on demanding and begging, a signature look for you.

"'M not being demanding." You huffed, hands sliding over his arms. He could feel the diamonds of your wedding band scratch lightly over his skin. "You said you had a gift for me."

Eddie bit back a smirk, squeezing your shoulders with firm, gentle affection. You grinned triumphantly when he stumbled to his closet, puling a red gift bag tied together with a gold bow.

He smirked at your squeal of delight, hands clapping together excitedly when he gave you the bag. "What is it?" You beamed, a peal of excited, drunken giggles spilling from your chest.

"Open it." Eddie clicked, shaking his head at you. "What's in it- open the damn thing, baby. It's a present. 'M not tellin' you w-what I got you." His words slurred, still silly and playful.

You laughed, head spinning and intoxicatingly airy with glee, unraveling the gold spun ribbon with a dramatic tug of your hand. Underneath the piles of tissue paper, a long box lied at the bottom.

There, inside the felt lined box, a small heart shaped paddled. Black and leather, with a black, metal handle. It was small, smaller than most of Eddie's chosen paddles. The heart shape at the end firmer than the crop, not as flimsy as you expected.

"Look," Eddie pointed, swaying gently in front of you. He turned the handle clumsily around his hands before he turned it to you. There in etched gold, your names and the date carved into the metal handle.

"Ed." You cooed, head tilting back to meet his gaze. "You got this f'me?"

"Well, kinda." Eddie nodded. "I mean, for me to use on you, but yeah. Wanted something to-to remember this by."

Lips pulling in a smile, you stood, arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush to your own chest. "You're so sweet." You hum, swaying with him softly. "So sweet to me."

Eddie's cheeks flushed, matching the drunken red heat painted on his neck. "Yeah." He hummed, hands sliding over your cheeks, smearing your already rubbed off foundation, tilting your head back towards him.

"'M not gonna be sweet to you f'long." He muttered, lip twitching in a curling grin. Staticky prickles of excitement licked at your neck, shimmering all the way down to your core. Eddie's tongue ran over his teeth, brow raising. "That alright with you, baby?"

"Yes." You whispered, nails digging into his hands lightly, steadying yourself.

Eddie caught your chin, pulling your gaze towards him. "Who?" His tone dropped, low and raspy but punctuated.

The nervous, maybe excited, giggle spilled out of your lips before you could stop it. Eyes shining, swaying with excitement, you batted your lashes towards him. "Yes, Sir." You purred, hands sliding, nails raking down his forearms.

Eddie grinned, ducking down to catch your lips in a hungry kiss. Hand pressed to the small of your spine, you could taste the liquor on his tongue as it slid past your teeth. A sloppy, needy, alcohol fueled make out. Hands grabbing, pulling at the other, pushing your bodies closer and closer together until it felt like they might fuse together, mold into one. Hands sliding, bunching the material of your dress up your hips.

"Wait!" Your eyes flew open, pulling apart with an urgency that had Eddie jumping.

"What? What's wrong?" Eddie's brows furrowed, vision fading blearily in and out of focus.

"I forgot," You turned towards your suitcase. "I bought something special for tonight. S-Somethin' to put on." You muttered, swaying drunkenly, hands on his waist to steady yourself.

"Baby, it's alright. Just save it for tomorrow-"

"-No." Your tone was cutting, huffy with a hint of demanding- bratty. You did it best, Eddie supposed, his cock twitching at the sound.

He wanted to grab the paddle, haul you over his knee right then, feel you scratch and scream at him like old times. Instead, he let you stomp off, bunching a flash of white material to your chest, stumbling towards the bathroom.

It was worth it, Eddie decided. Legs spread on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing with anticipation until the doors opened.

"Are you ready?" He could hear your grin, hidden by the door.

"Yeah. Show me, baby. Come on out." Eddie's lips tugged in a half grin.

The door opened painfully slow, your own teasing reveal, until you stood before him in a tiny, white, see through lacy lingerie set. A classic, more scandalous and revealing than before. Bra and panties so revealing it left little to the imagination, hip hugging garter that connected to two leg holders, both with their own loops. Eddie pictured for a moment tying you up by them, stringing the rope through them, tying your legs wide open and spending the rest of the night- hell, the whole week in between them.

Maybe tomorrow night. Tonight, he had other plans.

Eddie's loud wolf whistle mixed with your bubbling giggles. "Holy shit, baby, look at you. No, look at me, but I wanna look at you." Eddie rasped, hands sliding over your exposed skin, rubbing the lace of your garter, pulling the tiny strap of your panties so it snapped to your skin.

"You like it?" You whispered, watching his eyes carefully. You knew he did. He always did.

"You kidding? Love it." Eddie grinned. "Worth the wait, beautiful."

Your cheeks burned with a rush of euphoric excitement, hands sliding up his shoulder, your ring sparkling even under the dim lights of the room.

"Ok, I'm ready now." You said boldly, lashes batting up to Eddie sweetly. "I just wanted to put this on for you."

"Oh? You're ready?" Eddie snorted lightly, lips curling in a smirk. "You callin' the shots?"

You huffed, an eye roll that had Eddie swallowing hard, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock. "No," Your tongue clicked sarcastically. "Obviously you're in charge for right now."

"Oh, it's like that?" Eddie scoffed. "You're gonna act like that?"

"I'm not acting like anything, Ed." You bit your lip playfully. "I don't know what you're talking about." Oh, you were playful tonight. Eddie's heart swelled, palms twitching with excitement.

"Hm," Eddie hummed, tongue running down the inside of his cheek.

"Why don't you go get your gift." Eddie nodded towards the discarded paddle at the other end of the bed. You stepped towards it. "Nuh-uh-uh." Eddie clicked, head shaking.

"You know how you're supposed to get things for me." His eyes darkened, narrowing towards you.

Your thighs twitched, aching between them with a familiar heat. "Ed," Whiny and nasally, shoulders slumping for effect.

"You're gonna whine? C'mon, I know you know better." Eddie shook his head. "I don't wanna be mean to you tonight. Not too mean, anyways. Don't make me be mean. Go get your gift and bring it here, you know what to do. You be good for me, and I'll be good to you."

It didn't take much convincing, not when your head was spinning the way it was, desperate to please him. You knew he was true to his word, that he'd make you feel so good, which was exactly why you sunk to your knees. Crawling across the carpeted floors, you crept slowly towards the paddle.

Eddie watched through heavy lids, the sway of your hips, tiny panties riding up into your ass with every crawl. Your eyes met his when you raised up, gently grabbing the paddle off the bed. Eddie's heart lurched with excitement when you slipped it between your teeth, sinking back to your knees.

"Holy shit... Baby," Eddie groaned, leg shaking furiously when you rounded the corner of the bed, crawling straight for him. "Look at you. Jesus Christ, you know what you're doin'?"

You sunk back on your knees, settling between Eddie's open legs, eyes rounded so sweetly up at him it answered his question- you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

"'M just trying to be good." You whispered sweetly, head tilting to the side when he took to the paddle from you. "I just want to be so good for you always and forever, Mr. Munson."

Eddie thought he might snap the paddle in half, grip strangling in a tight hold around the pole. For a second, he contemplated again diving right between your legs, kinky foreplay be damned. Instead, he pulled you over his knee, let you straddle his thigh, covered cunt hot on his knee.

"Look at me." Eddie rasped, pulling your chin up, letting it rest on his chest, your body folded over his. "I wanna look at you. Wanna see you the whole time."

You pressed your lips together, swallowing back a pathetic whine. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other dragging the paddle along your exposed cheeks.

"You wanna be good for me?" Eddie whispered. You didn't reply, didn't get the chance to before the paddle snapped onto your ass. A jump, a whine, followed by Eddie's coaxing whisper back onto his knee.

"I asked you somethin', sweetheart." Eddie muttered, the crop tapping your other cheek. "You wanna be good for me?" Two sharp hits one to each cheek had you hissing.

"Yes." You hissed through gritted teeth, stilling your hips not to grind on him, hump his leg mercilessly. You knew that'd just fuel his cruel teasing even more.

"Yeah?" You yelped at the sharp sting.

"Yes, I wanna be good for you." Your spine ached at the uncomfortable bend in position, still you didn't dare move. It was true, you did want to be good for him.

"Are you going to be good for me?" Eddie whispered, nose nearly touching yours.

You bit back a giggle, stopped by three more sharp spanks of the crop to your ass, already itchy with growing agitation. "Yeah." Your eyes shone up at Eddie's, a silly, love sick grin that had him swooning.

"Yeah?" Eddie mocked back with a light snort. It was growing harder to keep the mean, domineering persona he tried to. When you were being this sweet, when you were being so good for him.

The crop fell again, this time your hips did roll. Just enough to dull the ache between your legs, a momentary release that had you melting further into his chest.

Eddie didn't miss it, pulling you closer to him, readjusting you on his thigh. "I don't know if I believe you." Eddie hummed, cracking the crop down again in short, sharp successions. "Are you really gonna be good to me? For the rest of time?"

You whimpered, hips rocking slowly, a steady rhythm that nearly had your eyes rolling back. The burning stretch of your ass mixed with the slow, pleasure-filled rolls of your hips.

"I will, I promise." You hummed in a high, breathy tone. "I swear I will be. I'll be a good wife for you. Forever and ever and ever."

Eddie's heart nearly burst at the words. How sweet they still sounded, even if you had technically been his wife for a few weeks now.

He let the paddle fall, his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you into his lap. Lips on yours, your legs wrapping around his hips before he rolled the two of you, body slotting over yours, drunken giggles filling the air.

Hand intertwining with the other, Eddie's eyes rolled back at the feeling of your ring scraping over his when he finally slid into you. Mrs. Munson, forever. Forever his, just as he was forever yours.

Eddie had you pressed against the window of the suite, hips rutting into the fat of your ass, marked with the etching heart shape of the paddle. Overlooking the city's skyline, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. Your cheek pressed to the window, Eddie's pressed to yours, skin smushed to skin, the two of you weren't close to being done. Just getting started, started on forever, started on a life together.

For now, in a hotel room in Vegas, insatiably happy and in love with one another. Mr. and Mrs. Munson, for the second time.

[rivendell-poet]

Hello! If it’s not too much to ask, can I request platonic headcanons for the Fellowship with a female reader that’s a human teenager? She’s not as good as fighting as them, and at first glance she seems approachable and easygoing, but she’s clever and can oftentimes outwit her opponents with creative combat moves. She’s also sort of a little sister to them, albeit a quite reckless and charming one.

I just love platonic LOTR because I feel like they would all be such great friends in their own way :’) Please take your time with this request, and I wish you a lovely day/night ❤️

Hey anon, so sorry it took me this long to answer but I hope you enjoy! I'm absolutely a sucker for platonic Lord of the Rings fiction, all of the characters are so sibling-coded! You have a lovely day/night too, and thanks so much for requesting!

*･༓˚✧❝𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠❞‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « headcanons »

○ Aragorn ○ Legolas ○ Gimli ○ Boromir �� Pippin ○ Merry ○ Frodo ○ Sam ○

GN!Reader | No TWs | Wordcount : 2.1k

𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧

✧ Years of putting up with being the younger brother of the twins has finally paid off.

✧ Never truly got the appeal of younger siblings until you came around.

✧ (Understands better than most that family is not just blood, but is based on who you choose and who you want to be around. Genuinely hopes he falls under that for you.)

✧ Worries about you but tries not to make it obvious, checking up on you in a more casual way like slowing his walking speed so he can be in time with you then ask about your day.

✧ Understands that your skills mean you should be in this fellowship - but did you have to give him a heart-attack after almost not parrying the cave troll? Poor man is already trying to keep up with the hobbits, and now you.

✧ Does admire the creativity you use in your attacks and is quick to praise it, occasionally shares anecdotes of his less-than-ordinary ‘weapons’ and how he used them.

✧ Subtly tries to get you to pick up more combat skills by offering to spar with you when Boromir spars with the hobbits.

✧ Is a very patient teacher, willing to go over things multiple times and demonstrates what to do very well.

✧ Does not appreciate the recklessness either; you have made him realise just how much he needs to apologise to Elrond and the twins for his youth. Tries to stop you from doing it under the guise that you’re ‘encouraging the hobbits’.

✧ You realise this is a ruse when he tells you it at Helm’s Deep, with precisely no hobbits to be found. Aragorn does not apologise for this.

✧ Notices you actively being charming and takes you under his wing in that regard, teaching you about diplomacy.

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Legolas doesn’t understand just how young you are until the topic of the Fellowship’s ages comes up and you’re the youngest by a decade. Doesn’t think this is a big deal until he sees Boromir do a slight double-take.

✧ Talks with you after and realises the age, you try and reassure him with the ‘I’m mature for my age’ and he doesn’t accept it.

✧ Firmly next to you for the first few days after it, although he doesn’t baby you - he’s just overprotective.

✧ Feels bad about not realising previously.

✧ Is a single child, to a single father, so doesn’t really realise how closely he regards you as family until he starts teaching you elvish words and family comes up. How the first words he thinks of, that he believes you should know, are ‘brother’ and ‘little sibling’.

✧ Does one of his odd elven stares at you with this realisation. You ask him and he blinks before apologising, stating it’s an elf thing.

✧ You don’t believe it and ask Aragorn. The ranger looks from you to Legolas, sees the worry in Legolas’ eyes, and decides on mercy by backing it up.

✧ Insists on teaching you archery. Isn’t sure whether to be impressed or offended when you stab an orc with an arrow instead of shooting it. It works… he supposes.

✧ Never slips up until he’s introducing you to his father in Elvish, and accidentally calls you his younger sibling instead of his friend.

✧ You know just enough elvish to realise what he’s said (combined with the look on Thranduil’s face) and smile. Then ask him later if he could have given you that realisation anywhere except in front of his father.

𝐆𝐢𝐦𝐥𝐢

✧ Immediately loves you for your charm, and the fact you engage in deep conversation with him instead of assuming all dwarves only speak basically and are incapable of eloquence.

✧ Certainly teaches you a lot when it comes to charm and wit, and by the end of your journey your speaking with a few too many dwarf idioms for a human teenager.

✧ Would totally be willing to teach you Khuzdul if you wanted to. Refuses to tell you what the terms of endearment he calls you are (‘little treasure’, ‘spark’, and sometimes ‘younger sibling’)

✧ Is very grateful none of the rest of the Fellowship know enough about dwarven culture to call him out on the little things he does for you, like making sure your weapons are polished to an immaculate degree or keeping your food warm for you using rocks.

✧ Offers to braid your hair for you before Helm’s Deep, both grateful you don’t understand dwarf customs and not.

✧ (He’d be much too embarrassed to offer you his familial braid if you knew what it meant).

✧ When you ask to braid his hair he helps you create a unique braid, with dwarvish meaning. That’s how you figure out what the braid he gave you means.

✧ As long as you’re winning your fights he doesn’t care how you’re using a weapon - he still admires good tactics.

✧ Complains that teenagers are too busy growing awkwardly to use the proper dwarven techniques of fighting.

✧ Laughs a bit too much when he tries to teach you his style and you fall over while trying to swing his hammer in a circle.

𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫

✧ Literally an older sibling. Adopts Merry and Pippin in all but law, and will do exactly the same to you as well. You have little choice in this manner.

✧ Shows his affection to you mainly by spending time with you and listening to you because that’s what he’s always done with Faramir. However he’s fairly observant, and if he can tell you’d rather be doing something else (like whittling or scouting) he’ll happily do that.

✧ Cares more about the fact he’s spending time with you than what he’s doing with that time.

✧ Also has a minor heart attack when he realises how old you are. Knows he’s had recruits the same age as you, but this is different. He’s not actively trying to lead those recruits with him to Mordor.

✧ Very good combat teacher, as it was his job for a while. Best with a sword and shield but will adapt to your weapon of choice, he can use pretty much all of them.

✧ After he witnesses you mess up a sword-thrust and almost gets impaled he gives you his shield. You protest, and he says you can give it back to him once you’ll be able to protect yourself without him.

✧ Highly complimentary of your wit in battle, is aware of how often people overlook wisdom in combat compared to brute force (*cough, cough* Denethor) and makes sure you’re praised enough for your actions.

✧ Often speaks about introducing you to Faramir and how he hopes you’ll like each often, shares a lot of anecdotes from when the two were younger. (Has very occasionally called you his brother’s name by accident.)

✧ Tries to make sure you spend time on your journey exploring the world, like Rivendell, so that you can keep your sense of wonder. Hopes you’ll retain it even after everything.

𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧

✧ Closest in age to you, which he very much appreciates. Hobbits generally aren’t considered adults until their thirty (and he’s only twenty-nine) so jokes about the two of you being so much better than all the old corpses over here.

✧ Tries to convince you to make fun of Boromir and Aragorn’s age with him. One of his ways to cheer you up is to point at the ranger and simply say ‘old’.

✧ Did that once to Gandalf, and then never again to Gandalf. (Also tries to get you to help him with Gandalf.)

✧ In an odd way, you not being especially skilled in combat is quite comforting to him - it’s nice to know there are folk outside the Shire who sometimes struggle with this as well.

✧ Complains in a joking manner when he sees you use skill to fend off goblins and that you lied to him.

✧ “You told me you weren’t that good at combat, not that you’re a tactical genius!”

✧ Wants to offer you pipeweed but isn’t sure if you should be able to have it. Boromir and Aragorn disagree. Goes with whatever you decide (although also would never pressure you into smoking if you don’t want to).

✧ Is genuinely disappointed when he doesn’t become taller than you after the ent draft. Insists life is unfair, and that you should be down on his level.

✧ Asks if you’ll help him and Merry finally bring down Boromir honourably. (Fails to see that you coming up behind the warrior would not be considered honourable.)

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲

✧ Treats you a lot like he does Pippin, in that he’s very open with you, one of his main goals is to make you laugh, and he constantly looks out for you.

✧ Also nicknames, tries so many nicknames. Even if your name can’t be shortened he still gives you one, it’s just more nonsensical. Will see you’ve got slightly more radish in your soup than everyone else and call you ‘rad’ for the next day. Sees nothing wrong with what he is doing.

✧ Very excited to discover the Shire love for mischief and pranks is present in humans as well - or at least in you.

✧ Pippin tries to persuade you to play pranks on Merry with him, but you always side with the latter.

✧ Will not allow you to criticise your combat skills - even if it’s constructive and not self-deprecating. (“No, the orc literally almost took my arm off Merry.” “Well, with that attitude it certainly almost did!”)

✧ Tries to initiate sparring matches between you and Boromir by seeing you standing next to each other and shouting ‘fight’.

✧ This fails to work because two hobbits shouting at you isn’t intimidating, and there aren’t enough of them to circle you. He did once manage to convince Legolas to join in the chanting, however.

✧ Spends a lot of time climbing the scenery to get elevation so he can hug you without you bending down.

✧ Tells Éowyn everything about you, and is very complimentary.

𝐒𝐚𝐦

✧ Takes care of you in much the same way he takes care of Frodo. Gandalf may not have made him swear to protect you, but he’s certainly going to anyway.

✧ Often asking if he can mend any clothing that’s gotten torn, and when you get it back you’ll find a small piece of embroidery next to where he’s repaired the garment for you.

✧ It’s generally whatever you’ve been talking about and has made you smile the most in your conversations.

✧ Sometimes feels a little awkward trying to protect you, seeing how he’s only a hobbit and you’re a big folk - but he does his best.

✧ Tries to get you and Frodo to stay together so he can protect both of his friends at the same time.

✧ When he sees you fall behind in combat, he’ll sometimes offer to spar. He knows it’s not much but it puts a smile on your face and that’s what matters.

✧ Cheers you on if you spar with Boromir.

✧ Always makes sure you and Frodo have the best bits of the food. Vehemently denies this if confronted by either of you.

✧ Worries about you being on the journey, seeing how young you are, but if Frodo has put his faith in him then Sam will certainly put his faith in you.

✧ Also very complimentary of your creative thinking in combat, you can sometimes hear him talking to the other hobbits about it (absolutely with a tone of reverence/awe).

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨

✧ Probably the most grateful that you’ve come of anyone, and the second most understanding family doesn’t have to be blood.

✧ Even though Bilbo is technically just his uncle he knows they behave much closer. And when he meets you he realises that family truly isn’t about blood at all.

✧ Most used to you being human, he’s spent time with Gandalf, so he knows how to talk to you and is the quickest of the hobbits to warm up to you.

✧ He’s also the first to acknowledge he sees you as a sibling, while talking about you visiting the Shire.

✧ Instantly stops and pauses to see if you’re alright with what he just said before continuing, slightly more embarrassed but still enthusiastic.

✧ After discovering Sting he’s very willing to try sparring you, and the two of you try and learn together.

✧ He’s similar in that he tries to rely on smarter moves to beat the goblins, but often talks about yours with good-natured envy.

✧ The two of you share tricks after each battle, or at least tricks that are applicable.

✧ Often likes to sit with you and Sam when the ring is particularly bad, because you help centre him. Help remind him what he’s fighting for.

A/N : Thanks for reading, and thanks again for the request! I do love platonic lotr, so feel free to keep requesting that! Also, I now have a taglist - so that's fun. If you wish to join, feel free - and no pressure if not. Really like the idea of a reader who struggles with sword-work but is creative, so honestly might expand on that as well.

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ wish to be tagged?