#morgott/tarnished

[kurgy]

im so crazy about them actually

[spiders-scribbles]

flower picking 🌻

[magpie-come-east]

This lovely art is by @bora-in-tamriel (Boramriel on Twitter)

I commissioned this work of my Tarnished, Cyrielle, and Morgott after I finished Gilded Apotheosis in 2023.

Morgott is the new vessel of the Greater Will, and the Erdtree sapling grows to reflect aspects of the Crucible. The resurrected Tarnished is his Elden Lord and consort.

I'm so outrageously in love with this piece. Thank you so much Bora!

[draconic-ichor]

Tarnished Threads, Golden Stitches

Morgott/tarnished fic

Slow burn

Warming: strong language, sexual themes

Summary: Hester is a seamstress living in the capital, life is fairly mundane until one fateful night at a festival…

Feedback appreciated, 18+

This is an entirely new Au! Not abandoning my other ones, was just inspired :3

The mending began months ago, the world was falling back into place. Everything was different now: their King was revealed to be an omen, their ‘god’ a glorified statue, the Golden Order reformed, and the Elden Lord galavanting around the Lands Between. It was a lot to swallow for Leyndell’s people.

But they had the chance to swallow now.

Not every tarnished met a true end on their journey; some survived to see their brother take up the mantle of Elden Lord, and in this new age, grace returned to their darkened eyes. Unlike their brother, however, they were still quite lowly.

Hester was one of these tarnished.

Awoken after the Erdtree already burned overhead, she was scrambling far behind in a world crumbling away… never to receive a rune of her own or see the fabled Round Table. It was not till after the mending that her eyes fell upon the tree in all its golden splendor; and like hundreds of others, she flocked to the capital towards it.

It was all for the best. Even though she was descended from those first few tarnished that followed Godfrey into the mists, fighting didn’t suit her. She knew a little magic, mostly reserved for healing, and couldn’t hold a blade to save her life. Her late awakening was a blessing.

What she did know, however, was mending. Hester was very good with her hands and could not only mend fabrics but had the creativity to create whole new clothing. She could also sew and spin thread. All things the capital had need of now that repairs were in order.

~

Hester sighed, deep in thought as she worked. She leaned forward, elbows on the worn workbench, staring wistfully out into the capital.

It was a busy morning, the townsfolk preparing for the festival that night, birdsong and fragrant smells filling her senses.

She loved the brightness, gaze drifting higher to the castle, alabaster stone and gilded tiles like a dream high above.

She sighed again.

“Sigh any louder and you’ll attract attention,” came a voice.

Hester jumped, pricking her finger as she did so. She yelped, quickly putting it in her mouth to soothe the sting. She gave a sharp look to the culprit, a man standing on the street below her open window.

“Looks like I already have.” She huffed.

He pulled himself up to the windowsill, a smile plastered over his face. The armor of a guard made him look a size bigger than he truly was, clinking together as he made himself comfortable.

“Don’t you have work to do?” She couldn’t help her lips crack into a smile.

“Doing my rounds now, when I happened upon a maiden. And don’t you have work to do? You have a stall in the market square tonight.” He reminded.

“I know!” Hester flushed, she’d saved for weeks for the fees, such a prime location had its prices.

“Mhm.” He nodded.

“I’m almost finished with my last few, just adding the final touches!” She gestured to the doll before her.

“Ghastly.” He shuttered, looking over her current batch.

“He is our King!” She snapped.

“And he can stay inside his castle.” The guard chuckled, leaning in a bit more to ask, “Do you truly think they will sell?”

“Not everyone holds so little love for their monarch.” Hes informed, “Some of us are loyalists.”

The man snorted, leaning in further still, attempting to steal a kiss. Hester rolled her eyes, hand covering his mouth as she pushed him back out the window.

He chuckled, feet hitting the cobblestones once more, “I’ll catch you one day, Hes.”

“Keep hoping.” She smiled, waving him off as he went back to his duties. She sat back heavily in her seat, eyes falling to the current doll she worked on. She sighed, slowly scanning the rest; all were endearing renditions of their king: with button eyes, little plush horns, and a fluffy tail made from scraps of real fur.

She held the current one closer, thumb softly tracing its small fabric face.

She couldn’t be the only one…

~

Lanterns filled the streets overhead, each one a different shape or hue, sending the night into a kaleidoscope of swirling color. The smell of spices and sweets filled the air, and the sound of mirth almost drowned out the far off beat of music.

Hester couldn’t get enough.

She put on her best dress and put flowers in her hair for the occasion. Part of her wanted to mingle about the crowd and see every stall for herself, but she had her own stall to run.

Her table was covered in bright bolts of fabric and batches of dolls all lovingly made. Children would scamper up and squeal out at seeing their hero in doll form, or the Elden Lords trusty spectral steed, while their parents pulled runes from their pockets. It was a special occasion after all. A few young maidens would sneakily buy a doll of their dashing Elden Lord, his absence in the capital adding to his mystique.

As the night was marching onwards, she was doing quite well! The glow of success dimmed a bit about her, as her amber eyes fell on a corner of the stall that lay untouched: the dolls of the King. Hester’s stomach twisted a bit.

She moved them to the center of the stall, in a place of easy sight, adjusting their little cloaks and tails to sit just right.

She couldn’t be the only one,

She kept telling herself.

The only one to see the allure of the King.

Her cheeks blushed at the thought, mind drifting back to the infatuated maidens and their excitement with the Elden Lord, or how she kept back a King doll for herself…

She was so ate up with thought she didn’t notice the sounds of revelry died down around her. It was not until the glow of the lanterns were obstructed by a great shadow that her eyes were ripped from the table. Hester looked up, freezing.

A great shape darkened her stall, silhouette monstrous and jagged, with a crown of twisting horns. Hester swallowed, the only movement she could manage, heartbeat in her throat.

It was King Morgott.

An eon seemed to stretch before them, the King like a pillar of stone as he looked over her wares. All the times Hester had caught sight of him, far away on the castle balcony or before a large crowd for an announcement, did him little justice. He was massive, at least thirty-six hands high, not counting the heavy tail that absolutely cleared the street behind him. The bulky cloak he wore about his shoulders exaggerated their broadness. Hers the critical eye of a seamstress, caught all the places the fabric was stressed, holes bore through it completely here or there.

Not fit for a King, surely.

She didn’t have long to wonder, the King’s hand moving forward. Hester gulped, suddenly realizing his single eye was fixed on the little dolls made in his likeness. A hand, bigger than her waist, carefully picked up the closest one, bringing it to his face for inspection. It was clear they were made with the utmost care, and very oddly they were constructed without overemphasis on his more beastial features. They were….flattering even?

His brow knotted, gaze flicking away from the little doll to its maker.

Was she flushed??

Even more curious…

She trembled a bit as his gaze bore into her, staring back into that single orb of brilliant shifting gold. She grew lost in it, yet never shying away. Morgott’s gaze tore away from her, back to the doll in his hand.

Just as silently as he approached, he retreated, straightening to full standing before moving along the street once more. Hester’s heart hammered about her chest as she watched his form drift away, never wavering until the tip of his horned tail disappeared among the recrowding street.

As the music and merriment swelled once more she realized she’d been holding her breath. An almost pained huff rattled from her lungs, eyes still saucers. She blinked, looking down at her table.

A hand clapped over her mouth in shock: there was a doll missing.

Oh gods, did he take it with him??

She thought, worriedly.

She couldn’t keep her mind on the festival, or on bartering her wares any longer. Sweat wet her lower back as she hastily packed up her remaining items, hands shaking as she did so.

Her mind was a storm, a swirling mess of worry and fear.

Did the King think she was mocking him? Oh gods would she be taken away?

As she made her way slowly through the crowded streets, back overburdened, her thoughts darkened.

Was he angry with her? Would…would he throw her in the dungeon?

She stumbled into her room, a glorified closet off the main shop. Dumping the items on the floor haphazardly, Hester began to pull the flowers from her hair, wincing as they yanked at her copper curls. Tears stained her eyes, the small bit of pain just adding to the chorus of negativity that loomed over her.

She fell into her meager bed, curling in on herself protectively. Blinking, her eyes fell on the little doll near her pillow. It regarded her with unblinking button eyes, no malice on its fabric visage.

Scooping it to her chest, the tears finally fell freely, crying freshly into her pillow. Sleep found her fitfully, coming in waves interlaced with stretches of agonizing wakefulness.

She kept chanting that everything would be fine, she was just overreacting….he wouldn’t act against her…would he? He was the king. No care for a lowly woman like her.

He was the King….

She blinked into the dawn light. Hair a nest of knots from her tossing and turning, a darkness circling her large eyes. She sat up groggily, the sound of birdsong being dampened by a commotion outside her room.

Hester wasn’t the only woman to rent a little space in the shop, the other women making quite the racket in the main area currently.

She sighed, steeling herself to see what excited them so. As soon as she pushed the door open she was met with everyone calling out her name.

“Hes! Hes! There’s a letter for you!”

“A letter?” She blinked, still half asleep.

“It has the royal seal!” They squealed.

She froze, stomach dropping to the floor. The other’s chatter dulled around her as she paced forward, trembling hands taking the letter.

It was made of fine parchment, the golden seal of the King keeping it prominently sealed.

Hester felt like the ground was swallowing her as she broke it open, unfolding the letter to read. Deaf to the other crowding around to read over her shoulder, she focused on the beautiful handwriting.

Her fear was slowly replaced with confusion, bewilderment. Her brows knotted as she read and reread the letter, no…the offer?

“Come on, what does it say!?” A young girl bounced.

“It’s…It’s an offer from the King.” Hester whispered, drowned out by the other’s raising excitement. She swallowed, “They want me to be the King’s personal seamstress…”

She didn’t hear the screams of excitement around her, wandering through them towards the shop window. Her gaze fell on the castle, far away nestled near the base of the great tree.

She couldn’t be the only one…..

Could she?

[schrodingersdivinity]

Oogle the Omen

Comic by me, took me the whole damn day to draw because I had to learn how to draw male anatomy AND Morgott’s face

[pumpumkins]

sorry morgott i love you

[sahaquiel43]

[Elden Ring DLC spoilers] sir Ansbach, what an absolute CHAD.

[MAJOR SPOILERS]

.

]

one thing Shadow of the Erdtree did was write a delicuously hatable villians, and the assorted heroes to rally against it.

stayed loyal to the end to Mohg Mogh, pierced through Miquella's deception, and even challenged her, trying to Free Mohg from his Brainwashing.

he even forgives us for killing Mohg given the situation.

and he follows us in to fight against the god that ruined everything.

what would have made it even better is if Morgott, or at least using a margit projection, also went in to avenge his brother.

"Lord Mohg will have his Dignity".

damn that's a raw line. I used to actually dislike mohg, genuinely. I admittedly also disliked his fanbase that flanderized his gross actions. And even after this, it's a toxic blood cult, but taking Ansbach's actions alone.....PURE CHAD.

like his brother, the Omen twins deserved Better!

damn.

[eaissilyy]

POV : You are a cockroach in the King's kitchen. (he's looking for a midnight snack)

Reference from his quick overhead sweep attack, but I do not know which is which because this old man has like a thousand combo hidden in his cloak.

[epiclad]

"Godrick the Golden. Miquella and Malenia. General Radahn. Praetor Rykard. Lunar Princess Ranni.

Willful traitors all."

[eldenbiscuit]

Some Morgott through the years concept art (yes the Great Rune does make them bigger)

[kurgy]

do you understand? do you see

[magpie-come-east]

A Tarnished enters into the service of a begrudging Morgott the Grace-Given whilst forming a slow and equally begrudging friendship with the king's Omen ally, Margit. AKA, in which the Veiled Monarch has a secret he's not very good at keeping.

A deeply self-indulgent Morgott/OC vehicle for exploring the painful dichotomy of a human-passing King Morgott and the shunned but useful Omen Margit.

My completed Morgott/Tarnished longfic!

[draconic-ichor]

I Want to Ruin You

Morgott/Lady Tarnished oc

Smut dabble

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, oral sex, knotting, penetrative sex, fingering, cumshot, heat cycles, slight cum inflation, pining

Summary: An AU in which the GodLord did not choose Morgott as her consort but still works along side him. Things get heated when the sexual tension gets to them…

Feedback appreciated, 18+. Just wanted to play with this idea

After the mending, a new ruler arose, taking both the place as God and Lord. She shook the world by its roots, changing the laws and placing all the inhuman races on the same level as the humans. Because of this, and her newness to the position as ruler, King Morgott was allowed to keep his title. Ever one of duty, he continued his work, helping the GodLord fix this new world.

Side by side.

The more time that passed, the more rumors began to crop up; the people began to ask when the GodLord would take a consort. It was tradition, and she was expected to birth demigods.

Yet…no consort was chosen.

Something deep inside Morgott was thankful, enjoying working alongside her. As they spent more time together the feelings began to thorn into his chest and churn up his stomach.

Her smile and fleeting touches started to haunt his dreams. He would watch her when she was busy, watch the way her hips swayed as she walked, or the way her lips moved while speaking to the staff. His heart would threaten to burst from his chest.

He felt foolish, burying those feelings away.

He was an omen…cursed.

No matter how deeply he tried to lock them away, they bubbled back up.

The Lady Tarnished also noticed, feelings mirrored but unspoken. After finding some small items disappearing in the wake of meeting with the King, she had enough: Calling him to the Elden throne.

~

Morgott stepped into the glowing light of the Erdtree, squinting a bit against its splendor. The steps were many, but ones he’d made countless times. He found the Lady waiting…alone. Peculiar.

Coming before her, Morgott asked, “My Lady asked of mineself?”

“I did.” She nodded, looking worried. She was flushed and jittery, definitely peculiar for her. “I need to talk to you.” She went on, “About us?”

The words knocked him off balance, stiffening.

She looked up at him, arms crossed, “Things have been…odd between us recently. You had to have noticed?”

“Nothing seems amiss, my Lady.” He lied.

The tarnished stepped towards him, “We can’t pretend-“

With every step closer he attempted to back away, keeping that space of safety between them, unsure what he would do without it. Looking down at her now, the skin between her collarbone and the swell of her breasts, pressed together so perfectly in the tight bodice of her low cut dress, went straight to his cock. Morgott felt hot, holding his cane tighter, ears deaf to whatever she’d been saying.

“Morgott!” She snapped, jolting him from his thoughts.

He stumbled a bit backwards, ass falling perfectly into the Elden throne. Words couldn’t find him for a moment, mind reeling as she closed the distance.

Practically between his knees, her face was flushed, golden eyes intense.

Was it from anger? Annoyance?

He paled.

“Are you even listening?” She asked, reaching out and resting her hands on his knees. The contact sent a shiver up his form. “I-I can’t do this anymore…” her voice was weak, cracking a bit at the edges.

“M-Mine Lady?” He stammered, “Prithee…forgive mineself, for whatever transgressions-“

She stopped him, meeting his gaze again, her face an even deeper shade of crimson. “All you’ve done is made me go mad with want!” The Lady Tarnished blurted out, the words tumbling, “I can’t do this dance anymore, I know you look upon me when you think I won’t notice. Avoided me since our hands touched…I…I thought…”

He swallowed, disbelief over his features, fur fluffed up a bit.

“I want you.” She admitted, eyes wet, “More than I've wanted anyone…you…you…”

When he didn’t respond, too lost in the confession, her eyes drifted to what lay right before her: a great tent that had formed under his robes. A shaky breath left her, that ache throbbing in her core.

She urged his legs further apart, the omen opening effortlessly under her touch.

“M-Mine Lady.” He swallowed, cane dropping to the side of the throne.

“Do you,” she ripped her eyes away from the bulge to ask, “Do you feel the same for me?”

“This is not,” he started, “We should not feel…I am not…”

“I don’t care what you are.”

“I would stain you…”

“Then stain me.”

“My Lady.”

“Tell me.”

“…”

“Morgott.”

“Aye.”

“Aye, what? I have to hear it.” She pressed, almost trembling.

“Mine mind has been ate up with the most blasphemous thoughts of thee.” He admitted, face flushed, looking away.

She smiled with relief. Her hands drifted higher, fingernails catching the fabric of his robes. “What thoughts?” The Lady asked, fingers deftly untying his belts.

“Thine small hands.” He began, voice weak, skin tingling under her touch, “Thy mouth…”

“My mouth?” She asked cheekily, opening up the front of the robe, freezing in her tracks for a moment, finding him bare underneath. His cock sprang free, throbbing as the cool air licked at the exposed flesh.

“A-Apologies-“ he began but the words died in a moment when he felt her exploring hands.

She gingerly felt over his large member, curious. He certainly wasn’t human, a fat knot already swelling at the cock’s base. She pulled back to untie the bodice of her dress, her plush breasts spilling out. Looking up she giggled to see her antics had been watched closely.

Getting comfortable between his legs, as if the place were made specifically for herself. Taking his cock in hand, “Go on. What did you imagine with my mouth?” She purred.

Morgott covered his face a bit. “Thy…Thine lips…” he managed.

“Oh?” She kissed at the underside of the pointed head, feeling the heat that pulsed from his cock in her hands.

Morgott gritted his teeth, looking away shamefully as his cock oozed. The Lady eagerly lapped away the clear fluid, head swimming. Her breasts quivered with every breath that fanned over his member.

He wouldn’t last long like this, pressing the knuckles of a closed fist to his mouth in an attempt to ground himself. The Tarnished’s soft hands worked him over languidly, eyes dark with lust as she watched every pulse and throb, imagining how it’s every bump would feel inside her.

“M-mine Lady.” Morgott managed with a strained whisper. She hummed, mouth sucking him in as much she could, tongue messily circling the tip.

He glanced down, but that was a mistake.

The Tarnished met his gaze, eyes blown out and dewy, batting her eyelashes as she sucked his cockhead.

The cords of muscle in his thighs tightened, fire in his stomach burning. He groaned, hips thrusting a bit on their own despite his restraint.

The Lady moaned happily at his reaction, his member slipping free from her mouth with a lewd pop. Her hands moved up and down his shaft more feverishly, mumbling praises to him.

She felt perfect.

Morgott stifled a cry, pulling her head down near the base as his cock throbbed. A thick rope of seed burst forth, shooting past the Lady’s head and painting the stone. She mewled, feeling a bit of the searing liquid drip down her back, nose deep in the thick fur of his groin.

Coming back to his senses, Morgott hastily released her head, the tarnished gulping in needed air. He swallowed, words lost on his tongue as shame burned his face.

The lady moved to clean away the still dribbling tip, hearing him make a sound from the overstimulation.

“You did so well, my King.” She purred, blinking up at him with half lidded eyes, his softening cock against her cheek.

The way she looked at him, something hidden beneath the blanket of lust…

Morgott swallowed.

“What tis a King to a God?” He asked, reaching down a large hand towards her cheek. The Lady nuzzled into his palm like an obedient hound.

~

They went on like this, Morgott refusing to give her more than his fingers or even more rarely his mouth. Thinking himself unworthy of her body, but unable to resist the way she made him feel.

After a few months the Lady couldn’t handle it anymore, her heightened sex drive sending her into a mock heat of sorts. Her skin felt hot, thighs quivering with a constant wetness between them. She had cried and begged for him…he answered, as always.

But his fingers weren’t enough, and as he drank up another orgasm so freely given to his exploring tongue, realized his mouth could do little to satisfy her either. Her smell was even different, making his mind swim.

He pulled back, his face a mess, cock throbbing with need. He wanted to ruin her, stretch out her pretty cunt so only an omen’s cock could ever satisfy her again. Morgott almost trembled, watching her shake with aftershocks, her hands knotting the blankets.

She raised her ass more in a display of want and submission. Begging with broken words for him to take her. Her hole looked even more tempting now that it was puffy, dripping a mixture of his saliva and her release.

The beast within Morgott thrashed within his ribs like a caged animal.

He couldn’t fight it anymore, couldn’t refuse his needs a moment longer.

Raising to his knees, Morgott grabbed at her hips, head spinning. The Lady mewled, face down in the bed. He made a shallow thrust, his member rubbing her opening before being spurred away by its tightness. His cockhead bent downwards, running along her swollen clit. They both gave a little moan from the friction.

But it wasn’t enough.

Morgott took his cock in hand, attempting to line it up with her opening. It caught on the rim, but was putting up quite the fight for deeper entry. He huffed, poking at her more fervently.

The madness of want threatened them both, the Tarnished practically crying for him. Finally the fat head of his cock breached her tightness; and all at once that careful seal, the plethora of oaths that they would never couple in such a circumstance, was shattered.

Morgott groaned, grasping her hips to spear her further, hips thrusting on their own. The Lady cried out praise with every inch fucked into her, that deep need being fulfilled. The burn was so welcome, pain intermingling with pleasure.

Once fully seated, he began to buck into her. She met his frenzied thrusts, mind going to mush.

His knot popped into her tight hole; before he could stop, his body reacted: violently cumming straight into her womb. A cry ripped from both their throats, the euphoria whiting out their vision. Morgott’s muscles shook, claws deep in the meat of the Lady’s hips, locking them together as he moaned with every spurt of his cock.

It was rapture.

Sinful, delicious, rapture.

For years he’d been denying himself, careful to avoid the sensitive knot when allowing what little relief his first offered; thinking the pleasure it would bring, blasphemous. Now, squeezed so tightly with velvety heat, sent him into a second orgasm, just as blinding as the first.

Unable to handle anymore, the Tarnished’s body snapped, releasing on his cock and tightly milking him. It made his orgasm crash harder, Morgott cried out, tail lashing. It topped over the nightstand, the clatter of broken pottery and scattered metal to follow. They were deaf to the commotion, writhing in their respected aftershocks.

He fell forward, catching himself before crushing the tarnished. Breathes were ragged, throat aching. His mind began to clear, and with it the shame sat in. Morgott glanced down, seeing her pretty cunt messy, clamped around his knot like a vice. He tried to pull free, earning some pained whimpers and muscles squeezing his sensible cock. Stuck tight.

…Oh Erdtree, how long would they be stuck like this??

He thought, face burning, eyes finally catching the bruises already blooming on the Lady’s thighs…perfectly handprints…

The tarnished kneaded the blankets in-front of her blissfully, feeling more full than she ever had before. Stomach was taut and swollen, a hand drifting down to curiously smooth over the bump.

“M-Mine Lady.” Morgott swallowed, wanting to hide away, “Prithee forgive me…”

She stiffened a bit under him, twisting enough to eye him. “Don’t apologize.” She ordered.

He opened his mouth to argue but she reached out for his closest hand. She clutched at him, wanting more comfort, it made his chest ache. She wasn’t angry with him?

He stained her, marred her in a way he never should have even dreamed of.

His fingers twitched, slowly enveloping her own, smaller hand. “It should not have been mineself…” he whispered, “This gift…for thy consort…”

There was a moment of silence. The Lady released his hold, moving to shift. Morgott helped her a bit to ease the strain on the locked knot, rolling her onto her back. The Lady blinked up at him with large golden eyes, face still flushed.

“Morgott?” She asked, heart thumping in her chest, “Do you truly think such?”

“…Aye.” He nodded, hard to hold her gaze given their current positions, “An honor as this…for thy’s future consort.”

“We should make it right, then.” She nodded, looking down in thought.

His large hand trembled a bit as he softly took her cheek, raising her to meet his gaze once more. “How so?” His voice raw.

Her hand went to his wrist, nuzzling into the contact as she batted her eyes up at him. “Only one thing to do.” She smiled hopefully, “You must become my consort.”

[bentobox-03-blog]

Foul tarnished

Someone must extinguish thy flame😡🔥

[ju-liczka]

Someone has to scrub this old fart.