#return of tha king…

[pear-island]

died may 2024 revived august 2024 WELCOME BACK TANGO GAMEWORKS!!!!!!

[nervouswaltz]

realign the spine

Something shifts, when they're lying in bed. Nothing big, nothing earthmoving. It’s more that something slides a little to the left and reveals what’s under it. George makes a mental note of it and decides that nothing has to change. He’s just pressed between Dream and the mattress, and he feels so heavy and safe, and so he goes back to sleep because he is just that cozy. Dream is already snoring against him, and George is in love with how the softness of his bare chest presses up against George’s bare back. George likes how big Dream is. Rather, he likes how small it makes him feel.

6.9k | explicit | no warnings

[kashilascorner]

Read in 2023: The return of the King (J.R.R. Tolkien)

“In this hour, I do not believe that any darkness will endure.”

[1-ker0sene-1]

Poly 141 x Reader

Home is where you are

"What ye think she made this time?"

Johnny mumbles, dropping his head back against the seat behind him. Blinking tiredly up at the ceiling of the truck, a daydream clear in his eyes. Simon next to him stares out the window, sweat seems to practically seal his balaclava to his face.

"We'd be lucky if anything. It's three in the fucking morning.."

Kyle says from the passenger seat. Pursing his lips a bit.

"She should be sleeping.."

Price chuckles from the driver's seat, hand on the steering wheel, paying close attention to the road.

"She knows we're on our way home. If she made something. We'll be thankful."

His other hand is resting on Kyle's knee, his thumb rubs slow circles against him.

Simons foot taps on the floor of the car silently, brows tight together. The man just wants to go home, shower, eat whatever heaven you cooked and sink into that california king mattress. With all of you, all five of you together.

"Steaks."

He mutters.

"Hm?"

Johnny questions with a hum, Simon clarifies.

"On days we come home.. it's either steak or shepherds pie. She made shepherds pie last time so it's gonna be steak."

They all salivate at the damn thought.

"It's tha little things with ye huh Simon?"

Johnny smiles warmly, leaning on his shoulder.

It was another thirty minutes driving before they finally pulled into the secluded driveway. Their safehouse. Their home. Where you are. Filing out of the truck, bags over their shoulders. Covered in grime and dried blood, they didn't even let themselves clean up at base before going home to you. Walking forward, Simon slings an arm around Kyle's shoulder. Tucking the sargeant into his side as they walk to the house. Both Johns walking behind them, Price giving the younger a good slap on the back.

"Home, boys. Let's enjoy it while we can."

Price comes forward to unlock the front door, pushing it open for the four of them. Mumbling out a reminder to take off their shoes inside. Leaning down with a grunt to pull off his boots. The others doing the same. They can already smell what you're cooking, Simon was right. The smell of steaks is pretty clear, garlic butter, some kind of steamed vegetables and spices.

The house is clean. Warm. Low lighting, some candles lit. Everything about it screams home. John opens his mouth to call out for you, but he can feel his spine practically melt hearing you hum in the kitchen.

Johnny is the first stumbling forward, hopping on one leg as he throws off his remaining shoe. Eager to get back to you. Grinning as he comes around the corner into the kitchen. He melts. Seeing you there, in your chair dishing up their plates of dinner.

".. Hey lass.."

He mumbles, feeling like all the air left his chest.

You turn your head when you hear him, the brightest smile spreads across your face. Tossing the fork down from your hand as you turn towards him.

"Hey soldier-"

You beam. You don't even get another word in before Johnny rushes towards you, you let out a puff of air as he crashes into you. Laughing against him as he squeezes you to his chest, his face buried in your hair.

"Fuckin' missed ye hen.."

He whispers. You return with one of your own.

"I know baby.. I missed you too.."

You lift your head, kissing the scar on his chin.

"This bloke botherin' you love?"

You already know that voice immediately, smiling as you turn to look at Kyle. Who is quick at your side with Johnny, his hand cups the back of your head. Pressing a long kiss to your cheek. Taking a deep inhale of your scent through his nose. You smile warmly, your hand finds his bicep, giving a soft squeeze.

"There you are Kyle.."

You murmur, turning your head to press your own kisses across the bridge of his nose.

"Always here."

He chirps, kissing on your skin. His eyes bore into you, drinking you up. Johnny huffs, mumbling something about stealing all your attention. Earning a small tug on his mowhawk from you.

"Alright you two- showers. The both of you. You need it-"

You chuckle, giving them both a hug. Giving Johnny one more kiss on the jaw. Letting Gaz get one more kiss on your face. Watching them head past you down the hall to the bathroom. Kissing on eachother, bumping into walls. You shake your head at them with a smile.

Eyes flicking back to the entrance. You find Simon staring at you, his shoulders slack and sinking. Eyes half lidded and tired. The rest of his face under the balaclava. Your eyes soften, holding out your hand to him.

"Oh Si.."

He takes the invitation. Coming over to you. He would tower over you in height. But instead he falls to one knee in front of your chair. Hands resting on the arm rests of your chair. Your hands immediately cradle his head. Leaning forward to press your head to his.

"You're home.. it's alright now .. no more Lieutenant.."

You whisper against him. Your fingertips lift the edge of the balaclava, pulling it over the nape of his neck. Over the back of his head, nails dragging soothingly up his scalp as you take the fabric away. Making him shiver in vulnerability. Putting his mask aside on the counter.

Seeing your Simons face eases the both of you, cupping his jaw and lifting his head.

"I know doll.. I know."

He mutters, you kiss his temple. Caressing his skin. Threading your fingers into his hair.

"Go shower with the boys sweetheart.. I'll be in there soon."

You coo at him. He chuckles deeply, kissing your head between your brows as he gets up. Bumping your foreheads together one more time before walking to the bathroom.

"You're not gonna say hello to me John?"

You joke, turning your head to watch said Captain. Who was holding his hat in hand, leaning against the wall watching you. He's been watching you the whole time.

"Just seein' you with our boys darlin'.."

Pushing away from the wall he walks over to you. His eyes full of exhaustion, longing, warmth. Tossing his hat on the counter behind you. He leans down, callous hands hold your cheeks. Bringing your lips to his.

He's not as sneaky as he thinks. You know of his little demand to the boys. He's the first to kiss you. Each time they come home.

You kiss him back feverishly, as much as you've been calm and steady for them. You missed your men like hell. Your hands find his shoulders, squeezing them tightly, beginning to work on the knots of tension in them. Emitting a deep groan from John into your mouth. You smile against his lips, feeling the scratch off his beard.

"Everyone's alright?"

You whisper against him. He nods, his hands finding your hips. Slightly lifting you from your chair and towards himself.

"No one's broken. .. Kyle's a little stressed. Y'know how he is.."

You nod, eyes still closed, continuing to brush your lips together.

"And you?"

"Just tired.. But I'm home. That's what matters."

John mumbles, kissing you deep again. Dipping his tongue past your lips, a soft sigh slipping out of you. Arms pulling him closer.

"Taking good care of our boys John.. You always do.. Making sure you all come home to me again... Our strong Captain.."

You can feel him sinking at your praise. The older mans knees want to buckle at your voice.

"Let's get you in the shower baby.. Hm? Get you washed and relaxed.."

You mumble against him.

You yelp as your lifted into the air by his arms, laughing openly as he carries you like a bride. Burying his nose to the crook of your neck. Carrying you down the hall, to the bathroom door. Where you can already hear the chatter of the men in the shower waiting for the two of you. John is grumbling against your skin.

"We need you darlin'. "

"Our boys and I need you bad.."

[nanenna]

A bit of detective work

A continuation of this post, now separated so you don't have to scroll forever to get to the newest installment. Also: masterpost

---

After escorting the Fentons back to their home, Batman, Wonder Woman, and Constantine mutually agreed it was best to stick around Amity Park for a little while. Constantine wandered off to look around on the civilian side, while Batman of course kept his promise to excuse Danny from school. Wonder Woman, also of course, kept with him. Sadly even as a very prominent member of the Justice League, well known to be one of the founders, somehow in situations like this it always took twice as long to get anywhere with civilians if he didn’t have at least one other League member with him.

“Hello, how can I help you?” the secretary asked with a forced grin as the two heroes entered the school’s front office.

“Good morning,” Diana said cheerfully, thankfully taking point. “I’m not sure who we should speak to, we’re here to excuse a student.”

“Oh, you are?” The secretary looked unsure, glancing back and forth between the two heroes.

“Yes, he’s currently marked with an unexcused absence, we’re here to change it to an excused absence.”

“Right…” the secretary squinted up at them suspiciously. Or rather, up at Diana suspiciously. “Well, if you would just hold on one moment please.” The secretary picked up an old style land line and pressed a button. “Principal Ishiyama, there’s a Mr. Batman and a… Ms. Wonder Woman here, they wish to speak about a student’s absence.” The secretary made a few “I’m listening” sounds before hanging up. They turned their attention back to the League members. “Principal Ishiyama’s office is just down that hall.”

“Thank you!” Diana beamed at the secretary before walking confidently down the hallway, Batman at his side.

The inside of Principal Ishiyama’s office is rather cramped,clearly intended pubescent children and not adults who keep such active lifestyles. Diana graciously sits in one of the austere, hard chairs. Batman chooses to remain standing.

“Now, what’s this all about?” Ishiyama asked, eyeing Wonder Woman warily.

How odd, it was usually Batman that everyone eyed suspiciously.

“We’re here about Daniel Fenton’s absence,” Diana started. She paused long enough for the principal to pull up the young man’s information. “The investigation is ongoing so we can’t give out any details, but last night we rescued Danny from kidnappers. He has been returned to his parents, but for obvious reasons he will not be back in school today.”

“Ah, I see,” the principal said. She did not seem to see. “And you want his absence excused?”

“If the police had come to you saying he’d been kidnapped,” Batman stated clinically.

“Yes, right, of course.” The principal set about clicking a few things on her computer before returning her full attention to the heroes. “Was there anything else?”

It was almost refreshing how easy that had been. Normally Batman would have to lay out what he meant in excruciating detail and have whoever was with him repeat it before a civilian in half a position of power listened to him, outside of Gotham anyway. “Dr. Madeline Fenton was upset not to have been informed of Danny’s absence,” Batman stated.

Ishiyama flinched, “Oh dear. Thank you for warning me, I shall look into that before they arrive later.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“Dr. Madeline Fenton also stated that everyone in Amity Park knows about the Ghost King.”

“Ghost King?” The principal looked up in surprise, “What does he…? No wait, ongoing investigation.” She side eyed Diana warily, then sighed as she looked back towards Batman. “Last year the Ghost King got out of his sarcophagus, we still don’t know how, and pulled all of Amity Park into the Ghost Zone. Fortunately Phantom, along with the help of most of the town, managed to put him back in the sarcophagus.”

“Why didn’t you contact the Justice League for help?” Diana asked with a frown on her face.

“How were we supposed to do that from inside the Ghost Zone?” The principal asked with a raised brow. “By the time we were back in the real world everything was over and dealt with, aside from cleaning up all the damage his army of skeletons did.”

“And Phantom is?” Batman prompted.

“Out local hero, I suppose. At first he was a menace, but recently the good he does far outweighs the inevitable collateral damage.”

Batman leaned forward, looming over Ishiyama’s desk. “Are you aware the Justice League has programs specifically meant to give support to minors doing hero work?”

“I was not, but considering Phantom is a ghost we’re not sure exactly how old he is. Either way, you’re here now.”

“Yes, and we should speak with the mayor about the supervillain attack recovery programs the Justice League also has.”

Ishiyama smiled and nodded along, “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Once out of the school and walking towards city hall, Diana turned to Bruce. “Phantom is a minor?”

“He is described as appearing to be in his mid-teens, strangely no photos of him despite there being photos of other ghosts all over the residents’ social medias and newspaper articles.”

“That is odd,” Diana mused.

“This whole town is odd,” Constantine said as he sidled up to them. “Apparently getting sucked into, and I quote, the lime jello dimension by the ghost king is just another Tuesday here.”

“The principal called it the Ghost Zone,” Diana supplied.

“A silly thing to call the Infinite Realms, but not the silliest name it’s been given over the eons. What I don’t get is how Pariah Dark got bloody out for a day and not one single person noticed, that should’ve been a huge event everyone even remotely sensitive to æther should’ve felt.”

“You believe someone intentionally hid this event?” Batman asked.

“It’s the only thing that makes a lick of sense, but that would take either someone scarily powerful or a group of very powerful people. And that’s not even getting into the why.”

“Perhaps this cult wasn’t the first to attempt to summon him,” Batman mused darkly. “Someone chose to release him, and since Amity Park is already a ghost hotspot I can see why this is where they’d choose to attempt such a thing.”

Constantine nodded along, “I was thinking the same thing. But it gets worse, no one in the JLD has heard or sensed a single thing about this town before today. I’m thinking it’s less someone chose to cloak Pariah Dark specifically and more someone is cloaking the whole town and everything going on inside it.”

“Then how did whoever freed Pariah Dark know to come here for their attempt?” Diana asked, “How did this cult know enough to use one of the residents as a sacrifice?”

“Ain’t that just the million pound question?” Constantine asked airily. “Along with: how did they even get into the Infinite Realms to let the bloody tyrant out?” The group fell into silence, no one having an answer to that question. “So, what next?”

“We’re heading to the mayor’s office to make sure they’re aware of Justice League resources that are available to anyone who’s suffered from villain attacks,” Diana answered.

“Despite numerous attacks and complaints of collateral damage, not one request from Amity Park for villain attack relief,” Batman added.

“Now that is interesting,” Constantine said.

[lalunanymph]

MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?

includes: mentions of food, mentions of murder, talks of death, predator/prey dynamic, sword to neck trope, reader gets restrained, mentions of injuries, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, unrequited love, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo, princess!reader, reader is referred to as 'cerena', princess cerena has pink hair and feminine features, reader is in cerena's body, isekai-ed reader

⟡ masterlist

ACT 1, SCENE 3: THE VILLAGE

Life at this little village offered you a gentle respite from the fears eating at your soul, putting the memory of Satoru's bloodthirsty desires momentarily out of your mind.

Whilst under Aeva’s care, you learned how to use an old fire stove, sweep the floors with a broom made of brambles, and prepare some of Northern Haleway’s most famous fare—pigeon mince pies. 

In return, she offered you the room in her attic, a quaint, cozy space that did not perturb you with its lack of size but instead, reminded you fondly of your own bedroom back in your real world. 

When you weren’t busy with chores and cooking, Aeva gave you free rein to roam about the village with the condition that you were to never reveal your true identity to the poor villagers. You took her worries in stride, always leaving her home with your hood and cloak on; Cerena’s signature pink hair plaited neatly and wrapped under the scratchy hood. 

The reason for your excursions to town were simple: you wanted to find out the truth about why you were here in the first place. 

You struck up conversations with various healers, visited the village shaman, and even spent an hour talking to the friendly barman on the merits of body swapping and waking up in a different life. 

But, your research barely yielded anything fruitful.

It only served to increase your worries, driving you to the brink of a mental breakdown at the fact that you may never go back to your real world again. 

That you may never see your mother or listen to her laugh as you both drank rice wine on a veranda; happy memories illuminated by the sun setting over the paddy fields. You may never roll your eyes at your best friend’s piss poor attempts at setting you up on blind dates, or enjoy your morning commute with a cup of turmeric latte.

Every single thought drew you deeper into a pit of despair.

But, you knew you had to be strong. 

This was a temporary setback and you have to believe that you will return home. You have to believe that life would not be so cruel as to leave you stranded here, in a place where you were despised and ridiculed. You had to keep the faith; had to hold onto the hope that you would make it home in one piece. 

There was no other option. 

-

Satoru slowed his horse to a trot once he arrived in the market square, the guards flanking his sides dispersing to find you at his terse nod. 

Those unyielding blue eyes swept across the square, noting the various sellers and stalls surrounding him. The smell of horse dung and rotten food scraps burned through his nose with the force of a thousand fires, and he made a face, wanting nothing more than to get this search party over, find you and take you back to the King. 

For a man used to the trenches of war, peasant life will always astound him with its stink and squalor. Children with dirt-packed faces and blackened hands chase after each other. A skinny, malnourished dog feebly lifts its head when his horse trots by and a heavily pregnant woman with scars running down her arms gives him a scrutinizing look while she hangs up her linens to dry. 

Satoru intended to keep this visit brief, and he is no more looking forward to the reality of finding you than he is at the thought of how you would react.

It was obvious that this was one of your usual tantrums in retaliation for not getting what you want; an act of rebellion made to paint him in a bad light.

His jaw ticks and his mood darkens at the thought of what he would do if he ever saw you again.

First things first, Satoru wouldn’t hesitate to threaten you by sword point to return back to the castle. Then, he will interrogate you on where you had been, who you spoke to, how you escaped in the first place so he can put anyone and everyone who aided you in this resistance to the sword.

Those flinty cerulean eyes shift across the market square, hoping to find a glimpse of the hooded and cloaked figure Miri had informed him about. But, all his gaze does is meet more exhausted faces; the villager’s blackened, fatigued air drawing his lips downward into a grimace. 

He was close to redirecting the search party into the forest where he believed you would be hiding, when he sees the figure of his hunt.

A waifish, hooded and cloaked woman made her way past the fruit stalls, stopping to purchase an apple.

Satoru doesn’t spare another second. He threw his horse into a gallop, reaching for his sword and drawing it out of the scabbard.

The hooded woman seemed to sense his murderous intent for her all the way across the square and lifted her head.

Satoru’s eyes widened when he noticed the familiar slope of your nose; the parting of your cherubic lips frozen in a silent scream. 

“Cerena!” 

The blasted woman takes off, running as fast as she could straight to the forest’s edge. Satoru doesn’t know what compelled him to disembark off his horse, hastily tying the reins around an apple tree and tearing after you with his longer, stronger legs.

Your terrified expression seared through his brain when you turn around to flash him a pleading look. Satoru gritted his teeth, his larger lung capacity and fitter body making it easier for him to sweep past the trees, darting under the brushes and jumping over fallen logs to chase after you.

There is nothing but the thought of escape in your mind. 

As you weaved through the trees, bounding across brooks and fell logs, your breath came out in icy pants, crystalizing right in front of your face. 

You wanted to turn around and plead and beg with him to spare you, the sight of the broadsword in his hand pumping your veins full of adrenaline and the need to escape. Like a hounded prey, the predator behind you was closing in, near enough that you could hear his jagged breaths.

“Cerena—stop running!” 

You pushed yourself harder, ignoring his words, forcing your legs to bring you towards a gnarly apple tree. Using muscles you haven’t utilized since you were four when you were wildly swinging from jungle bars, you expertly swung your body up the tree, clambering the thick trunk and using the spruces as your support—trying to get off the ground and hide in the foliage so he would give up and leave you alone.

But, luck was never on your side, especially when it came head-to-head with Satoru’s determination.

He circled the tree you were hiding in, those frantic blue eyes darting through the thick leaves, trying to get a glimpse of you.

“Cerena, stop this madness at once and come back home!” Satoru bellowed, cheeks splotched red with anger and frustration. “You mad woman! Get down and face your repercussions, dammit!” 

A slight movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you rush to unleash your dagger, cutting through the stem of the hornet’s nest just a few inches from you.

Sensing danger, they hummed, digging their stingers into your vulnerable hand, but you paid the bites of pain no mind—focused completely on evading Satoru.

The prince’s keen ears catch a rustle, like the sound of something being sawed and he looks up into the trees, jaw clenched and icy blue eyes wild.

“Cerena! What are you doing up there? Come down, dammit!” 

Without warning, a lump of something brown and scraggly falls right at his feet.

Satoru barely had time to react before he’s surrounded by a swarm of nasty wasps, stinger-triggered and ready to attack him. The sight of him swinging his broadsword to ward off the wasps would’ve been hilarious, if you didn’t use this as an opportunity to scamper down the apple tree and take off like your life depended on it. 

“—Cerena!” 

Your stomach sank to your feet as you quickly whipped your head back to catch him speeding up to you, the mottled flesh of his face from the wasp stings and those raging blue eyes shocking you through the core with pure, unadulterated fear. 

“Please!” 

You screamed, needing to run back to Aeva’s hut. She will protect you; she has to. 

Sliding into the clearing, you’re almost to the home run when you feel a hard tug around your neck. Your head jerks back and you go crashing to the ground, Satoru’s bigger body enveloping yours. 

“No—no!”

The shine of his sword nicks your neck, and you’re both breathing hard. 

Satoru’s fiery icy azure eyes bore right into you with such potent hatred, you throw your hands to your face, bracing for the blade to slice through your neck hotly. 

One second turned into two. His heavy breathing becomes a grunt, and he yanks you unceremoniously to your feet. 

His arm tightened around your trembling body, face a few inches from yours as he sneered. 

“You will pay for what you did to me.” Those reddened lesions from the wasps littering his neck and cheeks strike terror into your numbed heart. 

“If only you hadn’t ran away from me,” he clicked his tongue as if in disappointment, and to your mortification, brought out a coil of rope from his jacket. “Then, your punishment would not be so severe.” 

A hushed sob slips from between your gritted teeth as he lashed your hands together with the rope, tying it tightly enough so you wouldn’t think of running away from him again.

“Please,” you started to cry. “Please, do not hurt me. Do not harm me.”

He grunted, looping the tie into a double knot. “What in the devil are you blubbering about, woman? I have no intention of hurting you.”

Your tears trickled your cheeks like fragments of icy shards, slipping down your neck as you attempted to resist, pressing your bound palms to his broad chest and trying to push him away.

Satoru growled: “Cerena! Behave.” 

The flash of disgust and anger in his eyes instantly brought to mind how he had held the sword to your bare neck—how he had wanted to kill you. 

Terror seized your lungs, your scream shattering the calm quiet of the forest.

“Help me! Somebody help me! Please!” 

You sobbed loudly and with full abandonment, balking whenever he tried to reach out for you, batting your useless hands against his chest and neck to try and buy yourself some time for someone to help.

In the midst of the struggle with Satoru, you missed a wizened figure stepping out of the hut, her bow and arrow pointed right at the crowned prince.

Gojo, noticing the intruder in this scene, raised his eyes, sneering at the lowly woman who dared believe she can take him on with a flimsy weapon.

“You dare point that at me? The crowned prince of the region?” 

Aeva steadied her aim, the tip of the arrow quivering. The expression on her face was of fierce protectiveness, surging from seeing you being manhandled like a sack of potatoes by a man who was supposed to honor you as his fiancé.

For a brief moment, you felt a shining sense of hope—that you were going to be safe. 

But, he does not yield. Despite not saying a word, his frigid glare is all the loathing he needs to dissuade Aeva from releasing the arrow. Her rheumy eyes shifted from your tear-streaked face to his furious glare and to your dismay, she slowly lowered the weapon, letting it dangle by her side.

Your gasp rang with betrayal and alarm. “Aeva… please…”

Smug that he was let off without much of a fight, Gojo used his raw strength to lift you over his shoulder, your bound hands dangling across his back, your slippered feet kicking in mid-air.

“Please! Don’t let him harm me! Aeva! Aeva—” you choke off a broken sob, unable to bear her devastated expression through your tears. 

With every jarring step he took, you get further and further away from the safe house; from finding your answers and plotting your return back to your world.

Satoru didn't just tear your hopes of returning home from your hands, he also stomped them to the ground with the impending dread of his promise to Miri.

The promise to kill you should he see you again.

Crippling agony washed over you, enough to make you bitterly wail, your cries weaving through the trees as fearful images of your mangled body flashed through your mind, the end of your life brought about by this cruel prince's hand. 

“Enough with the dramatics,” Satoru muttered frostily as he trudged through the thick snow, reaching his behemoth of a stallion. With barely an iota of effort, he heaped you onto the saddle, giving your thigh a hard squeeze in warning not to do anything funny. 

Mounting behind you, he used his sturdier build to keep you caged in between his arms. Gripping the reins and snapping it once, his great white horse whinnies, moving to a trot as the forest and the safe house you spent these three blissful days in disappeared from your view. 

You never thought your fate would end up like this: bound atop a horse like fresh game being brought back after a hunt, while a sadistic man who wants nothing more than your demise sat behind you, stoic and silent despite your hushed cries.

Anguish welled deep in your soul, manifesting as endless tears streaming down your face which you tried desperately to hide from him. 

His voice broke through your frantic thoughts as a low, baritone warning. 

“I told you I will force you take accountability for your actions,” Satoru muttered darkly, slowing his horse to a cant.

Without any warning, he grasped your chin and tugged hard, eliciting a gasp of fear from you, forcing your teary eyes to meet his enraged ones. 

“And your punishment has only just begun, Princess.”

mtt fun fact: minced pigeon pies were brought to northern haleway by merchants from the south who introduced this alternative meat source during one of the country's harshest famines

dawn says: what kind of 'punishment' do you think satoru meant? 👀

!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3

©️ all rights reserve to lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, repost or claim as your own.

[azure-sorceress]

One thing I absolutely love about the way Sanderson wrote Gavilar is how the reader's perception of him slowly changes as the books go along.

In The Way of Kings we are under the impression Gavilar was not only a great king, but a great person as well. The highprinces respected him where they don't respect Elhokar. Dalinar talks about him as a perfect brother, Elhokar talks about him as a perfect father and even Jasnah misses him. Only Navani seems to be a little glad he's gone, but we can easily disregard that knowing she's in love with Dalinar.

This perception of him stays mostly unchanged in Words of Radiance, but by Oathbringer this picture of the perfect king and good person starts to crumble. We have confirmation in the prologue that he wanted to bring back the Desolations and that was the only reason he had made the deal with the Listeners in the first place.

In Dalinar's flashbacks we see how he used Dalinar as his war machine, how his conquest turned Dalinar into a man that could not live without a war, and didn't give him a purpose beyond that once the fighting was over. We see how Dalinar gave up everything for his brother but got very little in return. Gavilar wouldn't even let Dalinar finally relax and spend time with his first son, he had to imidiately give him a war to fight lest he find that he could live without being the Blackthorn. We see how he didn't try to help his brother when he was a drunk and let him destroy himself.

At this point it's clear that Gavilar was not really a good person, even if Dalinar doesn't see it that way. But he's not tha bad, right? Dalinar did most of these things because he wanted to, Gavilar only pointed him in the direction he wanted to.

And then we get to Rhythm of War, where we find out that Navani's imposter symdrome, that has been so prevelant in the books since the beginning is all Gavilar's fault. He made her feel she wasn't really an artifabrian, that she wasn't intellegent, made her feel like she was a cheater despite the fact that she always remained loyal to him. He made it clear he didn't care about Jasnah's feelings when it came to marrying Amaram and how he didn't see Elhokar as a fit heir. Gavilar's family all cared about him so much, and yet, here we see how little he cared about them.

By this time we're all cheering Szeth when he kills this man because he didn't deserve a single good thing that was said about him throughout the entire series. Gavilar dying was the best thing that happened to all these characters and that realization is amazing.

[dixons-sunshine]

All The Love | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: Daryl loved tucking his daughter into bed. It was the perfect time for him to bond with her on a deeper level. While reading to her, she tells him something he hadn't heard from her yet, making him very emotional.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour arc.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1.1k.

A/n: Based on this post by @louifaith. This was pretty rushed because I'm tired and have a small headache, but I hope you like this nonetheless!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“And as the weddin' bells chimed, the prince and his bride walked down the aisle, hand in hand, wavin' to the people who had come from far and wide to witness the unification of their love. As the happy couple descended down the grand staircase, the former king watched his son, notin' the happy smile on his face, and knew that the future king had made the right decision; he had chosen love above everythin' else, and tha' was wha's important.”

“What's a wedding, Daddy?” Hazel questioned, sleepily gazing up at Daryl through half lidded eyes.

Daryl looked up from the book and gave his four-year old daughter a small smile, reaching forward to gently push the hair away from her face. “A weddin' is somethin' tha' two people who love each other very much plan. S'so tha' they can make a promise to always stay with each other, so tha' their friends and family can see 'em pledge their love to one another.”

“Like you and Mama?”

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. “Yer mama and I didn't have a proper weddin'. We only had a weddin' between us in our bedroom. Our family found out 'bout it the next day.”

Hazel nodded slowly, trying to fully grasp what her father was telling her. “So you don't have to have a wedding if you don't want to?”

Daryl nodded. “Exactly.”

“What about me, Daddy?” Hazel asked again, staring up at Daryl in curiosity. “Do I have to plan a wedding for me one day?.”

“Hopefully not,” Daryl muttered to himself, before shaking his head and plastering another smile onto his face. “Only if ya want, Hazelnut. S'not mandatory.” He reached for the covers and drew it over her body, tucking her in tightly. “Now c'mon, ya lil' gremlin. S'time fer bed.”

Daryl leaned forward to place a kiss on Hazel's forehead. However, Hazel took Daryl's face in her small, chubby hands and rubbed the tip of her nose against his for a nose kiss. Daryl smiled and returned the small, tender gesture, waiting for Hazel to pull back first.

“I love you, Daddy,” Hazel told Daryl, finally letting go of his face to rest her head back against her pillow.

Daryl froze for a moment, not believing his ears, before snapping out of it and sending her a small smile. “I love ya more, Hazelnut. Try and get some rest, alrigh'? We'll play again in the mornin'.”

“Goodnight, Daddy,” Hazel greeted Daryl sleepily, turning over on her side and closing her eyes.

“Nigh', Hazelnut.”

Daryl stood up from the bed and walked out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him. In a daze, Daryl walked through the short hallway and into the room he shared with you. Once inside, he closed the door and stood unmoving for a few moments, simply staring ahead at where you sat.

Looking up from your book, you sent Daryl a small, inviting smile. However, your smile vanished when you saw the tears that prickled at the corners of your husband's eyes, your heart dropping at the sight.

“Baby, what's wrong?” you asked hurriedly, setting your book aside.

Daryl's eyes met yours. He shook his head, desperately trying to gather his racing thoughts. “I dun'—Hazel, she—she—”

“Come here,” you cut him off softly, motioning for him to come closer.

Without needing any further persuading, Daryl moved forward and practically collapsed on top of you, but he made sure not to crush you under his body weight. He settled himself against you, comfortably resting his head on your chest. You wrapped your arms around him, bringing one hand to gently thread through his hair. That's all it took for Daryl to fully break down.

You pressed a tender kiss to the top of his head, whispering sweet, reassuring nothings into his hair. Daryl cried into your shirt, gripping it tightly to try and anchor himself back down to reality. His mind was racing at a million miles a second, with no sign of stopping in the near future.

“Shh, it's okay, Baby. I got you. I got you,” you whispered sweetly, holding your husband tightly.

A few minutes passed with you holding the man that you loved, allowing him to cry into your shirt for reasons you didn't know of yet. When Daryl finally managed to calm his cries down to sniffles, you gently scratched his scalp, gazing down at him in concern.

“Daryl—”

“M'alrigh',” Daryl hiccupped, burying his head deeper into your chest. “I jus' overreacted, s'all.”

“No, none of that,” you chastised, clicking your tongue in dissatisfaction. “What's got you so upset, love?”

“M'not upset,” Daryl corrected you, lifting his head to gaze up into your eyes. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Then what is it?” you gently urged, cupping your husband's cheek in your hand. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“I jus'... Hazel told me she loves me. She ain't ever explicitly told me tha' before,” Daryl explained, his grip on your shirt tightening. “S'so surreal to me. It was unexpected. I can't believe tha' someone so perfect, someone tha' I helped make, can love me, yet she does. She told me tha' herself.”

“Baby,” you laughed softly, a smile on your face. “Of course she loves you. Our daughter adores you, Daryl. She might love you more than she loves me, but I'm okay with that. You deserve all the love in the world, and we're gonna give it to you. We'll always love you.”

Daryl could feel a lump form in his throat again, but he swallowed it down. He smiled at you softly, his heart swelling with love. He let one of his hands drift down to your stomach, rubbing at the small bump that had started to form there.

“Even this lil' bean?” Daryl asked rhetorically, sending you a playful smile. He knew exactly what your answer was going to be, but it was always nice to have that little bit of reassurance.

You rolled your eyes affectionately and nodded. “Especially this little bean. It's impossible not to love you, Daryl. You're amazing.”

“Nah, yer the amazin' one. Ya and our lil' girl.” Daryl stopped for a beat before continuing. “I love ya, peach.”

You smiled fondly. “I love you too, Daryl. More than you can ever know.”

Daryl lowered his head down to your stomach, placing a soft kiss over the clothed skin. “And I love ya too, lil' one. I can't wait to meet ya.”

[veala2]

“ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ.”

☀︎ luffy, zoro, sanji, ace, sabo. ☀︎

SYNOPSIS - Some mornings are the same, some change for the better or the worse. But being with your boyfriend will always be something different. And definitely something stupid. ft. Izou in Ace’s!

CW - nothing but silliness and fluff, as per usual. gn! reader, mentions of throwing up (as a joke), some perverted- ness (sanji), and that’s it.

A/N - when I tell you this idea was so random. My aunt gave me this idea after telling me about how she almost died on her own acid reflux when she woke up. Anyways, enjoy!

Holy SHIT when I tell you how messy this man’s morning routine is, it.. well, it won’t shock you ‘cause it’s Luffy.

The moment you open your eyes, you're hit with Luffy snoring, drooling, and hot breath right up in your face.

Not to mention he’s practically turned himself into a pretzel cuddling you. You have to detangle your stretchy boyfriend every morning.

He wakes up, confused on how he managed to get on the floor.

A series of giggles followed in pursuit of Luffy gargling mouthwash in his mouth, proceeding to then shoot it out like a spray bottle into the sink. Whether day or night, your goofy boyfriend always did manage to make you laugh.

“Luffy! You got mouthwash all over the sink!” You said, trying to stay serious, a smile on your face despite your efforts to scold him. He shot you back a toothy grin. A shiny grin, you threw in, from all the cleaning you forced him to endure.

“Wasn’t my fault. My tongue felt like it was on fire!” He retorted, sticking his tongue as if to show legitimate fire, hot and blazing.

The night before, your boy feasted himself on the meat of an extremely large animal he caught. He gobbled the thing down, and it was too little too late before you realized how rank his breath was from it.

He passed out, leaving you exasperated and annoyed.

“Well, captain, next time brush your teeth before you head to bed. Your breath reeked, it’s a miracle I’m still alive right now.” You retorted, pinching his round cheeks. Luffy let you stretch his face out and play around with his features, causing you to giggle. Letting go, you place a chaste kiss on his lips, before going back to brushing your own teeth.

“But… you can get away with it this time ‘cause your cute.”

Zoro is a late sleeper and an early riser on most days. But, when Nami say’s the skies are clear and there isn’t a single marine in sight, he will take this slim opportunity to sleep in for hours.

When you wake, you're not greeted with his face. Rather, his sculpted back and a strong arm around your torso that he kept for the entire night.

He snoozes into his pillow, face first. As if he’s completely dead to the world.

Well… there have been times you thought so.

Literally.

Rays of the morning sun hit your face as you wake up from a night of well deserved rest. Being a pirate is a tiring and thankless lifestyle, so a night’s rest feels like heaven. You think this, silently laughing to yourself as you slept next to the ‘king of hell’, ironically enough.

Zoro’s out cold. His effortless back on prominent display, embraced by the sun’s glow.

You smile to yourself, admiring his features that aren’t so obviously impressive to some. Surprisingly, you couldn’t hear any snoring from the swordsman. Almost as if he was actually dead…

“Zoro… honey, wake up.” You whisper, hands grabbing both of his shoulders to wake him. He give’s no response in return, causing you some worry. “Zoro, c’mon, it’s time to get up.”

Yet again, nothing. The worry was starting to take over, so you leaned down to check for any signs of him breathing. In the blink of an eye, your swordsman boyfriend lifts his upper body up, knocking you in the nose.

“Yawn, ‘morning. Babe, what are you doing holding your nose like tha-“ Before he could finish the question, he was greeted by you with a loving pillow to his face.

At the start of your relationship, the idea of being near you all the time already made him all heart- eyed and cheerful. So, when you suggested sleeping in the same bed, this man was over the moon and beyond!

He’d stay as still as a plank, not wanting to move or disturb you in your realm of slumber.

Sanji would be so happy, he’d make you bed in breakfast when you woke up!

Now that the two of you have been together for a while, he’s gotten used to cuddling you and being the big spoon.

But, that doesn’t stop him from surprising you now and then.

“Sanji, you really don’t need to keep doing this.”

You say to him, as if it would stop him from setting the lovingly decorated tray in front of you with a giddy smile.

“Nonsense! I insist on taking care of my precious partner. A man can show his love in many ways, and I’m no ordinary, greasy and gross man. Mine is just a fraction of what I can do for you, my love!”

His proclamation of love made your cheeks turn red, a dreamy sigh escaping your lips. It didn’t take you long after your relationship with Sanji started that you realised you were in for the long haul. Through thick and thin, young and old, the strawhat chef is honestly and inexplicably in love with you.

He sat beside you, placing his head on your shoulder and sighing lovingly. You brought a spoon up to your mouth and took the first bite, eyes lighting up.

“Wow,” you gasped, “you remembered my favourite breakfast!” You happily munched down on the hot meal, cheeks stuffed and nose hit with the delicious aroma. “You tend to remember all my favourite things, huh?”

“Of course! I know your favourite meals, favourite smells, music, clothes… under garments. Like your favourite underwear you’re wearing right now-“

“SANJI!”

It’s a 50/50 chance with your hot boyfriend if your morning is gonna be filled with passionate kisses, cuddling, maybe some extra time in bed…

Or having him come back from an early morning mission, stinky and sweaty (like his brother), and absolutely, positively, drool all over you.

Unfortunately, you let it slide. ‘Cause he’s a hottie with an even hotter body.

Nevertheless, there are some days when you just want to kick him out and get a couple hours of sleep without the need of throwing up yesterday’s dinner. Thatch would be pissed!

“I’m telling you, Izou, he just keeps doing it! Next time it happens, and I smell it-” You stop yourself, before bringing a free hand up to make a slashing motion near your neck. The sniper got a quick chuckle out of that.

“Precisely the reason pirates should avoid intimate relationships.” He stated, taking a sip of his morning tea. You scoffed.

“Well, that’s boring. And besides, it’s no use on me, his puppy- dog eyes always bring me back to why I love him.” You sigh. As if on cue, your goofy boyfriend comes bursting through the door. Scratches on his face and body, in one hand he carries a large bag of jingling gold, and the other hides behind his back.

“Baby! I’m back from my mission, hope I didn’t keep you waiting! Oh, ‘morning, Izou.” He greets you and his friend. You pout, looking at his muddy and dirty outfit.

“Hope you don’t expect to come back to bed with me like that.” You mumbled, taking a sip of your drink. Planting a kiss on your head, he gets down on one knee and looks you in the eye.

“I know you don’t like it when I come home dirty, and I promise I’ll try my best to clean up for you. On my way back, I passed by a hill and thought you might like this.”

Ace pulls out a bunch of pretty flowers, making you gasp. You couldn’t help but feel cheery, smelling the flowers and giving him a big ‘ol smooch. Izou tsk’s and walks out of the kitchen.

“Kids these days.”

You wouldn’t guess it by looking at him, but Sabo takes pretty good care of himself.

His seamless, flawless skin is not entirely genetic. The countless skincare products scattered among his bathroom sink is the answer to that question.

Didn’t take long for you to start using it as well, leaving him to catch you in the act. He’d come busting through the door like SWAT when you put on his moisturiser.

They were just sitting there, ready to be used! Was this really your fault, though? Sabo definitely thinks so.

Like thunder, the mahogany door slammed open, leaving you to scream and jump. You turn your head, eyes wide and freightened. Not at the thought of who it might be. Oh, no. Rather, who you already know and what he might do.

“I knew it! Love, you gotta stop using my products, I’m running out twice as quickly and it’s a bitch to get more.” He sighs, eyebrows furrowed, already grabbing a towel to wipe down your wet face.

He gently ran the fluffy material all over your face. Making sure to not poke your eyes. Even when your boyfriend is mad at you, he can’t help but take care of you. Kind of weird considering he was trying to be mad at you, getting a chuckle out of you.

“I’m sorry, hon. I just felt really gross when I woke up, and thought how nice everything you have looked.”

He huffed, puffing his cheeks out and placing his hands on his hips. You couldn’t help but laugh again, grabbing his face and placing a long kiss on his cheek.

“‘Tell you what, I’ll go out today and get you more stuff. And, I’ll keep buying you this stuff if you let me use it. We got a deal, sweet thing, mr. love-of-my-life?”

Sabo sighed, grabbing you by the waist and giving you a proper kiss.

“Sure, baby, sure.”

[smoothriverrocksrock]

First of all, I love your DeceptiBee au. That's all I needed to lift my spirits.

I imagine Bee going to Megatron and asking him to let him go to Iacon to meet with Orion and Elita, because of some celebratory party or something and him using the "Elita ordered" card and Megs accepting because you know how she is (and because he wants to see Bee happy)

Perhaps encounters like this will endear Bee to the Autobots and things get more serious when (As you imagined) Bee gets hurt in the middle of the fight and both sides stop to help him

Google tradutor é difícil, sorry😥

Ningún problema!

I actually have this idea, near the end of the story, of Bee convincing Megatron to properly *try* some sort of peace conference with the Autobots/Optimus. It would consist of a lot of planning between Bee and Elita (give or take a few others) to create a neutral zone on the surface outside of Iacon where the Autobots and Decepticons can formerly discuss policies for running Cybertron. Bee mainly wants to get this going so he can reunite his friend group and prevent the civil war from reaching the point-of-no-return. Elita does too, but she also wants to reunite the government with some people who remember what Cybertron was like before Sentinel

Megatron has mixed feelings about doing this. Basically his entire high command wants some sort of complete upheaval and reconstruction of Cybertron to be this militaristic dictatorship (Basically the Primacy before Sentinel, they’re kinda stuck in the past). To put it short, the Decepticons WANT war. Megatron, on the other hand, has gotten really into this Socialism-ish idea he has but doesn’t think Optmius The Prime would agree with. Mainly because it would mean the people have all the power and the Prime would play a much smaller role as a kinda oracle/general priest figure.

Little does Megatron know, Optimus would be totally down for this.

After several shenanigans, Bee and Elita eventually get Autobot and Decepticon high command together in a room.

The Decepticons expected something like a whole council of mini-Sentinels using the new Prime as a puppet king. They get a bunch of young hyperactive ex-miners who take any change at showing off their new T-cog powers.

The Autobots expect some kind of murder-happy caveman gang that D-16 Megatron found in a landfill. They get a bunch of socially-stunted old cunts who keep asking them weird questions like “How old are you?” and “Are you even qualified for you position?”

The Decepticons also keep challenging the Autobots to physical brawls over honor. The Decepticons seem to have underestimated the kind of body strength required to be underestimated miner.

Elita, Starscream, Soundwave, Prowl, and very few others seem to be taking the political side of this meeting seriously. They huddle in a corner coordinating reunion/war. Elita looks like she’s going to tackle Starscream at any given moment.

Meanwhile on the opposite corner, Bee is entirely focused on getting Optimus and Megatron to have a normal social interaction. It’s… not really working. Optmius and Megatron keep referring to things Bee wasn’t around for, and keep doing having silent conversation through looks alone. Bumblebee has to accept in this moment that he’s done all he can, and now it’s up to Megatron / Optimus to sort things out.

For a happy ending, they would! Optimus would eagerly listen to all of Megatron’s ideas, what he’s learned from commanding an army and how to take charge. Megatron would be surprised by how open Optimus is too stepping down as a sole leader, and the strides Optimus has taken to reshaping Iacon. Maybe they haven’t worked things out as friends, but they agree they can set aside differences for Cybertron.

At this moment a bar fight would start between Elita and Starscream, and they’d have to go deal with that.

But I won’t deny that things could go wrong here. Maybe this is the real final straw, and from this meeting on Cybertron begins its decent into ruin. But that kinda story is for someone else to explore! I wanna make my fun divorce resolution :)

[ponderingmoonlight]

(y/n) sparing Kokushibo's life for him to save her

Pairing: Kokushibo x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,9k

Synopsis: You find yourself standing in front of none other than the upper moon one. And while you know your chances are low and that your life might end in the dusk of day, you are able to cage Kokushibo into the upgoing sun. Until his eyes are filled with sorrow, until you make a decicion that might cost your life...

Warnings: this is my first ever Kokushibo fic so please let me know what you think! Like for Yorichii, I inserted a few pics into the fanfic itself so be prepared, angst to fluff, not proofread yet, NO MANGA SPOILERS 🤍

Special thanks to my dear @lavenderdrxp for the request!

The cold air of the night lashes against your sensitive skin without mercy, only warmed by your blood that runs down your frame like rivers. You are so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of your life. Why did you decide on becoming a demon slayer, developing into a quite skilled hashira? Right, because one of them murdered your whole village without blinking, because you wanted to protect humans from their cruel hands.

Your fingers start to tremble uncontrollably while you hold onto your sword for dear life, the handle smeared in crimson. The second you laid your eyes on him, felt his presence, you saw death itself. You’ve never encountered one of the upper moons carefully chosen by Muzan Kibutsuji himself. Until today, you were so keen to win this endless fight, thought you’d stand a chance against the demon king.

“Give up your dreams and die.”

But the man in front of you is the upper moon one. The man in front of you was able to almost kill you with just one skilled slash of his sword. Is this how you’ll die? In a 10-minute fight with a demon? Of course, you always knew your life would end like this. After all, this is the fate of a demon slayer, this is what you chose.

But…you don’t want to die. You want to live a long and healthy life, want to eat mochis until sunset and play cards with your friends.

“I will never give up”, you press out, dashing forward over and over again.

Your body begs you to stop and rest, to let your blade fall and never return to this life. But instead, you stare into his cold eyes, those beautiful colourful orbs that would fascinate you in another situation. How did a man like him end up being such a powerful demon?

“Foolish human. Do you really think you are able to defeat me?”

Your eyes dart up to the sky above. That cursed night that makes it possible for these creatures to walk on earth freely. But that faint shimmer of orange tells you that day will soon arrive, that maybe…

It might be stupid to even consider a win, that you’ll make it out of here alive. But if you are able to entertain him for a couple more minutes and trap him until sunrise, you’d be able to not only escape, but kill him.

Your mind starts to race, eyes scanning his body up and down. He’s quite tall and muscular, it won’t be easy to defeat him without any weapons. No, not even your katana will be enough. But maybe the poison you created with Shinobu-san will be.

“Use this against a demon whenever you feel like you can’t defeat him otherwise. This will make any demon unable to move for at least a few minutes.”

Every demon, she said. Every demon definitely includes the man standing in front of you. But will this be enough, are you actually skilled enough to even hit him? You need to inject the poison into his body, meaning a slice with your poisoned blade would be more than enough.

But that means you have to land a hit.

“You’re a fool if you really think I’ll give up so easily.”

Kokushibo needs to move, needs to end this fight before the sun starts to rise. You’re a hashira, his worst enemy. But instead, he can’t help but stare at you through the darkness of the night. You seem so unbothered by his presence, so confident in your abilities that it simply sweeps him off his feet.

Are you actually dumb enough to underestimate him? No, the fact that you keep your save distance to his sword tells him more than urgently that you know very well who is standing in front of you. No, your firm believe in yourself is enough to make you stand your ground.

And again, you dash towards him, holding onto your sword so tightly that your knuckles stand out white. He dodges your attack with ease, slicing through your tender flesh too light to hurt you critically. Oh, he knows all too well that he’s holding back, that you should be dead already. Why is he not able to end this fight, to finally get rid of you? Your eyes seem to gleam in the darkness, light up the word around him. When was the last time he saw the sun? He can’t remember. But your eyes have to be close.

A sudden pain crawling up his back rips him out of his pondering. What was that? Did you manage to hit him, is the sun starting to rise? Slowly he turns around, eyes finding your cramped-up figure on the floor. His flesh starts to heal in an instant, the only hint for your attack being a minor cut in his cloak. Yes, you indeed managed to hit him.

“I thought you are a hashira. Aren’t you aware that as a demon, I’m healing in an instant?”

Your heavy breaths hang in the air between both of you, your blood discolouring the forest ground crimson while your hands dig into the mud. This was all you’ve had left. It has to be enough, the poison has to function. Otherwise…

Your tired eyes dart towards him and the way he slowly approaches you. Will this be your end? Like in slow motion he raises his sword over your head, ready to behead you. At least you did what you could, faced him with everything you’ve head. Becoming a demon slayer meant being ready to give your life sooner or later. You allow your lids to rest, awaiting the bow of his sharp blade in silence. At least your end will be graceful, right?

But instead of his sharp blade, you are greeted by his tall figure crashing into you onto the ground. Is this real? Did the poison work? You force your eyes open, heart almost beating out of your chest when you begin to realize.

You made it. Despite the stinging fact that this man is the upper moon one, you somehow managed to stand up against him and steal his ability to move.

“You…poisoned…me”, he presses out.

What a fool he was for sparing your life when he had the chance to kill you so easily. Now the sun slowly but surely starts to rise, makes his skin burn uncomfortably while his venomous eyes stare right through your soul. You really are a brave one, bright orbs set on him while you free yourself from the pressure of his body above you.

“I did what I have to do. You are my enemy.”

Yes, you have to remind yourself over and over again. It doesn’t matter that his facial features suddenly begin to soften, you really don’t care about the way he stares into the rising sun. No, it doesn’t bother you that he looks almost…hurt.

“I haven’t seen a sunrise for a long time”, he mumbles.

“I love to see the sun rise. There is no better feeling than the first warm rays of the day against bare skin and that striking colours painted in the sky.”

“You look exactly like a woman who adores sunrises”, he comments so tenderly that you rip your gaze away from the orange sky for a second.

“And you look like a man who did as well”, you reply without thinking twice.

In the dim light he looks breathtakingly gorgeous. Yes, there is no doubt that this demon once was a handsome man with the kindest eyes. You hold your breath, the mark engraved into his eye reminding you more than urgently that this man is indeed a powerful demon. You should leave him to the sheer force of the sun, let him burn for all the sins he committed. But instead, a deep grief holds onto your heart tightly.

“I did indeed.”

Is that a tear escaping his eye? No, impossible. No demon you ever encountered cried, regretted his actions. Does he feel the presence of death haunting after him, the way his skin starts to burn under the first rays of sunshine? His forehead starts to redden before catching fire, making a deep whimper escape his lips.

“Do you want to live on?”

What a stupid question to ask, how reckless to even talk to him. Why does your hand cup his cheek all of the sudden, why do you feel sorry for one of the strongest demons in existence?

“Maybe dying in the upgoing sun is more than I am able to ask for”, he speaks out slowly and reserved.

Your mind starts to raise, comes up with a plan more poisonous than anything Shinobu has ever created. This is ridiculous to even think about, you are a demon slayer, a hashira to be exact. The thought alone is ridiculous.

But not ridiculous enough to stop yourself from grabbing him under his armpits and start hovering him into the safety of the thick woods, away from the dangerous rays of sunshine. You feel like fainting, your very own blood following you behind like a trail while you huff in exhaustion. But still, you keep on moving, shield his body from the sun with your blood-soaked coat while all he does is staring at the angelic sky.

This will be the death of you, as soon as he regains the power over his body, he’ll slice you into pieces. Why? Why are you not strong enough to outstand your pity, why weren’t you able to leave him to his fate? Instead, you find yourself hauling him up a pair of stairs leading into an abandoned cottage you’ve known for years. This is your safe place, your retreat from this cruel world.

And this will be the place you lose your life in.

You fall onto the cold wooden floor the second the door behind both of you is closed, your mouth tasting like iron while coughing up blood. You must be severely injured, given the fact how numb your body starts to feel and how your heart seems to beat slower with every passing minute.

Your eyes catch his shadow next to you, how it builds up into its old frightening gloom. The poison must have worn off, gave him back the ability to move freely. You swallow hard, glossy eyes widened in thick horror.

This will be your end.

“Why did you save me?”

His dark voice sends shivers down your spine, the sheer presence of his powers alone while laying on the floor helplessly almost making you lose your composure.

“I don’t know”, you mumble in response, voice nothing more than a fade away whisper.

His heavy yet light footsteps make the floor vibrate underneath his weight when he crosses the room and comes to a stand in front of you. All you can do is stare at his feet next to your head, waiting for your certain death.

“I’m the upper moon one”, he reminds you.

“And I’m…a hashira…”

You feel the wood next to you give in under his weight as he kneels down next to you, six eyes staring at you intensely. Why…why is he still hesitating? It wouldn’t be hard to kill you in the state you are in, even though the sun now almost fully rose. What a victory, killing another hashira off with ease, coming closer to being the strongest.

Kokushibo can’t help but admire you for the way you still carry yourself with so much pride. Despite the fact that you’ll die within an hour if not treated, despite his sheer presence by your side, your eyes still hold contact with his unwavering. Like in trance he leans forward, lets go of the handle of his sword for the first time since forever. As gentle as his hands remember to move, he places them onto your stomach, watches as your eyes fill with dread. Is he even able to use his powers after all this time ignoring them? He has to try.

The room lights up in red as your body seems to burn alive, a silent scream escaping your lips before you are able to stop it. Out of instinct, you grab on of his hands, hold onto it tightly while waiting for the sharp pain haunting down your body.

But nothing happens. No, it almost feels as if…your pain slowly fades away.

“You…You healed me”, you breathe out in utter disbelief, chest rising and falling so sharply that oxygen refuses to fill your lungs.

Your hands wander around your body rapidly, scan every inch of your busted skin to be greeted by nothing.

“You healed me.”

“You saved me”, he replies briefly, hands still pressed onto your stomach ever so slightly.

Time stands still, the only thing you can think about are his eyes. The eyes that were filled with sorrow when staring into certain death, the eyes that roamed around your body to check for your injuries, the eyes that are now locked with yours.

“Thank you.”

“I need to thank you as well”, he answers calmly.

“I-…”

You don’t know what to say. Is all of this just a dream? This creature, this force of a man kneeling next to you is none other than the upper moon one, the most dangerous demon after Muzan Kibusuji himself. But he didn’t kill you. No, in fact he even healed your severe wounds, saved your life instead of sinking his teeth into you.

He spared you.

Your life was saved by a demon.

“Join the demon slayer corps. Come with me.”

Your words leave your mouth faster than you are able to even think, regret immediately washing over you like a wave. What on earth were you just saying?

“Did you forget how I am?”

“In exchange for saving your life”, you continue.

He just stares at you, eyes widen in sheer surprise. He expected everything when he followed your tracks tonight, the mission Muzan Kibutsuji entrusted Kokushibo with still present in his mind. It was fairly simple: Kill the hashira with the bright orbs, the girl on her way to a nearby village flooded by demons.

But now that he’s sitting right next to you, his hands still resting against your stomach, your heartbeat pounding against his palms, he simply can’t imagine to end your life right here and now. No, the urge to brush his fingertips over your cheek just once, to feel the heat of your skin becomes almost unbearable. Is it because of your innocent eyes, because you saved him despite he injured you severely?

“We live in different worlds, (y/n). It is simply impossible for me to be a part of yours.”

Your stomach drops by the way he says your name, breath getting stuck in your throat. You’ve seen countless demons in your life, always hated every single one with all of your heart. But this man showed you his real face, that he is still human after all these years. Maybe there is still hope, maybe turning into a demon doesn’t have to be a death sentence. Maybe…maybe you’ll be able to save Tanjiro Kamado’s sister.

“Promise that we’ll meet each other again. Promise me that you’ll visit me here right here again soon”, you urge.

“I…”

Kokushibo is los at words, lost in your bright orbs, lost in your tenderness. Not so long ago, he was on his way to end your life violently, to kill you and leave with the arrival of the sun. But now he finds himself right by your side, his mind wandering just by the exciting thought of meeting you again.

“I will visit you again”, he finally gives in.

“Good”, you breathe out.

“Now, tell me a little about yourself. After all, we are trapped here until the sun goes down.”

“I don’t enjoy talking that much.”

“Come on…”

-one year later-

Your eyes gleam in the down-going sun, whole body electrified in excitement. Only a few minutes before the sun is gone, only a few minutes until you finally see him again. As much as you adore the play of colours in the sky just before the sun sets, you started to love the tenderness of the night far more.

Because it means he’s able to walk freely, because it means finally seeing him again.

“There you are, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat, cheeks already heating up before you even turned around. You wrap your arms around his tall figure in an instant, his thumb gently stroking over your forehead.

"I still despise that scar", he states, eyes lost in your sight.

He was the one who did this to you, the one who almost killed you that night.

“That was long ago, Koku, please don't worry about it. I missed you, where have you been?”

There he stands as charismatic as ever, his sheer presence alone signalling nothing but power. You never fail to notice that he’s around no matter where you are, looking after you while fighting off demons. Oh, how much he hates to hide in the shadow, to keep his affection a secret. But there is no way he’ll allow any other upper moon to harm a single hair on your body, let alone Muzan Kibutsuji himself.

Gently, you wrap your arms around him the way he adores so much, rest your head against his chest while he strokes your hair gently.

“I need to keep you save, I am not risking your life over one meeting, (y/n)”, he explains in all seriousness.

“I’d rather die than not seeing you”, you reply with a grin.

“Don’t say that, (y/n)”, he warns you while wrapping his arms tighter around your waist.

Need more? Click here for my Yoriichi x fem!reader fic!

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @kayleegomez @snowywhiterose @chosomybeloved3

[cowboybeepboop]

Magic

"Your hands are... quite magical, you know that?”

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 4.3k 

Summary: Modern reader falls for Thorin and captures his heart. 

Warnings: Soft thorin, unprotected sex, handjob, p in v sex

a/n: Idk I’ve been wanting to write smth like this for a while so hopefully it’s good. Let me know if you have any requests and I hope you enjoy. I’m also currently in school so I’m trying to write in my free time but it’s a difficult balance 😣💔

Gandalf had come across you lost and confused, wandering the trails of the earth. You remembered him, his face, from a movie you had seen in your world. “Gandalf?” You called out to him suspiciously. 

"Hm?" He looked around then spotted you. "Ah! A human! What are you doing out here all alone in the middle of the wilderness?"

“I don’t.. I don’t know?” You reply, stepping closer to him seeking the warmth of another body. 

Your stomach growled, you have been wandering for hours, maybe even days. Your clothes aren’t from this world and aren’t proper hiking attire. 

You adjust the skirt of your dress as you stop in front of him. “I’m not sure where I am..”

His bushy eyebrows furrow at your strange, out-of-place clothes, and a bemused look crossed his face. 

He took a step closer, noting your exhaustion and the state of your attire. "I can see that. You don't belong here, do you?"

Gandalf assessed your weary state and wrapped his large cloak around you gently, guiding you towards his horse. 

"You look exhausted," he murmured, concern in his eyes. "You can ride with me to Erebor. It is not far."

With a little help from him, you clambered onto the horse's back, settling between Gandalf and the horse's broad neck.

Gandalf led you through the winding paths towards Erebor, the mountain's towering presence growing larger and larger through the trees.

His horse carried you both steadily, and after some time, the grand entrance to the dwarven kingdom came into view. 

Gandalf dismounted first and helped you down from the horse before guiding you into the hall of the dwarven king.

King Thorin Oakenshield sat upon a throne carved from solid oak, a long, dark beard covering most of his broad chest. He regarded you with quiet curiosity as you and Gandalf approached.

"Gandalf," Thorin greeted. "You've returned. And with a strange companion?"

Thorin's gaze flicked between Gandalf and the strange human standing beside him. It was a woman, but not like any he had ever seen before. Her clothes were unlike anything from Middle Earth, and she appeared lost and dazed.

"Who is this?" Thorin demanded, his voice sharp and suspicious. "And where did you find her, Gandalf?"

You subconsciously hold the cloak closer to you, shifting under the scrutiny of the King.

Thorin's blue eyes, sharp and calculating, studied you closely. The way you clung to the cloak, the slight tremble in your hands, it all spoke of fear and uncertainty.

Gandalf stepped forward, gesturing to you. "King Thorin, this woman... she appears to be lost. I found her wandering in the wilderness, disoriented and bewildered."

“Y/N.” You say softly, “My name is Y/N.”

Thorin's eyebrows raised at the sound of your name. It rolled off your tongue softly, and he noted the gentleness in your voice. 

"Y/N," he repeated slowly, the pronunciation foreign on his tongue. He then turned to glare at Gandalf, his eyes narrowing with a hint of suspicion.

“I don’t mean to intrude..” you give the king an awkward smile. “But is there any food I might be allowed?” Your hand goes to your rumbling stomach, your expression a grimace.

Thorin's eyes softened as he heard your stomach grumble. He couldn't help but let out a small, gruff chuckle, amused by your honesty. 

"Starving, are you?" he asked, a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "We can't have that now, can we?" 

He then barked out a command, "Nori! Bring some food and drink for our new guest!"

You visibly relax, a small smile creeping up your lips. “Thank you.”

Thorin's stern demeanor softened slightly as he saw the relief on your face. "It's the least we can do," he replied gruffly.

Nori, a wiry, quick-fingered dwarf, came rushing into the room, carrying a tray of steaming food and a tankard of ale. He placed the tray on a table near you, a sly smile playing on his face. "Here you go, lass."

You reach out and give him a swift hug. “Thank you so much,” you grin widely as you take a seat, eyes sparkling.

Nori's cheeks flushed as he received an unexpected embrace from you. He chuckled and patted your back awkwardly. 

"No problem, lass. Just doing my job." He backed away, mumbling something under his breath about "soft humans" as he scurried out of the room.

Meanwhile, Thorin watched the exchange with a mix of surprise and fascination. He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

Thorin observed you, watching silently as you took a small bite. His penetrating blue eyes studied your every move, his gaze unwavering. There was something about you that intrigued him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Finally, he broke the silence. "So, Y/N," he began, his voice deep and rumbling. "Can you tell me how you came to be lost in the wilderness?"

“Not really.” You chew eagerly, the cloak Gandalf gave you sliding down your shoulders slightly and exposing your skin to Thorin's gaze.

Thorin's eyes were drawn to the exposed skin of your shoulders as the cloak slipped down. A shiver ran down his spine at the sight of your bare flesh. He quickly schooled his reaction and returned his gaze to your face.

"What do you mean, not really?" he asked, his voice gruff, feigning indifference. "You must have some idea of how you ended up out there, lost and alone."

“I don’t..” you sigh, stopping your chewing as you look up at him. “I just remember falling asleep in my bed and then waking up in a cold dark forest.”

Thorin's brow furrowed at your response, confusion and concern etched on his face. "So... you just appeared out of nowhere?" he asked, his voice edged with skepticism. 

He took a step closer to you, eyeing the strange clothes you wore. "And what of your clothes? Those are unlike any I've ever seen."

“I was at a party,” you laugh, looking down at your revealing dress that is less than practical in this situation.

Thorin's gaze darkened as he took in the sight of your party attire, the low neckline and the bare length of your thighs on display. He swallowed heavily, his mind wandering to places he shouldn’t allow it to go. 

"A party, you say?" He repeated, his voice a little huskier than he had intended.

You nod, Thorin joins you at the table, encouraging you to eat as he continues to question you. 

A few weeks have passed since you arrived, you’ve become a little more versed in the world and palace. Having now met each of the many dwarves living in the palace.

As the weeks passed and you grew accustomed to the palace, he found himself seeking your company more and more.

The other dwarves had grown fond of you as well, especially Fili and Kili who teased you frequently and took every opportunity to make you laugh.

One evening, after a particularly long day, Thorin invited you to his private chambers once again. 

You carefully step toward his room, cautious and silent as to not wake anyone. You lightly tap on the heavy door, “Uh your highness?”

Thorin rose from his chair as he heard the soft tapping on the door. He took a moment to compose himself before calling out, his voice gravelly and deep, "Come in."

He stood by the fireplace, the amber glow of the flames dancing across his face as he waited for you to enter.

You struggle with the door, still not used to how heavy doors in this world are. “Fucking hell,” you murmur as you finally get it open, slipping inside and walking toward Thorin.

Thorin chuckled; he found your modern curses amusing and strangely endearing.

As you approached him by the fireplace, he took in your appearance. The low light of the fire illuminated your features, casting soft shadows across your face. He noted the way your gown clung to your curves, and his eyes darkened slightly as he fought to control his thoughts.

"Close the door," he commanded in a gruff voice, his gaze still fixed on you. 

The room was large and sparsely furnished, with only a few pieces of furniture placed throughout. The fireplace provided a warm, intimate setting, and Thorin gestured for you to take a seat on a nearby couch.

You close the door carefully, trying not to make too much noise. Having your back turned to the dwarf meant his gaze could wander your frame and each slight movement of your body. 

“Thorin,” you take a seat next to him. “Those doors are so damn heavy.”

As you settled down beside him, Thorin couldn’t help but notice the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. His eyes were drawn to the subtle movement of your body, the way the fabric of your gown clung to your curves.

He chuckled at your comment, a gruff sound that rumbled in his chest. "You'll get used to it," he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. "After all, you've been here for a few weeks now."

You’ve gotten used to being in his room as he’s been teaching you the history of his kingdom, but you’re never here this late in the evening. “Did you miss me?” You tease as you relax into the plush couch.

Thorin's lips curled into a small smile at your playful tone. He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the hint of amusement in his gaze.

"Don't get too cocky," he grumbled, trying to appear aloof. "I just thought you might want to know more of our history, that's all."

But deep down, he had grown quite fond of your company. Perhaps a little too fond.

“Mm, do I have to learn?” You pout, tired from the day you’ve had. “Perhaps we can just relax..”

Thorin chuckled, his gruff exterior softening slightly at your pout. He knew you had been working hard and was pleasantly surprised by your suggestion to relax. 

"Hmm, you want to skip the history lesson tonight?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "And what would we do instead?"

“I could.. brush your hair! I could braid it.” You offer, not knowing the implications of your suggestion.

Thorin's eyes widened in surprise at your suggestion. He hadn't expected you to offer to brush his hair, let alone braid it. In dwarven culture, it was considered an intimate gesture, reserved for close family or lovers.

But he couldn’t deny that the idea of having you touch his hair was appealing. He found your presence soothing, and the thought of your fingers running through his hair was more enticing than he cared to admit.

"You... want to brush my hair?" he repeated, his voice gruff but tinged with a hint of curiosity. 

He shifted in his seat, watching you closely, his eyes darkened with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. He could hardly deny the effect your presence had on him, and the thought of you being so close, touching him in such an intimate way made his heart skip a beat.

“Why not?” You grin while scooting slightly closer to him. “It would be nice..”

Thorin's breath hitched as you scooted closer to him, and he found himself strangely compelled by the thought of having your hands in his hair. Despite his usual gruff and stoic demeanor, the idea of allowing you to brush and braid his hair felt oddly vulnerable.

He cleared his throat, trying to suppress his growing desire. "All right then," he grumbled, his voice betraying a hint of excitement. "You can brush my hair."

You grin, taking the brush from the table in your hands. “This is quite exciting.” You murmur, your hands on his shoulders as you kneel behind him.

Thorin felt the warmth of your hands on his shoulders as you knelt behind him, and a shiver ran down his spine. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself as he felt your breath on the back of his neck.

"Exciting, you say?" he murmured, his voice low and gruff. "I never thought having my hair brushed would be so thrilling."

“I’ve been wanting to touch your hair for ages,” you softly undo the braids from his hair, your fingers nimbly gliding through. “It looks so soft.”

The honesty and softness in your voice sent a rush of warmth through his chest.

He swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper, "It’s not as soft as yours, I assure you."

The feeling of your fingers gliding through his hair was both soothing and arousing, sending tingles down his spine. He closed his eyes, relishing the sensation of your gentle touch.

You carefully brush through his locks, your fingers brushing against his back as you do so. 

Thorin's breath hitched slightly as your fingers trailed against his back, sending a ripple of heat through him. It took all his self-control not to lean into your touch, to feel more of your hands on his skin.

"You... have nimble fingers," he mumbled, his voice gruff and a touch huskier than usual.

“I take that, that is a compliment?” You murmur with a soft giggle as you begin to massage his scalp, the action is something your mom used to do to help you relax.

Thorin let out a low, rumbling sound of contentment as you began to massage his scalp, the tension in his muscles melting away under your touch.

He hummed in response to your question. "A compliment indeed," he murmured, his eyes closing as he leaned into your fingers. "You have a gentle touch. It's... soothing."

“Well, thank you.” Your nails gently scratch against his skin. The pads of your fingertips working at his scalp.

Thorin couldn’t help but moan softly at the pleasure of your touch, the soft scratching of your fingernails sending shocks of desire coursing through him.

He shifted slightly in his seat, trying to regain some control over his growing need. His body was on fire, every inch of him aching for more of your touch. 

"Keep that up, and you'll put me to sleep," he teased gruffly, his voice rough with suppressed desire.

“Maybe I’d like to lull you to sleep.” You tease, you adjust yourself, sitting down against the arm of the couch. “Just relax, you can lean against me.” Your legs spread, resting on either side of his body.

Thorin’s mind raced as you adjusted your position, the thought of leaning his weight against your soft body was both thrilling and terrifying. He could practically feel your thighs against his sides, and the thought was both enticing and tortuous.

But he couldn’t deny the aching need in him to give into the temptation of your offer. Without a word, he leaned back against you, his head resting on your chest as he allowed himself to relax into your embrace.

“Are you comfortable like this?” You question, fingers still working in his hair.

Thorin let out a low, rumbling hum of contentment as he leaned against you, the feeling of your fingers in his hair sending waves of pleasure through his body. 

He nodded, his voice gruff and slightly sleepy. "Yes, quite comfortable," he mumbled, his eyes closed as he savored the sensation of being so close to you. "Your hands are... quite magical, you know that?”

“They’re good for other things too…” you reply in a suggestive tone.

Thorin's eyes snapped open at your suggestive tone, his body tensing at the implication. He swallowed heavily, his mind immediately filled with vivid images of all the “other things” he wished your hands could do to him.

He cleared his throat, his voice rough and strangled. "Is that so?" he managed to reply, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and desire.

“Mhm,” you trail one hand down his chest. “I’ve been told that I’m quite skilled with my hands.” You bite down on your lower lip.

Thorin's heart pounded in his chest as you trailed your hand down his chest, the simple touch sending a wave of heat through his body. He swallowed heavily, the sight of you biting your lip sending his thoughts spiraling out of control.

He couldn’t deny that the thought of your skills with your hands aroused him deeply, but he fought to keep his desire in check.

"Are you now?" he managed to reply, his voice thick with suppressed need. "And who exactly has told you this?"

“They’re not important right now,” you mutter, “my focus is on you, love..” you slide your hand under his shirt, fingers brushing over his muscles.

Thorin's breath hitched at the feeling of your hand under his shirt, your touch igniting a fire in him that he could barely control. The way you referred to him as ‘love’ made his heart clench.

He let out a low, guttural sound as your fingers grazed over his muscles. Your touch was both soothing and arousing, and he found himself leaning into your hand, craving more of your touch.

"You're making it very hard to think straight," he whispered huskily.

“Mm, you’re very handsome my King.” You press a kiss to his temple, your other hand moving from his hair to his chest.

Thorin's eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of your kiss on his temple, his heart hammering in his chest at the simple yet intimate gesture.

"You... you have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. The feeling of your other hand on his chest made his muscles tense under your touch, his breath catching in his throat.

“Let me take care of you..” You move from behind him, your breasts pressing against his back as you move your hand to his trousers.

The feeling of your breasts pressing against his back sent a jolt of pleasure through Thorin’s body, and he let out a strangled gasp. He could feel the heat of you against him, and it was both tantalizing and torturous.

He swallowed heavily, his voice a hoarse whisper as he tried to fight the overwhelming desire coursing through him. "Take... take care of me?" he repeated, his eyes dark with need.

You kiss his neck as you slip your hand into his pants, fingers grazing over his hardness.

Thorin’s breath hitched as your lips brushed against his neck, followed by the feeling of your hand slipping into his pants. His body trembled with need as your fingers grazed over his hardness, and he let out a guttural moan, his head falling back against your shoulder.

"You’re... you’re driving me mad," he managed to gasp out.

“Relax. I’ll take care of you,” you whisper into his ear, your hand grasping his length.

Thorin's body tensed as your hand grasped him, a low, guttural sound escaping his lips at the sensation. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt such pleasure, and the feeling of your breath on his ear sent a shiver down his spine.

He forced himself to relax, his head falling back against your shoulder as he surrendered to your touch. "Please... yes, take care of me," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need.

You comply, your thumb brushing over his tip and spreading his precum. He pulls his trousers down, exposing himself to the cool air, your hand moves around him.

You begin to stroke him gently, your hand moving with a rhythm that you've learned from his reactions. Each stroke causes his breath to hitch, each touch of your thumb sends a jolt of pleasure through his body. "Is this what you want?" You whisper, your voice a seductive purr in his ear.

Thorin's eyes squeezed shut as he nodded, his body reacting instinctively to the exquisite pleasure you were giving him. His chest heaved with each breath, his heart racing faster with every stroke. "Yes," he managed to murmur, his voice a rough growl of need. 

You lean in closer, your breath hot against his skin as you whisper sweet nothings that only served to heighten his arousal. Each word was a caress, each sound a stroke of pleasure that painted images in his mind of what was to come.

Your hand grew bolder, your strokes more deliberate as you felt his cock swell and throb in your grasp. You knew you had him right where you wanted him, and the power of it thrilled you. 

"Y/N..." he gasped out your name, his body begging for more. He was lost in the sensation, the world outside of the warmth of your embrace and the feel of your hand on him ceased to exist. 

Thorin's hand reached up to clutch the fabric of your gown, his fingers digging into the material as he fought the urge to pull you closer, to feel more of you.

Your touch grew more insistent, your hand moving faster as you felt him growing closer to release. His muscles tensed, and you knew he was close. 

"I... I need you," he whispered, his voice strained with desire. "I need all of you."

With those words, the last of his self-control snapped, and he turned to face you, his eyes burning with passion as he pulled you into a bruising kiss.

As Thorin claimed your lips in a fiery kiss, his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you onto his lap. The heat of your body pressed against his, and his hands began to roam, exploring the soft curves hidden beneath your gown. 

His fingers traced the lines of your corset, desperate to feel more of your skin. Your own hands moved to his broad chest, exploring the firm muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. Each touch, each kiss grew more feverish as you both gave in to the passion that had been simmering between you for weeks. 

Your breaths mingled, gasps and moans filling the air as the intensity of your connection grew. The fireplace cast flickering shadows on the wall, dancing in time with the rhythm of your bodies. His hands found your breasts, cupping them gently before moving to untie the corset strings.

 As the fabric fell away, revealing your naked chest, Thorin couldn’t help but worship them with his mouth, his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples, making you arch into his touch with a whimper of pleasure. 

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you rocked your hips against him, feeling his hardness beneath you, begging for more. The room grew hazy with desire as you both lost yourself in the moment, the world outside forgotten in the face of the passion consuming you.

Feeling the warmth of your skin and the weight of your breasts in his hands, Thorin's desire grew more insistent, his cock straining against your stomach. He broke the kiss, panting heavily as he looked into your eyes, searching for permission to take this further. 

Your eyes met his, dark with want, and you nodded, your hands sliding down to his hips to guide his cock against your wet, eager pussy. He groaned as the head of his cock teased your entrance, the sensation sending a shock of pleasure through his body. 

With a gentle rock of your hips, you encouraged him, and he pushed forward, sheathing himself inside you with a deep, guttural moan. You gasped as he filled you completely, the sensation of him inside you like nothing you had ever felt before. 

The room spun as he began to thrust, the sound of your mingled cries and the crackling of the fire the only noises in the vast space. Each stroke was met with a whimper of pleasure from you, your body moving in perfect harmony with his, your hips rising to meet each powerful thrust. 

The intensity grew, your breaths becoming more ragged, your movements more erratic as the pleasure built within you. Thorin’s hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements, pushing deeper and faster as he chased his own release. 

Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving marks that would surely be visible tomorrow, but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered was the overwhelming ecstasy that crashed over you both, leaving you gasping for breath and clinging to each other as the world outside the warm cocoon of his chambers faded away into insignificance.

You moaned into Thorin's mouth, feeling his cock pulse and swell as he claimed your body, the intensity of his thrusts increasing. His beard brushed against your cheeks, adding an extra layer of sensation to the already overwhelming experience. 

Your own hips met his rhythm, desperately seeking the peak of pleasure that was just out of reach. Your breaths grew quicker and shallower, your heart hammering in your chest as the pressure builds between your legs. 

Thorin's hands slid down to grasp your ass, lifting you slightly to change the angle, and the new sensation sent you spiraling over the edge. You cried out as your orgasm washed over you, your inner walls clenching around his cock, milking him for all he was worth. 

The dwarf king growled in response, his own release following closely behind, his warm seed filling you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. For a moment, you remained like that, panting and trembling in each other's arms, the only sound in the room the crackling of the fire.

Then, slowly, he pulled back, his gaze searching yours, a mix of passion, vulnerability, and something deeper that neither of you dared to name. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip, and whispered, "I never knew... I never knew it could be like this."

[aelenavelaryon]

THE GREENS NIGHTMARE

IN WHICH AERA TARGARYEN IN THE KARMA OF TEAM GREEN

Daemon Targaryen x Aera Targaryen

Aera Targaryen was a woman to fear. She was Visenya and Maegor come again. When the war between Rhaenyra and Aegon began, the realm divided into two. The Blacks for Rhaenyra and the Greens for Aegon. Aera Targaryen was a distant relative yet she had been close to Rhaenyra growing up. Once, long ago Aera had been Daemon'a love and once the love of his life. Some would even argue that she was still the love of his life, even when the two were still married.

Aera Targaryen gave Daemon Targaryen four children in their first few years of marriage. Maegor, Baelon, Aemon, and Rhaegar Targaryen. Otto Hightower deemed them bastards because Aera was daughter of Saera Targaryen and Maegor Targaryen, son of Maegor and Rhaena Targaryen. Aera didn't want to return to King's Landing where she was not welcomed. Viserys always allowed Otto to fill his head with lies about her and what she was capable of. Daemon, whilst being married to Rhaenyra, which was a favor that Area had granted her.  Daemon did not see her as more than another family member. Daemon and Aera still had their own late night adventures when she would come visit, seeing as she spent most of her time in Pentos with her mother's family. 

But, from time to time she visited Rhaenyra and Daemon in Dragonstone. Daemon's sons were men grown. Some in their twenties. Not married but with bastard children of their own. Daemon and Aera shared three other children together who were born over the years. He had taken not only Aera as his wife but Rhaenyra too. Area who he had been married to since she was ten and five and he twenty and five. Daemon Targaryen loved his wife, despite what many believed. Aera much to anyone's dismay was a free spirit, bringing not only men into her bed but women too. Alexander Rivers was a bastard son she had with Harwin Strong alongside him, his twin, Alys Rivers who many believed was the daughter of Lyonel but everyone at court knew who were the parents. Alys Rivers would be a important peace for Rhaenyra during the dance.

The Hightowers thought them gone, thinking they would never step a foot in Westeros. But, as soon as Rhaenyra sent a raven to inform her cousin of the news, Aera flew on dragon back to support her girl. The news of Lucerys' death reached her before she made it to Dragonstone, and soon after, the news of Aegon's celebration for his death reached her as well and that was truly what started the fire. 

Instead of keeping route to Dragonstone like she promised, Aera flew to Old Town and set the Hightower's home ablaze for Lucerys's death and celebration of his death. She then, rode to King's Landing where the usurper thought he was coming to bend the knee. Otto nor his spies knew she knew, until from the skies she dropped the heads of every Hightower she killed, Gwayne Hightower being one of the dead. It was said that Alicent Hightower cried, screams were heard all over the Keep as the doweger queen wept over her dead family. They knew then that Aera Targaryen was the blood of the dragon. She was coming for Rhaenyra*s stolen throne. 

'she loves Rhaenyra. Did you truly think she was coming to bend the knew?' Alicent asked Aegon. Otto sat in silence saying nothing. Daeron Targaryen had return to King's Landing the same day he received the letter of his father's death. Daeron was smarter than anyone gave him credit for. He knew, Aera was the real threat, not Rhaenyra, not Daemon but Aera Targaryen was a wild dragon. He knew she was not scared to be known as a kinslayer, specially when it came to him and his siblings. But, he didn't know how far she was willing to go. 

Her arrival at Dragonstone was expected, her children had arrived the day before expecting to see their mother back with their father.  Aera Targaryen arrived and everyone gathered out to greet her. She was covered in blood, they thought she had been attack or something of that mattered. "Mother!" her eldest son ran to her. "I am fine" she told. "I did something bad" she began. Rhaenyra cared very little for what she had to say at that moment.  They retuned back inside the castle, everyone who sided with Rhaenyra was there, well, most of them. 

"I burned those Hightower's to the ground" she said loud enough for everyone to hear. The room went quiet right after that. The war had just begun. Which side will prevail?

[kays-artstuff]

I made my versions of designs for ceroba starlo and martlet for the au!!! (Does the trio have a name? Would cowboy fanclub suffice for now???)

Starlo: Still runs the town as a rootin' tootin' Cowboy but now spends his time also helping out at home with his parents. Ever since Clover passed he had gained a deeper appreciation to those he considers close and reconciled with his family! He runs all over town helping provide food and entertainment and has turned the wild east into a pretty popular area. (It likely also helps that he got a decent amount of funding from the king to do this as kind-of an apology since in this au he knows that clover gave up their life and feels prettyyyy bad about it kabdks)

Martlet: Took up a job at the post office (duh) with her speed and agility (that's only present in flying oof) she can go through all the underground within the day. She has a side job as a carpenter and aids in building homes, does comissions n stuff (which doesn't often pay the bills hence the post job) she has a small wooden statue of a western looking figure with a clover indent on its hat always present on her work desk for some reason. Those who visit never ask.

Ceroba: After Clover had passed, Ceroba had spent a while mourning at Dina's when suddenly the towns sherrif took her to a schoolhouse nearby (maybe in waterfall idk, but somehow starlo knows that the teacher was out that day) and asked her to read to the kids, who were starry-eyed at the stories she could tell. She took up a job helping out as a sub/TA 'cause while she likes soke of the kids she doesn't want to deal with the exhausting experience of lesson planning n stuff and now volunteers in bake sales and activities to cope. More recently now that the barrier's broken and Kanako[?] Had been returned to her by alphys she is keen more tha ever to not let her kid out of sight, that may prove to be difficult as the amalgamate that houses her daughter and a couple of other monsters is very curious and after being trapped for so long wants to explore.

(Was tired so i didn't draw dalv but he exists and hangs around, makes books for kids and preforms as shown in canon. But in addition he explores the underground to draw landscapes to practice his art so you can see him quietly walking around listening to music)

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Alastor hated both Adam and Lucifer with a fiery passion. The fallen angel had beaten him in battle, no one has ever bested him like that!

The King of Hell grated on his nerves simply for existing.

And what was worse? They were TOGETHER! As in dating and they were happy and thriving! Sure there was a lot of melodrama along the way that everyone had to bare witness to, but the radio demon had been sure they would crash and burn. He was rooting for them to fail.

He thought that when the first man respawned in Hell that Lucifer would have had him tortured for the rest of his days. That's not what happened at all, he took Adam in and let him stay at the hotel and even got the sinner to sell his soul to the King for ultimate protection.

Slowly, everyone watched the two fall in love for each other even when they tried to hide it. It should have been a toxic relationship what with all the baggage between them since the dawn of time.

But no, their love was equal parts vile and beautiful. Alastor wanted to puke even thinking about it.

He had two things in mind. Alastor wanted a rematch with Adam, he was a sinner now so he would be much weaker. An easy win to sooth Alastors bruised ego. Then he wanted to create as many wedges as he could in their disgusting relationship.

He couldn't do much of anything to Lucifer, being the King meant he'd turn Alastor into paste before he even lifted a finger.

But if he could get under Adam's skin, fuck with his mind and plant seeds of doubt then the fallen angel would do the rest.

Adam hummed happily as he plucked weeds out of his garden. Lucifer had made him a huge greenhouse filled with a garden for him to tend to as a way to relax and a gift.

Adam's gift in return was a little more oral.

He loved this garden, it wasn't Eden, nothing would ever compare to that garden, but it was one that Lucifer made just for him and he loved it all the more.

"It's looking good right?" Adam asked as he looked back to Lucifer who was in a lawn chair watching him work.

Lucifer had been looking at Adams bent over frame as he pulled weeds. "Looks exquisite." He wasn't talking about the garden.

Adam smirked. "You mean the garden right?"

"I think two things are exquisite. Like the flowers that are in bloom and those jeans that hug your ass just right." He should get Adam more jeans like that.

Adam just shook his head playfully, "These are my favorite jeans."

"Mine too.~" Lucifer winked and Adam had to look away and smother a laugh in his hand. Cheeky devil.

"Gentlemen." The sound of a static filled voice filled the room. Adam frowned and looked over to where Alastor was standing.

This fucking guy, Adam thought bitterly. Adam got to his feet and wiped the dirt off on his jeans. "The fuck do you want?" He walked over to his work bench to grab some tools.

"Now that's not very nice. Am I interrupting something?" Alastor said not at all caring if he did.

"Well actually-" Lucifer started, but got the microphone shoved in his face to silence him. He growled and glared at the radio demon. How dare he just come in here and ruin his and Adams garden time together!!

"Don't care. I'm not here for you your majesty I'm here to speak with Adam actually." Alastor spit out the title as if it were poison.

"Again, what the fuck do you want I'm busy. Last time I checked, I don't want you in here." Adam said not looking at Al, his voice taking on a sharper edge. He went to stand beside Lucifer, glaring at Alastor.

"I'll cut to the chase. I want a rematch against you."

Adam blinked. "Rematch?" The fuck did that mean? It took him a minute until it clicked. "Oh! You mean from when I beat your ass on the roof? Ha! Yeah, no not gonna happen Bambi get lost."

Alastor narrowed his eyes. "What's the matter, worried you'd lose?"

Adam laughed. "Bitch please, you're not even worth my time." He walked over to Alastor and got in his face. "Now get the fuck out of my garden."

Alastor turned to look at Adams work bench. He noticed that among the tools and seeds there was a single potted plant. Must be special.

In a swift motion Alastor knocked it to the ground with his microphone. Adam reached out to catch it but he wasn't fast enough, the pot broke on the ground the flower and dirt going everywhere.

Lucifer had given him that flower, he created it special for Adam as a symbol of their love.

Adam's eyes flashed red as he turned a glare to that radio fuck. "WHAT THE FUCK ASSHOLE!?" His voice took on a more demonic edge. How fucking dare he! That guys smug smile was really pissing Adam off.

"What's the matter, did your little boyfriend get you that silly little flower?" In the next second Al found himself sliding across the floor, some pain in his throat.

Adam had throat punched the fucker. "As a matter a fact, he did." He could feel his blood boiling, he was so pissed. "You want a fucking fight you got one."

Alastor got to his feet grinding madly. Finally, he would wipe the floor with that shit stain.

Lucifer used his magic to conjure something up for Adam. "Here, use this." He handed Adam his guitar that doubled as a saw. Lucifer took Adam by the chin and looked him in the eye. "Kick his fucking ass. I'll be watching."

Adam smirked, his eyes going back to their golden color. "You bet I will."

"And stay the fuck out!" Adam yelled as he slammed the doors to the garden. Alastor on the other side crumpled on the floor. He fucking lost again! What the hell was that? Alastor slunk away to the shadows, he had planning to do.

Adam walked back over to Lucifer who was grinning from ear to ear beaming with pride for his boyfriend. He had his hands behind his back. "Whatcha got there?"

Lucifer revealed the newly fixed pot with the flower he made for him. As if it had never been broken. "For the victor."

Adam smiled and took the flower, he leaned down and kissed Lucifer on the lips. "Thank you, Luci." Adam placed the flower back where it belonged. He felt arms wrap around him from behind.

"You know what would be fun?" Lucifer purred as he rubbed Adams hips suggestively.

"Hmm, sex in the garden?"

"Sex in the garden."

[pilot-boi]

god now i’m just imagining Blake suddenly realizing and saying “you knew you had to drink the poison”

And Jaune just isn’t able to meet anyone’s eyes

The five sit around a campfire scrounged together from dead brush in an alcove protected from the desert wind. Their conversation is slow, comforting, filled with hushed reassurances and rueful laughter.

With the benefit of distance, of being free, talk eventually turns to Jaune’s missing years. Simple curiousity, simple questions.

He doesn’t answer everything, but every word he says seems to draw some invisible hurt from a wound left festering for too long.

It’s Blake that brings it up.

Of course she is. She was the one to realize they were in a fairytale, the one who reminded them all how to play along with the fantasy while keeping their sanity. Their resident bookworm.

Of course she’s the one who realizes that their friend knew going in that he was probably going to die before the end of “the story.”

“Jaune?” Blake’s voice is quiet, but calm as a pool of water. “You knew, didn’t you?” Weiss can see how her amber eyes narrow, the agitated flick of her ears, but none of her distress is betrayed in her voice.

Which is just as well, because Jaune doesn’t meet any of their eyes, he just watches the fire. The white locks in his hair are stark against the rest, and not for the first time Weiss wonders if they’re a result of age or stress or something worse.

“Not right away,” he replies. And is that better or worse? That it took a little while for him to realize that he’d die before the story’s end, and he still kept to the script? “Before we reached the Red King.”

“Were you… Did you…” Weiss isn’t sure what she wants to ask, or if she even wants an answer. Were you scared? Did you know when it would happen? Were you ready? Did you want it to happen?

“I had to follow the story,” he says eventually, his voice breaking with emotion. Aged beyond his years, and yet still as young as any of them. “I had… It was my role. I couldn’t- I had to-”

“The Rusted Knight drank the poison in her stead,” Ruby says hollowly. “Would you have done it for me?” Jaune’s head shoots up, fast as a bullet, his face a mask as hard as the metal of his helmet.

Blue eyes aged beyond the years of the face they rest in meet silver eyes haunted by death and rebirth. The tension in the air is taut as a bow string, as the two leaders seem to communicate something only they understand.

A chunk of ice the size of her fallen home drops into Weiss’s stomach. The poison. The tea.

If Jaune had been there in time, would he have even hesitated to drink the tea for Ruby? Finally fulfilling his fairytale role? Finally doing something “right?”

Weiss is quite sure that would’ve only ended with BOTH leaders on the verge of ascension, instead of one. Because if Ruby had lost another friend, Weiss is certain that it would’ve pushed her over an edge she would never have returned from.

The desert wind fills the silence.

Jaune’s gaze falls back to the fire. “After the Herbalist, I was desperate to get the story back on track. I would’ve done anything to fix what I broke.”

“Even die?” Yang’s voice is steady as stone, but her hand is shaking in Blake’s grasp.

There are tears dripping down his face. He never processed this, Weiss realizes. He never processed anything, stuck as he was as the only thing changing in a world where everything stayed the same.

“I just wanted to do something right.” His voice sounds like he dropped it on the floor, it shattered, and he kept using it anyway. Cracky in that way it used to in Beacon. Too old and too young.

“I was the Rusted Knight, a paragon of virtue and glory, but I was messing it all up.” As he speaks, his voice gets more frantic, more hitched with tears. “We were at the end, there was no more story left. There was only one thing I could do to make sure they got their happy ending. And- And I-”

“I’m glad you didn’t have to,” Ruby interrupts, her voice choking with tears. I hate that it happened, that she poisoned you, but I’m glad you didn’t have to.” And again, it’s his fellow leader’s voice that draws Jaune out of himself.

But this time he looks like Jaune, all wide eyes and soft edges, not the metal of the Rusted Knight he was protecting himself with before. And Ruby looks like Ruby, older and wiser but with a spark of hope in her teary eyes that Weiss didn’t realize has been missing until they all almost lost it forever.

Ruby stands and walks around the fire, her boots making furrows in the sand, and pulls him into a hug. Jaune blinks, half afraid, half confused.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Weiss barely hears Ruby murmur this over the crackle of the flames, and whether she’s talking about Penny or Alyx or Pyrrha or Atlas or any number of things that both leaders have blamed themselves for over the years, Weiss doesn’t know.

But what she does know is that when Jaune chokes out a sob and buries his face in Ruby’s hair, and Ruby drops to her knees clings to her best friend like he’s the only thing anchoring her to Remnant, something slots back into place in the universe. Something that fractured almost beyond repair on the shore of a razed village of paper stars.

Jaune’s hair is streaked with white, Ruby’s whole body is shaking with sobs, and Jaune is whispering apologies that Ruby is meeting with her own. But they’re both still here. It feels like healing, or the very start of it.

And maybe Jaune would have drunk the poison for Alyx, but he didn’t get to. And maybe Jaune would have drink the tea for Ruby, but he didn’t get to. The world was full of what-ifs, gods the Ever After probably used as them as damn building blocks.

But what matters is that he didn’t, and that he would never have to.