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gothicpaperback · 6 days ago

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THE WAY HE CARES | PART NINE

<<<PART EIGHT | MASTERLIST | PART TEN COMING SOON >>>

wc: 3,2k | rating: 18+ for eventual smut | Joel Miller x You | Enemy Pregnancy

summary: Joel Miller has been my pain-in-the-ass neighbour for years. we argue more than we speak and when we do speak, it's usually through gritted teeth. but when my doctor tells me my fertility’s running out of time, panic sets in. I want a baby and I don’t have the luxury of waiting around for Mr. Right. Joel's a damn good father to his daughter, Sarah. that much, I can’t deny. so one night, fuelled by nerves and just the right amount of wine, I ask him the unthinkable: get me pregnant. no strings.no romance. just biology. i never planned on falling for him. but nothing about Joel Miller ever goes according to plan.

while the story is first person narrative, the OC female character is YOU. she is not named and barely physically described aside from being able bodied and having hair long enough to grab.

tags/warnings: neighbours, enemies to lovers, comedy, smut, sexual tension, mentions of fertility and reproductive issues, mentions of drugs and alcohol. i will add more tags as they become relevant.

chapter smut warnings: oral (F receiving), mentions of penetration, sexual fantasy, dirty talk.

THE WAY HE CARES | NINE

The next time I see Joel is by the garbage bins, trying to ignore his biceps as he drags his bin down the driveway. And it's ridiculous, really, considering everything we've been through; all the bruised feelings, all the silence, all the sharp sideways glances behind closed blinds.

But here we are, both wheeling our bins down the driveway like perfectly normal suburban neighbours, pretending that the last month didn't happen.

“Mornin',” Joel says, nodding toward me with that low, gravelly voice that always makes the air feel a little thicker.

I squint into the sun. “Barely.”

It’s 8:42 AM. He’s got bedhead and so do I. We are not morning people, but apparently, garbage day makes equals of us all. He’s wearing a worn Miller Brothers T-shirt and those stupid grey sweatpants that are nobody’s business, but I still glance.

Joel lifts his bin to the curb with one arm like it weighs nothing. Show-off.

“You never put yours out before noon,” I say, because conversation is safer than silence.

He shrugs. “Felt like getting ahead of the rats.”

“Smart,” I say, because what the hell else do you say to a man you were trying to have a baby with a month ago and now don't know how to greet?

He glances at me, then away, scratching the back of his neck. He’s nervous.

“You busy?”

“Now?”

“No, Thursday.” He shifts his weight. “Obviously today. I was thinking…maybe we should talk.”

I freeze.

There’s a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he knows exactly what kind of tailspin those four words just launched in my brain. But he doesn’t take them back.

“Talk,” I repeat.

“Yeah.”

“Because that always goes well for us.”

Joel lets out a soft snort. He doesn’t elaborate. Doesn’t move either. Just watches me with that patient, unreadable look he’s always worn like armour. My stomach does a little flip I pretend is indigestion.

“I was just gonna have some coffee and debate gardening,” I say slowly.

He tilts his head toward my house. “Want company?”

The last time Joel came over, we were yelling. The time before that, I was crying. And now he wants to loiter near my underachieving vegetable bed and make small talk?

“…Sure,” I say.

Because what else can I say?

We end up sitting on the back steps, sipping lukewarm coffee, watching the neighbour's dog bark at a butterfly like it’s a home invasion.

Joel stretches his legs out, ankles crossed, and rests his elbows on his knees. I try not to stare at the veins in his forearms. It doesn’t work. Suddenly, I’m very aware of how close he is. How our knees are still touching. How the heat from his skin feels warmer than the sun

"Are you still wanting to do this?" He rasps. "The baby thing?"

"Yes."

He nods as he rubs his jaw. The stubble’s longer today. Either he’s trying something new or just forgot to shave. Somehow, both options make my mouth a little dry. But the longer I stare I see the vaguely wounded look that always lingers there beneath the surface of his dark eyes. It makes me feel brave to go deep.

"Why are you being so kind to me Joel?" I say vaguely above a whisper, "i said such horrible things to you. Ugly, mean things."

He shrugs. "Friends fight."

"But you said we weren't friends."

Joel raises a sardonic eyebrow. "I don't know anyone else I'd jerk off into a cup for. If that don't make us friends I don't know what does."

We both crack large grins and for a moment I want to hug him for making this reconciliation painless. I thought more groveling would be required on my part.

Instead I just smile at him and I giggle as he chuckles along with me. The two of us lapse into quiet before a thought occurs to me.

"Is your girlfriend is going to be okay with you trying to knock your neighbour up?"

His brows knit. "Girlfriend?"

"The one you had that date with," I say, feeling my face burn. I'm caught. "I assume that was the same woman leaving your place the other night?"

I see the slight crinkle of his eyes, amusement there. "You spyin' on me?"

"You wish," I say forcing a laugh that comes out far too breathless. "Was grabbing a glass of wine when I saw her through the window. Ask her where she got her boots next time she's around, I liked them."

I hope that I'm passing for casual and nonchalant.

Joel rolls his eyes. "She ain't my girlfriend. I barely know her. We've been on maybe three dates."

"Enough that she came home with you."

I don't mean to sound petty but I can't help it. All I can think about is her long legs and pretty face.

"She wanted to ask some advice on a renovation she's doing," Joel tells me with the slightest twitch to the corner of his mouth like this is funny.

“Do you like this woman? What's her name?"

"Tess. And yeah, she's alright."

"Do you think you'll ask her on another date?” I ask, squinting up at the blue sky.

He's quiet and the tension is back. "I don't think datin' is for me. Not until Sarah's a bit older." He shrugs.

My lungs stop cooperating. I feel like my heart has been kick-started, fluttery and light and it makes my skin prickle.

"So the whole... Thing," Joel says motioning vaguely my way. "I’m not trying to make it weird. I just know what you wanted." He exhales, hard. “And if it’s still something you’re serious about, I’d still like to help.”

I stare at him.

“I mean,” he adds, suddenly nervous, “the old-fashioned way. If you’re interested.”

There’s a long, pulsing silence.

"You'd really be okay with trying things... Naturally?"

"You told me the fertility books and articles said it's your best chance." His eyes are soft. "And I don't like seeing you in pain every month. If we're doing this, let's do it right." He looks out across the lawn like he’s half-ready for me to throw my mug at his head. “Unless you don't want that.”

“No, I just---” I cut myself off. “I didn’t expect you to say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not exactly…” I wave my hand in the air, vague and useless. “Things have been weird.”

He nods. “I know.”

“And we barely survived the last time we were at your place.”

Joel smirks.

"And you really think your girlfriend is really going to be okay with you trying to knock your neighbour up?"

Joel rolls his eyes. "I told you she ain't my girlfriend. And you should be happy about that because If I'm too busy datin' then who’d keep Shellstrop from declaring herself neighbourhood dictator?”

I smirk. “So true. I better keep you single forever.”

He glances over at me. There’s something in his expression I can’t quite place. Not soft, exactly. But open. A little tired, maybe.

"But you deserve to be happy, Miller," I tell him. And I’m surprised to find I mean it.

I watch the condensation roll down my glass, the way it puddles near my thumb. The idea floats there between us. The old-fashioned way. Not out of romance or desperation, but something in the middle. A truce made of sweat and nerves and biology.

"Joel?"

His head turns toward me, just slightly. “Yeah?”

"If you're really okay with it, I'd like to give it a shot. Under certain conditions of course.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Conditions?”

“No eye contact. No weird pillow talk. No, like, romance,” I gesture vaguely. “No feelings.”

Joel’s mouth twitches. “Can I still ask about your day?”

“Absolutely not. Disgusting of you to even suggest it."

We grin at each other, and suddenly it’s like we’re back on steadier ground: awkward, strange, hilariously ill-suited ground. But solid.

He nudges his knee against mine. “Anythin’ else?"

“You are not allowed to use the word ‘seed’ at any point.”

“I wasn’t gonna.”

“You were definitely gonna.”

We fall into quiet again, the banter settling into something warmer. It’s the first time in weeks I’ve felt like myself with him, not the version who’s trying too hard or sulking behind half-closed blinds.

"We are friends you know," Joel says out of nowhere.

My heart leaps as I give him a crooked smile.

"Yeah?"

His smile back is mischievous. "I mean, I don't just give anyone my seed."

He goes jogging back to his place laughing as I throw an old tomato after him.

I’m standing in my kitchen days later, trying to breathe through the butterflies tap-dancing in my stomach. The little pink heart on my ovulation tracker is practically glowing.

Today’s the day. My body is a clock, finally ticking in sync, and Joel said he’d be willing to try the old-fashioned way. No pressure, no expectations. Just see what happens.

I’ve practised what I’ll say three different ways, none of which feel remotely natural. I can’t just text “Hey, I’m ovulating!” like it’s a dinner invite.

It was different when he was just donating. This feels more… formal. Like I need to dress the experience up a bit. So I change my sheets, I karate chop pillows and I pour myself a glass of water, take a sip, and try to calm down.

Maybe I’ll bake something and invite him over casually. Something non-threatening. Muffins scream “no pressure,” right? They aren't sexy but they aren't not sexy.

The oven’s already preheating, the batter is mixed, and I’m reaching for a muffin tray from the cabinet above the fridge when I hear a suspicious hissing noise. A second later, there’s a sharp popping sound like a fuse blowing then a horrifying gurgle from somewhere inside the wall.

And then, all hell breaks loose. The fire sprinklers burst into action like a scene from a bad rom-com. Ice-cold water jets down from the ceiling, dousing me, the batter, the entire kitchen in seconds. I shriek and leap back as water drenches my hair and seeps into the collar of my shirt.

“What the fuck?!”

I fumble for my phone, which was sitting on the counter near the sink, now slick and glistening with droplets. I grab a towel to wrap it in, not because I care about the phone but because I need something to hold onto before I scream.

The kitchen floor is already a shallow pool. Muffin batter is running down the counter in thick, defeated globs. I’m dripping, freezing, and a heartbeat away from sobbing. And in a panic, I don’t think I just call Joel.

He answers on the second ring.

“Hey.”

“I need help,” I say. “The sprinklers went off. I didn’t even burn anything! My house is flooding.”

“You okay?”

“I’m soaked.”

There’s a pause, just long enough for me to hear the sound of a door closing on his end.

“I’m coming,” he says.

Less than one minute later, Joel appears on my porch, wearing jeans and a t-shirt too sexy considering the stress of the moment. He’s carrying a big black tool bag in one hand, a coil of something orange over his shoulder. He looks like a contractor superhero. I hate that this is going to do directly into my box of self pleasure fantasies.

When he sees me dripping in the open doorway his eyebrows shoot up. “Oh,” he says.

“Don’t say it,” I warn, hugging the towel-wrapped phone to my chest. Water’s still pouring behind me like Niagara Falls. “I know. I look like I lost a fight with a garden hose.”

He presses his lips together, but there’s a twitch at the corner like he’s holding back a smile.

“You okay?” he asks again, this time a little softer.

I nod. “Just wet. And humiliated.”

“Good. I mean, not good. Just... stand back.”

He steps inside, immediately soaked himself, and gets to work. He moves quickly, tracing the sprinkler system with sharp eyes, yanking open the panel near the stairs and doing something decisive with a wrench. The water sputters, then slows, then stops.

The silence is immediate. Like the house is catching its breath.

Joel straightens, running a wet hand through his already-wet hair. His shirt is plastered to his chest, his jeans dark and heavy from the spray. He looks up at me, and for a second, neither of us moves.

“I think we got it,” he says.

I let out a shaky laugh and lean against the fridge. “Thank God.”

Then chirp chirp chirp my phone goes off in my hands. Not a text. Not a call. Just that soft, specific chime. My ovulation reminder.

Joel hears it. He tilts his head. I try to shut it off, but the screen's wet and unresponsive, and all I manage to do is fumble it again.He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at me.

I freeze.

There’s a split second where I think I can lie. Brush it off. Pretend it’s a reminder to, I don’t know, drink water or check my laundry. But Joel’s not stupid. He knows the sound. Knows what it means.

Now, here we are. Drenched. Shivering. My alarm chirping like some perverted cupid in the middle of my flooded kitchen. I open my mouth but Joel speaks first.

“So,” he says voice low. “It’s today.""

He’s still standing near the shut-off panel, one hand on the wall, water dripping from his elbow.

I swallow. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t smirk or make some offhand comment like I expected. He just watches me. There’s a strange kind of quiet in his eyes now. Focused, intent and something else.

He pushes off the wall.

“Are you okay?” he asks again, voice quieter now. “Really?”

“I’m fine,” I say, hugging the towel tighter to my chest. “Just cold. And very wet.”

He glances around at the soaked counter tops, the trail of gloppy batter, the tiny puddle forming under my toes.

“You know,” he says slowly, “when you said we’d try this the old-fashioned way; I don’t think either of us pictured a fire drill.”

Despite myself, I laugh. “Yeah. Muffins and ovulation and then whoosh.”

Joel’s eyes flick down briefly to the way my soaked shirt clings to my body, and I see him register it. I see the awareness hit him like a quiet wave he doesn’t quite know what to do with yet.

He clears his throat, shifts his weight, and says, “You should change.”

“I was about to. But then you got here. I didn’t want to leave you with… that.” I gesture vaguely at the broken sprinkler, which has now blessedly stopped dripping.

“I can manage a leaky ceiling,” he says. “You should go. You’re shivering.”

I don’t move. He notices. He tilts his head, and when he speaks again, his voice has dropped—just a fraction. Not overt. Not showy. Just enough to notice.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

My throat tightens. “No.”

Lie.

He knows it. I know it.

He takes a few slow steps closer, his boots splashing lightly against the wet floor. The air in the room changes.

“It’s just me,” he says, gently.

He stops a couple feet from me, close enough that I can see the water collecting at the hollow of his throat. His shirt is soaked through, clinging to every line of his chest, the outline of his arms. His hair is darker, dripping in loose pieces over his forehead. And his eyes…They’re locked on mine. No flickering. No pretending.

I blink at him. “Joel…”

He doesn’t rush me. He doesn’t touch me. But he’s close enough now that I can feel the heat coming off him under the cold.

“You were going to tell me today, weren’t you?” he asks, softer now. “Before the house tried to drown you.”

I nod. “I had a whole plan.”

He smiles faintly. “Of course you did.”

“Was gonna bake muffins. Act casual.”

“That sounds… seductive.”

I let out a huff of laughter, suddenly aware of how ridiculous we both look: soaked to the bone in the middle of my flooded kitchen, talking about ovulation and baked goods like its foreplay.

Joel steps closer. Inches away now. His voice lowers again, velvet in the space between us.

“You still want to?”

I nod.

This time, when he moves, it’s slow and intentional. His hand lifts, hesitates for just a moment, then touches a wet strand of hair stuck to my cheek and tucks it behind my ear. The touch is light, almost reverent.

“You’re shaking,” he says.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m not cold anymore.”

He studies me for a second, searching for hesitation. He must not find any, because his hand stays near my face. His fingertips brush the edge of my jaw, then trail down to the slope of my throat, just above the collar of my soaked shirt.

I can barely breathe.

“You sure you want to do this today?” he murmurs, with his eyes trained on my neck. His voice is lower now, thicker. There’s something coiled under it, restrained but unmistakable.

“I do.”

Joel’s mouth twitches in one corner and something in him settles. Like he’s made up his mind.

“You want me to take you to bed,” he says, not a question this time. His tone is confident now, deliberate.

And it hits me how rare it is to hear him like this. Not cold or sarcastic. Just honest and open and steady.

I nod. “Yeah. I do.”

He looks at me for a long moment, and then he smiles. Not a smirk. Not a tease but something warmer.

“Good.”

His face nears mine and for a moment I think he's going to kiss me. I shock myself by wanting it. But I'll never know for certain because at that very moment his phone screams with his alarm, the familiar strains of AC/DC crackling through the speakers.

Yes, I'm let loose From the noose That's kept me hanging about I've been looking at the sky

It makes us break apart like guilty schoolchildren. Joel gives me an apologetic look before he pulls the cell from his jeans pocket, his voice a hard bark.

"What?"

I can hear the buzz of a deep voice on the other end of the phone. The longer it continues the more pissed off Joel looks.

"Are you fucking serious?"

More buzzing. More frowning until Joel grits his teeth.

"I'll be there in thirty minutes."

I've never seen him look so angry before. He slides the phone angrily into his pocket.

"My brother needs help. He got into a fight with some asshole at a bar." Joel sighs, the sound every elder sibling knows intimately. "I gotta go."

"I get it,” I tell him honestly. “He's your brother."

"Shouldn't have answered the damn phone," he mutters. "Thought it might be an emergency."

"Joel, really, it's cool."

Again, his eyes roam over my chest, before he blinks looking almost pained. I can feel that look, it matches mine. My entire body is throbbing needily.

"I gotta go," he repeats but he's taking forever to move.

His eyes can't stop lingering on my body and if he doesn't leave now I'm scared I won't let him go. I step back and fold my arms over my chest, giving him a kind smile.

"Drive safe."

He breaks from whatever trance he was in and gives me a short wave, body stiff as he turns and stalks from the house.

authors notes:

let me just say that the next chapter is going to be........

memorable.

💋💋💋💋

207 notes · View notes

nightscythe · 4 months ago

Note

legions reaction to their primarch wooing you?

but i would love love love to read the more taboo version of primarchs kinks :D

hope you have/had a wonderful day :p

thank you anon hope you have/had a wonderful day too!! i waited for a plumber all day. created this as I waited •⩊•

please forgive me for what this turned into. i have made it less serious that originally planned but it just happened i am so sorry. i live in a fantasy where 30k is sunshine and rainbows. hope you enjoy anyway!! taboo vers. of the kinks will be posted later this week.

this is all pre-heresy. little bit nsfw on one i think so 18+ please.

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lion: there was no evidence, until the very very end stage of his courting, that the lion even had the slightest feeling of love in his body. but when he didn’t react to you approaching him, when he spared a glance at you, answered questions as though he didn’t just see you as another person beneath him. oh. they knew. and no one even dare speak a word of it. no side glances, no reactions. they ignored everything that happened. it was luther who eventually started a conversation about it with some others that same evening, away from the prying ears of their primarch. he’s so fucked. literally. because there’s no way in hell that the lion was the one chasing you. whatever he had said, you’d reciprocated, and if luther knew one thing about the lion… it’s that he won’t let things go that he thinks belong to him. it’s the nightly gossip when they have nothing better to discuss, and the lion really thinks no one has even noticed.

fulgrim: they were all enthralled by his tactics at first. such elegance, such style, fulgrim spared nothing in making you his absolute muse. but then fulgrim gets them all involved. they are delivering the pottery and jewellery to you by hand, ordered to protect you even (which they didn’t have the biggest issue with, you were nice) – fulgrim wanted to prove that even his finest warriors are on the table for you. and then it became all he talked about. and then, when you had finally been convinced of his love (because he told you his feelings father than gifted you a whole planet), fulgrim’s own ego was so entirely huge that he declared himself master of courtship. and now he’s got classes on how to make someone fall in love with you with guest speakers. eidolon is literally at the front seat, heart eyes, yes my perfect primarch please teach me your ways type thing. vespasian, on the other hand, is just wondering why he was even invited.

perty: they didn’t dare question their primarch, but they weren’t stupid. the handcrafted tools that he would spends hours on just to give away. the armour customised to a much smaller body. the books he’s borrowedfrom magnus that he has no interest in. vhalen had noticed because he had stumbled on a book his primarch kept detailing interests of yours. connected the dots. didn’t say anything because it wasn’t his place. silently tried to help out by leaving flowers you liked or herbs you needed for perturabo to give to you. never wanted anything in return, but believed that maybe you’d be able to help ground him, truthfully. but forrix? no. this was weak. they were taught to never be weak and this was a weakness to its very core. out of their control, completely inefficient, a waste of time in his eyes. he would never understand why perturabo was doing, but at the very least he wouldn’t say a word – not the same could be said about everyone in the legion though.

khan: at first it had started with the stashing of treasures he thought may be of interest to you. then, the invitation came. an esteemed guest would join for an adventure. and they were very amused. an esteemed guest? shiban might begin to joke, testing the khan’s reaction. and when his primarch looks up with the slightest smirk on his lips, there would be an immediate laugh. i think you may need to revisit that title my lord, perhaps something with… meaning. though many of the white scars would avoid asking questions, they enjoyed the details of it. it was a new adventure to them, and the khan was leading the way. but shiban would keep seeing this title, esteemed guest, and constantly change it to a new one. warhawk’s chosen was most common, because that’s what you were. and he’d probably be a banging wing man too, but the khan never needed it. just asks every so often how things are going and reports back to the others.

leman: they’d critiqued you as they watched their primarch try to train you how to protect yourself. with a sword, with a gun, with whatever was around. your own fists even. and you may have been no match for leman, but they were still impressed in their own way. a collective nod between them as you flawlessly replicate something he showed you. it’s when leman has you pinned against the floor and it becomes extremely obvious that he got so carried away that his hard on is pressed against you and you most certainly have noticed. whatever happened next, they weren’t sure. leman’s courting may just have been giving you a taster of what might happen if you accepted his love. they’d all given you privacy to say the least. another collective nod between them, what a majestic man their primarch was. and if you were brave enough? join them for beer as well.

dorn: it had been a normal day. life was just moving by calmly, not a thing or person out of place. dorn was discussing something about a building, the internal structure, yada yada. it was a really nice day to be an imperial fist. but then his hand reached for your shoulder, and the remnants of a smile fell on his lips as he lead you on to show you something else in the structure, something integral to building. and he wasn’t really wooing you in any sense of the word, but he was opening himself up in a way that only dorn could. he was… trying to impress you? no. archamus believes that there must be reason for this, his primarch is being tactical. you know something. sigismund believes the same. this is calculated and logical. explaining the internal structure must provide a benefit to the legion. perhaps you’re an expert of some kind. the pair don’t ever mention what they saw again, but they do consider what kind of expert you are later down the line when they’re standing outside their primarch’s doors waiting for the consultation to be over. whatever it was, you obviously felt very strongly.

curze: jago sighs. he’d had to watch his stupid primarch stand outside your window for what seemed like weeks now, neglecting his duties, or anything other than you really, whilst never saying anything. curze didn’t know he was there, but jago was too curious to let it go. he thought you were just another victim, someone curze was taking his time with, but then he realised the whole situation. curze was just watching. staring. felt but never seen. stole an item of your clothing. jago didn’t want to find out what item, but deep down he knew. curze was spiralling, staring into the distance, eyes glued to you even when you looked uncomfortable, but never actually talking to you. so jago takes it into his own hands. sends you directly to curze, makes the primarch speak to you. really, curze is just haunting you, but that’s okay - jago will fill in the gaps, woo you with all his own tactics until you actually start to reciprocate whatever it is curze is feeling. and the rest of nightlords are confused more than anything. does standing in the shadows actually work? are humans that enthralled by primarchs? gendor tries it out for himself, wanting his own partner (or, human trophy). doesn’t work for him but claims it does.

sanguinius: what a pure demonstration of love this is. to see their angel, someone who would fight in battle for hours without breaking, stutter over some words in front of someone? to watch as he fought to keep a conversation going just to hear your voice? his sons are in awe. of you, because how pure must you be to have won the attention of their primarch? but also of him, because it was the most human he had ever felt. they saw his nervous looks, his shy appreciation of your perfection, and valued it deeply. and overtime you’d start receiving flowers from him, handpicked by his sons who saw it as a way to help steer their somehow clueless primarch in the right direction. azkaellon specifically had handed him roses for you, cut from the most perfect bush, claiming it was something romantic that you would appreciate. and you did. and sanguinius was extremely happy when you kissed his cheeks (and the silent celebratory crowd of blood angels watched on in joy).

ferrus: you’re his personal project. he spent every hour of the day with you, it felt like. improving you, working on enchancements. making you perfect. but then something else started happening. it was no longer pride that kept him going. it was you. and they all noticed. at first he didn’t care for anything you said. now? he listens to every word. like you are another of his brothers, but it’s different, even than with fulgrim. he cares in a way they don’t understand. no one would ever say a thing – they’d all pass their silent judgement on how this went against everything he seemed to stand for. but maybe santor would ask about it just once. not for details, not for questioning. just to confirm. they are different, my lord? ferrus wouldn’t hesitate with his answer. they are everything. what does that even mean? it would never be mentioned again. by anyone. whilst some of them would question his decision internally, most would trust him – their primarch understood weakness, and if he didn’t see you as weak, neither would they.

angron: does anyone even know what is going on with you? could it even be considered wooing? barely. angron would want to kill you some days, and want to fuck you other days. and somewhere in between he’d just want to be with you. it was within that where kharn saw a positive. he saw hope. angron was capable of something other than rage and somehow you could control it for more than a single sentence. and in that regard, kharn becomes your biggest supporter. he would do anything he could to not only protect you in moments of rage but to encourage you when angron needed it the most. he’d prepare for those small moments of clarity to see if you could help balance angron out. but the others? it was a fluke. you weren’t changing anything. angron would never be any different. but go off, try and kill them, that shows you love them right?

rob: it only took one to notice. how a slight shift in his schedule put him back in the room with the same person he saw the week before, and the week before that. and he’s seeing them next week, and the week after. are they a diplomat? are they a specialised counsel of some kind? a small team of investigators forms, and no, you are none of those things. you are the object of lord guilliman’s attention. his carefully considered words. his offering of a basket of fruit you liked, supposedly something not liked by his offices. what a liar. they never receive baskets of fruit like that. it becomes a hot topic for gossip, and it isn’t until valentus asks if ‘this person’ he meets with so often may want something other than fruit baskets, and that he can ask for something to be custom made, that guilliman reconsiders his whole approach – and takes valentus up on that offer. speculations are common. whispers even more so. but they are all pleased for him in their own way.

morty: well it wasn’t really courting. he gave you something, said that would care if you died, and then waited for you to respond. and when you finally said that, yeah… you would too? he nodded and took that as confirmation of, uh, something between you. so you’re confused, and so are his sons. you even catch eyes with one and shrug comically because what the fuck? the entire legion falls silent about the issue. no one says a word. but internally? what the fuck was about right. morty didn’t seem to care for anything, he barely even seemed like he cared for his legion some time, and now he doesn’t want you to die. huh. whatever. typhon would be the one to outwardly say something. my lord, is this not a shackle that binds you to humanity? and the primarch would dismiss the thought without doubt. not every attachment is a weakness. deathguard HATE this guy.

magnus: ahriman should be ashamed of himself. he could be doing something important. he could be doing anything but this. but he’s silently observing his primarch, sat on the balcony of his private chambers, sharing a bottle of his finest wine with someone who has been here a few times now. sharing it with you. and he’s drabbling on about the universe and stars and how the universe began with his eyes all wide and bright, looking to see your response, needing to hear your voice and how you’re impressed by his understanding. ahriman isn’t spying. he’s protecting his primarch from the dangers at large. you could be dangerous. or, more realistically, ahriman wished to listen to magnus’ wisdom as well. but he can’t help but be genuinely impressed by how magnus handled himself, how he knew all the right things to say, how he was so genuinely charismatic with you. and equally, how he’d managed to hide this from the entirely population of tizca when he was right on the balcony. ahriman takes notes. he may need them in the future.

horus: a couple of the mournival had watched him from the corridor. horus had basically made you putty in his hands, he knew when and where to touch you, how to exude the right amount of character and strength, mixed with emotions and feelings, at the exact moment it was needed. he’s a traditionalist, he knows how to make someone swoon. a compliment here. a smile there. it’s a masterclass. this must be where fulgrim learnt it from. and his sons are living for it. that is until tarik hums to himself knowingly. i know them from somewhere. and loken hesitates, because isn’t that the person abbadon kept talking about before. yes it was. horus was courting the one person who caught abbadon’s interest, clearly taking something from that conversation. the pair keep it to themselves for now. loken walks away wondering how horus managed to make the word sweetheart sound so different – and how long it would be before everyone knew about this, because it would be a good source of a amusement.

lorgar: erebus and kor phaeron rarely lorgar out of their sights, because it seemed their grand plan would fuck up each time he managed to escape. this time? it seems the primarch has gone and fallen in love. they’d watched as lorgar handed you a book. perfectly accompanied by sticky tabs, post it notes, underlined words and highlighted phrases that made him think of you. each page was absolutely covered. kor phaeron had been the first to laugh, seeing his pathetic attempt at worship only elicit an uncomfortable smile from you as you flicked through the pages and saw the depths that he was going into. erebus was quieter, but equally amused. so easy to manipulate, he’d comment, seeing the way the lorgar would quite literally fall to his knees and praise you, another weakness he falls so easily to. but on the other side of things, argel tal is a few steps behind his primarch, peering around subtly in admiration of lorgar’s attempts. he sees it as sweet, actually, and rather than a weakness in his devotion to the emperor, saw it as an extension. some others may find it heretical, depending on where their loyalty stood.

vulkan: he first crafted you a knife, such a beautifully build and shaped weapon that everyone could tell his entire soul went into it. but he could have done that for anyone. and then he crafted a necklace, forced from things he owned, and was not shy about handing it to you in front of everyone. he wanted every one of his sons to know his feelings, maybe without directly saying it, and begin to internalise what this all meant. which is exactly what they did. and it was like a tension lifted. every single one of them is rooting for him, for you, for whatever is going to come from it. and vulkan can’t be criticised in his ways either. numeon may even comment, offhandedly, that he would inspire generations to come with his actions. and xiaphas? would plan the wedding. the most normal legion on this list, it seems.

corvus: he was silent about it, never revealing a thing to any other. his silent courting, his gestures that had no meaning until they did. it wasn’t until they’d see him protect you, maybe even just the flick of his wrist to prevent an action that he would never usually stop, that they all start thinking. wondering. could their primarch truly have feelings in this way? was there really one person who could capture all of their attention? it would come down to someone like sharrowkyn to say something. voice an opinion to his brothers and then to the primarch himself. with caution, of course. are they worth it, my lord? he wouldn’t hesitate. they are worth my entire being. and from then ravenguard watch in the shadows for you as well. they would accept it, they may not understand it, but they wouldn’t question it. he did not want to fail you. and if any of them did want to understand, he would explain it.

alpharius: regardless of which one it is that’s wooing someone, they were all involved. because this is alpharius after all - he’s not just going to make someone fall in love with him because he’s really nice. or he couldn’t be bothered to try. so the whole legion is in on it. they are all courting you, working on this plan which they don’t really understand. they all think its part of something bigger. they all think you must be someone who is so important that all their attention has to be focused on you. but no, alpharius just has a crush. and it becomes obvious when pretty soon alpharius does not want to share with anyone. a few of them would be kind of pressed about it. didn’t want to be involved, didn’t want to carry it on. a couple accidentally catch feelings because they were forcing themselves to replicate what alpharius was doing and he’s a very touchy-feely man. or was it omegon? who knows. maybe it wasn’t even alpharius that started this all, he was just caught up in the cross fire. regardless, alpharius is smitten, and his legion is… not.

i am very sorry if any people/legions are mischaracterised at all!! i am more familiar with some legions which probably comes across in this, but please tell me if something wouldn't happen, so i know for next time ◡̈

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moscatosin · 9 days ago

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🖤 motels - mattheo riddle. 🖤 money for sex. cheating. lite smut. first person reader. mdni. inspired by a friends work who doesn't write anymore. thank you love x. straight whiskey recommended. not edited.

The motel room we are in can only be described using two words – absolute shithole.

Peeling orange wallpaper with more cigarette stains on it than original 70s striped design and 9 inch cracks racing across the ceiling that feels like it may or may not at any moment just cave in seem to be the owners idea of vogue interior design. From the street, the place looked like it would be a lot neater than what we paid for but from here, on the bed; on my back – inner thighs coated with a slick of both sweat and cum as my cunt throbs in a way I’ve never felt it do so before; the $39 dollar a night room is fucking perfect.

Beside me, Mattheo is panting like a dog; his pretty boy face flushed by a not so innocent shade of scarlet; his dark curls plastered to his forehead. I hate to admit it, but he looks so god damn perfect. The air in the room is suffocating – the scents of whiskey, menthol and the sour tang of sex, our sex, clinging to just about everything. Neon lights from the streetscape outside flicker through half closed blinds; painting his skin in shades of yellow and blue making him a temporary exhibit of art you’d find at some unnamed local college gallery.

Funnily enough, I can still feel the ghost of his cock buried deep inside of me; the stretch, the ownership. Like a drug. Fuck. Tonight – it’s our last night together before he becomes someone elses, and I’ve let him, much to breaking my own rules, break me apart piece by piece when really, tonight I should have kept his leash on tight.

Watching his chest rise and fall with every breath he takes; Mattheo’s burnt coffee eyes blown wide with leftover hunger and desire flicker over to my own as the smallest of smiles begins to creep across his lips. He asks if I’m still breathing – the answer, just. His voice sounds like gravel; coarse and scraped raw from how he’s been growling my name all night while pounding into me.

In response, I force a smirk; lips bruised and cut up from his teeth. My body continues to tremble from the aftershocks I should be far, far past. “Barely”, I manage to respond, letting out a shaky breath; but everything about this just feels heavy. My body; the sudden animosity that is developing between us, the rotation of the ceiling fan above us doing little to cool down the room. Mattheo manages a laugh – one of those low, filthy rumbles that somehow manages to slither beneath my skin and coil up tight in the put of my gut and the noise does little more than make me want to climb back onto his cock and ride him until we’re both broken – hearts and pride.

I’m not an idiot though. Or well; perhaps occasionally I’m just stupid. I’m a professional. A.. lady of the night as the more educated may refer. Cash for cunt as ineloquent as that sounds. No strings, no feelings; just an exchange of want and need for a fat wad of green. There’s just one problem with all of this. That problem – Mattheo. He’s become... something more. He’s not just a client – he’s a fucking virus that’s infected my ability to function with shy smiles and greedy hands and I’ve become, as teenage girls these days seem to say – obsessed.

Three nights is all it took for him to crack through my armour. On the first; he took me out for Korean barbeque at this fancy little joint downtown; flaunting that boyish grin of his that made me forget my own rules. 1) Don’t get attached. 2) If you do – run. We spoke; like, really talked. He told me about his fantasies, about his desires; about the vanilla girl he’s marrying at the end of the month and how he’s expected to enjoy life behind a white picket fence as he slowly takes over his fathers family business. I smile and stay silent. Getting to know your client and what they want is plain old industry 101. The more I can accommodate – the more I can charge. The more I can charge – the better the tip men seem to leave.

The second night? Ugh, I had him whimpering beneath me – palm stinging across every inch of his skin, edging him like crazy until he had no other choice but to bed. He learned he liked being spanked. He learned that he liked being praised. He learned that he liked being denied. Cute. Real cute.

Tonight though – I practically handed him the keys to my body and said ‘do your worst.’ A gift – you could say, from I to he. That was my first mistake. Thinking that such a suggestion wouldn’t come with consequences. That I’d be able to walk away scot-free without any problems. Remember how I said I was an idiot? Yeah – this is a perfect example.

Mattheo sits up; abs flexing, arms looking like they’ve been chiselled out of marble like an ode to some Greek god and as he runs a hand through his hair – dishevelled and distraught, I catch the unholy shadow of guilt that is painted within his eyes. The same look a young boy has when he discovers his fathers playmate magazine collection. Like he’s ashamed of wanting me – wanting us – wanting this time we’ve spent together as much as he should.

“I don’t want you to go.”

Fuck – there it is. His admission; my denial. His voice is laced with something dangerous. Truth.

Rolling over onto my side; tits still bare, nipples sore from his teeth and the welts across my ribs and ass burning beneath his gaze, I let out an almost exhausted huff although it seems to be more one of annoyance than anything else as I crawl around for my underwear and shake my head hoping to knock some sense into myself.

“Mattheo – don’t. You’re, fuck – you’re literally putting a ring on someone else in like seven days. This..”, I gesture between the wreckage of both of us; the crumpled sheets, the air heavy with want and regret and sex and ugh. “Us – is done. We – are – done.”

I’m expecting him to argue yet he doesn’t. Weird; most guys do. Fight the fight they think they want until the high from letting a load bust ends and they’re limp as the broken dreams they have. Instead; as I begin to get redressed, as the lace he took off finds a way to conceal my skin again; those puppy dog eyes of his begin to strip me bare in a way that’s worse than how his hands earlier behaved. Hell; this is too real, too raw, too rogue and it makes my skin crawl – uncomfortable, with just how much I crave the attention he’s giving me.

Flashback to a little less than an hour ago; Mattheo’s got me bent over an empty dresser, my face pressed into the splintered wood; mirror rattling above my head with every brutal thrust he slams into me. The tie he was wearing earlier is stuffed into my mouth, only barely muffling my moans; the fabric soaked with spit as one of his hands runs up the back of my neck, snaking into my hair; tugging my head back with a snap that brings my eyes up level enough so that I can see through the mirrors reflection. A broken girl being used looking right back at me.

“Mine tonight.” His snarl sinks into my skin; cock slamming in so deep that each time his hips meet my ass I feel it vibrate into the back of my throat. The dress I’m in is bunched up around my waist; the zip on the side torn from where he tried to rip it off. The necklace I had on – a pretty set of pearls which belonged to an elderly neighbour that’s since passed scattered across the floor that I’ll never get back. Mattheo’s hands find my throat – squeezing just enough to make my vision blur and cut off common sense. I’m drowning in him. His heat, his scent, his need. Pulling the tie out of my mouth, he replaces it with his fingers; coaxing me to suck on them – tongue swirling, drool dripping down my chin and his wrist as he calls me his dirty fucking girl and oh my lord he has the voice of a fucking angel.

Knocking over a whiskey glass he was sipping from nervously earlier; Mattheo grasps at an ice cube, dragging it across my spine – the cold seating down my overheated skin making my back arch and body buck against him. The ice melts fast – pooling at the small of my back before dripping down onto the dresser as he bites my shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark that will blossom shades of purple and blue within minutes.

“Scream for me baby.”

It’s a demand and hell – I do; voice breaking, orgasm crashing through me as the sound of my scream penetrates through the walls of the motel and the voice of a lady from the room next door berates us for being too loud. Pussy clenching so tight that Mattheo has no choice but to curse; he spills hot and thick inside me. Should have made him wear a fucking rubber. Rookie mistake.

My legs shaking; barely holding myself up; Mattheo catches me last minute, arm scooping around my waist with his breath hot and searing across my jaw and into my ear.

Skip back to now and he’s reaching out to trace his fingers over the bruises his left; fingers rough against the tender marks on my hips and thighs, shoulders and arms. It’s intricate the way he does it. Gentle. Pure. If I didn’t know any better; I’d call him a fucking virgin.

“Gonna jerk off to this for years, babe.”

Babe. It sounds fucking tender rolling off his tongue. Like something that I could get used to.

Jerking away; I snatch my dress off the floor and try my best not to look his way. No point falling for the devil in disguise that I know I can’t have. That I shouldn’t want. Fabric of the dress catching on my damp skin and sticking to the mess that’s since shift elsewhere from between my legs I shake my head and grumble.

“Save it, Mattheo. Trust me – your soon to be wife won’t want you dreaming about a common whore.”

I notice the way he swallows hard; adams apple bobbing up and down his throat as he watches me struggle into the dress, cock still half-hard; glistening with us and holy fuck how I want to just drop to my knees and lick him clean and like a kitten mewl and beg for more, but I don’t. Instead, I make my way over to the minibar which is half stocked and pull out a bottle of water that I toss on the bed in his direction, avoiding his gaze as I mention that he should, “Drink and then pretend that this night never fucking happened.”

Shifting off the bed; Mattheo stands and walks over behind me, all lean muscle and quiet menace as he pulls my back into his chest and peppers kisses along the side of my neck that feel too good. Spinning me around; I notice how his skin is just too warm; how his cock presses up against my stomach, how I can still smell myself on him – perfume, sex and shame. His hands run up my sides, over my curves; they find my face and he cups my cheeks tenderly – a thumb brushing across my lips that he pecks one last kiss on with a whispered, ‘thank you’ which makes me choke. On the words, on him, on my want to stay. No. Just – no.

Pulling back – I grab my heels sprawled out across the floor; my handbag that’s been stuffed with cash he paid in advance and catch my reflection in the mirror I’d been watching him fuck me in. My mascara is streaked like war paint down my face, neck purple with bite marks, lips swollen because of him. Him. I’m meant to be transaction but fuck, that glimpse of my reflection has caused me to notice that Mattheo’s made me feel like I’m something else – something worthy and I fucking hate him for it.

Out the door without looking back with heels stabbing into the grimy carpet; the fluorescent lights in the corridor buzz above my head like a wasp nest. The elevator ride to the ground floor is a blur. The glass door I walk out of onto the street catches my reflection one last time shows me hollow eyes, mouth like a lie, a body marked by a boy, a man, that I can’t keep. The air that skims my skin holds a chill that hits me like a slap – sharp and cold, cutting through the haze I’m walking within.

I’m supposed to be like steel – indestructible; but Mattheo’s managed to carve himself into me in a way that I’m bleeding him with every step I take. Three nights – that was our agreement. Pasta, pushing, preferences. I wonder how the wedding will go. Perhaps one day; I’ll meet someone who wants to put a ring on my finger and treat me like a princess. One that won’t pay me for my attention. For my body. For my lack of self-worth.

The worst thing – even though he’s getting married, I know that guys like Mattheo will call again. In a week, or a month; maybe a year – he’ll find me. He’ll be bored. Men like him don’t let go. They can’t separate reality from fantasy. Girls like me – we’re too weak to say no although we should.

Digging through my bag, I pull out a packet of cigarettes I’d stolen from him on night number two and light one up; smoke and menthol curling around me into the dark. This life – the cash, the cock, the control; well, it’s all I know. Mattheo? Ugh, he’s made me feel like something else though. Like I’m worth something. Like I could one day – be saved. The worst part? For god sakes – it’s a normalcy I think I want. Crave. Need.

#slytherin #moscatosin #hogwarts #hogwarts universe #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x self insert #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle soft smut #mattheo riddle first person reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut

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petermorwood · 1 year ago

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Oh deary deary me... :-P

At first glance it looks like he's been trying on a winged helmet that's far too big and it's slipped down to chest level without actually resting on his head - though a helmet without a top on it is about par for the course in one of the dopiest designs I've seen in a long time.

Just imagine (as the creator clearly didn't) what the triangles front and back on the upper breast- and backplate will do if the guy wearing it suddenly looks up or down.

Just imagine how using several of the most basic weapon stances, which need both hands on the hilt and arms at shoulder level or higher, will be affected by those idiotic fan-shaped shoulders.

What irritates me about armour designs like these is that they're created on a computer, which almost certainly has internet connection, which means research about Real Armour worn by Real People is no more than a few clicks away - clicks which in this and many other instances were clearly Just Too Much Effort.

*****

The "armoured butt-plate" remarked on by several comments is actually the least improbable part. Not on the image, of course, because that's as useless as everything else. Here it is, enlarged and lightened so as to see better.

That's a single rigid plate running from base of spine over buttocks and inner thighs to god knows how far in front.

Someone wearing this certainly couldn't ride a horse because what you see here is as far apart as the upper thighs will go. Horses, last time I looked, are wider than that.

But it doesn't matter, because with no flexibility in any direction, someone wearing this probably couldn't even walk.

*****

Full-length hauberks / haubergeons (long and short mail shirts) were worn less and less under full plate, replaced by arming doublets which were the foundation onto which plates were attached...

...and which had patches of mail to guard any openings so what would have been the hauberk's lower hem was replaced by a mail skirt laced onto the bottom of the doublet.

The alternative to a skirt was a brayette, which in the Renaissance became an actual plate-armour codpiece to echo civilian fashion (examples below) but in the Medieval era was a chainmail half-Speedo attached to the front of the hose, or a full-coverage section shaped like a nappy (diaper) which laced together into armoured britches.

Armour for the rear (a "culet") was usually a short half-skirt of layered metal hoops connected to the matching half-skirt at the front (a "fauld")...

...but fully plated backsides were definitely made. They were rare, which makes me think they weren't much of an improvement or they'd be a lot more common.

The first two examples, made to imitate fashionable puff-and-slash clothing, are parade / costume armour purely for display and conspicuous consumption.

According to the Metropolitan Museum, NY, this was made in Augsburg by Kolman Helmschmied ("helmet-smith" - great name for an armourer!) possibly for Grand Hetman Jerzy Radziwiłł, a Polish nobleman.

The other parts of the armour are in the Musée de l'Armée, Paris.

Helmschmied also made this similar armour for Hofmeister Wilhelm von Roggendorf, an Austrian nobleman (it's in the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna). Again, with those sleeves in place it's not made for fighting, just for parade, ceremony and generally Looking Impressive.

However, both these costume armours actually work. The "puffs" of the arms interlink freely, and the shoulders each have multiple interleaved plates (zoom in to see better) which slide over each other as the limb is raised or lowered. Same for its culet, the same short, flexible skirt as earlier armour plus an extra bit over the lower cheeks.

These armours were made as "garnitures" - interchangeable accessories for a real-life action figure, as here for George Clifford, Earl of Cumberland...

...and both of those fancy ones also have standard non-puffed arm plates and full leg protection for wear in tournament combat or actual war. It's likely the arse-cheek-cupping lowest plate of the culet was also removed to make riding a horse more comfortable.

This last example was made from the outset for fighting; tournament fighting, but fighting nonetheless. It's Henry VIII's harness for foot combat at the Field of Cloth of Gold in 1520, when he was young and buff. This armour is so all-enclosing, with plates not mail at all the joints, that NASA examined it while developing the first space suits.

Age and injury stopped Henry from being active and trim, but being the King with no-one to say No, he kept on eating in the lavish the way he used to do when he was burning the calories, and it shows.

Here's a closer look at that last full armour made for him in 1540, again with buttock protection, though in this instance it was for mounted jousting so there was no need to armour the inner thighs and once again, on horseback he'd probably leave off the lowest plate.

The large guard-plate on the left shoulder has a purpose, unlike the fan-shaped nonsense in the OP image.

It's there to shield against a weapon - here a lance - skidding off the shield and against the helmet. Jousting was almost always done left-side to left-side and armour was made with this in mind, though there was a German head-on-collision style (which required blindfolded horses because the horses were otherwise far too sensible to run straight at each other).

Yes indeed, that high plate prevented the left arm from being fully raised (Henry's foot-combat armour has a much smaller, less obstructive one) but the left arm of a jousting armour didn't NEED to be fully raised.

In some styles of jousting not just the left but both arms had a limited range of motion...

...since holding the lance, supporting the shield (in this example not even that, it's attached to the breastplate by a rope through two holes) and gripping the reins was all they had to do.

During a 30-40 mph collision when the weight and momentum of two armoured men and two often-armoured horses was concentrated into the points of their lances, being well protected against those points was much more important than being able to scratch your nose, as if you could even get at it inside your helm.

Even with those limitations, properly made armour meant being able to walk, ride and fight while wearing it - while at the same time not slicing its wearer's ears off or impaling them on bits of their own equipment

Little details, and not visually impressive, but throughout the whole of armour-wearing history they were regarded as more important features than yet another array of spikes.

Which BTW is not what's meant by "sharply dressed", and never was...

;->

Yeah, no

If I’m going to buy digital armor, it’ll be a set I can actually rationalize a human fighter wearing. This… would not be it.

#arms and armour #stupid fantasy armour #plate armour #armoured backside #Wilhelm von Roggendorf #Henry VIII #costume armour #parade armour #jousting armour #range of motion

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relax-and-read-on · 4 months ago

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Rhaaaaa the URGE to write a deep fantasy au!!! Where every primarch is a faction/race and the monarch of their faction!!!

Here is the primarch list pls take it and write it I don't need more WIP

Primarch, in a Fantasy AU

Mortarion: Fairy. But im the slightly mean, might steal your bones and eat your eyeballs way. Very close to nature and secretive, hard to see and talk too. Soft moth wings that can produce a dust that either heal or poison you.

Vulkan: Dragonborn from the montains! Very noble and adventurous, quite likely to go around and visit his friends. Less of a king and more of a "designated leader because he's so nice (and big)". Imvulnerable to fire damage.

Fulgrim: here me out- Drow. A beautiful dark elf, who helped save his world from starvation and ruin, and is slowly pushing to open up his kingdom to trades and diplomacy.

Ferrus: Orc! They qoek by a clan syathem, byt are actually skilled engineer, as rhey are nomadic and try to get all the info/knowledge they can before moving on. Some of the obly marksmen of the setting. Surprisingly friendly, they know they are strong and that messing with them would be UNBELEIVABLY stupid.

Magnus: spirit/energy being. King of Prospero, a desert city where everyone kinda became lowkey immortal, in a metapgysical way. People have shed their flesh body a long time ago and now mostly either wander the city around as spirits, kr by possesing objects like armours. Genies legend were based on them due to magical power, but no, they are NOT forced the grant wishes.

Leman: I mean. Wolfperson. He literally keep changing into a wolf half the time. Nomadic in nature, him and his people are the best hunters of the land, and often employed as mercenary.

Horus: Human. Just... regular ass human. Normal as hell. King of them, and very good at making alliance, very stable and prosperous Kingdom. Also very cosmopolitan, with all the races and factions bwing welcomed to walk through.

Sanguinius: I mean........... Vampire. In the noble, aristocratic way. He has a very impressive and spooky castle that people get invited too for fancy bit vaguely spooky dinner. Very polite, doesn't hide his nature here, but is constantly trying to maintain a tight control on his vampires subordinate.

Lion: He is TOTALLY a Normal Human of a Normal Human Kingdom. Not a Changeling from the magical forest at all. What's that? Watchers? Totally normal people too, not at all gnomes and kobolt and korrigan who also consider him their king...

Roboute: Prince of a human kingdom... But he's actually an adopted half elf!! Constantly at war in his soul between the two part of his being. His kingdom is the largest human kingdom, but constantly has to deal with difficult political intrigue and threat of invasion.

Lorgar: Naga. His tattoo are actually gold scales glittering all across his body in an hypnotic patern. His people are semi nomadic, they have multiple rock city across the desert that they migrate between every 10 to 20 years.

Jaghatai: ....... Centaur. Like. I just couldn't. Nomadic step people, smart, amazing archer, they often also run huge trade carravan between the various kingdom and are, honnestly, filthy rich. Having a centaur offer you to ride on his back to a non-centaur person is basically a marriage proposal.

Rogal: Dwarf! But from nordic, snowy montains. Very good craftsman and engineer, very used to nordic winter with 3 months long night. Best friend with Roboute, travel in giant steam ship.

Angron: Elves! But he was captured as a child and almost turned into... Something else. However, he led a rebellion, and went back to his kingdom. They are very warry of outsiders, and his kingdom is composed of a notable portion of those "changed elves". Yes, I mean Uruk-Hai

Konrad: Vampire but in like. The creepy way. They are kimda more goulish, cannibalistic, who live in creepy osolated town and scare away travelers. Terrible assassins hired by other kingdoms In reality, while him and his people ARE some kind of creepy blood sucker, they just want to live their isolayed life.

Corvus: the BIRDY people. Probably a race that get a variety of avian features, some have bird heads, some wings, some feets, some are fully antro... Corvus can fully shift between giant murder raven and human.

Alpharius and Omegon: Shapeshifter. Less of a tribe/kingdom than a secret society of shapeshifter who infiltrated more or less succesfully all the other kingdoms. They have a good time of it.

Perturabo: Minotaur of a distant montainous kingdom. His Kingdom is actually a mix between minotaur and humans, living in a tense mixed society. He rule with his sister/totally not wife Calliphone, who is a human. Yes, he is gigantic at her side. Yes, she is smug about it.

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the-kr8tor · 23 days ago

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Katy's Summer Flick Screening 🎞️

Event Request Masterlist

🎙️Hello and welcome to my movie theatre! Bored and far from the beach? You can always experience that by watching (reading) here! *The sand and sun are not included in your viewing.*

❤️ Here, have two tickets 🎟️ 🎟️ on the house 🤫

❤️ Please choose from my array of movie genres to watch! Have a hankering for romance and adventure? My cinema has them all here! So ready your overpriced snacks and sit down for a three hour movie that will end in a cliffhanger and request away!

It's my second anniversary writing here! To celebrate I've opened up my requests once again ❤ ️The event is open to everyone who wants to participate!

Drabble Requests are open from now until July 20th (as always all remaining unwritten requests will still be written even after the event ends and the unwritten ones from the last batch of reqs will still be written)

Characters I will write for: Hobie Brown/Spider-Punk, Ekko (arcane), Jason ‘Red Hood’ Todd, Aaron Davis ‘The prowler’, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Dream of the Endless.

Custom event banners by: @thats-a-mushroom

Rules:

Please please read my request rules for additional information before requesting!

Drabble requests only please.

Character x reader only.

Everyone has two tickets 🎟️ for requesting! (Please limit your reqs to two per person.)

Requests must be sent through my ask box. For two requests please send them individually for a more organized req.

Always have a prompt with your request, no prompt no request.

Missed last year’s apothecary event? Here it is!

🎙️ Read my rules? Time to choose a movie genre! 🍿

Cheaper by the Dozen - Want some slice of life? Try this one! (parent AUs/ Domestic AU, Billie and Mona AU etc.)

Crazy Stupid Love - Have that longing you want to quench? Watch some classic romance! (romcom, ie coworker AU, boyfriend AU, TTN AU etc)

Crystal Skull - Hankering for some swashbuckling adventure through the seas? Have a go at this genre! (Any adventure au, pirate AU, BDAS AU etc)

Live and Let Die - Gadgets and high speed chases are more your thing? Use your ticket on this one! (Spy AU, Mr and Mrs Smith AU)

Back to the Future - Space, time, and aliens? They're all here! (Sci fi AU)

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood - Or maybe you want to star in a movie yourself? (Actor AU)

A Fistful of Dollars - Want to chase a train with your trusty horse and lasso? This could be your genre! (for Cowboy/Bounty hunter AU, OPIN AU)

Love and Monsters - Vampires and Ghouls? This might be the one for you! (Monster AU for Vampire AU, Fae AU, Siren AU, IPOB AU, TF AU, Mermaid AU etc.)

Return of the King - Magical swords and shiny knight armour? This one has all the fixings! (Fantasy AU/Medieval AU)

Young at Heart - Silver fox 😍 *ahem* (any older! Character)

Warm Bodies - They're eating him, and they're gonna eat me! Oh my god! (Zombie apocalypse AU)

Secret Life of Pets - One word, awww! (Three cats AU, any pet AU, Blob the cat symbiote AU)

Usual suspects - Prowler! Hobie you say? 🤭 (Villain AU, Prowler! Hobie, Black cat! R etc.)

Multiverse of madness - You know those show crossovers back then? (Crossovers, ie. Arcane and Spiderverse crossover with Ekko and Hobie)

🎞️ Can't think of a prompt for your request? You can always choose from my movie trope prompts that are right here! 🎞️

❤️ You've got your movie genre? You can also ask what kind of category you want!

📽️ (Film projector) - For fluff that is even sweeter than cinema candy 🍬!

📼 (VHS tape) - If you want to watch (read) something that will make you bawl your eyes out in the cinema.

🎭 (Theatre masks) - If you want that heart wrenching feeling but want your movie to end in a happy ending! (Hurt/Comfort)

Bonus: if your request requires it, please specify your reader! Ie. Fem! Reader, Gn! Reader, Blackcat! Reader, pirate! Reader etc.

❤️ Confused? Here's an example of a request: “Please can I ask for a love and monsters with vampire Hobie with 📽️?” Or “Prompt 15, multiverse of madness with Ekko and hobie 📽️ please!”

Or you can combine two genres into one! “A fistful of dollars + young at heart with Older! Hobie 🎭 please!”

(Please follow the event's format so that I know what you're requesting during the event!)

Don't have a request but want to chat with the projectionist? Whether it's for writing tips, talking about your ocs or just to chat around, feel free to send a 🍿!!

A/N: Thank you all so much for 2 years of writing and chatting about our blorbos! I'm forever grateful to every single one of you for reading my work! Writing has helped me immensely with my mental health and to just have people read my writing is an absolute honour and so heartwarming. You guys make me feel seen. To think that I never thought that I would still be writing now when I uploaded that very first Hobie fanfic, and now two years in and not only have I improved a lot with my writing and as a writer but I have also found amazing and talented friends through my silly works! Again, thank you very much for all the love and support for two years ❤️ To more writing, key smashes, and fangirling over our blorbos for more years to come!

Keep being kind, and stay happy and healthy!

With so much love, Katy ❤️❤️

A special thanks to @/thats-a-mushroom for the custom banners!! And for @hyperfix-wip for the help with the genres!

#katy mumbles #second year anniversary #katy's summer flick screening #hobie brown x reader #the kr8tor's creations #spider punk x reader #ekko x reader #aaron davis x reader #anniversary event #request open #drabble requests #katy's anniversary event #summer flick masterlist

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theresattrpgforthat · 8 months ago

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So, I went to a game store, and I asked if there were any good beginner games for someone who tried the DnD Essentials Kit and found it too complicated, and you'll never guess what one singular game they suggested!

THEME: Simpler Games than DND.

My friend, I’m not a very good guesser, but I hope that I am able to present you with some games that will give you what you’re looking for.

24XX: Chaos Unit, by polyhedralmice

Deep under the busy streets of Sapien City is the headquarters of the Vermin Squad, the espionage wing of a secret organization of urban animals known as the CHAOS Unit. They capitalize on the fact that vermin are virtually invisible human inhabitants of the city and use they use their street smarts to run vital missions for the unit. Raccoons, opossums, pigeons and squirrels each play specific roles and together form teams that take on the most vital of missions. From intercepting life-saving pizza orders to rescuing their colleagues from the dastardly Animal Control, there is no task too daunting for the brave animals of the Vermin Squad. Every night teams are sent out on their missions, and this is the story of one of those teams. Nothing will stop these brave agents from successfully completing their tasks (except maybe a humane trap baited with peanut butter).

CHAOS Unit is a spy themed hack based on Jason Tocci’s 24XX.

24XX games are great for groups that love different-sided dice. In general, you only have a few skills for your character that are outside the normal parameters (upgraded to d8 - d12), and the success threshold is the same for pretty much every roll. The challenges and situations of any given scenario are typically presented as roll tables, allowing the GM to come up with an adventure just by rolling a few dice.

CHAOS Unit has just a few character options, some simple gear options, and a comparatively light-hearted premise. It’s a great introduction to the system, and learning how to play one 24XX game makes every other 24XX game a piece of cake to learn, even if they include new rules.

Loot, by Gila RPGs.

LOOT is a fantasy TTRPG by Gila RPGs that combines looter shooter mechanics with west marches vibes. When a rebellion toppled a lich overlord and torn down his city, the people were left with a lot of loot, and a lot of problems. That's where you come in.

Get some friends together, fight some monsters, deck your characters out in cool loot. Do it all over again.

Even though LUMEN uses grid-based combat, your character’s stats are simplified, reduced to a few things: health, armour, and three action types: force, flow & focus. Your stats themselves come from the items that your carry - your loot.

Your loot is organized through slots on your character sheet: you can only carry so much, so you’ll have to think carefully about what kind of stat bonuses and abilities you want. I find that a visual inventory can make it easier to keep track of everything you have, and can help some players learn how to think strategically. If you like the fantasy and strategy that exists in D&D but don’t want to do nearly as much math, you might be interested in LOOT - although the lack of dice is certainly a big change.

Slugblaster, by Wilkie’s Candy Lab.

In the small town of Hillview, teenage hoverboarders sneak into other dimensions to explore, film tricks, go viral, and get away from the problems at home. It’s dangerous. It’s stupid. It’s got parent groups in a panic. And it’s the coolest thing ever.

This is Slugblaster. A table-top rpg about teenagehood, giant bugs, circuit-bent rayguns, and trying to be cool.

Forged in the Dark games can be tricky to introduce to a new table, but Slugblaster is one of a few that I think can do the job. It’s a streamlined version of the system, that takes away a lot of the crunch that comes from Stats, Position, and Effect, and boils it all down to Kick and Boost. It also streamlines harm into 2 levels of slams, and keeps stress and downtime to a procedure that you can follow step-by-step when you finish a run. Finally character creation is very easy: you only make few choices in terms of abilities, and many of these choices are descriptive, rather than mechanical.

One thing I’ve noticed about games with “simpler” rules systems is that they typically do require a bunch of improv, which can be scary for new GMs. Slugblaster isn’t that different in this regard, but it does have a few things you as a GM can prepare beforehand if you want to make things easier for yourself. For example, you can set up your map of the different dimensions beforehand, including the doorways that the teens can get through. If you know that the teens get back to your home dimension without going through Operablum, then you can prepare a few location - specific threats to confound the teens as they try to get back in time for dinner.

Another strength of these games is that typically, if a player wants to do something, they just have to be able to describe how they’d do it - you can then work backwards using the gear & resources on your sheet to give you some dice to roll, as well as the logic of the game world, to figure out what happens next.

Lady Blackbird, by John Harper

Lady Blackbird is on the run from an arranged marriage to Count Carlowe. She hired a smuggler skyship, The Owl, to take her from her palace on the Imperial world of Ilysium to the far reaches of the Remnants, so she could be with her once secret lover: the pirate king Uriah Flint.

Lady Blackbird is the first game I ever played, and it’s a game I fell for - hard. It involves rolling pools of dice that you pull from descriptive collections of tags assigned to pre-generated characters. It simplifies game-play by taking away the step of character creation, and gives the group a pretty solid story to pick up and follow wherever your heart may lead.

While the rules of the game are fairly simple, I think that as a GM, you’re going to need to be comfortable with a fair bit of improv to make this work. The game has some excellent pieces of advice on how to come up with scenes for the characters, and even includes some example complications to throw at the party. I’m really glad this was my first game because from the beginning, it affirmed that roleplaying games are a communal experience, and even if the characters and the starting scenario are already written for the group, the players have a lot of freedom to decide who their characters are, and what they’re going to value.

Liminal Horror, by Goblin Archives.

There’s a strange comfort to ambiguity. To stand at the threshold between states of what was and what’s next, to inhabit the places of transition. But you’re never truly alone here. There are things that hunger within the dark places. Strange creatures and mysteries lie in wait and tumbling into the wrong place at the wrong time may put you on the path towards doom.

Grab your flashlights and blood splattered jackets as you try to make it through the night. Beware, snapping bone and rending flesh are often the simplest outcome. While there may be great power within these places… not all mysteries can be solved and not everyone can be saved. Above all, there are fates far worse than death.

LIMINAL HORROR is a rules-lite, adaptable Survival-Horror roleplaying game about normal characters and their struggles against the things that go bump in the night. The game focuses on surviving the weird and Investigating horrors while blending simple, old-school inspired rules with modern, narrative first principles. Survival is not guaranteed and those that do make it through the night are often forever changed.

In Liminal Horror, character creation is rather quick, often easily generated using a few dice rolls. For most tasks, your characters will roll a d20 and try to get a number lower than one of their three stats, so when you get started, teaching the game should be pretty simple. Of course, since it’s a horror game, there’s more than just trying to roll under a stat: characters will find themselves subject to the consequences of being exposed to horrors that are far beyond the limits of human experience. As a result, characters will find themselves dealing with two different kinds of harm: stress & fallout. These two harm systems will make the stakes feel real, and they’ll also inflict changes on your characters as you play.

Liminal Horror has a few things going for it. The basic rules are fairly straightforward, but they’re also free. The game is meant to be paired with pre-written adventures, which often include place descriptions, NPCs, and adventure-specific consequences to torture the characters with. A lot of the adventures available come with a price tag, but if you want to try out the system, there’s a couple of free ones out there - I recommend Messenger National Park, by capacityforwonder.

For the Ship And Its Crew, by Adeline Fowl Games.

We've crewed this Ship for years together. We've seen wondrous sights, gotten ourselves into seemingly insurmountable trouble, and have owed our fair share of creds to the wrong people. And yet, still, we fly. But after all these years, our past may be catching up with us. As the missiles tear across starlit space, we'll be forced to ask ourselves: What will we do, for the Ship and its Crew?

This is a hack of For the Queen, which mostly involves answering prompts, using something like a card deck, or in this case, a digital hosting service. Your group is telling a story by taking turns answering questions, which makes the game fairly easy to teach, even to people who don’t have a lot of roleplaying experience.

These kinds of games can also be played very quickly, which might also make it easier to introduce to folks who aren’t used to sitting around a grid and calculating resources for 2+ hours.

Other Recommendation Posts To Check Out…

Easy To Teach Recommendation Post

First Time GMs Recommendation Post

Little Reading or Writing Required Recommendation Post

#simpler games #tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #indie ttrpg #asks

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feather-dancer · 7 months ago

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Tales of Arcadia fanfic recommendations part 8

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

If at all interested in my own writing you can find it here! Several of my own are currently getting scrubbed for improvement to make them more readable. Currently goal is for all of Spotlight being completed by the end of the year.

Been a while huh? This has still been sitting in my drafts though even when my brain decided “Nope not reading” for a while. Still got quite a hefty backlog to read through along with authors I’m subscribed to for their most recent works as and when they pop up. Regardless, determined to get back on top of it and unearth things I want to give a shoutout to because it’s cool shit :)

To you, fans past and present and surviors of RotT Tales of Arcadia fandom.

General Tales of Arcadia

But Everything Hurts - You don’t come back from death with a free pass and Douxie’s fall from the castle cost was chronic pain for an immortal’s lifetime. He was told to learn how to live once, now it is learning to manage.

Of Hunger Pains and Old Habits - Food is hard when you’ve spent a very young life without it until life takes a strange turn and it becomes plentiful. Died in habits are hard though, Douxie will hear the unconvinced whispers for the rest of his life.

almost there - When Jim heads off until the Darklands alone Toby and Claire try to hold themselves together not knowing if he’ll ever return. This is set post season 1 and is wonderfully bittersweet.

Our Little Viginette - Moppet faces the end of an era with the fall of Camelot and (Temporary) loss of Merlin after the Battle of Killahead.

A way to cope - Jim pretends to cope with the trauma of being in the Darklands a lot better than he actually is, as long as he keeps the breakdowns out of sight then nobody can worry right?

dandelion eyes - In which Bellroc discovers the concept of nail polish.

Adieu - The final moments of Angor Rot

Saudade - It’s perfect. They beat Gunmar, nobody died and he can finally enjoy being a teenager again, Thinks Jim. Then why if he stops ignoring the feeling for even a few seconds does it all seem so hollow...?

Rise of the Titans

The Last Changeling - Jim escaped the timeline filled with mistakes in hopes of making things right. He didn’t account for those left behind to grieve or the changeling that suddenly found himself as the last.

I Can't Pull the Sword From the Stone - Jim went back and now Toby is the new Trollhunter which should be smooth sailing right? Except history is refusing to repeat it’s self exactly, little elements are already changing and Jim’s experiences have left him tainted with magic he can’t control along with all the memories and traumas. It’s hard to grieve for someone who is technically still alive but everything you had is gone without a soul out there to understand.

More is all you need - Jim has gone back, something stupid by his own admittance, however in sorting through his thoughts he comes to a realisation.

Stricklake

Comes Around - Post Trollhunters season 3, it’s a struggle to figure out what to do when you have a cradlestone full of babies and a changeling that no longer is but you have to just try and muddle through somehow... Perhaps a chance to try figure out what your relationship is meant to be too now things have calmed down a bit.

Media Consumption - Wholesome fluff that also involves Wally and creating an addict to the HtTyD franchise early on.

A Measure of Intellect - The goblins are breaking into the stricklake household and they’ve already stolen the blender. The fun part is figuring out exactly what they’re up to. Related to Media Consumption.

enough - Figuring out a normal in the mundane of after everything has happened is quite a lot for a jaded changeling. Very fluffy.

The Wild Hunt - Letting your troll boyfriend hunt is good enrichment but the prize for capture is even better.

The Armour of Daylight - A little glimpse into a high fantasy world where everyone might just be a little bit cursed.

The School Of Janus - This is an AU while also being Stricklake so it lives here. The Darklands are the most prestigious educational process in the world according to their promo material and Jim is prepping to head there while putting off most of his packing as long as humanly possible. Good thing he does really the banter is delightful.

Ink Stains - An AU making an escape in the name of shipping again. Here Barbara married into court politics with her husband being an heir for Camelot and changelings are a secret guard force protecting those important hiding away in plain sight. Incredibly cool world building going on here.

Keen Swimmers 2023 - A collection from last year mostly in AU territory and very tasty. Read the summaries and off you go!

Special Delivery - Very short and sweet, if you’re interested in the ship just trust me and click it.

Locked Rooms - Barbara lost her memory. She doesn’t know how and she doesn’t really know why either. All she does know is that whatever they are seem to be behind a locked door and that strange imagery is leaking into her dreams.

Alternate Universe

Dig your eight graves - It was only supposed to be a fun trek out for Halloween for the Arcadia kids, test out the set up and give feedback so the owner could improve them for when it would officially open the next year. Nobody could have predicted how it’d go so horribly wrong.

Content warning: This fic is marked Mature for character death, body horror, desecration of corpses and for being of the general slasher genre. Please check the tags before proceeding.

Between Daylight and Darkness - The Sunshine AU is back and it’s time for the team to go Trollhunting.So how many spanners can Jim being the nearest equivilent to a were-troll throw into the works of canon? Well hopefully nothing fatal...

Toby's Appointment - Sometimes you need to read very silly things and this is probably the funniest possibility you could find in the dentist waiting room.

The Grave of the Felled Forest - A boy and his familiar go to check out Merlin’s places of power/various stash spots to make sure all is still well. They are not anticipating visitors or his intent to be poked. Part of The Heart of Janus AU.

#Trollhunters #3Below #ToAWizards #ToA Wizards #Wizards #Rise of the Titans #Tales of Arcadia

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sorcerous-caress · 1 year ago

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AAHHH thank you thank you for answering my tiefling ask! Ardour is a pleasure! Could you write some more on him? Maybe about his fantasys?

Top 5 🔥HOTTEST🔥 fantasies that tiefling guys😈 keep secret from you😲? (GONE WRONG😱) (GONE SEXUAL!!🥵)

CLICK BELOW NOW👇👇👇👇👇👇

I'm happy you liked him, I'd love to talk more about him.

Worship kink / switch

He doesn't want to admit how much he admires humans in secret. All your beautiful inventions, the soul moving art and breathtaking architecture.

The temples you build for your gods that made all other races' temples obsolete in comparison. Humans are in high demand when it comes to the heavens. They make the most devoted paladins, the most overzealous clerics. The bread and butter of the whole holy ordeal, genuinely believing in the cause and ready to throw their life away for it.

Humans devotion is no joke, it outweights stars in its mass at times.

Ardour wants it all.

Dreams of it, fantasies about it. How docile and obedient you'd look kneeling before his throne, wearing the best armour with the most beautiful carvings. While at night you'd be clad in sinful outfits, silk barely hiding your intimate parts as you await him at his chambers.

Sadly, this isn't the medieval ages, and he can barely afford rent, let alone real silk.

No, he has his stupid lectures where stupid human professers passively explain lessons while he pays zero attention, getting distracted whenever they bend over or unbutton the top of their blouse.

It's so stupid. He has demon blood in him! He shouldn't be getting scolded for missing another assignment. They should be kneeling at his feet!

Yet humans hold all the authority positions in all cities. Human leaders, political figures, and army commanders. They have expanded so much that there is no corner on this earth where you could run to without bumping into a human thinking they can order you around.

What he hates the most, is that he's into it. As much as he dreams about being the one wearing the crown, the aching between his legs whenever he imagines you keeping him on a leash tells another story.

Fuck your kind is so cool. How did you come up with all of those ideas? How are you this creative? So brave and adventurous...so...preveted and ready to fuck anything with self awareness. Letting orcs breed you, allowing dragons to use your like fleshlights, seducing assimars and demons alike.

Why does he feel the need to please you whenever you're around? Why does he feel lesser and below you? Why does he enjoy it so much?

The way he scurries to fetch you a drink whenever you even hint at being thirsty, the way he priorities you over his studies and immediately asnwers your calls/texts.

He wants to be the dangerous tiefling making the naive human desperate for his attention, how the fuck did he end up being the one wrapped around your finger?

He failed a couple of exams when you booty dialled him at 3AM. because you were horny and even the thought of refusing felt like sin scorching his throat.

It annoys him.

All thoughts leave his brain the second you open the door, wearing nothing but a shirt, which makes the overpriced Uber ride here actually worth it.

It's like a switch flips in his brain and he immediately wants to serve you. Let him taste you, please please let him eat you out. He'll beg and cry if you want, he needs his sharp teeth biting up your thighs right now or he will lose his mind.

Ardour's mouth is the first to betray him in every scenario. Every lewd thought and preveted desire is spoken out loud between mouthfulls of cum he swallows down. Exposing how much he kept leaking in his pants during the ride here just by thinking about you, fisting his cock while describing how he saves every selfie you send him for jerk off material.

Degrading your kind, saying all humans are nothing but dumb sluts who need to learn their place whilst he's on his knees, grinding against your leg.

You pull him by the horns to shut him up by pushing his mouth against your wet heat.

Foot fetish

This one ties to the worship kink.

Is he ashamed of the fact a footjob gets him cumming in record time? Yeah, a lot actually.

But his brain doesn't have the capability of shame when he gets to kiss your ankles, forked tongue licking up and down your leg. The humiliation of the act itself is its biggest appeal to his libido, arousal pooling inside him as he holds your foot between his claws and digs against the skin.

Part of him wants to eat you alive. Gnaw at your flesh and bite to the bone of your meaty leg.

Fuck why are humans so plump?

So he settles for a taste, a show of submission. Your ankle is his favourite part to pay attention to, it's so fragile and easy to break. It's one of the weakest parts of the human body.

Each time he has his mouth on it, he can picture it crystal clear.

Biting down.

The crunching sound.

The fantasy makes him whimper against your feet, sucking harder on your skin. Lifting your leg up and kissing the sensitive area at the underside of your knee where the skin is the most sensitive. With each graze of his razor teeth against it, your heart skips a beat as primal fear mixes with arousal.

Ardour also likes the rough feeling of your heel grinding between his legs, be it you applying pressure on it or him grabing your foot and forcing it against his cock.

The leaking cum dripping down on your foot, leaving it all sticky and messy as he gets off on the disgusted look on your face. Looking down at him like he's an idiot, like he's a filthy fiend beneath you. He's tempted to lick the cum off of your foot clean just to be degraded more for how disgusting he is.

Does he have a folder on his phone exclusive to pictures of your bare legs? Of curious he does Doesn't.

Public sex

Despite all the loser stereotypes he falls under, he's actually someone who enjoys being in public.

...maybe a bit too much.

What matters is that he scoffs at the anti-social virgin incels who stay glued to their computer all day. No shit they can't find a date if they're busy gooning it out to pornbots on twitter, maybe touch some grass and get some bitches?

Is what he says when he goes out and attempts to flirt with humans in the area after paying for a full course flirting tutorial from a pick-up artist, watching a sigma motivational video on youtube, and asking for advice on reddit, in that order.

He fails. A lot.

After he scores you, it feels better than wining the lottery as he swears up and down that it was all the effort and lessons which helped him, definitely not just you taking pity on a rando in a dating app.

At least he stopped approaching strangers now. Other humans are hot duh, but he's not going to fucking fumble this bag by even insinuating he's interested in anyone other than you.

Even if another human approaches him, no thank you. He is locked on, he has you now, and the world will have to claw you out of his cold, dead hands!

So now, he brings you to the public instead. He can't afford expensive restaurants, so your dates consist of fast food joints, the park and...campus library? He has a subscription card there that he wants to use before it expires.

The dates start off as innocent enough, but you can't help but feel his glances increasing in frequency the more time goes on.

His touches start to linger. Ardour's tail swishing around before he suddenly wraps it around his leg as he stiffens.

He's getting hard in public.

It's just...you're sitting here all beautiful in front of him, how is he supposed not to get turned on?

Especially when all the other humans who pass by give the two of you a second look. They know you're with a tiefling from the way he's possessively sticking to your side. Ardour thinks about how they know you're together, fuck what if they imagine you two fucking? Everyone in here knows he's getting you gasping under him in bed.

At least in his brain.

"A tiefling and a human, how scandalous...for you."

"They probably think you're a whore for dating a fiend you know? Humans never liked my kind."

"My bite marks are still visible on your neck..come on don't hide them. I want others to see."

"That one scowled at me. Ha, she probably wonders if I'm manipulating you into sleeping with me."

You either take him to a bathroom and fuck him, or he'll start getting more bolder and shameless in front of everyone.

He won't fucking shut up.

Now the librarian is giving the two of you nervous glances.

Oh, he will take it as far as he can. Last time, his tail was busy flicking against your sensitive heat under the table while you struggled to order food. Another time, he was bold enough to pull you into his lap in the middle of the park, squeeze and fondle your chest while biting your neck.

Being seen in the public with you does something to his brain and makes it leak braincells alongside his regard for the law.

It's like it's his life mission to prove every bad stereotype about tieflings right, out of spite. Each time an elderly couple of elves scowl at him hugging you, he wants to fuck you in front of them and show them that there is nothing they can do.

They can think of him as filthy as they want, they can paint him to he a sinful devil as much as they want. Because. They. Can't. Do. Shit.

You chose him with all of his suppoded filth and sins. You chose to be with him and he wants to show the whole world how this human is willingly letting a tiefling fuck them, how humanity still repeats its mistakes of playing with fire.

The tree huggers should stay busy clutching their pearls and not get near his human.

Blood kink

....listen he doesn't mean to have that one. Like he genuinely doesn't even know why he has it, he's not even into any extreme kinks-

Okay that's just a bunch of lies.

You had a nosebleed one time, and he purposely was late in getting a tissue so it'd trickle down your lips and chin. He came back eventually but refused to hand it to you.

Instead, he dapped it under your nose while licking the blood up your chin and lapping at your lips. The metallic taste went down his throat like ambrosia as his tongue slipped between your lips, making you taste your own life essence.

His tail curled around you, clawed hands pulling you against him as the tissue fell to the ground. Blood dripping down again and mixing with the kiss Ardour's melting into.

You tasted as divine as he imagined. Some demons do enjoy the taste of souls. He's just a tiefling, so he doesn't have the faintest idea how to get one, let alone eat it, but your blood held a hint of life in it.

He's not going to drink your blood. He's not some vampire. Actually, he thinks he might need to visit emergency care if he does it.

It's just that he always wondered why infernal pacts were signed with blood. Why names were carved into flesh, why the hells had this obsession with the souls of the living.

But oh, now he understands.

He won't bite you. He's too much of a scaredy cat for that. Lowkey he thinks all humans are fragile things, and if he breathes too hard in your general direction, then you might collapse.

But if you happened to get a papercut, a nose bleed, a scrapped knee.

He's more than happy to be of assistant.

Lapping up at the wound with his forked tongue, moaning against your flesh as he savours the taste of your life escaping your vessels. Into him.

Fuck it's going inside him, he's literally taking your life.

Oh he's just being so mean, isn't he? He shouldn't do that to poor humans, he shouldn't find your taste this appealing.

The bloodline of Beelzabul pumps through his heart.

A beat

Faster

And faster.

He wants to eat you.

He won't. He can't. It's weird. Blood is gross.

But he is gross. He is already filthy and a creep, he's already labeled a sinner.

So why not worship at your shrine for forgiveness? He will grovel for repentance as much as you want, let you grind down on his cock with your heel as much as you like.

Just let him keep lapping at your wounds like a dog until they close and heal. Let him indulge in the heritage he should be ashamed of.

He is so so weak and the call of your flesh is so so sweet.

Horn pulling

Ardour is someone who takes extreme care of his horns. Like most tieflings, It's his pride and joy.

Various accessories to match his outfits, polishing and shining them to bring out their vibrant colours. He especially puts in more effort after the two of you start hanging out because of your clear affinity for them.

░M░Y░P░U░S░S░Y░I░N░B░I░O░🍆🍑💦

So why would he let anyone pull them? Isn't that counterproductive?

Have you ever built a wooden brick tower just to tear it down?

A sandcastle for the waves to wash away?

A beautifully wrapped present to tear open?

Just like you keep having to replace the clothes he keeps accidentally tearing with his claws from excitement, he too keeps making his horns presentable for you to ruin them time after time.

Starting slow, circling your fingerpads around the sharp tips. Squeezing it between your thumb and pointer and watching him shudder. Flicking it as his eyes go wide from the delicious vibration running down.

Wrapping your soft human hand around it, so chubby in comparison to his boney rigged hand. Feeling up and down his horns, giving him the pretense of safety as he fully embraces what's about to come.

You tighten your fist around it, tapping your nail against its hard surface.

A rough tug follows.

Ardour takes a sharp breath as his knees shake on the floor, his face buried in your lap with his arms wrapping under your knees.

You could go for hours and pull all kinds of embarrassing sounds out of him. Make him sing beautifully with his moans and whimpers as you sit dignified on the couch, toying with his horns while he's becoming a mess below.

It gets him to become loud in bed too, whenever he's drunk on the feeling of your insides squeezing his cock and you harshly pull on his horns. He's baring his teeth and looking feral at you, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth as you see the clear signs of hunger in his wide firely pupils amdist the black cornea.

You know he won't hurt it, you, but it's hard to convince your human instincts of that fact when his teeth look sharper than any scalpel. When he's slamming himself inside you of body like it's his only purpose.

When he won't stop babbling about how much of a puny human you are. Weak and helpless in comparison to him. How you either have a death wish or secretary are as much of a freak as he is to allow another species to fuck you like this.

You know his kind could devour you? The bad reputation of tieflings didn't fall out of the fucking sky for no reason. Every rumour held an ounce of truth in it.

All the stories they told you about the corruption bad evil race, the scary horned demon decadents.

Ardour's tail wrapping around to fit insides your wet hole, fucking you alongside his cock as you clench around it.

"Keep your grip on my horns, human. If you let go again, I might just eat you."

Sending you over the edge, tugging at his horns through your orgasm with desperation as his thrusts stutter from the intense way your insides spasm.

Pouring himself inside you, hot liquid filling you up as his tail slithers out of your used hole. Sticky and covered in his own cum.

He doesn't pull out. Intense gaze meeting your own as the tip of his tail nudges your lips, urging you to lick his mess up.

"Please." He pleads, all powerful a second ago and now nothing but meak and desperate. "Please, I want you to taste me....us. both of us."

Looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars, how could you refuse?

Collapsing on top of you afterwards. Cock being warmed by your insides and plugging you full. Ardour cuddles you closer, littering kisses up your neck.

He thanks you for being with him, letting him do this. Treating him...with warmth. The hells fire runs through his veins, and yet you're the warmest thing he has ever felt.

Falling asleep together, holding you tightly during the night.

Some fluffy facts to balance things out

Wonders how humans function without tails for balance or horns. Says your kind is clumsy because of it so it's his job to catch you if you trip.

If you meet another tiefling, you'd realise how much of an edgelord he is in comparison to how chill they are. He denies it and says all tiefling should be like him and stop pandering to humans by pretending to be goody two shoes. He says that while sitting with numb legs because his cat is sleeping on his lap and he refuses to move.

Actually, he knows infernal. It's a little broken, but he's trying his best between all the late night studying he has to do for his tests. His dream is to get a matching tattoo with you in infernal. Definitely tries using it during sex but gets embarrassed from his bad pronunciation and stops.

He loves human Halloween and thinks it's the best holiday ever. Who gives a shit about the pissed vampires saying it's weird for the humans to dress up like them? Really wants to do matching outfits with you.

On that note, you can easily convince him to cosplay. He had an anime phase as a teen but forced himself to stop in order to get into the "alpha sigma" mindest for college and pull cute humans.

Flames people in online games and is generally a very bad teammate, gets banned frequently. If you play with him, he becomes worse because he tries to show off to you but ends up ruining everything.

Thinks porn is for losers. he doesn't see anything wrong with having a folder of your saved selfies to jerk off to. Hey, it's not porn! At least his brain isn't rotted like those weirdos on human fetish forums.

What do you mean how does he know what that is? Uh...don't worry about it.

He's banned anyway.

But the idiots forgot to ban his alt so.

Actually watches the tiktoks you send him. Yes all of them.

his own fyp is filled with work 24/7 grindest ones that he secrelty hates but thinks they help him. Watching the entertaining ones you send him is actually the most fun he has on the app.

I'm sorry.

#♡Ardour #♡modern au human kink #♡human reader #♡human kink #♡dark content #♡smut #♡fluff #human x tiefling #dnd human kink #human kink #tiefling x human

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