#or suppressing it by showing a softer side of himself

[maomango-doodle]

A totally normal talk between siblings

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #millions knives #basically knives regurgitating his usual speech about how horrible humans are to get vash on his side #dude talks about equality but looks down (literally) on his brother #i think it's interesting how knives deals with his deep-seated anger and how he shows it #resorting to violence #or suppressing it by showing a softer side of himself #toootally not eerie after he's yelled and swung his knives everywhere #i tried to draw an action scene. my hand almost gave up ;;;; #can't believe i drew all of his silly lil knives one by one orz #same thing with his plant markings #dont tag this as kv pls #comic #shinxo comic #shinxo art

[angelltheninth]

Avatar boys/men and how they purr? I love your headcanons that they purr.

They should purr a lot. I demand it. I manifest it.

Pairing: Jake Sully, Neteyam, Lo'ak, Tsu'tey, Miles Quaritch, Aonung, Tonowari x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, size difference, purring, cuddling, tail shenanigans, sneaking around, kissing

A/N: Love all of them so much, let me hear them purring please Cameron.

JAKE SULLY

Jake felt odd purring when he first got his Avatar. It was a sound he was never supposed to make before and now he made it whenever you did something to him that he really liked or appreciated. There's normally really quiet purrs, but when he starts he's like a cat, purring even after you stop touching him, signaling he would like more of what you were doing.

NETEYAM

He isn't afraid to show his liking of you when you cuddle up and lay your head on his chest, with your arms wrapped around him and just sharing the events of the day. He knows how much you love hearing him purr, sometimes even falling asleep to the sound and feeling of his chest rumbling. So there's no reason for him to try and suppress it at all.

LO'AK

Only purrs when it's the two of you alone. And man when he does he is loud. He's almost embarrassed by it but he can hardly help himself. You kissing him, pulling him close by wrapping your arms around him and scratching at the base of his ponytail has him sounding like an engine. Not only that but it gets his tail to wrap around your leg, keeping you against him, secretly not wanting the moment to end.

TSU'TEY

While thought to be the type that doesn't purr at all, much more known for his growls and hisses of warning, he does, on rare occasion purr. They're very short and very low mind you, almost impossible to hear unless you're right next to him, which lucky for you, you are. He lets his guard down the most when you praise him, then you can expect an occasional purr that will turn into a growl as he tries to mask it.

QUARITCH

He'd do just about anything other then allow himself to purr in your presence. He can't let you know he's got a weak spot for you, he knows you'd tease him for it. And tease him you do. From the moment you first heard that deep, rumbly sound as you lay against him in bed you had to figure out new ways to get him to produce is again. Good luck is what he said to you and it's been your mission ever since.

AONUNG

There was no woman who ever got Aonung to purr until you came along. And many tied, he was popular after all. Maybe there was a part of him hoping for you to be the first one to hear it, the first one he could let his guard down around in that way. Even when you're at the bottom of the ocean you can feel him purring hard as he holds you close against him, waiting for you to do the same.

TONOWARI

As much as he is proud and sometimes harsh he does show his softer side to you. Not just when you're alone either. He knows that he's someone others look up to, he wants to show them what true love looks like. What better way then letting them know how comfortable he is around you, his chest rumbling, tail swishing and tapping behind him whenever you kiss him or wrap your hands around his arm while you walk or swim.

#avatar x reader #avatar x you #jake sully x reader #neteyam x reader #lo'ak x reader #tsu'tey x reader #miles quaritch x reader #aonung x reader #tonowari x reader #avatar the way of water #the way of water #jake sully fluff #neteyam fluff #lo'ak fluff #tsu'tey fluff #miles quaritch fluff #aonung fluff #tonowari fluff #x reader

[sachiko1309]

The Kings plaything - Part 1/2

Summary: After the dwarves have been captured, Thranduil decides to have a little fun with his wife, fulfilling his need to show of his greatest possesion.

Word count: 9223

Warnings: smut with plot, public fingering, exhibitionism, possessive Thranduil, Dom! Thranduil, sub! reader, slight hurt and angst because of something Thorin said, Minors DNI! This contains adult content

Pov Legolas:

The guards and I had captured the dwarfs that were mindlessly roaming through our lands. Right now, we had stripped them of their weapons and escorted them through the woods. Right before the big bridge that led towards the only door into Mirkwood, I stopped the parade, turning to look at the dwarves:

“You are now going to be brought in front of the king and his queen. Let me offer you some advice as to how to act in his presence. You bow when greeting him. You shall not speak unless asked to. Nor do you insult him or her majesty. And most importantly, don’t stare at her majesty.” I rattled down the points, but I was interrupted by the tallest dwarf, they addressed as their king: “Do not worry, none of us would want to see that disgusting elven pack of you anyway!”

Before I could even react, one of my guards already forced him to his knees, a blade against his throat. That seemed to enrage the others, a slight turmoil breaking out. I waited until my guards settled it, before I spoke again: “Careful of your words dwarf. She is the kings most precious possession. You do not want to anger him, by looking at her or insulting her even.”

One dwarf pressed himself through the ranks, until he stood right in front of me. He wasn’t reaching much above my waist and I had to suppress the instinct of kneeling down like I would do with a kid. “Why are we not to look at her?” He asked, nothing but curiosity filling his big brown eyes. I suppressed a laugh, still a small sly smile crossed my lips. “Things are run differently here. You will see for yourself.”

Then I just turned, not waiting for the dwarves to follow me. I knew my guards would simply force them to.

Pov Elanore:

I was sitting next to Thranduils throne beneath his feet on my pillow. It was my usual place between his legs, leaning against one of his thighs and relishing in his soft touches while covered in his cloak. Ever since I had married him some decades ago, we had slowly dipped more into showing our relationship openly. Knowing that the elves were a race loving their routines, the king openly showing his affection caused some stir. Especially, when that affection was interlaced with our power play.

But after a while the people had gotten used to it, even smiling a bit, when he softened around me. It wasn’t often for the king to show his softer side openly, but when he did, he usually did it for me. Legolas once thanked me, that I had brought his father out of his shell. Even though he did not quite understand our relationship, he accepted me as his father’s new wife, soon becoming my partner in crime when it came to wreaking havoc.

I never wanted to replace his mother and I told him so. Legolas didn’t seem to mind either way, soon starting to teasingly call me naneth and over time the name got stuck.  

A guard racing down the hall and stopping in front of us breathless, made me turn my head to look at him. He bowed deeply, his eyes quickly washing over my face, before he looked at the floor in front of him. It was common for the guards and common people to not look at me and after I had pressed Thranduil deeply on the matter, he had admitted to make it a general rule not to stare at me. His harsh demeanor the earlier centuries still sitting deeply, that most elves took it literally and refused to look at me. The only exceptions being Legolas and Tauriel.

“My king.” The guard started. “Your son and some guards have captured a group of 13 dwarves wandering our forest. They are now on their way to be brought in front of you.”

“Is that so?” Thranduil cued, caressing my hair with a soft growl in his voice. “How long are they going to take until their arrival?”

“Not long, my king. They have already made it to the gate.” The guard answered. Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “Thank you. You can leave now.” Waving the guard off, he looked down on me. “It looks like we are about to have guests, little ithil.” Then he opened his legs. “Join me on the throne. A queen must rule besides her king.”

Quickly getting up from my place, I sorted my dress to make it look more presentable. It was made out of thin silk, a soft blue touch to it. During the time I was staying in Mirkwood, I only wore my inside clothes, that Thranduil himself very carefully picked. The dresses he picked for me to wear were far from hiding my body. Rather the opposite. Their light and see through fabric accentuating my curves, doing nothing in hiding my breasts or core from other peoples eyes.

“I am not wearing anything appropriate.” I argued, trying my best to ruffle the dress to cover the dark circles of my nipples that clearly shone through the silk. “Nonsense, meleth. You are wearing just the right dress.” Thranduil said, stopping my hands and smoothing the fabric over my breasts. His soft touches to my nipple made me sigh in pleasure and he smiled. “You are my queen. Mine to protect and cherish. Whenever I am at your side, the world shall see what a beauty lies beneath those fabrics.”

Then he fidgeted with his pants, tying them lose and signaling me to sit on his lap. My eyes widened, when I saw him freeing his cock, that was already leaking precum. “No…” I whispered, but he just pulled me towards him. Simply spreading my legs, he pulled me on top of him so that I was straddling his lap, my back towards him. Beneath my heat, I could feel his cock stroking through my folds. “You are always so wet for me, melethril.” He groaned, taking my shoulder and pushing me down on his cock.

I yelped in surprise and the slight pain the stretch brought with it. But Thranduil didn’t react to it. He simple sorted my feet to dangle besides his thighs, so that I now had no leverage of pushing me up from the throne. “You will stay right here and warm my cock, you understand?” He growled into my ear, biting the skin of my neck right beneath it.

“Yes, my king.” I whispered, leaning back onto his chest. My actions made him chuckle slightly. “You are such a good little girl for me. All it takes is my cock inside of you and you are already forgetting your worries.”

Sorting the dress between my legs, he made sure the two cut outs were delicately laid out to show my legs. Reaching up to my hips and slightly my waist the fabric closed again, just the edges of my hipbones peaking through. A dark blue leather belt securing the dress around my waist and keeping the fabric tight around my chest to not only show my hard nipples through it, but also prevent my breasts from falling out of my cleavage.

What I did not expect was Thranduil sneaking his right hand beneath the fabric of my legs, putting his fingers on my clit. With slow movements, he collected some of my slick that had run out of my core, spreading it over his fingers and my pearl. I couldn’t help myself but moan out his name. “Yes, my little petal. Let them hear you.” Thranduil whispered cockily in my ear and I clasped a hand in front of my mouth, which he quickly took away again. “Oh no, my sweet darling. You are my queen. You do not hide.”

“But you cant just…” My argument was shut down by another moan rolling off my lips, this time a bit quieter, but still clearly hearable for elven ears. “I can and I will.” Thranduil retorted. “I am the king. I can do with my plaything whatever I want and whenever I want it. Not even you will keep me from it.”

I wanted to say something, but the faint thrumming of several pairs of feet made me bite my tongue, trying my best to keep my face straight even though Thranduil had not stopped his soft touches on my core. He was not moving inside of me and thanked the spirits for it, as I would not have been able to keep quiet otherwise. I knew it was obvious for everyone what was happening on the kings throne, but none of the guards reacted openly, even though I thought to have seen some smirks quickly cross their faces.

My dress didn’t do much to hide my growing arousal, my nipples hard and stiff against the silk, Thranduils rings still glittering through the fabric between my legs. And to my dismay, he brushed his free hand over my breasts, making my head roll back onto his shoulder. “That’s it, gilgalad. Feel me.” He cued into my ear, kissing my neck and my cheek. “I will make you come and you will let me, understand?”

“Yes, my king.” I yelped out, closing my eyes at the tingly feeling, that started to slowly build inside of me. With another flick of his fingers, he made me twitch around his cock, growling slightly. “Just like that, darling.” Then his attention shifted from me towards the dwarves that stomped through the halls. Even though they were almost half the size of the elves, their steps were loud and unflattering to the ear, making me shiver and clench my jaw at the interruption.

Thranduil of course noticed, kissing my ear. “They should have taken of their shoes. But then again, I can just make them stop walking. The smell on the other hand I cant control.” I chuckled at his words, my shaking body causing his cock to hit my sweet spot deep inside of me. I yelped, biting my tongue. The hot feeling inside of my body suddenly becoming more prominent.

“Adar.” Legolas voice ripped me out of my fogged up brain and I looked at him. A smile crept on his lips, as he shamelessly stared between my legs. I tried to close them, but Thranduil kept me in place with a slight slap on my clit. I hissed out, clenching around his cock in revenge. But unlike me, the king did not react besides a slight tilt of the head.

“Legolas.” He greeted his son, shuffling a bit on this throne to look at the group in front of us properly. “I see you have brought guests.”

“They were wandering around in the forest. We saved them from being killed by spiders.” Legolas explained, still not taking his eyes away from me. He knew it was a dangerous game to play, but being the son of Thranduil he obviously grew up to be as cocky. His father did also notice his staring, raising an eyebrow. “Something else, you want to add?”

Just like his father, Legolas tilted his head the same way. “Nothing of important matter.” A sly grin on his lips, he leaned against a pillar behind him. Thranduil just scoffed, slightly speeding up the movements of his fingers. He turned his attention towards the dwarves and I could feel him suck in a deep breath.

“Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór king under the mountain.” He greeted the tallest dwarf, who immediately puffed his chest, looking him straight in the eyes. “King Thranduil.” Came the short answer, a suppressed anger in the dwarfs voice. Thranduil did not openly react to it, just letting his left hand delicately brush over my nipples again. Taking the left one between his fingers, he tugged on it, making me involuntarily moan out.

“Tell me dwarf. What is the matter of your visit?” He asked, not even caring to look at the other man, studying my face as it contorted in pleasure. The answer that followed would have cost the dwarf his head, would it not have been for me to sit on Thranduils lap: “We came to seek aid, because unlike you, we have much more important things to do than pleasure a little mistress.”

Immediately two guards had the dwarf on his knees, dragging him closer to the throne, while the others aimed their weapons at the group. “Watch your mouth, scum. This is the queen you are talking about.” One guard growled, harshly tilting Thorins head back, so he was forced to look at the king. Thranduil just smiled one of his arrogant but angry smiles: “What would your people know of pleasuring a woman? Clearly there is not much desirable about your kin.”

And while he was reprimanding the dwarf in front of him, he once again sped up his finger play on my core. The other hand now openly gripping my breasts, tugging on my nipples, until I couldn’t help myself but become a moaning and shivering mess on his lap. The people in front of me faded out of my brain, my focus only on the kings touches and his cock sheathed deep inside of me.

Warm desire, syrupy and all-consuming, filled my stomach. Lust clouding my thoughts. He made it difficult for me to do more than groan, desperate for his touch, as the anxiety I had felt dissipated with each swipe of his fingers. I didn’t care where I was and who was all watching me slowly but surely come undone in the king’s lap. My mind was way too fogged up with the tingly feeling that started to spread from my center towards every string in my body.

I closed my eyes, my head lulling back onto Thranduils shoulders, nails gripping his arm. “Oh god, please. This feels so good.” I moaned, my voice slurred and shaky. The only thing I could focus on was the searing warmth between my legs. Time seemed to still as everything but this, everything but being filled to the brim, ceased to exist. I was tumbling closer to the edge, as my cries were reduced to nothing more than his name. Thranduil didn’t seem to mind one bit either, every cry that left my lips spurring him on further.

“I got you.” Thranduil promised, pressing me impossibly closer to his chest. He pushed me higher and higher, not caring about anything else than my pleasure. Forcing my head back to look at him, I gasped at the sudden possessiveness that overruled everything in him. I could see it in his eyes. They were dark and blown with lust, trained on my face, taking in every twitch of my expression, feeding his arrogance with it.

And then it happened. I barreled over the edge, vision turning black at the edges and lips parting. Thranduils mouth met mine, swallowing my cries of pleasure, noises he knew would still be ringing undeniably loud through the halls. His actions drew a gasp from my lips, the warmth of my orgasm searing through me from within as I clenched around his cock. That had him nipping at my bottom lip in a warning, though a lazy grin betrayed him. “Watch it, nin iell.” He teased. “You don’t want to end it that quickly do you?”

“No!” I yelped, tugging his hand away from my center as I could feel the overstimulation turning unbearable. “Good girl.” Thranduil growled behind me. “Because you take what I give you, like the good little slut you are, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, my king.” My voice was shaky, barely above a whisper and he took it as a sign to let go of me. Just holding me at my hips, he turned to look at the kneeling dwarf before him. “Excuse me. What was it that you wanted?” The sheer arrogance, that laced his words was filling the air, dripping onto the floor, and poisoning everything it touches. Thorin took a deep breath, clearly biting down the words he wanted to say. “Aid, my king.” He repeated between gritted teeth, shaking the hands of the elven guards from his shoulder and standing back up.

Thranduil leaned himself to the side, gently resting his chin on his fingers, as he watched the dwarves. “Some may imagine that noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive. Attempted burglary, or something of that ilk.”

Thorin did not say anything, but his lips twitched slightly, obviously not going unnoticed by my husbands eyes. Thranduil, tapped my hip, before he simply heaved me from his lap, making me stand in front of him as a shield. After he had sorted himself, he stepped down the stairs, while I took my seat in his throne, cuddling into his warm cloak, watching the interrogation unfold in front or my eyes.

Thranduil stopped besides Thorin, leaning down on his eye level. “You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you. The right to rule. The kings jewel. The Arkenstone” His words made Thorin look aside, while Thranduil slowly stepped back, stopping in front of me, his eyes still fixated on Thorin. Keeping on talking, he slowly entangled the plan of the dwarves. “It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that.” Looking at me with a smile.

“There are gems in the mountain, that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help.” Thranduil bowed his head. That made Thorin chuckle: “I am listening.” Immediately my husband stone changed, growing darker, a slight threat in his voice: “I will let you go. If you but return what is mine.”

Thorin turned, walking to the edge of the platform. “A favor for a favor.” And I could hear he did not trust one thing Thranduil was saying.

“You have my word.” My husband pressed on. “One king to another.”

“I would not trust Thranduil the great king to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us.” Thorin turned around, pointing a finger at my husband, before he started yelling again. “You lack all honor. I have seen how you treat your friends. We came to you once. Starving, Homeless. Seeking your help. But you turned your back. You turned away form the suffering of my people in the inferno that destroyed us. Imrid amrâd ursul!”

I gasped, as I heard Thorin wish a fiery death upon my husband. Jumping from my seat, I was about to yell at him, but Thranduil raised his hand, my light elven feet clearly too loud for his ears. Taking a step towards Thorin, he bent down once again. “Do not speak to me about dragon fire. I know its wrath and ruin.” Knowing what he was about to do, I balled a fist, gripping tightly at his cloak, when I watched him reveal his scar. I could only see the outer edges that covered his chin.

“I have faced the great serpents of the north.” Thranduil pulled back, stepping closer to me. His whole demeanor changed. Was it before slightly arrogant but still willing to help. It was now hard and hateful. Something he rarely let me see. Still keeping his voice in check, he walked towards the stairs, giving me an apologetic look before turning back to Thorin. “I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon. But he would not listen.”

Thranduil slowly walked up the steps and I shuffled to stand up, but he just signaled me to stay seated. Taking his stand next to me, hands clasped behind his back. “You are just like him.” Then he waved his arms. The guards immediately jumping to action, grabbing the dwarves. “Stay here if you will and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. I am patient. I can wait.”

The guards were about to drag the dwarves of, when I rose from my seat. “Wait.” All action stopped, the dwarves looking at me with wide eyes. Slowly, I made my way down the stairs, stopping in front of Thorin. In comparison to Thranduil he looked tiny, but when I stood next to him, he reached up to my eyes. Looking me straight in the eyes, he challenged me by tilting his head. “Look at that. Thranduils little pet, decides to come to our aid. We do not need your help, woman.” He spat directly in front of me, missing my feet by mere inches.

“Careful of your words, dwarf. I am currently the only one between you and my husbands wrath.” I smiled, mimicking my husband as good as possible. It did not seem to help anything, as Thorin just chuckled. “Are you sure you are not a dwarf yourself? You barely outgrew me.”

“I am an elf.” I said, clenching my jaw. “And only a fool would underestimate his opponent that greatly. Are you perhaps a fool, dwarf?”

“I am no fool!” He yelled out and I couldn’t help but chuckle: “Oh my apologies. Your latest actions must have misled me.” Sighing I stepped around him, taking a closer look at the rest of the group. “You really should take my husbands offer. A small chest of white stones in exchange of an army. That is a small prize to pay, considering the wealth of that mountain.” The rest of the dwarves had agreeing looks on their faces, but none of them dared to speak up against their leader.

“Why are you so set on getting those stones? Is you wardrobe not full enough?” Thorin gritted out, the hate still very prominent in his face. I waved him off. “Ah, I do not care about jewels…”

“Your clothes speak different, woman.” He spat out, interrupting me. Slowly I was getting angrier at his antics, twirling around on my heels. But Thorin wasn’t finished making fun of me: “You walk around this realm. Clothed in nothing more than what can be called an excuse of clothing. A tease to everyone’s eyes and yet, your king enables it by ordering everybody to shy away their gaze. And still, everyone is able to see your form, covered in gemstones from head to toe and you dare to claim not to care about jewels? I bet you even have them stuck up your womanhood. That’s how greedy you are for them!”

“Take his head!” Thranduils voice thundered through the halls. His words making everyone gasp out in fear, the guards holding him, now forcing him down, a blade on his throat, ready to cut it at my command. I just raised my hand to stop them. “I do not need to answer your foul accusations, dwarf. But if you may know, those stones and dresses are a gift of my husband. I wear them, to please his eye and only his. As for his orders, I have asked him to at least loosen the punishments, and for our people he has. But you are an outsider. Clearly not able to respect a woman, so why should you be allowed to set eye on her?” Stepping closer to him, I looked him deep into the eyes, before carrying on: “And for those white stones. They were an heirloom of his late wife. They hold great worth to him.”

Thorins lips contorted into a wicked grin. “An heirloom of his late wife. Look at that. The second one defending her husband. To blind to see, he will never love her the way he did with his first. Tell me how does it feel to always be second? To always be reminded of the woman he lost? The mother of his son?” That’s when it snapped in me.

I slapped him across the face, my eyes squinted in anger and I had to physically hold back my voice to not yell at him: “I have given you another chance. Offered you a way out. And yet you stand here, still spitting on the help we offer. Spitting on Legolas mother. There is no competition between us. I know he loved her with all his heart and there is still love in there for her, but that does not dull his love for me. I can see that you are bitter. Too bitter to see the good around you. Your people will die because of your wrathful greed. You lead them into death by dragon fire just because you are to arrogant to accept help. I might not have met many dwarves, but you, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, king under the mountain are clearly the most arrogant and hateful one.”

Then I looked at the guards. “Finish my husbands order. Take them to the dungeons. Let them rot.” Turning on my heels again, I made my way away from the throne. One the one hand to give my mind peace and to hid the tears that were about to form in my eyes. Thorins words had hit dead center. I knew I should not doubt Thranduils love for me, but still. A part of me, was contemplating whether he was still hanging on his late wife or not. I did not really look where I was going, letting my feet carry me through the kingdom halls. The tears had now pressed themselves to the surface, rolling down my cheeks in big paths and making my vision blurry.

When I stopped, I realized I was in my old chambers. The one I had moved into centuries ago, when I stumbled into Mirkwood by accident. Originally, I was an elf of Imraldis. Elronds cousin to be exact, but I wanted to see the world before I was to marry. My path bringing me into the woods of Mirkwood. What I did not know, was the severity of the spiders. Underestimating the danger, I soon found myself surrounded by five of them, a venomous bit in my left shoulder. I must have passed out, because the next thing I remembered was Legolas and another elf leaning over me and caring for my wound.

After I had healed, I was brought before the king. He offered me shelter and I had taken his offer gladly. Not knowing who I was, I simply took a role as a soldier of Mirkwood, going on patrol with Legolas to keep the borders safe. It took several years, before Elrond had figured out where I went. With the cause to bring me back, he stormed into the halls, demanding to know why the king would let his cousin do such a dangerous job. Thranduil not knowing let to a big fight between the normally very close elves. And after I had refused to go home with Elrond, I was taken from my patrol and sorted to do the more strategic part of military tasks. My new role forcing me to work closer with the king and slowly we became friends. That friendship turned into love and Thranduil started to court me until we finally got married.

I was too caught up with my tears and the memories streaming into my brain, that I did not hear the footsteps approaching me from behind. So, when a hand touched me, I whirled around ready to fight. Btu strong arms held me close, the strong smell of pine, red berries and a hint of frozen mint entangling me, announcing the person holding me as my husband. “Shhh don’t cry, meleth. Please. There is no need…”

“No need?” I yelled, tripping over my own words. “He read my like a book just by looking at me. Every word of his is true!”

“Not all of them.” Thranduil calmly stated. It made me reel out in wicked laughter, the tears streaming down my red cheeks before dropping onto my chest. “Oh spare me. I know you love your late wife. You always had and you always will. I am merely a distraction for you, one you grew to love the image of rather than the truth.”

“Meleth…” He started, but I just stepped out of his hold. “No, Thranduil. Don’t call me that ever again.” My words visibly made him angry, but he held back, letting me speak my mind: “We have lived a lie. A dream. Me too blind to see and you to torn by your feelings to understand the truth. You long for your late wife everyday. That’s why you keep distracting yourself with dressing me up, so that you don’t have to look me in the eye and see I am not her. And I let you do it. To stupid to see the poison it brought to my body, believing it was just your way of loving me.”

“That’s what you think?” His voice was quiet. A slight tremble to it.

“I know it is.” I simply answered, not daring to look at him.

“So, you want this to end? Just because a bitter dwarf told you to?” He asked, angrily taking of his crown and throwing it against the wall. It splattered into thousands of tiny pieces, scattering around the floor. “That’s how much I love you. I would give up all of this, to be with you. Why don’t you see that?” He started to take of his jewels, throwing them against the wall as well. And with every piece of stone that shattered, a piece of my heart broke, until I couldn’t help myself but sink to my knees.

He was by my side immediately. “Listen to me, bereth. As it might be true, that I deeply loved my wife and that I still hold her very dearly. It means nothing compared to you. She is the mother of my child. You are the light of my life. I love you with all my heart and I want to spent eternity with you. Don’t listen to the words of that dwarf, as he knows nothing about love.”

I was still doubtful. The words of Thorin still present in my ears. “You just say that to keep me as your wife.”

Thranduil rose back to his feet, now angrily pacing through the room. “If its that what you want, we shall separate. I cannot divorce you because of our social standing. But I shall leave you be. You will be cared for and every wish shall be fulfilled, but I will never bother you again.” He forced his hands through his hair, making it all messed up, before he looked at me again: “I do not say things lightly and you know that. I have lived thousands of years to see people fall in and out of love. And if you are… Then so shall it be.”

There he was again. The cold king I had met centuries ago. The stiff shell of what he once was, hiding behind power and coldness. It broke my heart seeing him like that and the pull I felt inside of me, made me realize how wrong I was about him. About us. Before he could turn to leave, I sprung to my feet, grabbing his hand. “I am sorry.”

He stilled in his movements, tilting his head to look at me, his gaze harsh and unmoving. “I am sorry.” I repeated. “I was not thinking clearly… Thorins words… They were so hard, so… real. It made my mind underestimate your love for me. Please forgive me, herven. I… I always fear you will leave me one day. Realizing it meant nothing for you. And when he said that… It all became so real, so true. I could not bear the thought of you leaving me, so I fled. Making myself believe that if I were the one to decide, it would not be so harsh on my mind.”

A soft smile crept up his lips, before he took me in a long and warm embrace, wrapping his cloak around us both. “Oh, you stupid little girl. Why did you not tell me about your fears? I would have done more to show you otherwise.”

“Don’t call me a little girl.” I grumbled against his chest, hitting him with my fist. That only caused him to laugh out loud. “But you are. Merely overtaking dwarfs by half a head. Just a little more than a decade older than my son.”

“That is only shining a bad light upon you. Grooming an elleth that is the age of your child. You should be arrested for sacrilegious acts.” I teased, slowly gaining my confidence back. I looked up, only to be met with Thranduils love sick blue eyes watching me intently. At my words he raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? I believe you should stop me then. Or do you perhaps relish in the way I am corrupting you?”

I was speechless. My mouth opening and closing without the words coming out. My brain was mushy, melting under his strong gaze. That only seemed to spur him on even more. “Are you falling out of words, pîn iell?” Letting his hands slowly graze down my body until they reached my thighs, he lifted me up. Out of instinct I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling the bulge of his pants pressing against my core. His expression turned smug, when he saw my nipples again peaking through the thin fabric. “You don’t have to say it. Your body speaks enough.”

With that he carried me out of the room, but we didn’t get far, as he crashed us into the next wall, his lips feverish on mine. I sighed deeply, when I felt him press against me as desperate as I was. Letting my hands wander through his hair, I pulled on the strands that normally were very orderly sorted on his head. But now I had turned them into a mess. “Thranduil…” I moaned, pressing myself even closer to him.

“I got you, meleth. I am here. You are safe.” He groaned against my lips.

“Bed.” I breathed out and he chuckled. “Which one? Ours or just any bed?”

“I hate you.” I said, leaning my face against his chest to hide the blush creeping onto my cheeks. He took my chin into his hand, softly turning it, so that I had to look him into the eyes. His blue orbs were burning with desire and lust, making me speechless. “I am the king. I own every bed in this realm. So, if you should ever desire something else than ours, you shall have it. Besides. I would not mind fucking you on any bed or surface. By Valar, I would even fuck you in front all of my people to show how much I love you.”

“I figured.” I retorted, cockily. “What even was that back in the throne room? I know you are a possessive man, but that was something new. Even for you.” He smirked, tilting his head. “How do you thing I have managed to stay sane over all those years? A creature living this long needs to be creative to make life worth living.”

“Mhm. Sure. And now what's the truth?” I asked, not falling for his sly answer. “I was just incredible horny for my wife.” He whispered into my ear, causing goosebumps to erupt on my skin. “So horny, that you would bring me to an orgasm in front of our guests?” I breathed, holding onto his shoulders. “Yes.” Was all he said, before he pressed his lips onto mine once again.

A scattering sound made us flinch apart, only to see a young servant standing in the middle of the hall, a load of books spread to his feet. “My king, my queen.” He bowed deeply, before he sunk to his knees to grab the books. “I am so sorry for interrupting, I did not intent to walk here, but I got lost on my way back to the library. Please forgive me.”

Quickly I shuffled out of Thranduils hold, kneeling besides the servant. I helped him sort his books, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Its alright. You are new, are you not?”

“Yes, your majesty. I am a new scribe in the library.” He didn’t dare to look at me, his eyes trained onto the books. I sighed deeply, wondering what the older elves had told him would happen if he were to look at me. “You know you can look me into the eyes.” I chuckled, ignoring the low huff of my husband behind me.

“I am not to look at the queen. That’s what I have been told by Cabron.” He answered. “He said I would be thrown into the dungeon where my eyes would be poked out and I was to rot to death.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Do not fear me or the wrath of my husband. Cabron is a very… lets say teasing ellon. He was just messing with you. The rule is not to stare at me, looking me in the eyes, when I speak with you is fine.”

“Its not.” Thranduil grumbled behind me, but I shushed him. “Don’t listen to him. He is particularly grumpy today, as he had a run in with dwarves.” Then I stepped next to him. “If you want to the library, you walk down that corridor, take the first left turn, follow the path to the end and then turn right. After that you should be close enough to the library to know.”

The servant bowed again. “Thank you, your majesty.” Then he ran off the way I described to him. Looking at Thranduil, I raised an eyebrow. “Look at what you are doing to the young ellons. The older elves might understand your words in their meaning, but they are using it to torment the young ones.” He didn’t seem to be bothered one bit. “What a shame…” Slowly stalking towards me, a grin spread over his face. “That makes me think of something I said earlier.”

“And what would that be?” I asked breathless, fleeing backwards from my husband. The grin on his lips turning more wolfish with every step he took. “I shall take you where anyone can hear you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” I shrieked; my eyes wide in shock.

“Oh, and how I would. And I will teach that scum of a dwarf a lesson.” He stopped his prowl, looking at me as if he was thinking about something. And then he yelled at me: “RUN!”

Before I even completely comprehended his words, my body reacted to his command. Gathering my skirt, I turned on the spot, fleeing down the hall, Thranduil hot on my heels. I was giggling like a little child, as I raced through the kingdom. Elves forced to jump aside, looking after us, as we passed them. Soon I was caught between a stone wall, the cliff of a path just above the dungeons and Thranduil blocking my only way out. Trying my best to catch my breath, I leaned against the wall, forcefully slowing my breathing. Then realization dawned on my face: “You routed me here…”

“I did.” There was no regret in his voice, the sly smile still present on his lips. His shoulders were heaving in big breaths, the fabric of his tunic stretching across his chest and arms as he flexed them against the wall. Slowly stalking towards me, he forced me deeper into the dungeon, until my back hit the wall. I looked to the side and down the cliff. Beneath me, I could see the dwarves being captured in their cells. Thorin looking right back at me.

He was about the same height we were currently at, the others of his company below us or him, unable to see what was happening. That didn’t keep them from listening. “Thorin. What's going on up there.” A young voice called out. Thorin’s face contorted, as he answered. “Nothing, Kili. Just the elven king giving into the desire of his flesh once more.”

“What does that even mean?” Kili asked, another voice, very similar to his answered him: “It means the elven king is about to fuck his wife just above you, you moron.”

“Fili!” Thorin thundered, but I couldn’t help but laugh. Even Thranduil had a sly smile on his lips, securely hidden from the dwarves.

“It seems like you have pulled our guests attention, nin iell.” He cockily said and I knew that he was staging a play. Tilting my head, I played along: “Good thing you are here to prevent me from any more danger.”

“Indeed.” He said, letting his eyes shamelessly run over my body. Then with one big last step, he closed the distance between us, picking me up once more. “Thranduil!” I yelped out, clutching at his arms and wrapping my legs around him. He tightened his arms around me, pressing me against the wall. It caused me to make a soft noise, something between a moan and a purr.

Thranduil grinned wolfishly, as one hand wandered from my face, down my shoulder, gripping the belt of my dress. And with one sharp tug, he ripped it from my body. I gasped at his sudden show of violence, the dress falling open. It was one of his favorite dresses. Basically, one long piece of fabric cut into two strands one side up to the middle. To wear it, I simply laid the two strands above my body, while the single strand covered my back. Then I wore a belt to safely secure it around my waist, sorting the fabric over my chest. Now those two strands were flaring widely open, only held between my legs.

Letting the belt fall to the ground, Thranduil gripped the fabric of the dress, slowly pulling it out between us, before he disregarded it onto the floor as well. Now I was naked, my back pressed against the cold stone wall.

“Please.” I begged, making the elf before me hoarsely chuckle, his teeth were grazing my earlobe, biting it gently.

“Please, what?” He asked as he pulled away, his eyes now dark with lust and desire.

“Please touch me.” I breathlessly whispered. It was all he needed. Without wasting any second, his lips captured mine, locking them in the most passionate and fiery way he could muster. The feeling of his lips against mine was enough to knock the air out of my lungs, not to mention the force of his tongue inside my mouth, it was enough to have my mind reeling.

He gently put me down, leaning me against the wall, as he knelt in front of me. Spreading his cloak on the floor to give some warmth from the cold stone. Patting the fabric in front of him, he looked at me with the uttermost desire I had ever seen a man look at me with. Fully aware of Thorins eyes upon me, I walked around Thranduil, taking my place on the ground beneath him. A sly grin on his lips, he shuffled between my legs, throwing one last glance to the dwarf watching us, before he simply dove down.

“Oh my GOD!” His tongue traced my clit lightly, barely giving much stimulation, but even that was enough to make my legs starting to quiver.

While his tongue tracing my clit felt absolutely amazing, nothing prepared me for feeling his tongue tracing along my soaked slit, before delicately prodding inside of me. “Melethron!” I shrieked out, his tongue trailing back to my clit before I felt his finger slowly enter my core. He raised his mouth from my center, looking me straight into my eyes. “By Valar, how I love this.” His voice was nearly a growl. “And by all what is mighty, I will never stop worshipping it.”

He was passionate about pleasing me, humming at my skin. Making sure to wait for me to relax, welcoming the pleasure rather than being surprised by it, before he slowly started to thrust the single digit in and out of my core. I tossed my head back, gripping the fabric of his cloak at the feeling of his long fingers reaching parts of me that I could never reach myself.

“Fuck!” I yelped out, his finger finding the perfect spot inside of me, curling to massage it gently and bringing me closer to the edge. My walls pulsating in rhythm with his thrusts, the wet and messy sounds of my pleasure filling the room. I felt him moan, even more as he brought his free hand up my chest, pinching and pulling my nipple before switching to the neglected breast, simultaneously adding a second finger. 

I cried out for him. “I’m so close, please don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” My back began to arch off the ground, as his ministrations went on, his fingers pounding into my core as his lips continued to suck eagerly at my clit. “Oh my…” I rasped, my voice hoarse and thin. “Thranduil!” I yelled, as my orgasm washed over me all the sudden. Riding it out, as he refused to cease his actions on my body until I couldn’t take any more and had to pull him away.

“Oh, how I love seeing you like this. All ready for me.” Thranduil snickered, his eyes trained on the spot between my legs. I could feel my wetness slowly dripping out of my core, running down onto his cloak. “To bad, a certain dwarf had to interrupt me fucking you on my throne. Making you the queen you were born to be. I would have fucked my seed so deep inside of you. Taking you until you are begging for me to stop.  Making you a crying mess for everyone to hear. And then I would have carried you back to our chambers, my cum leaking out of your pretty little pussy.”

I whined at his words, my body instinctively arching. “You are so needy for me. My beautiful little slut.” Playing with my folds, he pulled another moan from my lips. Forcing them into me, he curled them once more, finding my sweet spot just so easily, reaching places I couldn’t reach myself. “This pussy belongs to me, you hear me?”

“Yes.” I breathed out, my voice high pitched from the pleasure he was once again granting me.

“Yes what?” He snarled, his blue eyes squinting with a slight threat that shot the heat right between my legs.

“Yes, my king.” I mewled. “Please. I need you. Please…” Sounding like a needy child, I cried out for him, spreading my legs further to coax him in. He stopped moving his fingers inside of me, slowly pulling them out. “Do it again. Beg for it. I know you want to.”

“Thranduil…” My moan was reflected by the walls, traveling through the halls up to the throne room. “Please, my king. I need you. I want you to take me. Make me your queen, please…” Without a warning, he lined his cock up with my entrance, bottoming out in one go. I yelped at the pain of being stretched so suddenly, but it soon subsided, when he started his slow and passionate pace. He wanted to take his time. Relish in the moment.

I was a quivering mess beneath him. My eyes rolling back into my head, lips hanging open, hands gripping at everything they felt. He growled above me, causing my eyes to snap open. Like a ravenous predator, his eyes captured mine. A desire burning inside of them that only he could produce. “Please…” I whimpered once again, now completely pushed into submission by his demeanor. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. Then he turned my head towards the cliff. “Look at him.” Thranduil ordered and I opened my eyes, seeing Thorin stand in his cell. His hands harshly gripping the metal rods of the door.

Thranduil tapped my lips with his fingers and I obediently opened my mouth, taking his long digits down my throat. I choked on their length, but forced down the gag reflex. “Hands above your head.” He ordered and I quickly moved them where he wanted them. His response was taking them into his big hand, the pace switching from slow to a more moderate speed, knocking the air out of my lungs.

My head hung back, my lips being parted by his fingers, drool running down my cheeks, as I gave myself to him. The searing heat returning, starting between my legs and slowly burning its way through every fiber of my body. Soon my moans were accompanied by his groans, the sound of him growling my name and cursing in elvish dragging me towards the edge in record speed. I tried to ask for more, but his fingers restrained me from forming a coherent sentence. With a knowing grin, he let go of my mouth, looking at me challengingly: “What is it, nin iell?”

“M… More.” I moaned out. “Please. I need more.” He hummed at my request, bending down to kiss me. “Hmmm. My little petal. So eager to be fucked. Wishing to be ruined by her king.” He murmured between kisses, smothering every inch of my body he could reach. Unable to even process his words, he caught me by surprise, when he took my right leg and threw it over his shoulder, the space now enabling him to pound into me even deeper.

“Thranduil!” I cried out, twitching beneath him and trying to get away from his harsh thrusts. His cock hitting me deeply and perfectly on my sweet spot, to an extend that I wasn’t sure if it was still pleasure that shot through my body. “This was what you requested, was it not?” He cued and I couldn’t help but mewl. “It is what you begged me for. To give you more, isn’t that right, gilgalad?”

Trying my hardest to answer him, I opened my lips, bit my sentence got ripped away by the sudden moan that rushed through my lips. Even though I was staring at my husband, I wasn’t really able to focus on anything in particular. All my attention laying on the feelings he freed deeply in my body. “There… Please…” My words were slurred and hasty, my brain drunken from the pleasure overtaking my body. “Here?” He cockily asked, repeating the exact movement that had me reeling in a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation. “Or perhaps here?” Dragging his free hand over my body, he pinched my nipples hard, before he let his fingers wander lower. Circling my clit with soft little touches, he watched me, as I fell apart.

Searing hot the fire rushed through my veins. I tried to warn him from my upcoming orgasm, but my body was faster than my mind. My walls clamping down around his cock, I shakily came undone beneath him, the cry of his name ringing through the halls and echoing in the distance. A string of elvish curse words left my husband, my hip now marked in a new red bruise of his hand. But he didn’t falter in his thrusts. Relentlessly pounding into me, knowingly overstimulating me in the chase of his own release.

“I… Cant… Please… cant…” I cried out, but he cut me off with a hand around my throat. “Take it.” He growled. “I know you can. Be a good girl for me and take my cock.” His eyes were burning dark, the wild lust flaming through his pupils. And then he squeezed my throat, watching me, as my eyes rolled back into my head once more. The cry of his name, caught in my throat, my body overshooting with bliss and a blinding fire.

Trembling. That’s what I was able to do and not much more. My frame buried beneath the king, as he captured my swollen lips with his, only giving me short allowances of air. My vision got blurry, a tingly feeling spreading through my limps and I nearly missed the second wave of hot pleasure racing through my body. Thranduil of course noticed by the way my walls were gripping him once more. “Come.” He demanded. “Come for me again.”

It was all I needed to hear, when he let go of my throat, supporting his weight on both of his arms, letting go of my hands. Shattering around him a second time, I gripped his shoulders, pressing myself against his frame to find something to ground me against the violent shivers that overtook my body. It was blinding and breathtaking, as I released the blistering heat in my body with a cry of his name, that was surely heard in all Mirkwood.

I barely noticed him being brought to his own release, the stuttering pulse of my walls, finally pulling him over the edge as well. A growl on his lips, he captured my mouth with his, forcing me into a heated and passionate kiss. The once harsh and fervent snaps of his hips melted into soft bucks, rolling against my core until he slowly came to a stop.

It took him a few moments to find his composure again, but when he did, he slowly pulled out of me and I couldn’t help myself but curse. “I am sorry, meleth nin.” He whispered, stroking the hair out of my face. “I should have been softer on you.” Looking over my body, he let his hand rest against my core, cooling the heated flesh with his cold touch. Then he got up on his feet, and I only now realized, that he was still wearing all of his clothes. Smiling at him, I tried to get up, but he shook his head.

“Rest, meleth, I will take care of you.” Once he had his clothes sorted, he kneeled down next to me again, carefully wrapping his cloak around my shivering body, the coldness of the dungeons slowly creeping into my bones. “Thranduil…” I whimpered out, trying to reach out for him, but he shushed me immediately. “Its alright, little ithil. I got you.” Then he turned to grab my dress, but his action were interrupted by a sly grin. Handing me the belt, he crumpled the fabric into a ball. Getting up to his feet, he hurled it across the distance, directly between two metal rods of Thorins cell and directly into his face.

“Keep it as a reminder of your place, dwarf.” Thranduil gritted out between his teeth an arrogant and possessive smile on his lips. Thorin looked as surprised as I was, but his expression quickly turning sour. “You will pay for this, elf!” He yelled, but Thranduil just chuckled. “We will see about that.” Picking me up from the ground, he made his way through the dungeon and up the little pathways. In the distance I could still hear Thorin cursing us out in Khuzdul, his voice quickly fading into nothing more than a quiet background noise…

On our way back to our chambers, we passed several elves all of which carried a sly smile on their lips, that could have rivaled my husband himself.

Part 2:

#fem reader #smut #fluff #slight angst #thranduil x reader #thranduil smut #thranduil #lotr #the hobbit

[smoft-demons]

Tsundere nonsense

(This takes place between getting Beel’s pact and leaving for the retreat)

Mild angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. The human is very sensitive and cannot tell when Mammon’s spouting bullshit.

_______

Auva sits on the couch in the living room next to Beel. There’s a show playing on the TV. Beel is snacking as they watch it idly. Levi sits in a corner playing a game on a handheld console, hunched over and grumbling about being out of his room. Asmo sits on the floor, painting Satan’s nails. Everything is peaceful.

Mammon walks in, and Auva perks up, hands grabbing at the air in his direction. Beckoning him to sit at her other side.

Mammon acquiesces with an unsubtly fond eyeroll. Smiling openly.

Asmo snickers at him

“Honestly, Mammon, you still can’t admit that you’re wrapped around that human’s little finger? You’ve all but adopted her at this point! Can’t you say how much you love her?” Asmo teases.

Mammon sputters, hands flapping frantically as his face burns bright red. “Wh—! I—! NO! I don’t love the human, I didn’t even want the human, I don’t care about the stupid thing, what the fuck are ya talkin’ about Asmo—Shut the fuck up before I make you—!” Mammon deflects desperately, defending himself as Asmo cackles.

Under the sound of Mammon’s shouting, there’s a muffled little sound. A quick, squeaky puff of air, as if from being punched in the gut... Auva.

She inhales slowly, blinking hard. Trying not to cry. Trying not to draw attention.

It’s not working. She turns to bury her face in Beel’s shirt.

Because… Auva knew Mammon didn’t like her at first, he had said as much all the time! But… but she really thought he had changed his mind by now! He hadn’t said anything like that in weeks!

All the time he spent in her room, all the hangouts and talks and whispering stupid comments to each other in class, all the silly memes they’d sent to each other, his ever present charger and toothbrush and random items left in her room because he’s always in there with her… how is that not friendship? How can he still not care about her after all that? How could he not want her? Why…

“…why would he say that?” Auva asks Beel, her voice cracking with barely suppressed tears.

Beel places an arm around her shoulders. “He doesn’t mean it.” He assures her.

She sniffles quietly.

“—the worst, Asmo, see if I don’t sell YOU next, you piece of—oh, human…” Mammon finally notices his human, curled up in a little shivering ball of heartbreak. Hiding under Beel’s arm. Tucked away from him.

“Wha—no, no, hey… ya know I never mean any of that… right? Human..? Auva…” Mammon’s voice is suddenly softer. Soothing, like he’s trying to coax a scared animal out of hiding.

Silence.

(In the background, Levi glares at Asmo. He throws a nearby cushion at him.)

“I didn’t mean it, Auva, I promise..! C’mon… look at me?” Mammon frantically says.

Auva sniffles again. “Y-you said… you don’t care about me. Stupid thing, you said… you said—”

“No, no, human… I’m sorry. I didn’t… you’re not a stupid thing. I promise ya, I didn’t mean it! I was just…” he sighs heavily, as he mentally kicks his own ass.

“I—look. I get defensive, I’m… how’d you put it? I’m real fuckin bad at feelings, okay? I just—I get called out, then I get defensive, an’ I just yell lies to get everyone to lay off, an’—aww, baby, no don’t cry, don’t… fuck, I’m a jackass… c’mere, c’mere…”

Beel glares at Mammon as he pulls Auva out of her hiding spot, so he can hug her.

Auva thinks what he just said demonstrates some rather impressive emotional intelligence and self-awareness, especially for someone who just claimed to be bad at feelings. This… is encouraging, she thinks. Maybe, maybe it really will be okay..? Maybe he really does love her?

Hesitantly, desperately, Auva hugs back. Tangling her fingers into his shirt, hands bunched up in the loose fabric at his sides. Clinging, but not daring to actually hold him. Not yet.

“I’ll work on it, I promise. I’ll do better. I promise, I promise, human… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean a word of it, I’ve never meant any of that, please tell me ya knew that…” Mammon pleads as he squeezes his human tightly. Secure, safe… how he knows by now she responds best to.

“You said… you said you don’t want me..?” Auva sobs.

“I do, baby, I do. You’re MY human. ‘Course I want ya! I’m never gonna get rid of ya… shhh, shhshshh… I’m here, baby. I gotcha. I’m not lettin’ go. Promise.”

Mammon has dropped his tsundere nonsense entirely. It falls away to reveal the soft, gentle, protector that Mammon is when no one else is there to witness it.

“…Auva?” Mammon murmurs in the long, quiet moment after she’s calmed down. “You did know that I never meant any of that crap I say when I get like that… right?”

Auva shakes her head slightly. “How would I know?? I can’t do subtext, Mam. Unless it’s in fiction, I guess. I never pick up on any of that in real life. I just… I trust you, so I believe you. S-so… if you say that you don’t care about me… how would I know that’s not what you meant?”

“…oh. Well… fuck. I… y’know what? I need you to know I’m tellin’ ya the truth now. I want you to use the pact. Command me to tell you the truth. Lemme tell you what I really meant.”

Auva’s taken aback. That’s a big gesture! “Um—are you sure?”

He looks away, red-faced and clenching his jaw as he nods. He gestures at her to hurry it up, get it over with.

“Okay… Mammon, tell me the truth. What do you really think of me?”

“Auva… you’re MY human. My precious lil buddy. You’re my lil gremlin human. There’s really not much I wouldn’t do for you. I love you, I’d NEVER get rid of you! I can’t imagine ever not wanting you here with me. You’re not some… stupid annoying obligation. Not at all. I can’t believe you really didn’t realize how much I cared about you, even from the very first few days of knowin’ you! Auva, I’m supposed to protect you, and I WANT to! You’re my baby, Auva. My lil baby. I love you, and I’m staying with you. As long as possible. ‘Kay?”

Auva stares wide eyed at Mammon. That’s… wow. Some shit she’s sure he’d NEVER say if it weren’t forced out of him. Safe to say she knows what to believe now.

She lifts the command.

“…wow. Okay. Yeah. Thank you…”

Overwhelmed, Auva buries herself in Mammon’s arms again. That was… a lot.

“Don’t let go?” She requests softly. Mammon squeezes her reassuringly in answer.

It’s peaceful again for a moment.

“Mammon.” Beel rumbles threateningly. “If you make the baby cry again I will throw you through another wall.”

Auva makes an embarrassed sound, curling into Mammon to hide again.

Mammon laughs. “Yeah, yeah. I won’t. I got the baby. She’s fiiine.”

Auva squeaks, overwhelmed and unsure how she’s supposed to react. She decides on clinging to Mammon and ignoring everything else. Her usual strat. It’s normally effective enough.

#adhara’s mc #auva #obey me #obey me mammon #mammon fluff #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me mc #obey me fic #mammon #mammon obey me #obey me! shall we date? #my writing #original character #found family #hurt/comfort #obey me fluff #self insert #mammon loves his human #the human is blatantly autistic #oneshot #writing warmup #dialogue practice #platonic obey me #platonic relationships #don’t love this one tbh #it’s prob gonna get re-written #Auva & Mammon #Auva & Beel

[justcallmefox89]

Gnome Troubles Part VI (Astarion's POV)

Wicket shows a moment of vulnerability.

“Looking at something?”  Astarion arches one eyebrow as he studies Wicket’s reflection in the glass of his mirror.  The cleric is drinking more than usual tonight, choosing to keep to his own company rather than join the others around the fire for the evening meal.

“Just looking,” Wicket murmurs, sipping from his goblet of wine.  “What are you doing?”

Astarion fights to suppress the shiver that rolls down his spine.  He’ll never admit this, not even under the threat of death, but he adores the way a wine-soused Wicket speaks.  The gnome’s voice is already far deeper than one would ever imagine, given his size, and when he’s in his cups the husky growl becomes more of a soft rumble… the sharp, clipped edges of his accent become softer, more rounded… a velvet darkness that reminds Astarion of snowfall on a winter’s night.

Astarion forcibly shakes himself out of his musing to answer the question.  “I’m looking too, but not seeing very much.  Another quirk of my affliction.”

“Do you miss it?  Seeing your own face?”  Wicket tilts his head to the side, curious.

“Preening in the looking glass?  Petty vanity?” Astarion sneers.  “Of course I miss it.  I’ve never even seen this face.  Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

“What color were they before?”

“I… I don’t know.” Astarion pauses, slightly ashamed to make such an admission.  “I can’t remember.  My face is just some dark shape in my past.  Another thing that I’ve lost.”  He dashes the mirror onto the ground, fury coursing through him as he’s forced to face the reality of his condition yet again.  After two hundred years one would think it would get easier…

But it doesn’t.

Wicket deftly sidesteps shards of broken glass and sips his wine again, his eyes never leaving Astarion’s face.  With his free hand he motions for Astarion to come closer.  Curious, the vampire cautiously kneels down so that they two are able to look each other in the eye.  He remains motionless while Wicket’s eyes rove over him, greedily taking in every aspect of his face.  His colorless eyes, so often dark and haunted, burn with a pale fire that Astarion has never seen before.  Unlike Astarion, who quit aging upon the moment of his death, Wicket bears the burdens of his time in the earthly realm; long, black hair streaked with silver… his skin is tan and weathered from his many years spent traveling through the wilds of Faerun… a myriad of scars litter his skin, a testament to the danger of his life as a chosen of Kelemvor… faint wrinkles bracket his eyes and mouth, the signs of laughter and much time in the sun.  Astarion finds himself wondering about who Wicket was before fate threw them together, the Wicket who smiled and laughed often enough to create those lines in his skin.

“I see you,” Wicket whispers hoarsely.

“And what do you see, exactly?” Astarion inquires breathily, almost afraid to hear the gnome’s thoughts.

“Starlight and rubies,” Wicket murmurs absently, his free hand drifting upwards as if to touch Astarion’s cheek.  He hesitates just before his fingertips brush the elf’s skin, so instead his hand just hovers, faintly outlining the arc of Astarion’s cheekbone and then the strong curve of his jaw.   “You are like moonlight on water… The kind of beauty artists and sculptors dream of but can never truly capture on canvas or in clay.  Ethereal and eternal.”

Part of Astarion wants to scoff, to demand that Wicket specifically cite what he finds attractive about him… but another part, a long forgotten part of himself that existed before Cazador, when he was still a young boy who daydreamed of an adoring lover who would shower him in poetry and loving glances… that part of him blissfully listens to Wicket’s every word.

“In my wildest, most exquisite dreams I never could have imagined someone like you, Astarion,” Wicket continues.  “My moonlit beauty.”

“Wicket…” Astarion breathes out the gnome’s name, turning his head just enough to barely graze the other man’s fingers with his lips.  He freezes, surprised at his own willingness to touch a gnome.

Wicket seems equally shocked but quickly collects himself; his eyes grow cold as his expression shutters and Astarion is once again faced with a stoic and loyal cleric of Kelemvor.  He takes a few steps back and offers Astarion a stiff nod before turning away.

“Sleep well, Astarion,” he calls as he strides away to his tent.

Astarion stares after him, unable to formulate a response, and struggling to understand why Wicket’s sudden departure has left him feeling so… bereft.  Astarion is not unfamiliar with flattery certainly, after all compliments are all part and parcel of the game of seduction.  And after two centuries of luring and obtaining victims for Cazador, Astarion is a master of that particular game.  But in all his years no one has spoken to him so genuinely, stared at him so rapturously… been so tender towards him without the expectation of anything in return.

Astarion scowls, pulling himself out of those idle thoughts.  He won’t allow himself to be swayed by tender feelings and whispered sweet nothings, from a gnome of all things, not when there is so much at stake.  But perhaps if he can twist Wicket to his advantage…  Astarion smirks to himself.

Yes... that could prove very useful indeed.

#bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion ancunin #tav bg3 #gnome tav #tav oc #tav #astarion x tav #baldurs gate tav #my tav #male tav #astarion x male tav #astarion x male reader #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fandom critical #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion fluff #bg3 fic #bg3 fandom #baldur's gate

[folklorefairyy]

of shires and soft moments - e.m

summary - in which eddie reads TLOTR to you, making you fall in love with the series and him fall even harder for him

word count - 1.382k

author’s note - this is a request which you can find here! it’s super sweet and i hope i translated that into the fic!

p.s it’s not proofread because i’m supposed to be asleep rn but couldn’t help but write dhdhd

warnings - nothing that i can think of! just general relationship affection, i.e kissing, holding each other etc. there is no gender specified within the fic!

What?!’, a screeching voice and a bewildered gaze turns to you as Eddie snaps his head round in disbelief. ‘You’ve never read Lord of The Rings?’ He scrambles across the bed to you, perching himself in front of you, hand resting against your forehead and checking your temperature dramatically, ‘Are you feeling okay, you love books, why haven't you read such a classic?!’

Giggling, you remove his hands from your face, holding them in your lap and shrugging your shoulders, ‘I don't know, it just seemed too long, I thought I'd get bored.’

‘Bored?!’ His voice is impossibly louder than before, eyes practically bulging out of his head, ’Bored?!’ He dramatically turns his head away from, ripping a hand out of yours and resting it against his forehead in faux fainting ,’I think we may just have to break up.’

At this you roll your eyes, trying to suppress a smile at his antics. ‘Eds, don't be silly, not everybody in the world has read The Lord of the Rings’.

‘Yeah baby, well I’m not in love with them,’ he looks at you patently, then flops onto the bed, ‘you on the other hand, I do love,’ he kisses the knuckles of your hand, eyes peering into yours in a brief moment of sincerity before a cheeky determination clouds his gaze, ‘and I refuse to let the love of my life not know the wonders of Middle-earth.’

You flop down next to him, eyes level, legs tangled and hands entwined. ‘Well, handsome, how are you going to reveal these ‘wonders’ to me?’

A smile graces his lips, dimples carving his skin cutely, ‘I’m going to read The Lord of the Rings to you.’ he announces proudly, finger wagging dangerously close to your face before booping your nose, ‘The whole trilogy, including, The Hobbit!’

There is an excitement tinting his voice and twinkling in his eye that melts your heart. Who are you to deny your sweet boy indulging in one of his interests with you?

You sit up, arms spread wide in greeting, ‘Well, oh wise-one, we better start reading if you want to make a dent in the first book by this weekend.’ You smile down at him sweetly, a softer excitement tinting your own tone of voice, eager to hear Eddie's rendition of the classic tales.

At that he springs up from the bed, rummaging around the room for his copy of the first book. With a small’ a-hah’ he pulls it from under a stack of clothes and presents it to you. Its edges are worn, pages dog-earred and pen smudges down its side. It is the perfect picture of a book well-loved and its state only makes your heart melt more in knowing that this is something Eddie truly holds dear, that he wants to share something so special with you.

He sits at the top of the bed, leaning against the wall and patting the space between his legs, ‘Come here sweet thing.’ Your stomach jumps at his words, the nickname always ending butterflies fluttering. You nestle your body between his legs, head resting against his firm chest as he moves his arms over you to rest the book in your lap. ‘You ready?’ he looks down at you, his lashes kiss his skin and his doe-eyes are soft and filled with affection, grateful you're taking the time to indulge in his interest with him, that you care enough to let him.

You smile up at him, eyes wide in a delicate excitement. ‘Whenever you are, baby.’ His heart jumps and he meets your lips in a chaste kiss, soft and brief but showing his appreciation for you nonetheless.

He opens to the first page, thumb rubbing the worn paper there. His messy handwriting is sprawled all over the page, annotations from his first reading accompanied by additions of new thoughts and feelings with each new read.

He begins reading to you, voice taking on an enchanting energy as he becomes immersed in the words, his dungeon master narration skills coming in handy as he reads the words to you with such enthusiasm that you too can't help but become enthralled by the story presented to you.

He changes his voice for the different characters - sometimes growing gruff and deep, and sometimes sounding so impossibly high you wonder just how much practice he’s had. His impresionas of the character, albeit at times being a little silly, somehow make the story feel even more real, and soon enough you are reacting to the scenes described as though you were at a movie.

Little gasps escape your lips during moments of tension, eyes stretching wide and darting t oEddie in panic, the sweet sight snapping ihm out of his immersio nt othe story, his thumb moving to smooth the crease between your browns.

During happy moments you giggle, a grin pulling at your lips as you revel in the matching joy of the characters. Your giddiness is infectious and Eddie finds himself smiling too, as he continues to read the next part of the story to you, entirely enamoured by just how much he loves every detail of you - as he does the story that has dictated how you’ve spent your evening together.

It isn’t long before the sun is setting and yawns are escaping the both of you, yet you don’t want him to stop. Truth be told, neither does Eddie. He enjoys any moment spent with you, but tonight has felt extra special to him - spending the last few hours curled up with his favourite person, captivated by a world that has been a place of comfort for him for so long.

He does stop, however, despite his want to continue, as he watches your losing battle with heavy eyelids. He folds the corner of the page you’re on, placing the book on the night-stand next to his bed, ready for your next reading session.

At this, you shake off sleep, and look up at him pouting - ‘Hey, why’d you stop?’ You sound genuinely upset and the sound tugs on Eddie's heartstring.

His hand cradles your face, thumb smoothing over your brow,’ Baby, you can barely keep your eyes open,’ he explains, slightly amused at your eagerness to keep going but serious in his observation. His sweetheart needs sleep and he's not going to deprive them of it when they have all the time in the world to keep reading.

You give him your best puppy-dog eyes and plead, ‘But I was having so much fun! You’re amazing at storytelling Eds, I could listen to you read to me forever,’ you crane your neck and kiss his nose before finishing, ‘and that’s not just because you’re my boyfriend.’

At this his heart swells, your words sending him into a frenzy. He doesn't think he could love you anymore and then you go and compliment him so sweetly like that. He gathers you into his arms properly and flips you over so that he's above you, cocooning you in his arms. ‘Thank you, baby, but the book is still going to be there tomorrow.’

You groan, but accept defeat and peck his lips lightly, ‘Fine, but we better start reading after breakfast because we’re both busy on monday and i want to read as much as possible before then.’

He chuckles at your eagerness and pecks your lips a little firmer than you had his moments ago. ‘I take it you like it more than you thought, huh.’

‘Perhaps it isn’t as boring as I thought,’ you draw out, lips threatening to break into a smile at the sight of Eddie’s infectious grin.

His hands squeeze your waist and his eyes light up as he replies delighted, ‘I knew I’d convince you it was amazing.’

At this you lightly roll your eyes, before finally letting your grin break free, ‘Yeah, well my boyfriend happens to have a way with words.’

At this his smile manages to grow wider and he crushes his lips against yours, too smitten with you to hold back. And, as you lay in the dark - bodies entwined between tangled sheets, describing your favourite parts of the story so far - you fall in love with Eddie’s favourite series as he falls even harder for you.

#eddie <3 #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson oneshot #hellfire club #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things season 4 #stranger things season four

[demonsandco]

if you're up for doing a non-demon for the smut alphabet, maybe F, I, M, U, and/or V for solomon please?

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Solomon is not the most romantic person in the moment. Sex to him is about having fun and feeling good, something casual and low stakes. It's only afterwards, when he's relaxed and sated, that his partner gets to see a softer, much more vulnerable side of him. It's then, while relaxed and basking in the afterglow, that he shows them just how much he loves them. He's had plenty of sexual partner's in the past, but few have stuck around afterwards, making this Intimacy all the more meaningful for him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Solomon is happy to try out any position at least once, but he does have a slight preference for missionary. It may be a bit old fashioned or seem boring, but he loves being able to look into his partner's eyes and see the changes in their expressions. He is also rather fond of sweeping everything off his desk and bending them (or himself) over it for a quickie, but that only really happens if they tease him too much while he's busy working on something.

(cont under the cut)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It's not too difficult to get Solomon turned on, and the fact that he has a surprisingly dirty mind certainly makes it easier. It's the subtle, teasing things his partner does that get him going the fastest, though. The barely there touches or vague hints at plans for later, anything that leaves it up to him to fill in the blanks and get carried away by his own imagination.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

It's part of Solomon's nature to be a complete tease. It's practically a part of foreplay to him, playing around with his partner, not quite giving them enough, until they become desperate. Part of it is that fact that he loves to hear them beg for him to touch them properly, but he also just thinks that it makes everything feel all the more satisfying in the end. He would love for them to tease him just as much in return, turning it into a competition of sorts, seeing who can hold out the longest before breaking.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Solomon isn't ashamed of any noises he makes, and he doesn't do anything to suppress them, but he's naturally quiet. He'll talk quite a bit, light teasing comments mixed with bits of praise, but most of his noises are limited to soft grunts and groans. The closer he gets to cumming, the breathier his voice becomes, practically panting as he nears completion.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #obey me solomon #smut alphabet #lime time #obey me headcanons

[lumiereandcogsworth]

hi! the ask you answered earlier made me think, what traits does belle see in their kids that reminds her of Adam?

oooh i love this so much thank you :”)

in renée, it’s her fussiness. even at a young age she’s very fastidious about things, very dramatic and grumpy if things don’t go her way, too. and sure, a lot of little kids are like that, and renée is a lot like her mother in her constant rambles and wild energy as well, so belle shrugs it off to her just being a wonderful kid. in looks, she entirely favors belle, excusing the honey blonde hair (though it does eventually turn brown). but as renée grows up into a teenager, and a young adult, it gets easier and easier to see how much of her father she has in her. they’re both incredibly particular about things, wildly dramatic, and have that sense of entitlement that can just be a Little bit annoying sometimes. they also both, by far, have the most interest in fashion in the family. which, obviously isn’t an inheritable trait, but when belle hears her daughter gush about a new dress or piece of jewelry, all she can see is how many times her husband has rambled excitedly to her about a new line of suits he’s just ordered from some italian designer that belle can’t remember the name of. sometimes the similarities are uncanny.

in juliette, it’s her softer side. ever since she was little, all the staff members that had been around when adam was a child could see how very similar she is to her father. adam was incredibly shy and reserved, often timid and easily overwhelmed, and juliette is no different. she’s very much the polar opposite of her sister, and yet belle still sees so much of adam in her. belle knows how sensitive her husband is, deep down, knows how much of this side of himself had to be suppressed for the sake of an abusive father who wouldn’t let him be himself. but it’s still clear who juliette got her gentleness from. the way she looks out for her siblings, the way she removes herself from loud settings in favor of a good book in a quiet room, the way she concentrates so very hard on the things that interest her. adam and juliette have always had something of a special bond, and belle can plainly see why. they have an understanding amidst them, a secret love of solitude and quiet studying, as well as a love for routine and familiarity, which endears belle to no end. and despite her mother’s brunette hair and her grandfather’s green eyes, belle can of course see her resemblance to her father. in her concentrated looks, her thoughtful gaze, her sweet smile, it’s all very adam.

in maurice, first and foremost, it’s his face. since the moment he was born, belle just can’t get over how much he favors his father. not only is she happy to finally have a child with those blue eyes that she loves so much, but of all their children, he’s the only one who retained that sandy blond hair even as an adult — just like his father. sure, he’s covered in freckles, and adam will argue til the ends of the earth that he dawns his mother’s sunshine of a smile, belle will always stand firm that he looks entirely like his father. she sees it in his personality too, though. even though much of maurice is quite akin to his mother, belle still finds adam in him. mostly his clever wit, his very sociable humor that leaves them all in tears with laughter. he can also be quite dramatic when he chooses, and he really picks his moments. he’s far less specific about things than either of his sisters, but he loves to put on a show and have the attention on him. he’s like his father in the best ways, the way he can dazzle a room with his charm. belle knows that for adam, it’s all an act, but it still requires a level of talent that maurice entirely inherited from him. maurice is also the most protective of his siblings, despite being the youngest, loyalty to his family is very deeply engrained in him, and one can only see adam’s protectiveness shining through.

truly, belle loves to see adam in her babies. she never really thought she’d get to be a mother, never thought she’d have someone in her life whom she could love so completely - someone to have such amazing children with. so when they do arrive, belle can’t help but see her beloved adam in all of them. adam is her favorite person in the whole world, and these are their little treasures. of course, adam is in all of them, and she adores them all the more for it.

#aaaahh i loved writing this so much 😭 what a way to wake up!! #thank you so much for asking 🥹🥹 #adelle #oc writing #batb headcanons #batb 2017 #belle

[snormynight]

not sure how to explain this… I just think M*rtin S*ort is absolutely adorable and I’ve been obsessed with the murder show recently. I want to squish him. Here’s a short drabble while I try to figure out their characters.

The low timbre of Charles’ voice sends a delicious tingle to the base of Oliver’s scalp, combatting the irritating one moving through his sinuses. He sniffs quietly, air only moving successfully through one nostril and in an attempt to alleviate the pressure behind the blocked one, he rests his cheek on an open palm. He massages it gently there, wincing a little as the drainage travels down his throat, but he’s ever so delighted that he’s making some progress. He doesn’t realize he’d been swaying a little, lulling himself into a trance when suddenly there’s the weight of another person at his side. His lips part and he sucks a breath of air in, jolting himself alert.

“Are we sure this episode shouldn’t be an Oliver featurette? You’re practically dead on your feet.”

Charles stops speaking abruptly, annoyed at being interrupted but he regards Oliver with a similar sense of pity Mabel is giving him. Oliver sniffles, his eyelashes fluttering to keep irritated tears at bay. The need to sneeze reignites now that he’s sitting upright.

“Now that’s an idea,” he says trying to sound chipper but it’s a little over the top, even for him. He presses a fist to his nose before he continues. “At last you see me as I am, Mabel. A leading man, paving the way for aspiring writers turned detectives. I can see it now; there I was face to face with the killer, with only an umbrella in one hand and a copy of Judy Garland’s memoir in the other, when—“

“Okay I’m gonna cut you off right there. Thank you.” She stands in front of Oliver, placing the back of her hand over his forehead. “As if we need to go on any more tangents.” Her voice gets softer now that she’s closer, she doesn’t miss the way he sort of winces at the sound. He swallows with his mouth closed, clicking his tongue against the back of his throat to ease the soreness there. The heat she finds matches the redness gathered in the middle of his face, a splotch against his otherwise pale pallor.

Or maybe he’s not wincing. Oliver has one eye screwed shut, twisting his nose into his submission. The tickle is kept at bay only for a moment. He pushes Mabel’s hands away and stands, trying to put some distance between one another. He can’t help it. Both eyes fall shut as his eyebrows raise, and he tears a silk handkerchief out of his pocket right as his chest inflates with a desperate breath. It comes crashing down with a muffled sneeze, and then another before he can take a full breath again. He sighs when he’s done, but it comes out more like a moan and he staggers backwards a bit, before being steadied by Charles, his hands warm around his arms. He leans into his embrace a little bit.

“I think you’ve had enough podcasting for today,” the taller man says. He motions to Mabel to wrap up the podcast gear. “If you keep talking into the mic sounding like this, people are going to think there’s something wrong with our equipment, and I didn’t scour the internet for hours for premium pop filters just to be scrutinized by the basement lurkers of Manhattan.”

Oliver’s eyes burn in retaliation halfway through an eye roll. “I applaud your dedication, Charlie, really I do.” He has a whole remark prepared, but the words escape him as a hazy look washes over his eyes. His eyebrows develop a pronounced crease in between them and he curls in on himself, trying to avoid hosing Charles down. His body jolts with two suppressed sneezes and he inhales a greedy breath of fresh air, trying to stave off a wave of dizziness.

Oliver doesn’t bother opening his eyes. The world tilts around him as he presses his face against Charles’ shirt, which is blessedly cool against his warm cheeks. He feels Charles’ awkwardly firm hand around his back and gets lost in the soothing presence long enough to suddenly be aware that he’s being gently shaken awake. He pries an eye open to see two concerned faces looking down at him. Mabel joins him on the opposite side and he finds himself sandwiched between his two nurses.

“And I applaud your dedication to staying upright. Let’s get you to bed, buddy.”

#snz fic #om//itb #rosierites #snzfic #snzblr #text #I have no idea if this will resonate but you’ve got to be the change you wish to see in the world

[soniclozdplove]

Inspired by @toothlesshat Future Leo au

Warning: brief summary of injuries that may be considered somewhat explicit, nothing particularly gory tho

Raph held his brother's close, shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs of relief. It's over, the Krang is gone! Leo is alive and he's here in his arms, safe! He felt Mikey sagging against him, exhausted form the damn near miraculous feat he had pulled. The snapper brought his arm around the youngest, pulling him closer and ignoring the criss cross of fresh burns up his arm. He wasn't sure how Mikey did what he did or what happened to let him and Donnie share the burden with him... but he wasn't going to worry about it. Not when it gave them Leo back and the slider was resting, curled up in the crook of his arms.

Glancing down, Raph had to suppress a growl as he took in his brother's injuries. That thing had been cruel on the short time that Leo was trapped there with it, and he unconsciously snapped his beak at the though of the monster that did this to his brother.

Leo's shell was cracked, almost shattered really, and many lines criss crossed and chipped along his plastron and carapace, barely avoiding his vertebrae. His shallow breathing rattled and there were no doubt several broken bones, many of them ribs, that would need tending to along with lacerations, particularly along the leg the Krang had managed to grab before Donnie had come in clutch with that mystic drill. His lime scales were starting to discolor to an ugly purple and yellow at a rapid pace as bruising set in, particularly on his brother's face which has a swollen eye and what looked to be a broken jaw. That's just what Raph could see from the outside, never mind the myriad of internal injuries his brother probably has, not to mention mental scars from being beaten to the brink of death!

He had passed out shortly after his joke about being in Staten Island, and Raph couldn't blame him at all as he sounded so weak even as he complained about the infamous city. Donnie was sitting in the outskirts of the family hug, not comfortable with affection but determined to join in for the sake of his twin, before he suddenly let out an actual gasp and jumped up.

"We need to call Aprir, Papa, and Casey! They... they don't know..." Donnie trailed off, glancing down at Leo's sleeping face before finishing in a softer tone, "They don't know he's safe."

Right, Dad probably... probably wasn't in a good place right now. Not if he heard what Leo said over the com and saw what happened to the alien spaceship. Raph cleared his throat.

"R-right. Donnie can... can you call them? Mike isn't in any state to use his phone and-" He paused, the words 'don't want to let Leo or Mikey go in fear that they'll disappear the moment he did' remained unsaid. In an uncharacteristic show of empathy, Donnie nodded and stepped away to make the call, staying in sight of the snapper but allowing him the privacy to gather himself. His brother's need him to be strong right now, they're all injured and someone has to be the big brother and protect them until Dad and April get here. The call was brief, Donnie explaining that Mikey had gotten Leo back but in critical condition and that they were in Staten Island before handing up the call and returning to the hug.

None of them spoke a word until ten minutes later the screeching of tires reached them and a jeep that the others had acquired somewhere, likely from some poor sap, skidded to a stop in front of them. April opened the driver's side, eyes wild as she unhooked herself and all nut flew to her brothers' sides, gasping at the sight of them. CJ was quick to join them, having been picked up along the way and clinging to one of Leo's katana like a lifeline,

"Sensei! Is... is he...?"

"He's okay, kid." Raph choked out, voice heavy with emotion, "Michael got him, but..."

He cut himself off, unable to voice it. Instead he shifted, showing the boy the precious life in his hands. CJ sucked in breathe, eyes darting over the injuries of the unconcious turtle before hardening into a familiar look of determination, one Raph has seen on Leo's face many times. He opened one of his many pouches and pulled out a scratched and banged up medkit, a familiar image to Raph even with the obvious wear and tear on it. Leo had that exact same one in near mint condition, bought just a few months beforehand when his old one was destroyed in the fight against Shredder. CJ must have inherited it from the Leo he had known.

"Raphael, I need you to support his head while I look at his injuries." CJ's tone was serious, directing the turtle with ease and sounding very much like Leo did whenever he treated their injuries, "Is there anything like a tarp or something we can lay out so he doesn't have to directly touch the ground?"

Raph instinctively jumped to follow CJ's command, years of experience with Leo telling him that hesitation was not and option. The kid had clearly learned more than just ninjitsu from his younger brother. Donnie found an old tent in the trunk of the jeep that they could lay out, Raph silently apologizing to whoever the owner was. With Raph helping CJ, Splinter got to work tending to Mikey's hands and April pulled Donnie aside to look at his shell. The two were clearly looking for a distraction and neither turtle was going to argue the fact with Leo as injured as he is.

Once he was stable, Raph prepared to move him to the jeep before he heard Mikey, who had gone to the edge of the island to look over the damage to the city across the way, let out of shout,

"What the shell!? Uh... guys!? I... I think there's a guy drowning down there! He's not moving!"

Raph grimaced, with Donnie'a shell a bloody mess, Leo unconcious, and Mikey jot being the strongest swimmer that left thin at the only turtle capable of doing an aquatic based rescue. He didn't want to have to let Leo go so soon, but if someone was frowning he had to help. Glancing at Donnie helplessly, the softshell let out an exaggerated sigh and held out his arms, gently taking his twin and holding hin close in a manner that told the eldes their loner of a brother wasn't nearly as bothered about holding on to Leo as he pretended to be. Trusting that Donnie would bite someone's hands off before letting anyone near Leo, Raph and CJ went to where Mikey was staring in horror over the edge. The moment they looked to see this "drowning person" however, Raph's heart skipped a beat and CJ let out a choked cry.

The person was clinging to the rocks with a mechanical prosthetic, presumably unconcious although Raph couldn't see his face. One thing was certain, however, that was no human. He looked to be about the same size as Raph, although distance made perspective hard to tell, and he had a darker tone to his lime colored scales with familiar markings along his flesh arm, what little Raph could see of it over the long blue scarf and mask tails drifting in the water, and a shell with a very familiar pattern on his back. He was a turtle, and based on what he can see that person could only be...

"M-Master... Leonardo!?"

#rotmnt movie #movie spoilers #fanfic #au #future leo au #future leo #leonardo #casey jones jr #future leonardo #rottmnt #rottmnt movie #rottmnt leo

[fatedevour]

♢  —     @bogachs​​ said:  20. my muse cuddles up to yours in their sleep (pantalone seeks the warmth)

nonverbal actions reversed  20. my your muse cuddles up to yours mine in their sleep

It’s one of those nights where the cold seems to invade every crack and nook and cranny, icy fingers seeping in like fog in spite of the warmth of the fire and heat. Not that it’s not comfortably warm as far as HE was concerned, but it did make any slight breeze above the blankets that much more chilling. Dottore can hear the faint sounds of the blizzard outside raging and howling like an angered beast. He’s been here long enough over the centuries to have a good idea of the severely and longevity of this blizzard based on the sound and time alone. So far, it was panning out to be a very long one. Unsurprising, given how fairly PLEASANT and docile the weather had been as of late. They often came back with a bite.

His thoughts falter and pause when he feels Pantalone pressing himself even closer against him, his head turning to watch Pantalone’s sleeping features as the banker buried himself against the doctor. Any closer and Pantalone would be practically CRUSHING himself against Dottore. Dottore shifts slowly just slightly, allowing Pantalone to clutch on and practically be half-laying on him. Not that the additional weight was of much note to him. His arms circle around Pantalone’s frame, holding him securely as he basked on him like a snake in the sun.

Red eyes focus on the sleeping face of the banker, lost in his own thoughts. Once, he was rather certain it would have been little more than a very convincing performance. He hadn’t thought about it at the time, but hindsight did have a way of opening even the most observant of people. Especially when he had learned what Pantalone’s ACTUAL breathing pattern sounded like when he was fast asleep. It said a lot that Pantalone didn’t look vulnerable in his sleep. Even if he technically WAS, it didn’t show. Though who endured hardships rarely looked at peace. Pantalone looked more relaxed, and he was sure that he himself often looked calmer, but never vulnerable. Too long with their guards raised, it was like layers fused together. Their guard had become like a cell wall or scales, shielding them till it merged and became one with them. To pry away their guard was to cut them open. But it was good to see Pantalone at least seem more relaxed. The upcoming months would be hard on him.

Dottore lifts a hand to gently run his fingers through Pantalone’s hair, his other arm secured around Pantalone’s waist to keep him close. Once he would have been afraid to wake him with such a gesture and would have simply observed. But they’re both intimately familiar with each other now, they’d recognize by touch alone. And as it seems to no surprise, Pantalone doesn’t wake beneath the gentle touches as Dottore takes the moment for allowing rare gentleness to manifest. Sharp eyes soften to simply study without the goal of prying away information and secrets or instigating something ; hands touch with awed care to run over soft locks of hair, but careful not to get too close to his face lest he rouse the sleeping banker from his much needed sleep. It is in these quiet moments with only the ambiance of the storms and fire that the beast exposes a softer side when there are NO WITNESSES as far as he knows. It’s an almost skittish act. The Doctor can handle VIOLENCE with ease. He can take the blows and shoot them back ; he can even handle toying with one another. But GENTLENESS? He has little understanding of it. He has gotten better at not flinching from it as though it was a scorpion ready to sting,  but it is harder to express himself, so he slinks in to offer it when he is not acknowledged. Like now, as he listens to Pantalone’s steady breathing as he presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, and then lets Pantalone’s sleeping form press itself into the warmth of his neck with a suppressed chuckle. That was fine. He allows his eyes to close, his cheek resting against the top of dark hair.

He was OVERTHINKING again, he could tell. Lost in his own head and thoughts, mind unable to keep from its steady march forwards. It takes him considerable EFFORT to not think about much, and to simply enjoy the moment for what it was. Genius and insanity were not so far apart, and his ever racing mind struggled to slow itself when he wasn’t about to collapse from exhaustion. But he makes an effort now despite the temptation to slip away and back to his lab. He simply listens to the sound of the winds, the warmth of Pantalone lying on him, the rare taste of peace that rests on his tongue. And before he knows it, Dottore himself has slipped into a light, delicate sleep of his own, still holding the banker closer.

#bogachs #as you can see #he ended up rambling in his own head / thoughts a bit #but warm cuddles! #he shall hold the boyfriend close #♢ — ❛ he whom ushers in your darkest hour ❜ ( ic ) #♢ — ❛ science is the only thing worth my time ❜ ( main verse ) #♢ — ❛ lips stained in the violence of love ❜ ( bogachs | pantalone )

[smp-live]

Regarding you post about ghostbur, I always thought of ghostbur in a slightly different way of rather him representing c!wilburs heart.

Like just who and what he enjoys and cares about, his love for others and the lack of love to himself (with there being a few instances of ghostbur referring to c!wilbur as bad and shameful, like a nasty stain on the past that you can’t get out.)

And also how c!wilburs heart protects itself with what you mentioned as repression and other coping mechanisms and such.

Thinking of ghostbur as still an integral part of c!wilbur but by c!wilburs nature (of hiding his true feelings with facades, deception out of protection of ones own self image and reputation, etc.) the traits ghostbur depicts shown a lot less considering his heart would probably be much more hidden during that time period of pogtopia for him.

True! I think there's a lot of affordability for nuance in Ghostbur interpretations because, from what I can tell, Wilbur never had a concrete direction in mind when it came to Ghostbur's character, and so there's no one right answer imo (though there are definitely wrong ones.) His openness about his emotions that you're talking about comes from that repression, from a lack of paranoia because he suppressed the memories that made it really spike.

The thing that makes me personally hesitant to describe him as representing Wilbur's heart or even his more emotive, open side, is that yes, he's open about his positive emotions and attachments, showing what's important to c!Wilbur. But he doesn't show the sadness at all. He still hides that just as much as L'Manburg-to-early Pogtopia Wilbur did. He's all the softer bits that Wilbur was hesitant to show, but he still isn't open about the more ugly ones. And negative emotions are a part of the self, just as much as positive ones, so if he is meant to represent c!Wilbur's heart, he's not showing parts of it in equal amounts. Sadness, anger, fear, all are just as essential emotions as joy or love to a person's identity. If they still repress some of those, well, they're not really showing them all, are they?

Plus, he's lacking that innate drive to do great things and that pride that I would say is central to Alivebur's character and at the core of what made him infuse the server with so much soul, in the creation of L'Manberg. Ghostbur is very quick to point out that he's not a leader like Alivebur was. And maybe, being openly soft is about heart, but I think passion is just as much so. Passion that didn't often come across, with Ghostbur. (Though sometimes it did - like at the Butcher Army! To me, however, that just points out how much he lacks it, the rest of the time.)

I don't think our interpretations are mutually exclusive. Like, I agree with what you said, and I think that one of cc!Wilbur's intentions with Ghostbur was to show what c!Wilbur found important. But I think that focusing in only on the bits of what Ghostbur does represent misses out on what's highlighted by what he's lacking: namely c!Wilbur's passion and take-charge nature. Ghostbur - in terms of what he tells us about Wilbur - is just as much about what he is as what he is not, and trying to put a concrete definition on him, in my experience, doesn't really work for both of those.

#enderspeak #Anon I am SO sorry I literally typed most of this out when you sent it but then things happened and I put off posting it #Then completely forgot until now 😭 #But it's a topic of the night so at least it's seeing the light of day? #I hope I didn't misinterpret your points though. I just view ''heart'' as more than what they enjoy and care about #It's so much more to me. And Ghostbur lacks some of that

[dragonyear]

It is mentioned that Hatori's parents were extremely strict. It has been a long standing headcanon that Hatori was rejected by his parents as parents either reject or over protect their children. Hatori was rejected and brought up in a loveless household. He was essentially kept around to inherit the memory suppression technique and continue on the legacy of being a doctor and taking over as the sohma family doctor. Hatori's mother passed away from an illness and things only became worse for him after as his father no doubt neglected Hatori even more since he would be a constant reminder of his late wife. Hatori being not just a rejected zodiac child, but also growing up in that cage and experiencing first hand the horrors of being a zodiac member caused him to grow up in a very reserved and emotionally suppressive manner. Hatori has trouble expressing himself and is very cold, curt, and taciturn. He's also a workaholic and generally is not the best at self care, often neglecting himself in favor of his work and "duty". Though he can definitely show a softer side with those close to him, it takes a while to gain that trust as he also has to be able to trust the other person enough to begin to try and take those walls down.

#headcanon / lore building

[fuck-off-typewriter]

What is Enoch's role as the Spirit of Tragedy and how has he fulfilled this role for thousands of years? How has Enoch's sense of duty, purpose, and honor influenced his actions and decision-making, and how has this clashed with his personal feelings and emotions? What are some examples of Enoch's short temper and difficulty handling personal matters and social situations, and how does his softer side sometimes show through in his interactions with others?

(I'm not sure if this is asked being asked to Enoch or myself, but I'll assume it's for me. There's no way I could condense all of this into a Tl;Dr, so read the whole explanation under the cut:)

(Enoch, along with Ekho and Euno, his siblings, are magical constructs that were created with the intent to record as well as maintain the progress of ecosystems, while making sure they are never at risk of collapse or other issues that could have serious consequences. This is "keeping balance.")

(How the directive of "keeping balance" has been interpreted and carried out has changed over the years, but it never changed much from the original intention other than the scale. All three constructs have a mutual agreement of assumed responsibilities, each covering their own jurisdictions, while collaborating with each other every now and then to compare notes and make sure nothing catastrophic has happened or will happen. They work behind the scenes, orchestrating events to make them play out a certain way for a more stabilized ecosystem, or stop events from happening for the same reason.)

(The term "ecosystem" has been stretched in its meaning with time. Really, it's more apt to say the siblings majorly preserve ecosystems, while also preventing societal collapse, world-destroying events, etc. on the side. Almost like superheroes. Almost.)

(Enoch's own responsibilities as the Spirit of Tragedy mostly cover that of death, destruction, war, and decay for broad categories. He figures out what killed organisms in case of something they should be concerned about, records information on the dead, tends to grave sites, protects spirits, as well as manipulates conflicts behind the scenes. Though less-officially, he's also responsible for rooting out and destroying any cults that form around him or other dark and deadly forces, and rehabilitating "bad" guys.)

(I think as much as honor matters to him, duty matters most, always. Whether it was given to him or taken upon by himself. And Enoch has yet to break a single promise, except one. Purpose however...tends to switch priorities with his emotions he tries so hard to suppress. The stresses of his position have made his faith in his creator and purpose waver, and over time he's become more and more favorable of going past his purpose to take a more active role in the world. And as tactical and methodical as Enoch is capable of being, his emotions make him very impulsive. He cares too much. His duty and purpose stop him from interfering, but he desperately desires to do. Not necessarily of a moral obligation, as much as a hatred of being a bystander.)

(Ah, his temper. Rage is one of Enoch's "favorite" emotions, besides misery. Like me, Enoch tends to take moral issues very passionately and holds nasty grudges if he thinks someone is a cruel/apathetic person. He's gotten into fights with Ekho with the full intent to kill for this reason. He also gets very easily heated and loud when debating something -- no matter how mundane, when Enoch cares about something, it's always full-throttle. Many jokes have been ruined for the sake of scientific accuracy because of him. The reaper struggles with voicing non-logical things, too. His emotions, especially. Small-talk is impossible with him, for lack of understanding how to socialize and his obsession with working. So despite the rehabilitation and redemption he helps people through, those people remain grateful, but distant to him.)

(But. There are times where he just silently offers physical comfort, and times where he's like a social sponge for the people he likes, picking up their quirks and mannerisms. Times where he resigns himself to becoming a part of whatever hi-jinks his strays pull him into, the entire time with a private, small smile all to himself. Where he musses their hair or makes them food exactly as the recipe tells it. Playing along while being terrible at acting, dramatic as he can be. Acting as a mother hen, but always giving into any demands made with puppy eyes. Some good, innocent part of him survived the horrors he's been through. This is the shard of the past he clings to, his most precious moments. He feels as though he's fulfilling his purpose, but not the one he was given.)

#(out of character) #(info/lore) #(ask)

[lunaevangeline]

Haikyuu Boys

What things in him change along with your relationship

Ushijima

Having a bad experience in childhood makes him take a longer time to trust you. But along the way, he sees that you give all the love he never had, how you treat him without trying to change his nature and how you embrace all of his flaws. He also learn how to express himself better, when you're around he got a softer expression that everyone has never been expected. But please bear with him if he doesn't know any new trends or jokes, you have to teach him patiently. And seeing your effort, he wishes to never let you go at this state.

Oikawa

Oikawa who has never been in a long-term relationship has to learn to suppress his ego. He used to have girls tagging along, praising, worshiping him. But you're not merely his fans and your relationship is the work of two. So once he determined that he wants you, he knows that he will have to change. That now everything isn't revolving around him only, he can't only focus on volleyball and himself but on you too. Sometimes it can be hard, but with your endless support, he continues to learn. Even now, he learns that he can't make it through without you.

Akaashi

Akaashi is observant, he seems to have a sixth sense in how he can know your feelings instantly. It's been a hard day? He will pamper you. He knows all your favorite things, remembering every occasion, and so on - almost a perfect boyfriend you can ask for. But he may think the same thing should have to do with you. He thought you know everything, that you can look through him like he does. But if you're not as sharp as him, things will get messy as his wants are left unspoken. Hence, you talk to him, asking him to be more vocal with his needs so you can make him feel loved. And as he trained to be straightforward, you learned that Akaashi is full of surprises -to the point he can make you embarrassed with his love words. But that is fine because now you can love each other happily.

Iwaizumi

He is someone who loves to be dependable. His team thought of him as a capable trainer. And he is someone to look up to by his past teammates. That's why he loves it when he looks strong in front of you, when you made him feel needed. But because of this reason, he avoids looking vulnerable even in the worst state. And so you told him, that it's okay to be not okay and how he can also depend on you, showing his worse state to you. Because you love him as a whole and showing that side will never make you love him less. When he tried your advice, when you show how you deal with his vulnerability, he cannot ask for someone even better.

Atsumu

Atsumu was so carefree and so, living with him in a shared apartment was stressful. You can't find the scissor in its usual place, you find his laundry were everywhere, and the toothpaste didn't close completely. He can be selfish too, as he used to be treated as the child of his house, and his competitiveness is so high. In an argument he even dares to provoke you, feeling he can win by suppressing you. And when you told him you've got enough, that you can't live with him anymore, he realized what does it mean to win the argument if he can't win your heart anymore. So when you agree to give him a second chance, he cries and he will do whatever it takes to make you stay.

masterlist

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyū!! #atsumu angst #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi

[mamashima]

𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃-𝐀-𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓

SYNOPSIS | Even Katsuki Bakugou can't handle his bratty younger sister — so he has Izuku do something about it instead.

CONTENT | asshole!izuku, bratty!y/n, f!reader, humiliation, dacryphilia, bondage, bitch-calling!once, all characters are aged up to be 18 or over. MINORS DNI.

WORD COUNT | 1k

The Bakugou's breed brats.

Now, you may be adopted, but Izuku's opinion still stands tall. It's a textbook example of nature vs nurture—and why nurture always wins.

"I wanna go in the jacuzzi now," you growl, fists balled against your older brother's chest as false tears well in the corners of your eyes. Katsuki tucks his hands into his pockets; releases a sigh soaked with pure frustration. Rolling his head to the right, he snatches your wrists with one hand and sets you slightly crooked on the couch.

"Well that fuckin' sucks," his lips curl, "that damn thing ain't goin' nowhere. We came to ski 'n that's what we're gonna fuckin' do."

You chuck your head back to release a guttural groan, dousing your neck in the warm cabin lighting. Denki's eyes drift, as they have been since you got in the car, and Hanta swallows when your back curls just right. Unfortunately, Izuku can't lie—the fitted turtleneck with the ski pants should be less of a sin than you make it seem. And yet, here he is, burning in hell because of Bakugou's bratty little sister.

"We just got here!" You screech at the top of your lungs, eyes screwed and body tight. The ash-blond's ears turn neon red from the amount of anger suppressed, shoulders tightening under his black t-shirt.

Katsuki's scarlet eyes drift to the forest green of Izuku's own. He knows what it means. Izuku shoves himself upright with a heaved sigh, the usual sparkle in his eyes dying as he yanks you to your feet and drags you towards an empty bedroom.

"You're hurting me," you whine, wiggling your hands to no avail. Izuku knows the belt tied around your wrists isn't enough to hurt, you're just being a big baby, but the knot is solid enough that he knows you aren't getting up until he lets you.

He's simply satisfied with the fact that he gets to put you in your place.

"Count," Izuku yawns carelessly, adjusting the watch on his wrist. You whimper and he feels your body tense—almost as if it's finally settling in that you can't blink your way out of this one. His palm drops, and your reaction is worth a king's ransom.

"I said, count."

"One," you bite back with slight venom. A shudder, and his hand cracks down again.

"T-Two!"

A small part of him—the old part—worries you're being too loud and that the walls aren't as thick as he wants them to be, but he realizes that doesn't matter too quickly. The louder the better. He wants the whole neighborhood to hear you.

"Ten—shit—"

And you wouldn't have put on that whole show if you didn't want the entire neighborhood to hear you, too.

Izuku decides he wants to see you, and using his scarred hand, he cradles your cheek to hold your face at an angle. Your skin is blotchy and for once the welling tears are genuine—genuine enough to tempt his palm into faltering for a split second. But that's until your swollen lips slide into the smallest sneer. Bitch.

That's probably the hardest swat he delivers that night.

You're at the point Izuku loves—the point where all you can do is scream and hold on for dear life, white-knuckling the headboard while your spine pushes your ass further into his hand. Izuku chuckles at that, watching your useless body writhe and ache for more, but he tuts. Your head snaps his way, eyes doughy and dilated.

You're shaking—bad enough that it pushes Izuku out of his current headspace and into another, softer one. Placing small butterfly kisses against your shoulders and back, he lets you lay as he soothes your sides. Lifting his lips to your ear, he talks low, "One more 'nd then you're done, m'kay Angel? Can you take one more for me?"

You inhale and exhale shakily before responding. Izuku trusts you enough to know you'll step in to tell him when enough is enough, but the way your back arches tells a different story.

"Y-Yeah," you gasp, "One...one more."

Izuku's lips slide into a grin.

"Good girl."

With a final peck to your shoulder, his bicep tenses and his hand drops. You bite into the pillow, muffling a scream and the whimpers that follow.

He lets you sit there, recuperate. Not for long, but enough that once you're done shaking, Izuku undoes the makeshift handcuffs and lifts you to your feet. Naturally, you stumble forwards—and straight into his chest.

"Oop—careful," he chuckles, and you give him a shy grin back, body too exhausted for anything else. Lifting an eyebrow, the greenette asks (prays), "So, we should have good behavior now on, no?"

Your shy grin turns devilish, full of teeth and gums, and suddenly you're back to normal. With a wink, "Hmmm...maybe."

Izuku's eyes narrow as he presses closer, reveling in the way your body feels against his. "You better. I won't stop so early next time."

You don't answer. All you do is hold that stupid smirk—the one that got you in trouble in the first place—but all the greenette can do is shake his head, and let you go with a few pats on the ass.

"Go clean your face, it's a mess," he snorts. You roll your eyes.

"You love it."

With that, you're off to the bathroom and Izuku's left to fix the problem in his pants. You have him shaking his head, cursing under his breath. There's no way in hell Izuku's letting you know how he feels. Ever.

"Idiot," is all he can manage with a sad little snort. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and meets the rest of the crew downstairs.

Time to go skiing, he supposes.

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#daddy ‘zuku #bnha smut #izuku smut #deku smut