#ti-gallop

[holmesoldfellow]

Vintage Beaver Sherlock Holmes sweatshirt by Par Ici

[giriduck]

Ocarina of Time celebrates its 25th anniversary this year. 🤯

Which by extension, means it’s been a quarter of a century since Ganondorf was introduced to the series (not counting the brief mention in A Link to the Past).

[mikimotopearl]

Also today my Deliveroo driver not only forgot my orange juice but also spilled my tea

[yourcoffeeguru]

GPS Golden Gallopers Rugby Team Neck Tie and Engraved Cufflinks Boxed Set || SWtradepost - ebay

[hedgehog-moss]

Look, friends.

Do you think this is a post about my adorable baby succulents? No. Look harder.

It's about the GIANT HOLE IN MY FENCE that I had to patch up with cardboard.

I can't blame Pampérigouste for this one; the brutish nature of the damage is not consistent with her usual modus operandi. Pampe outsmarts locks like Arsène Lupin; she doesn't charge at fences like a bull who saw a red cloth. This is Pampe Pondering A Fence Problem:

No, the damage to my fence looked a lot more mindless this time. Boorish. Boar-ish. I'm blaming a boar. A deer would have destroyed the whole thing rather than just the lower half. Note that there is not a single tuft of llama wool on the damaged wire mesh.

(Note no.2: the boar's smile was originally meant to be a tusk but it really just looks like a sardonic smile)

I brought some chicken wire to patch up the hole—but there wasn't enough of it. Then it started raining and I felt persecuted and decided to just cover the hole with cardboard and go have my morning coffee and get back to this later.

This is not an Innocent Pampe post; there is no such thing. My temporary cardboard solution lasted 8 to 10 minutes. I'm not sure exactly when she got out, but by the time I went back outside to repair the fence there was a Pampe-shaped hole in the cardboard.

(Not really; she just kind of lifted or ate a corner then wormed her way through the very small opening. I think.) (See, this is how you recognise a Pampe escape: you're not entirely clear on what went down, you just know there was a llama inside and now there is a llama outside.)

It was still raining and I didn't feel like going after her, plus it felt pointless to bring her back in her pasture before the fence was repaired, so I went in the barn to look for my tools and rummage through leftover pieces of previously-destroyed fences, hoping to find something the right size.

Then I heard Pampelune's hyena shriek, aka the llama alarm call. It was followed by:

horrified chicken screams and frantic feather noises; the soundtrack of a violent fox attack

infuriated barking from Pandolf

very loud panicked braying from Pirlouit

basically, chaos.

I ran outside just in time to see Pampe emerging from the woods at a full gallop, pursued by a bear. I didn't immediately identify the animal that was chasing her as the giant dog that he was, because he was running with a weird gait, with his legs going everywhere like he was frolicking at top speed (I now know that this dog is a puppy that has learnt to run just a few months ago, but that didn't occur to me at the time because this puppy is the size of a calf.)

Pampe was running towards the cardboard through which she had escaped and she managed to squeeze through her small corner hole again (I assume—there were trees blocking my line of sight and I only saw her again once she was in the pasture, running for her life along with the other 2 llamas + donkey.) Meanwhile, the dog didn't see the corner hole and tried to power through the cardboard much like a boar, or was carried away by his momentum and didn't brake in time; I don't know. In any case, when I reached him, he was stuck.

My large piece of cardboard was tied to the fence posts and still holding strong, but the middle was a bit soggy with rain and not too solid, so the dog's head went right through it. The rest of his body didn't.

He could have probably finished breaking the cardboard quite easily, but for some reason he instantly gave up. On life. By the time I got there the dog was half-in and half-out of the pasture and he looked defeated. Which made my piece of cardboard look like a mediaeval beheading apparatus with just a hole for the head.

I went to lock an angry Pandolf in the barn and checked on the chickens along the way (ruffled & offended but fine); I was hoping the dog would figure out how to extricate his head from the cardboard in the meantime. He did not. I tried to call him in a friendly tone (from behind) to encourage him to free his head by stepping back, but the concept of taking a couple of steps backwards in order to extract his head from the hole might as well have been advanced engineering. He clearly had no idea where his head was, where his body was, how to make the two a coherent whole again, and he started whining pitifully.

I untied the rope I had used to attach the cardboard to the fence posts, then wriggled the piece of cardboard a bit to try and free the dog's head. The dog was alarmed by the wriggling and took several steps back—but I didn't manage to hold on to the cardboard so it just moved with the dog. He clumsily ran away, taking the cardboard with him, wearing it around his neck like the world's largest cone of shame.

He immediately got stuck between two trees.

I was starting to find the situation hilarious, but the poor dog did not—he lay down and started making sad broken noises like a malfunctioning dog-robot. He didn't look very threatening but he was still a very big (and stressed) dog so I felt a bit wary of touching his head to help him, and decided to run home to get a box cutter. I figured I could easily rid him of most of the cardboard and leave him with just a soggy cardboard collar that would soon fall apart. I heard my landline phone ringing from afar and ran faster, and it was one of my nearest neighbours, the retired lady who lives on the plateau.

"I've been trying to reach you!! I saw your llama in my garden earlier, I was going to give her a little treat—" (she loves Pampe, for some reason) "—but then my dog saw her too."

I know this woman's dog—he's a tiny thing with fragile nerves who thinks the whole world is out to get him, so I asked anxiously, "Did Pampe scare your dog?" and she said "Oh no! Domino is here with me; but I have a new dog. His name is Texas."

I thought of the gigantic puppy currently sobbing in my woods, held prisoner by two trees, a self-inflicted cone of shame and his total lack of reasoning skills.

"Yes", I said. "I've met Texas."

The old lady asked worriedly if he'd scared Pampe ("Il est un peu zinzin" she said—he's a bit crazy. "I wanted to call him Rex, but then I met him and thought—Texas!!") I told her I was pleased with her dog for scaring Pampe, because she needs to learn that her pasture is her only hope for safety in this cold uncaring world and as soon as she steps out of it she returns to her lowly status as a prey animal. Then I ended the phone call because I was worried both about Texas and about the large hole in my fence. Thankfully all my animals were still terrified and hiding far, far away from Texas.

Texas actually managed to free himself before I attempted to cut the cardboard, but he still thought of me as his saviour and was very happy to follow me through the woods back to his owner's place. Before we left I propped up the cardboard against the damaged fence, and despite the hole in the middle no llamas escaped in my absence; I think the whole area still smelled like Texas and fear.

I'll admit I was initially tempted to leave Texas with his head stuck in the cardboard in a more permanent capacity in order to patch the hole in my fence with this amazing anti-Pampe Cerberus. Like this

(I know this artistic rendering makes my llamas look like frightened carrots and my donkey like a bunny but I will not be taking constructive criticism at this time)

[pandoraslxna]

❄️ Kinkmas — 05. On a mount ❄️

So‘lek x female human reader

⋆｡° ✮ Minors dni 🔞

⋆｡° ✮ Kinkmas Masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: they do it on a pali (direhorse), smut, p in v, dub-con, kidnapping, held hostage, enemies to lovers, size kink, cockwarming, ooc So‘lek because I wrote this before the game came out, it plays before he joined the resistance, language barrier

⋆｡° ✮ Translation: tawtute = human, sky person

In the realm of forbidden desires, where the line between right and wrong blurs, a seductive sin had woven her enchanting web and So’lek had found himself caught in your irresistible embrace.

The forbidden fruit dangled before him, tempting him with her intoxicating flavors. He didn’t know what had driven him to this act, but he felt a heady mix of excitement, curiosity, and temptation, uncaring of the consequences that laid ahead as he took this very specific tawtute with him.

So‘lek had never taken a hostage in all of his years of living. In all of his years of seeking revenge. The clicking of metal against metal around his neck was the cold, dead evidence of this.

But this tawtute… there was just something about you that was different. Something that made his blood stir and his nerves tingle like a live wire.

The demon whrites in his lap and So‘lek makes a soothing noise, hushed into your round little ear while the hands on your fragile hips tighten, keeping you from falling off where you’re seated.

"Hìpey [hold still]", he warns, but his tone remains calm and composed.

Every bounce of the palis hooves meeting the hard ground beneath pushes you further down on his cock and you mewl, muffled cries and moans against the cloth covering your mouth under your mask. Originally he had tied it there to keep you from screaming, had bound your wrists behind your back to keep you from trashing around. But now it’s to keep you still, to make it easier for himself to use your small, tight body for his own pleasure.

But by the way you clench around his length, he doubt that you doesn’t enjoy this just as much as he does.

So‘lek can feel your slick running down his shaft where he’s not fully seated inside you, your human body too small to take all of him at once. But the gallop of his pali did help ease the way further into you, without having to do much movement of his own.

"Nìsyep sìltsan, vrrtep [so good and tight, little demon]", he groans lowly, so close to your ear he felt the heat radiating off your skin. The flush that spreads over your cheeks makes you feel all tingly. You don’t know what exactly he’s saying to you, but the deep raspy voice hushing these foreign words into your ear is enough to make you understand his intentions.

A particularly hard shove of the pali as it galloped over thick branches made your clit brush over the leathery sattle and you cried out in bliss, the whiny sound muffled and helpless.

One of So’lek‘s arms pulled you closer against him at this, so that he could rest his chin on your shoulder and watch his own hands dip between your thighs. Rough fingers slide through your folds and around his own cock where he’s halfway nestled inside you, smearing your arousal back and forth, before he locates your clit.

"Nìtxan mei [you‘re so wet]", he says, "ayngenga asim? [are you close?]"

There comes no response, but he doesn’t need one anyways. Your squirming and the clenching around his length is all he needs as confirmation, so he begins to circle that little bundle of nerves that makes your breathing pick up rapidly.

So‘lek wishes he could understand the few words you actually manage to force out through the woven cloth covering your mouth, the ones that sound like pleas and begs for him, possibly. You just sound so sweet as you fall apart on his cock, it makes him wonder how tasting such a forbidden fruit, a little demon like you, could feel so heavenly.

Rocking with the gentle sway of his palis movement, So‘lek relishes in the pulsing of your walls around him, the wet, rhythmic throbbing and squeezing that massages his cock like you intend to milk him for all his worth. But while you fall slack in his arms with a shuddering gasp, he decides to keep his composure for a while longer, just for the favor of staying like this. At least, until he arrives back at his tent, where he can properly burry himself inside you.

[shooting-love-arrows]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍

SYNOPSIS: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 who according to the sacred tradition of his peaople kiddnaps his bride. PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 x Female! Reader tw. kiddnaping, mention of blood, general lack of consent (becaouse history says screw it), mayhem. WRITER DISGRESSION: I do not support this kind of behaviour! It is only a piece of fiction and and for entertaiment putpooses only. Thank you for your attention!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It was a sacred tradition among his people, passed down from generation to generation in his clan. Filled with adrenaline and led by primitive instincts, the soon-to-be groom/husband kidnaps his future bride and wife from her home. 

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 were traditionalists when it came to domestic life and topics related to love. He believed his ancestors and their ways of ‘wooing’ their subjects of affection were not only successful but also the truest form of confessing one’s feelings for their beloved.

Perhaps only taking you from home in the dead of the night would be better for an outsider like you, who is yet to understand the way of his people. But whenever he thought about it, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 was holding a belief that you deserved better. Something memorable and "romantic," quoting the wives in his village.

That is why he didn't hesitate to raid your village at night.

Dressed in his best furs and leather, additional beads attached to his long, messy hair, and all sorts of accessories tied to his clothes symbolizing his impressive position among his clan. He was at the front, proudly riding his trusted stallion and leading the group of his best warriors on galloping horses towards where you were residing.

Not soon after they'd arrived, everything was set on fire. The barbarians didn't spare a hut from the unforgiving force of nature of their torches. Even some unfortunate fellas couldn't escape from it. Some fortunate ones were given a quick death by the sharp blades of barbarians. 

It was the mayhem, gifted to you by 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧.

“Oh my dearest wife, where are you?” He kept thinking, urgently looking all around. Adrenaline and euphoria were pumping in his veins. He was a predator on a haunt, ready to pounce on you the moment he saw you. 

And found you he did.

The second he laid his eyes on you, he got into an action. Without hesitation, he quickly urged his horse to gallop towards you. It didn’t matter who he tramped on his way, nor who he slayed to get closer to you. His full focus was placed on you.

You stood no chance.

When he was close enough, like a hawk, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 swiftly leaned down and tightly gripped your waist, hoisting you up on his horse like you weighed nothing. You began to scream and trash in his iron hold, but it didn't phase him one bit. In his eyes, it was endearing and even arousing. He knew from the stories of the other married man that the more a woman puts on a fight, the better wife she’ll be. 

"Shhh...beloved...shhh!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 cooed, fervently kissing away your tears and wet cheeks and holding your hands tightly to his broad chest. Some of the blood splattered on his face he smeared on your snot coated face by nuzzling into you. Between whispering sweet nothings to you and coating your face and neck in his kisses, he couldn't help but laugh. His deep and raspy voice came rumbling from his chest, only frightening you further.

For 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 everything was perfect. Under the night sky, surrounded by flames (of his passion) and screams of villagers mixed with the mad laughter of his people, he achieved what he wanted. He gave you a grand and memorable ceremony. Additionally, in the eyes of his gods, clan and according to the sacred tradition, he laid his claim on you.

You were his, just like he was yours.

"You're mine, dearest wife. Mine!"

Forever.

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 15

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: One more day and I'm a homeowner

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You slow to a crawl amid the retinue of carts and horses. The sun beams down relentlessly on the summer fields. As you laze in a sheen of sweat, Bryce works to tie a swath of linen over the cart in a makeshift canopy. You thank him for his effort, his own brow slick with sweat as he tugs at his mail. 

“I admit my winter’s hide is not made well for this sun,” he utters as he reaches to pet Daisy, the loyal steed tied to his new one as he rides in step with her. “Let’s hope we might reach the tundra in due time.” 

“Mm, it is rather hot,” you murmur, exhausted from the endless blaze. It’s three days thus far and many more ahead of you. 

“Little maid, cannot complain even when you should,” he tuts. 

The cart rolls on, rocking your body as the hooves clomp down on dusty grass. As the train passes over the lands, they leave a trodden path in their stead. The progress is steady but sluggish. 

The wheels creak and lurch to a halt as Bryce reins in both horses. You sit up and peer ahead, unable to see more than horse tails and overloaded carts, the helms of soldiers shining under the sun. The knight on his dark steed sits up straighter, alert as he leans forward. 

“Eh, maid, keep watch on the mare,” he tosses the reins at you as the royal party comes to a halt. 

His horse kicks up dirty as he gallops around the edge of the train. You watch him bend over the beast’s long neck and hurdle ahead of the clog of vehicles and bodies. Something is amiss. 

You wait, nervous, as other servants cluster together and wonder aloud. Soldiers mill up and down the winding retinue, themselves sharing no more than looks. You climb out of the cart and walk on your cramped legs. You stroke Daisy’s head as she huffs through her nostrils and nuzzles your shoulder. 

“I don’t know either,” you tell her softly. 

The pause stretches on and Bryce returns, his horse in a lather. He swings off and lands solidly on his feet. He looks between you and the grey mare. 

“Some hold-up, nothing to worry for,” he explains, “enough time to find some water for these beasts.” 

He takes Daisy’s reins and hands them to you, “come, there is a river near. I can smell it.” 

You peek ahead and squint. You don’t know that you believe it is nothing though you can’t find a reason to argue. You nod and tug on Daisy’s bit. 

The soldier leads you across the grass, well away from the front of the train. Others disperse to sit in the meadow and chew on their rations. You continue into the trees and the trickle of the promised water has Bryce proudly exclaiming. He weaves his way around the trunks to come upon the bank, putting his dark brown horse to drink. As the larger stallion laps noisily, Daisy lowers her head and patiently gulps up the ripples. 

“Where did you find Chestnut?” you ask. “He must be a castle horse.” 

“Aye, he was locked away in some stall. They said he is vicious. Due to be horse pie.” 

“Horse pie? But he is fast.” 

“They did not lie. He likes to nip,” Bryce warns as you step between the horse, “watch your fingers, mouse.” 

“Perhaps he only did not like being locked up,” you suggest and gently touch the horse’s long mane, working out a tangle in the hair. He doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Chestnut?” Bryce says, “you’ve given him a name of your own.” 

“You didn’t say if he had one,” you brush your hand over the fine short hairs along the horse’s shoulder. “I thought it suited him.” 

“Mm, I might call his Hellion but Chestnut is kinder, I s’pose.” 

You chuckle. The horse lifts its head and you near the river’s edge. It turns to sniff you and Bryce reaches for your arm. The horse drips water onto you as it sniffs your neck. It lifts its lip, showing its square teeth, then touches its nose to yours, turning back to the water to nicker. 

“Mm, you do have a way of taming the wildest creatures, eh,” he muses as he lets you go. “Come, I saw some berries back in the bush.” 

You leave the horses near the water and follow the soldier between the trees. As he squats to pluck out dark blackberries, you sway on your feet and glance back toward the road. 

“Why have we stopped, sir?” You ask. 

“Told ya, no matter to worry for,” he stands and offers you a handful, “be thankful for it. We’ve found a nice horde and it will do ya good to be out of the sun. And to eat.” 

You accept the bounty and frown. You know he isn’t telling you all but you know he wouldn’t do so without reason. You stand and pick at the berries, biting in hungrily as the juices coat your mouth. The soldier eats as he picks, plucking a few into his purse as well. 

“How do ya like squirrel meat?” He stands again, “I could find us a morsel for the evening fire. Perhaps a hare if I can.” 

“If you like, sir,” you accept. You chew your lip and search the trees. “Is there truly nothing wrong?” 

“I told ya not to worry,” he growls. “So don’t trouble yerself.” 

He beckons you back towards the river. You follow, not asking any more questions. It’s expected that the road won’t be easy, something just feels awry. 

⚔️

The party makes camp at the point of the delay. You return to the road as Bryce grumbles about the evening warmth. The dry heat lingers in the air even as the sun begins its descent. 

“Come, you will need look in on the queen, I’m certain,” he ties the horses to the cart and urges you along. 

You notice less soldiers as you stride through the train. It’s not so crowded as before. The missing bodies add to your uneasiness. Still, the queen’s tent has been erected and guards keep vigil right outside. You enter and find her alone. She has a veil over her hair as she taps the brim of a cup with her fingernail. 

“Alas, a maid!” She snaps as she sees you, “I’ve been calling for wine all night and those damned soldiers only bring me water.” 

“Your highness,” you back out of the tent. The soldiers do not move. 

You go to the luggage and search for a bottle. You grab one and return to the tent. The soldier at your right extends his arm before you can enter. 

“No wine,” he snatches the bottle, “king’s orders.” 

You blanch and look ahead at the silken flap. You nod and thank the soldier as he keeps the wine under his arm. You blow out between your breath and once more push through the draped fabric. 

“Your highness, there is to be no wine. The king has commanded it,” you say meekly. 

“Pardon me? Who are you to refuse me?” She stands and snarls. “My head is on fire, I need wine.” 

“Yes, your highness, but the king--” 

“I am the queen. My order is a good as his. Bring me wine. Now. You little twit.” 

You stare at her unmoving. 

“They won’t allow it, your highness--” 

A flurry of veil and skirts rushes towards you. Before you can react, a scalding heat radiates over your cheek, the force behind the queen’s slap rattling your head. You stagger back and clutch your head between your hands. 

“You stupid girl! I am the queen! You are a dumb maid!” She strikes you again, her hand glancing off your forearm, “stupid stupid twit!” 

She continues to hammer you with blows, closing her fists as she hits your shoulders and stomach. You shrink down, curling into yourself as you keep your head shielded. She huffs, tired from her assault, and twirls away. 

“I don’t want to see you unless you have a bottle in hand,” she snarls and kicks over the stool. “Go before I have you gutted.” 

You wine and stand straight, lip quivering. You turn and hold your left shoulder as it thrums. You step into the night air, aware that the soldiers could no doubt hear the queen’s fit. They say nothing and you don’t either. 

You continue through the train of bodies. You feel your cheek pulsing and your brow swelling. You keep your head down and as you reach the cart, you relieved to find it alone but for the two dozing horses. You climb up and turn towards the wooden wall, hiding against it as you hug the cushion. 

It isn’t so different from Debray, only that you don’t have Merinda to hold you, to share in your pain. You always preferred that it was you who faced the rather of the ladies. You only hope Lady Rezlyn isn’t issuing the same displeasure upon your companion. 

⚔️

The morning comes with the tweeting of birds and a distant rumble. You sit up and look towards the sky. There are no clouds to forewarn a storm. You stare into the horizon where the thunderous noise rolls over the plains. 

You see the figures on their approach. Men on horses. As soldiers rush to confront them, their alarm is eased by the wave of a familiar banner. It is the king and his party. 

Bryce grumbles as Daisy sniffs him and the coughs into his hand. He shakes his head as you lean out of the cart, watching the specks on the tapestry of green grass. You gasp as you feel him grip your wrist. 

“Eh, mouse, what’s happened to ya?” He demands as he pulls your attention back from the distance. 

You look at him and the tenderness in your cheek reminds you of the queen’s wrath. You wiggle free of his grasp and sit back against the side of the wagon. You shake your head. 

“I went to... the bushes to relieve myself, sir. I tripped.” 

He squints at you, his square jaw gritting. He stares daggers at you. You’re not a good liar but you can’t tell him the truth. 

“Tripped?” He echoes as his thick brows furrow. 

“Yes, sir, it was dark,” you say. “I’ll be alright.” 

“Mm, you look as if you were caught by a bear.” 

“Really, sir, I am well,” you put your head down. 

He growls under his breath and turns away. He fiddles around with his saddle bag before he returns to the cart. He reaches over the top, holding a folded cloth with an acrid smell roiling off of it. 

“Put it on ya face,” he demands. “It’ll soothe ya, make you a little less puffy.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“You don’t go trippin’ no more. If ya do, ya let me know,” he scowls. 

You nod, sinking into a tense silence. You both know it’s a lie but neither of you will admit it. You put the cloth to your cheek and exhale. It cools your skin though the smell burns your nose. 

⚔️

That night you don’t return to the queen’s tent. Bryce claims there’s no need for it. She needs her sleep, as do you. It’s another lie you won’t call out. 

Several days pass in the cart. Short nights followed by sweltering days. It’s as if there is no end to the road or the heat. 

You sit on your knees, looking ahead as Bryce chews sweet leaves and spits onto the ground. Daisy’s tail sweeps behind her as she keeps a steady trot. You watch the progress with impatience, each moment feeling more and more trapped in the cart. 

“...down in Debray...” you hear a voice drift back. 

“...don’t like traitors, suppose...” another returns and you search over the carts to try to place the speakers. 

“Careful, mouse,” Bryce warns, “you’ll fall under the wheels. 

You sit back and face him, holding onto the side of the cart, “sir, what happened?” 

“What do ya mean? We’ve been riding,” he sniffs. 

“No, days ago, when we stopped. Something... in Debray?” 

He grimaces and spits out the leaves completely. He shakes his head, clearing his throat. 

“Nothing a maid needs worry about,” he girds. 

“I know, sir, my apologies. I’m only curious...” you hang your head, “I... I was raised there, is all.” 

He hums and rocks with the motion of Chestnut’s steps, “skirmish up a ways. Party on their way to the castle. Certainly, you know your former master’s deceit has bought him little good will.” 

“A skirmish?” 

“Ah, so it was, but nothing very dire. The king returned in good spirits, that rat lord—the duke with him,” Bryce explains, “course, it only suits that the lord should see to the defence of his own castle.” He chortles, “shouldn’t tell ya, maid, so ya keeps your lips sealed, but the duke meant to hide in the queen’s tent.” He shakes his head and sighs, “in the Hinterlands, them sortsa lords aren’t lords for long.” 

“Mm,” you purse your lips thoughtfully, “but... but the duke, he helped end the war.” 

“By betraying his kingdom. We didn’t come to conquer; we came to unite. Turns out, there’s more fractures than those between winter and summer. Shoulda know by Yellow Waleran’s deeds.” 

“Yellow?” You wonder. 

“Mouse, it is a lot you needn’t worry for. All I can say is a king isn’t much of one if he don’t keep his word,” he sighs, “any lord or man lacks substance if he melts like ice.”  

You look down and watch Chestnut’s legs. You slant your lips. 

“King Geralt, did he have some agreement with Waleran then?” 

Bryce snorts, “too clever. Promises. Broken promises. Deadly things.” 

You nod and hold your chin, “and King Geralt, he is a good king?” 

“Do you not know by now?” He asks with a smirk, “he is a man who keeps his word. A man who fights for his people, not for gold and a name. No good winter lord would kneel to a man built on coin. Blood, that buys crowns. It buys loyalty.” 

You lower yourself onto your bottom and draw your knees up, “for his people?” 

“You heard him say it, you summer’s blood are one with us now. Once he has his heir, it will all be set in flesh. A prince to join the realm,” Bryce says, “let us hope he comes soon. The king’s done his part, he’s fought his battles, now it is up to your queen to claim her victory.” 

[lonelycowgirls]

Tongue-Tied

I'm ovulating and I'll give no other explanation.

Thank you for your time.

Warnings: smut | harry in barcelona Word Count: 1.9k

Angel: You better get your man, Stell

Angel: Sent 1 image

Looking to the side at her phone as she washed the dishes and cooking utensils she’d used to make up her breakfast, Stella’s brow furrowed, her belly flipping wondering what he’d done now. He was three shows off completing Love on Tour and the gravity of tour being over was starting to hit home for both of them, especially Harry. The result; him growing more and more uninhibited on stage.

She swatted gently at Delilah who was perched on the only clean tea towel in the house - she really needed to catch up on some laundry - and dried her hands on it once the cat had slinked off, heading for the cat flap at the back door. She unlocked her phone and leaned back against the sink to open the text thread she shared with her work friend.

The image wasn’t actually an image, but a GIF. A moving image of her partner playing guitar, her eyes widening as she watched him lean down to enact the motion of playing the strings with his tongue. She watched it repeat on a loop a few times and chuckled dryly to herself. This man was becoming unhinged.

Stella: Now where have I seen that action before…?🤔 Angel: Oooooh get it girl!!!👏🏾👏🏾

Stella laughed to herself again and opened up her TikTok. Her For You page often had a lot of Harry on it, because that was the content she found herself liking and sharing. Whether it be a sweet fan interaction she would share with Anne or a video of Harry tripping or stumbling she would have a giggle over with Gemma and Dolly.

As she scrolled, her feed was jam-packed with content surrounding Harry at his Barcelona date. This wasn’t uncommon, as it was obviously the most recent concert. But the focus was a little abnormal. Emphasis on the ab... People were going feral over Harry’s body and she couldn’t help but smirk to herself. He did look damn good. She often complimented him on his newly buffed-up physique, but she didn’t want to stroke his ego too much. That got enough stroking every time he galloped on stage.

This was maybe a little different though. She thought to herself - she’d probably not seen him look or act this sexy since the first One Direction stadium tour. Back when Harry’s hair was the longest it ever got to and he made it everyone’s problem.

She tapped on the Clock app on her phone to check the World Clock for the time in Barcelona. It was just gone 9am in London, making it around 10am where he was. She wasn’t sure if he’d still be sleeping or training or out sightseeing, but she tapped on the FaceTime icon anyway.

Walking through to the living room as her phone dialled his, she glanced out of the window and rolled her eyes at the rain pelting the glass. It was so unfair how he got to be in the sunshine while she was practically engulfed in a typhoon. Bloody England. She glanced down at her phone again when the little chime alerted her that he had answered and connected.

His face filled the screen, a glowing orb of yellow sunlight behind him surrounded by blue sky. His bare shoulders and the trim of a parasol peaking into the frame indicated that he was by the pool or on the beach. Bastard.

“Oh my God, look at that weather.” Stella groaned, collapsing back on the sofa with a flop. He chuckled and moved his sunglasses to sit on top of his head.

“Good morning to you too.” He replied, resting back against the sun lounger and squinting at the screen. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your beautiful face so early?”

“Oh, nothing much, just getting digitally assaulted with pictures and videos of you whoring yourself out for thousands of people. The usual.” Harry laughed as she rolled her eyes at him.

“What do you mean?” He questioned loudly around a smirk.

“You know, I haven’t seen that tongue move like that in a while.” She mumbled, now displaying her own smirk.

“Oh,” Harry chuckled, this time running a hand down his face as he remembered his actions and finally registered what she was talking about. “God, I dunno what comes over me.” He said smiling, dimples on full display and cheeks slightly tinted in a blush.

“Well, I hope it comes over you again when we go to Italy next week…” She said softly, almost certain he wasn’t alone - he never was. He smirked and lifted an arm to rest over his head on the lounger. She could see the muscle in his biceps move under his skin with the motion, the tattoos rippling and causing her to drop her head back against the sofa. She really wished he was there, now.

“Yeah? Would you like that, Stell?” She nodded and he sighed, folding his lips into his mouth and furrowing his brow. He eyed her neck as her head leaned back against the back of the sofa and watched her long lashes blink over her hooded eyes. He couldn’t wait to have her in his favourite place, her tanned skin smooth under his palms, couldn’t wait to feel her pulse under his fingers as he wrapped them around her throat. “Want me to do the same on your little clit?”

Her lids closed as she inhaled and smiled with a nod, teeth digging into her bottom lip. Suddenly, her expression changed to one of pain as she raised from her position on the sofa. “Shit, H I need to go get ready.”

“For what?”

“I’m meeting your sister for yoga in like half an hour.”

“Ah great, I needed someone to say something to help me get rid of this tent in my trunks. Mentioning my sister always does the trick.” He said sarcastically with a thumbs up to the camera.

“Aw, you got a stiffy for me? Let’s see.” Harry rolled his eyes and brought the camera down to his shorts. Barely there but noticeable if pointed out, a slight bump was peaking up from his black Nike swimming trunks. He swiftly brought the camera back up to his face, Stella beamed at him on the other side. “I’ve still got it.” She said with a wink.

“Always have, always will.” He said sincerely and she bristled, feeling a warmth spread through her at the look in his kind eyes. “Come on Stell, let me help you before you go.”

“Help me what?” She said, a brow arched knowingly, she knew what he was up to.

“You know what. Let me give you a good one, so I know you’re thinking of me when you’re in your downward dog.” She snorted, looking away and then looking back at him.

“Alright fine, but you need to put your AirPods on or something.” She conditioned, not wanting Brad or Mitch or anyone who may be around him to hear her through the phone.

“Don’t worry, I’m on a patch of free beds, behind some palm trees. There’s hardly anyone here and Brad’s in the pool.” She nodded and waited for his instructions. “Take your bottoms off, baby.”

She dutifully did as he said, sliding her pyjama shorts off so that she was bare, perching a leg up on the coffee table so that she was open to herself.

“Give your fingers a lick, three of them.” She bit her lip and nodded again, making sure to angle her phone at her face as she sunk further into the cushions of the sofa. She brought her fingers up to lick a long stripe up the surface of them, not waiting for him to tell her what to do next and bringing them to start rubbing circles into her clit. She sighed at the feeling of her fingers getting wetter and wetter with the way she was already so turned on.

“Eager aren’t we?” Harry smirked, wanting to rut his hips into the air but restraining himself. “A girl who always knows what she wants.” Stella’s brows knitted in the middle as a ripple of pleasure coursed through her. “Keep rubbing that pretty clit, baby, that’s it. Is it all swollen?” She nodded, an audible moan quietly escaping her. “For me?”

“Yes, Harry. Watching you lick that guitar… fuckin’ hell.” She sighed, shaking her head, almost in disbelief.

“Yeah? Did that do it for you, baby?” She nodded and moaned as her lips folded into her mouth. Picking up the pace of the circular motions on her clit. “Want my tongue working on you like that?” She nodded, swearing and looking down at where her hips had begun to swirl along with her fingers, complimenting her wrist's motions. Harry had to see. “Show me, Stell.” He said, low and gruff.

She brought the camera down, angling it so her full body was in view, her vest ridden up to just below her boobs, her naked bottom half bucking and twisting in the air. Harry nearly doubled over.

“Fuck me. You’re everything.” He groaned, bringing a hand to his forehead and closing his eyes tight. Trying to control his hips and body’s reaction to her stunning image. “Keep going, baby, good girl. Can’t wait to have you in my bed again. Gonna lock us in our villa and make you scream.”

Stella’s moans became louder and louder as she chased her high. “Yeah, that’s it, get yourself there, Stell, come on.” She panted and groaned as she brought the three fingers he’d suggested into her slick hole, pumping just right, getting closer and closer. “You’re fucking beautiful, my God, wish I was fucking there.” Arching up, Harry’s view was almost non-existent as she writhed, the phone in her hand no longer her priority. “I’ll be on my knees for you, soon as I walk through the door.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” She gasped, her fingers now rubbing ruthlessly across her clit, toes curling and stretching.

“Give it up, Stell.” With that, the phone was dropped. Stella’s fingers dug into the softness of the sofa as she squealed and panted, writhing, her other hand not relenting on her pussy. Harry waited patiently, still giving her appreciative comments of how good she was, how gorgeous she was, how he loved her so much. Her hips finally found their place again on the edge of the sofa as she collapsed back down to Earth. Catching her breath, she picked up her phone again to see him smiling softly at her, only before laughing at her red cheeks and messed up hair. “Enjoy that, babe?”

She giggled back, blowing at a strand of hair that had fallen into her face. The familiar feeling of a post-orgasm making her glow from within. “Mhm, feeling good, baby.” She breathed, completely blissed out. She wanted to kiss him so bad, almost ready to climb through the phone to get to him. “Oh, shit.” Stella laughed slightly, Harry’s brow furrowed at the change of pace. “Gem’s just text me. She’s just left. I’ve gotta go, Gorgeous. Love you.”

“Alright, Stell,” Harry said, sitting up in his lounger, placing a foot on either side of the bed in a straddle. His full chest and upper body now visible, making her belly flip once more. “Good job I came in my shorts, knew you wouldn’t wanna return the favour.” He shook his head, playfully tutting in disappointment.

“Aw, you poor thing.” Stella pouted, before giggling and raising from the sofa, running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame it. “Have a good time cleaning up!” She joked, before hanging up and trotting up the stairs. Her phone pinged almost instantaneously.

Harry: Glad I could be of service 🫡

Stella: Don’t worry, I’ll show you my downward dog later 😉

~~~

That was fun.

Nel xo

P.s. you can read the rest of the pieces from this universe here.

[the-kingshound]

Adrei growls. She bangs her arms against the door until it breaks, splintering under her enhanced strength. Her parents locker her inside the room where her father goes when he has his episodes.

But she isn't mad, she's thought this through.

She has sins she needs to amend to. And if anyone tries to chain her up again she'll kill them.

She makes her way through the courtyard with heavy, dragged steps. She crushes the sword of a guard that dares standing between her and her horse. A loud crack echoes as she pushes the guard aside, a limp body colliding with stone and collapsing to the ground.

Someone screams, and Adrei advances.

WHo cares.

She needs to get to her brother. Emyr is in pain and Adrei has allowed that suffering to take place for years, doing absolutely nothing. She swore, as he was departing from the House to be wed, that they would see each other again.

Twice. Twice have she met her brother since then. What she has is fifteen years of letters in which her brother withdrew more and more, parchment becoming progressively more crumpled, stained with ink as if he didn't even have the energy to write anymore. And she did nothing.

But NO MORE.

Her mare neighs, agitated, as she mounts it and pushes it to a fast gallop.

---

Emyr looks up from the desk with a worried frown. He doesn't want to get up, even less to leave the room, but when another loud sound reaches the depths of his room, by now the fourth or fifth one he's heard, he rises.

His clothes are a mess. His hair unwashed, tied up in a bun that would have made him cringe in shame a few years back.

He walks up to the door, but stops just before wrapping his fingers around the handle. He hasn't gotten out in so long... and if his wife sees him, she'll scream and-

Other worrying sounds reach his ears, so Emyr opens the door.

Blood stains greet him.

The ground is washed in gore. Sparse severed limbs lie scattered, and just at the end of the hallway his sister, drenched in blood, is holding off the ground the body of Emyr's wife. He feels locked in place, and isn't able to let out even a sound as Adrei, eyes lifeless and completely black, crushes her neck without effort.

Her body goes limp, then Adrei throws it to the side with very little care.

Emyr wants to throw up.

His oldest sister spots him, then. She takes a step forward and Emyr takes one back, his heart beating loud, but he only feels numb.

His wife is dead.

His prison her House is destroyed.

Adrei freezes.

Everything stays still for long, endless seconds. Some rasping, dying monas fill the silence and nothing else. Then, Emyr starts to advance.

He takes a step forward, then two, until he is standing in front of his sister, until he sees a spark of recognition in her black eyes, consumed by magic induced madness. Emyr has never been a tactile person, he avoids physical contact most days, but he wraps his arms around his sister and buries his face against her neck.

"I'm sorry I took so long," she rasps out.

He clings to her.

"You're free now. I killed them all."

He puls back, exhaling a trembling breath. "They'll hunt us now, Adrei. The Council will want us both."

Adrei just stares, swaying on her feet. Emyr steadies her. He brings her to his room, pullng her to sit on his bed. With trembling hands, he writes a letter, rolls it up and calls for his sparrow.

"To Camelot," Emyr says, seeking aid from the one person that can offer them both protection.

[theraccoonslair]

Sacrifice (NSFW)

[Giving this a second chance because a friend and their kind words helped me see it under a different light.]

Characters: (Heian Era) Ryomen Sukuna x AFAB!reader

Synopsis: You've been chosen by your village to be the annual human sacrifice for the King of Curses. Little you know you're gonna quench a different kind of hunger...

Words: 3600⁓

Note: Reader is afab but I tried to keep anything else as gender neutral as possible, so description of body should be ambiguous. "sex", "labia" and "clit" used to describe genitalia. No pronouns used. This is a NSFW text, so please MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THANK YOU.

CW: mentions of cannibalism, blindfold, manhandling, a bit of blood play, pet names (reader is once called "good little thing"), fingering (mouth, vagina, anus), double penetration (yes, Sukuna has two dicks), a bit of edging and choking.

It is not really how you expected it to go. In your head, you always pictured this moment to be ceremonious, solemn, grandiose even. Your logical brain always knew it wasn't the case, but you didn't expect to be treated like mere pounds of meat: blindfolded, gagged, hog-tied and very unceremoniously thrown in one of his mansion's chambers. Yet here you are now, trying to even your breath, your remaining free senses trying to take in as much of your surrounding as they can, a feeling of impending dread crawling up your spine and covering you in cold sweat.

You still don't know what fate will await you the moment the King of Curses is going to enter the room. Ryomen Sukuna is famous for his voracious appetite: is he going to throw you to his servant and let them slowly cook you over low heat, is he going to straight up eat you like an appetizer, or is he going to toy with you like a child not so willing to consume the offered meal? You don't know and you're not that sure you want to find out either. But it is your duty, as the chosen one for this year, and there is no way of bailing out of it now. Well, there had never been a way in any case.

The sound of barefoot steps approaching the room makes your entire body freeze, ears pricking up to catch even the faintest shift of feet against the wooden floor. He's near, he's coming. The steps come to a halt just outside the door, but he doesn't enter immediately, instead letting a couple of minutes pass in complete silence. A hundred and twenty seconds of pure agony where your heartbeat starts to gallop in your chest and the cold sweat covering you penetrates right through to the bone marrow, silence so deafening it turns into a ring in your ears.

The door slides open in its tracks and Ryomen "the King of Curses" Sukuna enters the room. His presence is enough to immediately nail you motionless in your spot on the floor, even if your blindfold is keeping you safe from his sight, a thing you both find to be a blessing and a curse. You can't see him, but there's no need for it: his aura is so powerful you don't have any problem in pin-pointing where he is in the room. Guessing what he intends to do is a different kettle of fish tho, and you return to concentrate all your focus in what your ears can catch, but he's very silent, just the brush of feet on the tatami and of his clothes on him betraying the little movements he's making.

Circling around you, he's taking his sweet time to do anything relevant, the tension putting you back in that sense of dread that took over your body earlier. The almost inaudible sounds of his measured steps drive you crazy, breath starting to hitch and limbs trembling from the exertion of their tied-up position.

What is he gonna do? How am I going to die? Am I really ready? Oh gosh I don't want to die...ohgodsohgodsohgodsohgods...why did they choose me?? WHY ME??? WHY M-

Warm, calloused hand is suddenly on you, making you somehow jump in your spot, your frantic thoughts a distraction powerful enough for you to not realize Sukuna approached and is now sitting at your side. Again, you don't need to actually see him for you to be intimidated: you feel him towering over you, his body radiating an aura of dominance and reverence, and again you find yourself frozen in your position, feeling like a frog ready to be dissected by a med student.

With slow yet firm motions, his big hand wanders on your body, barely covered by the haori you wore for the brief ceremony right before your offering. His touch is inquisitive, fingers digging from time to time into the softness of your flesh, as to asses the quality of the meat, thumb brushing in particular spots that catch his interest. Feeling your distress, he tries to sooth it, powerful digits hitting in the right spots and slowly turning your rigid muscles into something more tender, even though they don't completely surrender to his touch.

A second hand follows the first and their warmth dissipates the cold that lingered in your bones, making you relax a bit more. You can feel how he is more curious now, hands daring to venture under your clothes, groping, pinching, squeezing what is now his property. Finally, his hands stop their wandering on top of your tied limbs and, much to your surprise, he starts to undo the knots until your limbs fall with a thud on the floor, their stiffness making you realize how long you have been kept in that uncomfortable position. Then, as some miracle your mind have never dared to conceive, one hand goes to the back of your head and undoes the piece of cloth that has been put around your mouth.

Free to move and free to speak. Your mind still kinda processing those facts and you're turned around and on your back by his foot, that places itself on your stomach and pins you down. So big it cover the entirety of your midsection, the pressure is enough to keep you still, but not painful nor uncomfortable.

"Massage your wrists and ankles, make the sensitivity come back to your limbs" he speaks -no, he orders- for the first time since he entered the room and his voice sounds and echoes inside you like the rumbling of an approaching storm. You don't even think about disobeying him, so you force your hands up, numb fingers trying to move and do as he commanded: it takes you several minutes, but you gradually feel your blood rush back to your extremities and make them tingle.

You are still massaging the markings of the ropes on your wrists, his foot still planted on your stomach, when you feel his face descending on yours, just to stop at mere inches before your skins can actually touch. Your body stills, uncertain of his next move, and your mind starts to race through all the meat-based recipes you could possibly know, wondering how Sukuna will like your flesh best. His hot breath tickles your neck as his nose finds his way to the soft skin just under your jaw, and takes a good sniff of it. Involuntary goosebumps forms all over your body and you hear him chuckle directly into your ear, hair raising on the back of your neck.

"Are you afraid of me?" his voice his low, unexpectedly pleasant, and there's no threat in his tone, not yet at least.

You ponder for just a moment over your response, not wanting to upset the King of Curses, knowing well that your purpose is to win his favour over for another year on behalf of your village, but you also know that Sukuna is a man who doesn't like being lied to, so you give him what he's asking for.

"Yes... and no - you answer, your own voice sounding so feeble in your ears, but you can sense his brow rising and filling the silence with unworded surprise and curiosity, so you continue - I dread what awaits for me at the end of this night, what you're going to do with me...but there's a part of me that now feels...otherwise."

Honest thought it is, as you imagined his behaviour towards you to be indifferent at best and straight up predatory at worst. Well, he is predatory, something you muse is carved deeply in the very essence of his being, but right now he also feel almost...generous? If someone asked you before the ceremony, you would have never imagine that he would do such courtesy of freeing you of (almost) all of your restraints.

His chuckle is latched with amusement and when he talks again, huskily and low, his voice makes something warm stir into your lower abdomen, now free from the weight of his foot. "Good."

Giving you no time to ponder over his response, sharp teeth suddenly sink into your shoulder, making you yelp in surprise and pain. Delicious you may taste to him, as he doesn't let go of you, but bite harder, until his teeth break your skin and draw blood.

So this is how I go, uh? Consumed raw and alive by a monster in human skin...

Yet again Ryomen Sukuna surprises you, as he doesn't tear the first piece of your flesh away, but licks and sucks at your blood, before closing the wound with his Reversed Technique. Is he toying with you? Most likely. As it turns out, you seem to prove yourself as an entertaining one, enough to convince him into sparing your existence on this heart for a few hours more.

A shiver runs up your body, when you feel all of his four hands on you all at once. They quickly take care of your haori, tearing it into shreds with just one motion, and leaving you completely naked at his mercy. Have you thought it wrong? Does he really want to devour you right now and there?

And much to your surprise, instead of tearing and breaking as you thought they would, his hands really start to palm you, almost gently, the upper pair going up to your chest while you feel the lower ones caressing down your sides and legs. Eyes close under the blindfold and you start to tremble: of all the possible outcome of the night, this was not included in the ones you contemplated.

One of your nipples is reached by his big, deft fingers and is immediately pinched and twisted, making you squirm under him. "S-sukuna-sama..." you try to stop him, or at least slow him down, but he takes care of you in such a quick manner, that it takes your brain a full minute to realize what he has done: mouth over your other nipple, his free upper hand roughly pushing index and middle finger in your mouth, successfully silencing you, while his lower hands spread your legs open and keep them in position.

It takes you another minute to steady both your breath and your body, after the initial shock. The fact that you're unable to see starting to affect you more now that your body is completely immobilized again, but you try to calm down and slow your erratic heartbeat, fully aware that you had never had a say about the whole night. You are here just to give whatever he wants to take from you.

Sukuna waits patiently, lazily licking at your nipple and slowly pumping his fingers into your mouth at the same time, covering both your chest and chin with saliva. Once you let out a long breath through your nose and let your body relax under him, he resumes his attack and gives more vigour to his actions, the intensity of it all making you arch your back. His tongue is big and rough against your nipple, circling around the bud without mercy, while his big fingers relentlessly fuck your open mouth, almost leaving you without breath. It's all so intense, you struggle a bit to comprehend all the sensations and feelings travelling around your body all at once: the firm grasp on your legs, his calloused digits against your tongue, the sharp teeth that scratch your skin from time to time, the apprehension of blood being spilled again lingering in the back of your mind.

The grip on one of your thigh leaves and you feel his fingertips brushing the area around your sex, reaching your labia and spreading them open, the first traces of your arousal starting to drip out. He lets out a hum of approval and slips two of his fingers inside of you, making you moan around the ones that are still pumping inside your mouth. They immediately start with a fast pace, both set of fingers going in and out of you at the same time, and almost send your brain in short circuit. Too many fingers in and on you, too many stimuli calling for your attention.

Clinging to one of his arms, again you try to steady yourself in that sea of sensations that washes over you in big, strong waves. The room starts to be filled with lewd sounds: the squelching of your juices, his slurping on your nipple, your muffled moans, his occasional humming.

Once you think you got a hold of yourself tho, he starts to scissors his fingers, nicely spreading you open while your walls try to clench on them. You can feel the smirk on his lips, how is enjoying teasing you so much, taking you to your limits and making you test them, only for him. The sensation at the beginning makes you go tense again, not in a hurtful way as Sukuna seems strangely careful not to harm you, but in the way only of two of his fingers alone seem to fill you up to the brim. You feel them stretching and spreading, exploring your insides to find all your most vulnerable and sensitive spots: they press here, move in a circling motion there, and every time without fail, they make you react in the most delicious way.

Without warning, you feel another finger making its way into your entrance to join the other two, and a wave of anxiety tries to take hold of your brain: if you fell so full with two big fingers already inside, how is it going to be with a third one?

Frantically grabbing the arm that’s taking care of your mouth, with the last remnants of coherence left you try to ask for mercy, but your words are strangled by his fingers, forced to go back from where they came. Whines, moans, and grunts are the only sounds you apparently are allowed to produce, but you’re sure that, even if intelligible words had come out of your mouth, the King of Curses would not have had ears for them.

The knot that was building inside your lower abdomen is dangerously near to snap, but you try to keep it at bay, not sure what Sukuna really wants: does he intend to torture you all night long, or does he really wants to see you lose yourself in the pleasure he’s giving you? You look up at him even if you can’t see him due to your blindfold, so you miss his mischievous grin plastered on his lips, matching with the hungry stare that had his pupils overtake his crimson irises.

Your body has probably given you away, as he lowers his head until his mouth is brushing against the shell of your ear and whispers huskily “Don’t hold it from me, let yourself go and give it to your King” and going in pair with his sultry words is the tongue of his abdomen mouth, treacherously teasing your clit with its tip, moving slowly at first and then quickly taking up the pace.

It’s too much, it’s oh so fucking good, and it all overwhelms you.

And you give it to him.

Your orgasm hits you so hard you spasm and shake, your walls clenching hard on Sukuna’s fingers still deep sheathed inside of you. Lewd moans try to escape your muffled mouth while his second mouth laps and slurps at your spilled juices, his low chuckle all you can hear above the furious rushing of blood in your ears.

It takes you quite a few minutes to come down from your high, minutes where the King of Curses seems to be ever so patient, leaving you now free to regain your breath and composure. Your breathing returns regular and the roaring in your ears subside as well. Finally back in this plane of existence and you find yourself feeling his not yet satisfied hungry aura, looming expectantly over you, and you know the night has just only begun.

As if you are but just a mere rag-doll, he grabs you by your hips and turns you over, your hips then immediately raised until you have your ass up in the air and your face still plastered on the floor. No problems for your bottoms to be taken in a handful of his, big and calloused palms covering your flesh with no effort, grabbing, squeezing and pinching to their delight. Pressing you against himself and through the fabric of the clothes that are soon to be discarded, you realise how much of a demon he his.

You know that he possesses some attributes that barely classifies him as "human": unsettling double pair of cold eyes, two sets of muscular arms, and an additional very big mouth on his abdomen. He has double of almost everything... and apparently, he has double the normal amount of dick as well. You tense. But there aren't any other choices, are there? So you just have to relax, and do your best.

Inhale and exhale.

You convince your muscles to let go of the tension, becoming more pliable in Sukuna's hands, who starts to manhandle you even more eagerly. "Good little thing" he murmurs, the praise adding to the warmth that is slowly but relentlessly pooling in you again.

Making your flesh his playground, Sukuna continues to take care of it, now with his two dicks joining as players alongside his hands: one slides itself through your still soaked folds, the other mirrors the movement between your butt cheeks. From your position, you hear him make a strange sound, something near satisfaction not quite achieved. Your mind buzzes with thoughts about what you could have done to upset him, but after a moment you feel your fears being vanquished: a string of spit slowly descends where your skins touch and he resumes his stroking motions, spreading it nicely on your rear entrance.

A couple of times again, the amount of saliva being more and more every time, until you finally hear his satisfied hum rumbling low in his chest while now his cock slide easily on you. The motion of both of them on your private parts starts to have the desired effect on you and you start to move your hips in unison, seeking the friction your body craves.

However, he doesn’t indulge you immediately, detaching himself from you just enough to spit another time and let one of his fingers spreading it and prodding at your butthole. He enters slowly, almost gently, giving you time to adjust to the intrusion, before starting to gradually move his finger inside of you. Again, he leisurely explores your insides, taking notes of every one of your reactions and enjoying seeing you giving up all your restraints for him.

Not gagged by his fingers, you now let all your sweet sounds fall from your lips like a cascade, Sukuna’s name resonating loud and clear in between moans and whimpers. In the temporary absence of his cock, one of his hands sneaks under you, finding your puffed labia and your swollen clit and making you reach new notes in the musical scale of your pleasure.

When he takes all of his teasing fingers away and out of you, you let out a whine in protest, turning your head to look at him above your shoulder, even if you can’t see him. He gazes back at you with the same wolfish grin from before, while he slides both of his dicks inside of both your entrances at the same time. Eyes shut and mouth gaping in a soundless oh, you feel the first wave of him hitting you when he bottoms out.

Having you all ready and prepared with his finger, he doesn’t waste much time and just lets a couple more droplets of saliva down, before starting to move into you with a lively pace. And while you’re being fucked by two dicks, four hands are all over you body, wandering on chest, hips, clit, shoulders, neck, mouth: no part of you is being left untended for and soon enough your brain find itself bombarded by stimuli again.

The waves becoming bigger and stronger at every thrust, you drown under the intensity of his squall. The pleasure engulfs your body and threatens to throw you off the cliff, but the King senses your imminent climax and slows down, eliciting another frustrated whimper from you. And, as a cat who plays with their prey, the King takes a liking to this little game and shoves you almost off the edge to just catch you back before your fall for a few more times, until you’re a sobbing mess in his arms.

One of his hands comes to your throat and raises until you are flushed against his big chest, his low panting in synchrony with the squelching sounds made by the connections of your bodies. A quick clench and the air is briefly cut from entering your lungs, your brain soaking in the waves of pain and pleasure from the momentary lack of oxygen.

“Su-sukuna-sam..aaaa...puh-please..!”

His pace becomes more wild and intense, his cocks spreading you in the most fulfilling and delicious way, your second orgasm threatening to explode any moment now. But he’s not satisfied yet, he wants you to crumble under him completely so he finds his way to your clit and teases it, while your shoulder is once again subject to the attention of his teeth.

You finally fall from the cliff and it’s all white and oh so intense.

---

When you regain consciousness, you realize your blindfold is gone and you can finally see the man in the room with you, lazily munching some dried persimmons. He gives you one, an offering you gladly accept, your body aching in every joint and muscles you posses as you move yourself in a seated position.

“Hope you’re hungry as I am – he says with an husky tone, while offering you another fruit after you devoured the first one – because that was just the appetizer.”

[amorgansgal]

I'm always struck by how people seem to think that Gale wouldn't find a regular person (whether they could do magic or not) boring and incomparible to Mystra. I think it's precisely because they aren't extraordinary in the grand scheme of things that makes them extraordinary and wondrous to Gale, especially if they loved him. So here's a little fanfiction piece exploring that! Tis a wee bit smutty, so the more smutty stuff is under the cut!

Perfectly Imperfect

What could compare to the divine? To the goddess of magic herself who could conjure any thought or desire or fantasy and make it so real? Well Gale is pleased to find you can and it’s strangely the things that make you so mortal, so ordinary, that drives him mad with desire. It’s the smell of you, the richest of scents that could never be created so precisely, he’d know if it was wrong or just a little off. It was that intoxicating scent of a little sweat from a passionate rush to bed, the clean smell of water and bath salts or soap still lingering on your skin, and something so wholly you he cannot think of a way to describe it. Comfort? Sweetness? Home?

The smell of desire as his hand skimmed down your waist, teased you until you begged and pleaded with him to give you more, the warm rush against his fingers and the sweet tang when he placed them in his mouth or pressed his tongue against you and watched your back and hips arch off the bed. 

It was how you looked, eyes fluttering close when he claimed you, mouth dropped open - a silent ‘o’ of bliss and pleasure - followed by a heady little gasp that he would seal with a kiss and he felt your eager hands grip tightly onto him. His back, his arms, his waist, as though you wanted to touch every inch of him and it was knowing that you couldn’t, even though you were desperate to do so, that sent a shiver of desire coursing through him. Somehow not having everything, of being restrained by mortal physicality, is the most delicious, beautiful, wondrous thing in the world. It’s a rare thing for him to not think of magic, but it’s too easy to forget it when he tumbled you into bed and you both spent hours seeking out each other’s pleasure. 

It felt better this way, like he knew you more than he knew his own goddess all those years ago. A few months with you and he had figured out that spot behind your ear, on your neck, that made your knees weak and how easily it was to wrap an arm around your waist when they were, turning you to him so he could kiss you. How there was a spot on your belly that would make you laugh and push his hand away, because it was so sensitive and you would wriggle half way across the bed, before he had pulled you back, promising never to touch it again (maybe)! How there was a discoloured mark on one of your thighs, whether a birthmark or from a fight he hadn’t quite figured out, but how you loved having it kissed and he loved trailing kisses up your thigh, going higher and higher, closer and closer, until you outright demanded he stopped teasing you. And he did, always, even when he had intentions to do otherwise, because he couldn’t say no to you. 

It sent his heart galloping away and made blood rush to his head and made it so that he couldn’t look away, whether you were lying in bed with him buried inside you, or reading a book in the library, or sipping tea out on his favourite balcony and admiring the view, the mortal with all their flyaway hairs, with a small stain on their shirt and a bit of dirt caught under nails was so utterly perfectly imperfect, how could Gale not love you?

[tobuzzu]

bows! Archery! Dragons would probably do archery mostly the same way humans do, pull the string back and stuff. One slight issue is that dragons might have a shorter arm-to-body ratio than us humans, which can be an issue since a dragon might not be able to pull the bowstring as far back as required to effectively use the weapon… But that can be fixed with an extended grip! Which then creates a new problem as the dragon would lose or at least be limited with their ability to stabilize the arrow with their talons… so then you could get an arrow shelf to hold the arrow! Problem solved!

You can also fix the short arms problem by just, like, using certain art styles— Like, my art style for dragons has them have really long friggin arms, but a dragon in joy ang’s style is probably gonna have stubbier arms and thus a far harder time using a bow!

Now for flight archery! I think horse archery would be a good parallel to shooting a bow whilst flying since both involve shooting bows at fairly high speeds. there’s a bunch of horse archery styles and techniques in the world, so I’ll narrow it down to Mongolian horse archery since they’re the most famous!

Mongolian horse archers typically use a different style of shooting than how most modern archers, where instead of using the Mediterranean draw where you pull the string back with your index, middle, and ring finger, they’d instead pull the string back using the knuckle and thumb in something called a thumb draw! (or eastern draw/Mongolian draw/Turkish draw/—I’ll just call it thumb draw)

Mongolian horse archers also placed their arrows on the outside of the bow (that being the right side of the bow arm facing outward if your right handed and vice versa) which makes it easier and faster to knock arrows.

Both of these techniques, the thumb and placing the arrow on the outside, when paired together actually help stabilize the arrow. The thumb draw provides a constant torque/force against the arrow which helps keep it pinned against the bow arm which makes it less likely to get knocked about. This can be rather useful when shooting from an unstable and shaky platform like a galloping horse, or in this case, a flying dragon!

That doesn't mean its impossible to use the mediteranean draw on the standard olympic side on horseback of course, as proven by Lajos Kassai, a Hungarian bowyer who exclusively uses the Mediterranean draw due to a thumb injury he sustained!

The parallel between horse archery and flight archery isn’t perfect though, as in horse archery the archer is independant from the horse, meaning that the archer can shoot in whatever direction they want whilst also being able to move in a straight line at the same time.

For a dragon however, the direction of their flight is directly tied to the rotation of their own body, as their wings are connected to their torso. So if a dragon twisted their torso to the right, then the angle of their wings would also be changed and the dragon would begin to veer towards the right.

And In order to pull a bow, it has to be around perpendicular to your torso, meaning that you can only fire an arrow from your left or right flanks.

So for example, a human horse archer could just twist their body and shoot straight forward, and the horse would continue to run in the same direction. If a dragon wanted to shoot at a target that was directly in front of them however, the dragon would have to twist their torso about 90 angle or less either left or right in order to get the bow lined up with their target, which would then cause the dragon’s flight path to veer off course.

Of course, a dragon could probably just reorientate themselves right afterwards and continue on with their straight flight path, though it might slow down their speed a bit. That might not sound like too big of a deal, but in a scenario where the dragon is pursuing another target, it could become a bit of a hindrance as the dragon would be forced to slow down or make their flight path longer every time they fired their bow!

Also, it also might be practical for a dragon to learn how to be ambidextrous with a bow. For example, if the dragon was holding their bow in their left hand and wanted to shoot at a target to their right, they might find it faster to switch the bow to their other hand, rather than turning around in the opposite direction just to aim at the target.

A dragon also can’t exactly flap their wings whilst drawing a bow, as the bow would get in the way of the wings when being aimed. So a dragon would most likely have to glide whenever firing a bow to avoid accidently clipping their wings.

There’s also a problem with aiming, as most WoF dragons have helluva long necks, so their eyes aren’t going to be as aligned with the arrow. It’s not impossible to shoot an arrow like this, but its definitely trickier! I suppose the dragon could technically twist their neck down to the arrow and aim it regularly, though that does sound rather uncomfortable and there’s probably a good chance the string might slap the dragon’s cheek or ear whenever it’s released, which can be a problem if your use a heavy draw weight bow.

Oh, also one final tangent that isn't too relevant but I thought was cool, a WoF dragon bow would be really big. According to that one official Rose and Smolder measurement chart, adult dragons can be like around 17 ft/5m tall. Long bows can usually be as tall as humans, so if you upscaled that to a dragon height you could probably end up with a bow in the 15-20ft range depending on the type of long bow, that's basically a seige ballista right there! Imaging getting hit by that? You’d just immediately vanish! Poof! Gone! Nothing!

…Yeah that's about all, cheers!

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 3 - C’est Un Gars

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none... just some instant attraction and flirting ;)

Word Count: 2.6k

Author's Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is when reader and Benedict finally meet. Yep, that's the whole chapter. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

Paris, September 1939

Benedict doesn't turn up the next day. Or the day after that. Some snag with travel arrangements that Eloise doesn't explain, and you don't pry. You suspect she championed any excuse for him to delay his trip. But it does mean his arrival is not particularly front of your mind as the days slip by.

It's a week later - after an exhausting workday in uncomfortable shoes - when you get home and notice the door is unlocked. Assuming it's Eloise, you enter the apartment distractedly, reading a flyer you picked up on your journey home.

“El, did you see this?” you call out without looking up, dropping your bag as you unbuckle your T-strap heel, the relief to your foot palpable, flinging the first aside. “There is a new jazz night in Montmartre… I think we should go, seeing as your troublesome brother is never turning up…”

“He is actually…” a refined, resonant voice calls out from across the room with a wry tone. There, silhouetted by the bright window, is the outline of a tall man.

You stumble in shock, twisting your ankle quite heavily as you remove the last shoe, and he rushes forward to your aid, large hands grasping your waist, stopping you from falling down and righting your stance. His hold is gone as soon as you are stable. 

Discombobulated and embarrassed, you find yourself staring up into the most handsome face you have ever seen in your twenty-two years on earth, tongue-tied and awkwardly holding your right shoe. Not the introduction you would want with anyone.

“Benedict?” you squeak, mouth rapidly running dry.

“The very same,” his acknowledging smile is crooked, and something gallops hard through your chest. “Y/n, I presume?”

All you can do is nod. You can see the family resemblance - chestnut hair, blue eyes, a proud jaw - but damn if this is not the most fetching male version of Eloise’s prettiness. Tall and broad-shouldered, he looks very dashing in a royal blue three-piece suit with a crisp white shirt and burgundy and gold striped tie. 

“Are you alright?” his forehead creases in concern as he nods to your ankle.

“I… I think so?” you stutter. There is a slight throb there, but it's almost background to the riot in the rest of your body at the very sight of this man. 

Oh god, Eloise is going to disown me…  

Her warning from last week is ringing in your ears as you attempt a step but can't hide the wince at the bloom of pain as your weight transfers.

“Hmmm, I think that's a no,” he hums. “Come, take my arm, let's get you seated and this foot raised…..”

And so you find yourself clinging to the arm he offers, feeling the latent power under the layers of fabric as he provides a solid brace to lean on. Still a touch mortified, you drop onto the sofa as elegantly as you can, raising your ankle onto the coffee table and sighing with relief. You don't miss how his eyes linger briefly on your stockinged leg before he bustles over to your refrigerator and grabs a chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. 

“Here, this should help,” he explains as he walks back. 

“Drink until it doesn’t hurt anymore?” you guess drolly. 

His responding laugh is warm and crinkles his eyes so beguilingly. “Stop the swelling,” he explains as he slides to sit on the coffee table next to your leg and presses the bottle against your ankle. 

You hiss gently behind your teeth, the coolness seeping through your stocking. Your eyes meet, and you swear his dilate a fraction, the hand not holding the bottle wrapping around the inside of your ankle to align your foot better, long elegant fingers cupping your arch. Just that simple touch is enough to make your pulse race. Something about this man feels electric. Like standing beside a humming pylon, an energy coursing through you.

“It’s nice to finally meet the artist,” you murmur, gesturing to the artwork you know so well now.

His eyes track to the painting, and his face lights up. “You like it?” his tone so hopeful.

“It's beautiful,” you confess, a tingle where you can feel the warmth of his fingers flexing around your foot, contrasting to the cold of the bottle.

“Thank you,” he demures, bowing his head and looking up at you through his lashes, a dot of colour high on his cheekbones.

“What the….”

You both twist to see Eloise standing in the doorway, mouth agape. Benedict’s hand flinches away from your foot, and you realise it must look more incriminating from her angle, unable to see the cold compress. All she sees is him sitting on the coffee table, grasping your leg as you talk softly to each other….

“El! Hi!” you call, attempting a breezy tone, “I tripped on my way in, and Benedict here was just helping me. I’m okay,” you add preemptively.

He jumps up from the coffee table and indeed indicates your injury. Eloise nods to acknowledge it, then narrows her eyes at him before walking over and giving him a quick embrace, kissing his cheek.

“Hello, brother. I was hoping you would never show up,” she greets sardonically.

“Hello, little sister, always such a warm welcome…” he drawls.

You can’t help but giggle at their exchange, and both seem pleased to have entertained you, twinkles in their similar eyes.

“Well, this rather scuppers tonight’s dancing plans…” Eloise motions at your ankle.

“You and Solene go without me. Why not take Benedict, too?!”

“I’ve had a full day of travel. I’d rather not…” he confesses when Eloise looks at him expectantly.

“Spoilsport,” she rolls her eyes. “Where are you staying?” 

“I haven’t booked anywhere...” he confesses, looking a touch sheepish. as you clock a suitcase against the wall. 

“Well then, your choices are to find a hotel now or sleep on our sofa,” she shrugs. 

“If it means it will get you packed quicker, I’ll stay right here,” he answered pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

“Brother, have you ever been to Paris before?” You can tell Eloise is winding up for one of her persuasions with that opening gambit, so you chuckle and relax back into the sofa, crossing your arms, about to enjoy the show.

“Is this going to be a two-minute or a ten-minute Eloise soliloquy?” he misdirects dryly, catching your eye and winking, which makes your heart skip.

Undeterred by both of your reactions, Eloise launches into her argument. “I know for a fact you haven’t, so let me say this. You are an artist. This is the art capital of the world. It would literally be irresponsible for you not to stay a while. Enjoy the galleries. Soak up the atmosphere. Get inspired. Hell, y/n here works in a gallery and has quite the encyclopedic knowledge of all the artists on display in the city - a literal font of knowledge…” As she extols your virtues, his eyes cut to you, an admiration and curiosity in them that makes your lungs feel tight, “…I would personally judge you for not staying. At least a week? Maybe two…”

“Delay tactics, El,” he sighs, but even you can see him wavering.

“Paris may not always be here, at least not as it is now,” you append, unwilling to look at him as you say it, looking out across the rooftops wistfully. “The art truly is spectacular, and if war comes to its doorstep in the next few months, who knows what could happen? You may regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t experience at least some of it.” Your focus back in the room as you look upon his art again. “Someone who paints something that beautiful deserves to see the old European masters up close…” you end on a shrug.

His gaze feels heavy like a cloak as Eloise waves her hands towards you. “Yeah… THAT,” she adds with finality.

Benedict sighs and tips his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows heavily.

“Fine. Three days,” he capitulates. “But, Eloise, you must be packed and ready to leave by then. I mean it. I don’t need Mother’s wrath about this…” his warning avuncular.

“Promise,” she smirks, before grinning and whooping in victory, doing a little jig as he shakes his head with exasperated affection.

“Prêt à aller?”  Solene's face appears around the doorframe, her face made up for a night out.

“Not for me,” you pout as she opens the door fully. “ I twisted my ankle. But I’m pretty sure Eloise wants a bit more victory dance time,” you smile as Eloise nods furiously, still swaying. 

They all offer to help you to your room, but you steadfastly refuse, confident you can hobble to bed when the time comes. Wishing them all well, you’re looking forward to some quiet alone time after an eventful day. 

—

Half an hour later, you are reading a book and feasting on brie and crackers when there is a soft knock at the door.

“Come in?” your call is tentative, unsure who might be knocking this late.

You frown as a key jangles in the door, then a warm flush down your spine as Benedict appears in the doorway, suitcase in hand.

“Eloise gave me a spare key. The hotel is fully booked for tonight,” he grimaces apologetically. 

“Sofa it is?”

“Appears so…”

“So there’s only one hotel in the whole of Paris, then?” you tease softly as he removes his hat and drops his case.

“Only one in close enough proximity to ensure Eloise doesn’t have time to pack and up and abscond to god know where before I can intervene, yes…” that crooked grin reappearing.

“I’d never let her do that!” you gasp in mock outrage. “At least not without taking me too….”

He laughs heartily and moves to the counter to grab two wine glasses and a bottle opener, asking silently with an eyebrow raise if you want to join in, which you enthusiastically agree to.

“What will you do? When we leave?” He asks over the glugging sound of the glasses being filled. 

“My family has told me to move up my return sailing to as soon as possible…” you can’t hide the disappointment in your tone. “I know I should do it… I just…”

“…Don’t want to give up on something before you even know how much you need it?” He guesses as he hands you a glass.

You are momentarily floored by how accurately he has pinpointed your feelings.

“Yes,” your reply is quiet but emphatic, a jolt to your being as your fingers brush while taking the drink, “that’s exactly it!”

“I understand…” and there is a world of empathy in his tone, raising his glass in silent toast, which you mirror. “But time isn’t on your side…” he reminds after a sip, “a few weeks, months if we are lucky, and Paris may well be invaded.”

“England too…” 

“Perhaps, indeed. So you should go. Be safe. Back home to America…”

“What if that’s the very last thing I want?” your whisper is more fervent than you intended.

“That sounds more like a reason you don’t want to go than a reason you want to stay,” he surmises, again frighteningly on target with his assessment of your feelings, almost as if he’s in tune with them somehow. “But yet… Eloise said you’re engaged?” he aims for nonchalant, but you could swear there is dejection too.

“Sort of…” a wave of guilt crashing into you as your thoughts slide to Stanley. Good, reliable, comfortable, safe Stanley.

“How does one become ‘sort of’ engaged?” he frowns bemused, using air quotes. 

“Growing up down the street from someone your age whose father happens to be your own father's best friend and business partner?”

“Oh…” there’s a pause, “you’re not being pressured, are you?” his query filled with concern. It makes your ribs glow that he might even care.

“No… just… a life plotted out,” you echo the words Eloise threw at you on your first night here.

“And it’s not the life you want…?”

“I used to think so…,” you sigh, eyes cutting to the side as you feel a swell of a tear forming.

“You have the right to change your mind,” Benedict attests softly as you twirl your glass between your fingers. “You don’t owe anyone else your happiness.”

You want to climb into his lap, grab his jaw and kiss him senseless. The impulse so strong you can feel a tingle where his stubble would abrade your lips if you did so. Suddenly worried you'll act recklessly if you stay any longer, you rise to your feet, make your excuses and limp mildly to your room… laying in bed staring at the ceiling for a long time before sleep claims you.

–

It's the middle of the night when you awaken thirsty and decide to get a glass of water, your ankle much better from the laydown. Half-asleep, you wander out of your room, fumbling towards the kitchen area, when you almost trip for an entirely different reason. Well, perhaps the same reason you tripped in the first place.

There on the sofa, in a shaft of moonlight, is Benedict, fast asleep; his face is so peaceful in repose. But that is not where your eye lingers. He is topless, a blanket pooled around his waist, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. And you cannot look away. He is all smooth planes of skin peppered with occasional moles that your fingertips itch to trace patterns between. His shoulders are indeed broad without a suit, and it's obvious he is somewhat of an athlete; the play of muscle and ribcage as he breathes deep utterly entrancing. It's so completely different to how Stanley looks - hairy and stout - that you drift closer without realising it, drawn to the sight. It's the closest you’ve seen to a breathing Statue of David, a shape you didn't think real humans came in…. until now. 

So much so you don't even realise when his eyes flutter open, just transfixed by how his breathing pattern appears to change the flex of his abdominals.

“Are you alright?” his voice is a rough whisper and you startle. His eyes seem to focus, and you notice they flit down your body before he seems to stop himself.

“Sorry,” you stumble in apology, feeling your face flushing violently as your eyes fly to his face, then look away, embarrassed to be caught ogling so obviously.

“Do you need anything?” 

Yes, to run my tongue over that divot right there… your mind screams.

“No, no... I just came out to get some water and worried you might be cold uncovered,” you bluster. “I was going to cover you up, but you awoke before I could….” 

You are mildly impressed you can come up with an excuse as your heart pounds in your ears. Benedict’s face morphs into an intriguing mix of knowing, lopsided smile and bashfulness, pointedly pulling up the covers until they are tucked under his chin.

“Better?” he rumbles, and you could swear it is with a teasing lilt.

“Much…” you nod before awkwardly turning away.

“Y/n…” he calls softly, and you look at him over your shoulder, a flutter in your belly as you catch him glancing at your bottom.

“What…?”

“I'm glad your ankle seems better,” he offers softly.

“It is, thanks to you…”

“De rien…” his response, low and deep, in a flawless French accent, makes goosebumps break out over your arms.

Damn you, Benedict Bridgerton.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[ellieluvr420]

Friends? Never. Pt.10 (Ellie Williams x reader)

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

“I’m sending you and the same group you were with when you found those raiders as well as some others. We don’t know how big this group we’re looking for is so I’m going to send fifteen of you. Remember I want them brought back here alive, I want to talk to them.” Maria was pacing, a stern look on her face as you stood before her in her office. Since you had brought those raiders back Maria had interrogated them all and then sent them to be executed outside of Jackson, she had always been one to help anyone who needed it but if there was a threat to Jackson, she was ruthless.  

“Okay, got it. When do we leave?”  

“Tomorrow, first light. You’ve got experts in tracking and hunting in the group but I want you to lead, I know they’ll listen to you and I trust your judgement. Don’t make me regret that.” 

“I won’t Maria.” You nod before turning on your heel and walking away, the whole walk home your mind was occupied with what you would tell Ellie, she knew patrols never started so early but Maria had refused your attempts at gaining her access on the mission, you couldn’t understand why she was so adamant on Ellie not coming, she knew Ellie was skilled on patrol, better than most people but she had vehemently forbid you from telling her the nature of the mission whatsoever. 

You slipped out from under Ellie’s arm to begin getting ready for patrol, you feel her weight shift and hear a slight groan at your movement but she was still in a deep sleep which you were grateful for, you found it hard enough lying to her about this anyway and you knew if you were faced with her this morning you might give in entirely. 

Once you’re dressed and ready to go you sneak back into Ellie’s room placing a kiss on her forehead and leaving a note on her bedside table. 

Gone out for patrol but I’ll be back later. 

Don’t get too bored without me XX 

You slipped out her door and begun the foreboding journey to the gate. You were prepared, you were hunting, not being hunted and there was enough of you that it’s almost certain you’ll outnumber them, but you couldn’t help the anxiety knowing you were walking straight into fire. 

“Hey boss, you ready?” Lacey was too enthusiastic for how early it was in the morning but her quip still brought a smile to your face as you hopped onto Greg and checked your rifle and handgun. As you jolted with the movement of Greg’s galloping, there was a constant metallic clanking from all the ammo loaded into your pockets and your backpack. You each had a pair of handcuffs and plenty of rope stuffed into your bag too, you were ready. You had to be. 

Despite being surrounded by friends, you were quiet, everyone was. Dean and Susie were up front as they could track like you had never seen before. You resided at the back of the group with your head on a constant swivel. You all moved like this until Dean and Susie stopped just short of a mansion, you recognised it, the Baldwin mansion you had heard some call it. 

“Think they’re in there.” Dean said to you as you rode up through the group to meet them up at the front.  

“There’s tracks and can you see that window over there? That’s light. The fence wasn’t closed last time I came through here either.” Susie adds and you nod before turning your attention to the group. 

“Groups of three, let’s go at it from all sides and close them in. Remember we’re bringing them back alive so let’s be quiet and try and catch them before it gets ugly. Got it?” They all nod before separating themselves into groups as you had said and heading down to their respective side of the fence. You, Dean and Susie walked round the perimeter of the building until you found an entrance to the basement, you tied up the horses and began sneaking into the mansion from below, Dean in front, Susie behind him and you watching their backs. You cleared the basement before moving up the stairs that bring out into the living space, the downstairs was mainly open floor, but the door brought you straight out to where the group was all sleeping. You thought to yourself that they were arrogant to not have anyone keeping watch, but it did you a favour no less. You counted eight of them so you signalled for two people to take one person, one to hold a gun to their head to ensure cooperation and the other to bind their wrists and tie a rope to their bound wrists behind their back, then looping it around their waist and leaving a segment for them to be tied to the horses reins. You were about to signal for them to start before you looked at the sleeping girl by your foot, you could see just from her shoulders poking out of her sleeping bag that you wouldn’t be able to take her on yourself if she put up a fight, so you signalled for Dean and Raphael to take her while you take someone else on your own. “Do as much as you can while she’s sleeping. Be ready for her to wake though.” You whispered before walking over to one of the other unaware sleepers. After taking a deep breath in and out, you nod at them all and in sync you begin incapacitating them. 

The quiet room was no longer quiet, it was a symphony of hisses and insults and grunts as they tried, in vain, to escape your grasps. Once they were all tied up and secured on the horses, you started the journey back to Jackson triumphantly. Each pair of your group was riding next to each other as one person had the hostage on their horse and the other rode with a gun aimed at them just to ensure they wouldn’t get any ideas. You had made Raphael and Dean put the built woman on your horse and you rode behind the group with your gun pressed into her spine the whole way back. It was eerily quiet between the collective, no one daring to utter a word, even the girl in front of you had her head bowed in a sorrowful fashion, it shaking from time to time as if she’s having a heated debate within her mind. As you walked through the open gates you notice there were absolutely no staff milling about the stables and the armoury, only two guards stood behind Maria who was waiting for you all. She didn’t speak, simply turning on her heel and walking away from you all, beckoning you to follow. You stopped outside of the jail; it was rarely ever in use, but it had 10 cells lining the walls of the long corridor and a single room at the end. You could never understand why Maria ordered for so many cells to be put in but now you realised she was being cautious, being prepared. 

You all dismounted your horses and untied the hostages before bringing them down to the ground also. You walked with Abby, still at the back of the group with your gun jammed into her back, she was shockingly complacent, as they all were but as she watched all her friends get locked into the cells only for her to be walked straight to the room at the back, you noticed the way her body tensed. You had assumed she was the girl that the raiders specifically mentioned and now you knew you were right. As you both entered the room, the guards took over and placed her in a chair that her ankles were chained too as well as her wrists that were still handcuffed behind her being tied to a metal loop that was securely fasted to the floor. They were taking no chances, and it calmed the almost painful nausea that had been twisting your stomach since you woke up this morning. As she sat, her face a picture of defeat, you took in her features. Her tired, blue eyes, the large build that caused her muscles to bulge with the slightest movement, her long blond hair that was pulled back into a neat braid, you both stared back at each other until Maria stepped in front of you as she pulled a chair with her to sit opposite the crestfallen girl. You kept waiting for the command for you to leave to come, but it never did, so you stood with your back against the wall as Maria interrogated the girl. It was painful to watch as despite the seeming acceptance of her fate she gave up essentially no information as to what they were doing here, who they were looking for, she barely said a word. But as the guards stalked over to her at Maria’s command, one landing a hard blow to her stomach that knocked the wind out of her and the other pinching her mouth and nose shut until her eyes widened at you in fear, you had to excuse yourself, unable to witness what you knew was going to happen. You raced past the cells and out of the jail without sparing a glance at any of the other hostages, you were so focused on getting away from the building you were speeding without looking up from the ground which sent you crashing into a suspicious-looking Ellie. 

“Were you just coming from the jail?” 

“Er yeah, Maria’s in there, she just wanted an update on patrol from me.” 

“Why’s she in there?” She quirks an eyebrow at you, waiting to see what lie would leave your lips next. She had seen you bringing the hostages in, and she still had the conversation she had overheard between you and Maria at the forefront of her mind. She wasn’t angry at you for lying, you were following an order, from Maria no less and she knew how it feels to be on the backend of disobeying her, and she knew you did too, so she didn’t blame you, but she did enjoy watching you squirm under the pressure. 

“I don’t know, I think her, and a couple of guys are just checking the durability of the cells, can never be too careful right?” You chuckle unconvincingly as she eyes you knowingly. You felt hot under her gaze, and you were seconds away from giving into the guilt that was consuming you more and more with every lie you threw at her, but she took pity on your anxious state and nodded as though she believed you before holding her hand out to you. 

“Wanna get some lunch at the tipsy bison? Bet you’re hungry.” 

“God yes, that sounds like heaven right now.” She chuckles at your immediate relief as you begin the short walk to your destination, still hand in hand. Your thoughts kept trying to drag you back to the girl in the jail but the sight of Ellie sitting opposite you giggling to herself at the awful joke she had just told you, kept you grounded.

 

You stand in the kitchen as you make eight sandwiches as well as cutting four apples in half and wrapping them up before slipping out the front door into the cool night air. You had tried to fall asleep, but you couldn’t, something was telling you to go back to the jail, you cursed the empathy pulling on your heart strings as you gripped the bag containing the food as the prison comes into sight. You slip round the back of the building and go through the side door to miss the two guards stood outside the front entrance before creeping into the long corridor where all the cells lined the walls. You lowered your bag to the ground before retrieving a sandwich and half an apple and feeding each set through the gaps in the bars, some of the inhabitants were awake and eyed you strangely before nodding their heads in thanks, the others slept but you left the food for them to wake up to. You knew they wouldn’t have had any food since they last ate before they were captured and judging from the awake one's reactions, it had been quite a long time. When there’s only one set of food left, you make your way back to the room where you assumed the girl still was and quietly opened the door, slipping through and shutting it behind you. As you turn, the girl's eyes are already on you, following your every movement suspiciously, she looked different to when you had left, her face was bruised and bloody, one of her eyes swelled shut, it sickened you and you were quick to grab the last sandwich and apple out of your bag. She eyed the food, and you could see the hunger in her eyes as you placed it on the ground in front of her cautiously.  

“If I untie you to let you eat, you gonna do anything stupid?” She tears her eyes from the food that was calling her name and shakes her head vigorously at you. “Well, just in case you get any ideas, there’s guards posted at the only exit to the building, and we are all armed.” You add before walking behind her and untying the rope, you nimbly pick the lock of the handcuffs, a trick you had learned to get out of one of the padlocked side gates of Jackson over the years, you remembered how impressed Ellie was when she saw you do it for the first time when you were both fourteen and desperate to go sledding in the snow. As the lock clicks and the handcuffs drop off her, she lunges at the food, immediately unwrapping the sandwich and taking a large bite, humming at the taste. You watch her as you introduce yourself before sitting in front of her and pulling your gun from its holster, just to be safe. 

“I’m... Abby.” She says hesitantly, it’s slightly muffled by the food in her mouth and the swell of her lip, but you can understand her just fine.  

“I’m sorry for what they did to you Abby.” 

“I know.” 

“You know?” 

“I saw you run out of here the second they changed tactics.” 

“Oh... I need to ask you some things, I’m not going to hurt you but I’m hoping you’ll talk to me anyway.” 

“Well, they already got it out of me so what difference does it make to me now.” She sounds ashamed, angry but ashamed of herself. 

“Who are you looking for?” 

“Joel Miller.” Joel, Ellie’s Joel, your stomach churned but you willed yourself on, desperate to understand.  

“Why?” 

“To kill him.” 

“But why?” 

“We were fireflies, he came in with a girl, an immune girl, my dad was going to operate on her to make a cure, but Joel stopped him. He massacred the entire hospital where we were stationed, including my dad.” She took a sharp breath in and looked down at the ground trying to collect herself. “He has to pay for what he did.” You can barely breathe; he killed all those people that wanted to make a cure from Ellie. Ellie, you wondered how much of this she knew but you assumed she at least knew something because Joel and Ellie’s relationship had been turbulent over the years. They had been better recently but there were years when the few occasions you saw them in public, Ellie never looked comfortable and he always looked sullen.  

“I’m sorry for your loss.” She chuckle dryly at your words. 

“Yeah right. You seemed super sorry when you tied us all up and dragged us back here.” 

“You posed a threat to Jackson, some raiders that we captured the other week informed us about your group, I was given an order and I followed it. Are you a soldier at the...” You pause to read the patch embroidered into her jacket. “WLF?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then I’m sure you understand, an order is an order.” She rolls her eyes but nods gently before reaching down to unwrap the half an apple now she had finished the sandwich. “Sorry it’s only half, I only had four at home.” 

“Thanks.” You purse your lips as you observe the girl, taking in all she had told you. “Abby, they aren’t gonna let you leave alive, you all pose too much of a threat, if they offer for you to earn their trust and a place here at Jackson, take it. That’s the only way you’ll survive this.” 

“Not gonna fucking happen.” You huff at the girl before standing as you watch her take the last bite of her apple.  

“For your sake, I hope you change your mind.” You walk behind her and tap her wrist and take a deep breath, knowing what you had to do. “I’m sorry but can you put your hands behind your back.” You’re prepared for her to fight but she doesn’t, it saddens you to see it, a life reduced solely to revenge that she’d rather accept her fate than try to move on and live. You refasten the handcuffs and tie the rope to the loop in the floor and as you check that nothing looks out of place before walking to the door. You spare a glance back at the girl who was no longer looking at you and slip out the door to sneak home once again. 

As you gently shut the front door behind you, Ellie’s voice causes you to jump and spin round to face her like a guilty child. 

“Where you been?” You reflexively go to lie, you had been on a walk, needed some fresh air maybe but you couldn’t anymore, not when she was looking at you as if waiting for a lie. You sigh and walk to the living room, turning to make sure she was following, which she was. She joins you on the sofa, placing a gently hand over your thigh and rubbing soothing circles into your tense muscles.  

“To the jail.” 

“Why?” 

“To speak to one of the hostages being held there.” 

“What did you want to know?” 

“Why they were looking for someone in Jackson.” 

“Did you find out?” 

“Yep.” She eyes you, waiting for you to explain and as you meet her eyes the words almost fall out of you. “They were coming to kill Joel, for what he did in the firefly hospital.” 

“Oh... So, you know everything?” 

“I guess, but I don’t understand why Joel took you from them if they just wanted to make a cure.” 

“She didn’t tell you it would’ve killed me?” 

“What? No.” 

“To make the cure it would’ve killed me, that’s why Joel did what he did. He shouldn’t have but that’s why.” 

“What do you mean he shouldn’t have? They were going to kill you, Ellie.” 

“But it could’ve saved the world, I could’ve helped people.” She looks down at her lap as she fidgets with her fingers, even though she wasn’t looking at you, you could see the scowl on her face.  

“You don’t know that. They might’ve killed you and their ideas could’ve been wrong, then there’s no cure and you’re still dead.” 

“Why are you trying to justify what he did?” She snaps at you as she stands over you, her guard that had been lowered around you for so long you had forgotten what it looks like when it's up, was now back in full force. You rise slowly and walk to be stood in front of her as your hands cup her cheeks. You speak soft and quietly.  

“Because if I had been given the same two options, I’d have done what he did a million times over. I know you think your life can only matter because of your immunity but you’re wrong. You’re so much more than that.” She can’t meet your eyes, she just stays staring at the floor as she shakes her head as much as your hands would let her. “Even if they could have developed a cure, how do they multiply it, distribute it, how does the world ever go back to what it once was? They were acting irrationally, and they were willing to kill a fourteen-year-old girl for it. I know you hold it against Joel, but I understand why he did what he did.” 

She meets your eyes and they’re glassy and bloodshot, you press a light kiss to her lips before whispering in her ear. “It’s not your fault Ellie, you can’t martyr yourself for something like that, you’re a person and you deserve to live as much as the rest of us.” It was like your words unlocked the floodgates holding the tears in her eyes as she immediately clutched onto you as she sobbed into your shoulder. You stroke her hair and rub her back until the sobs turn into sniffles and eventually, she pulls away to kiss your forehead sweetly. 

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me, it’s the truth.” You held Ellie as she fell asleep that night, you knew the order you would be given tomorrow and you had made peace with it, Joel and Ellie needed more time, they needed to fix their relationship and you’d do anything to make that happen, anything. 

The trip away from Jackson was a painstaking one, Maria had assigned Abby to you once she had assessed the risk, she observed how Abby was around you and decided it would be best for you to take her. You had gone back to the jail the next day at her request and while Maria explained the ultimatum to Abby, the only person Abby was looking at was you.  

You walked behind her with your gun trained on her back, but it seemed pointless as she just trudged along, it was nighttime and you were on full alert, but the woods were only quiet. They were quiet until you heard the sound of a faint gunshot, you both jump a little and you hear a choked sob leave Abby’s lips and the sound is nauseating. Then another gunshot sounds, you count six before it goes completely quiet again, you wait for the seventh and it never comes which puts you on edge as you reach the destination Maria had told you to go to. “Stop here.” You mutter just loud enough for Abby to hear and without you having to say she stops and kneels on the ground, her head bowed. You close the distance between you two and raise your gun to her head. “This is your last chance Abby, I can take you back, just say the words.” 

“No.” 

“Please don’t make me have to do this, please just give in. There’s more to life than revenge, you can live in Jackson, it’s a good life. Why are you wasting this?” Your words come out frantic and angry, you’re angry at her stubbornness, angry at Maria for making you be the one that has to execute her, angry at her silence, angry at everything. “God please Abby.” Your voice is shaky and desperate as a few tears escape your eyes. She had been hurt, she had lost her father because of Joel, her friends are now dead, she’s lost everything and somehow you were still supposed to be able to execute her like it’s nothing. Your hand that was clutching the gun was shaking, trembling as you willed yourself to the pull the trigger. “Please Abby.” You try one last time but it’s no use, she’s accepted her fate, she’s made peace with it and that only angered you more as your gun waivered in your hand, until Ellie popped into your mind, and Joel.  

They need more time. 

Without giving yourself a second to think again, you raise the gun and squeeze the trigger, you don’t see her fall the ground as your eyes are clamped shut but you hear the thud which causes the few tears falling down your cheeks turn into fits of sobs as you fall down onto your knees clutching your chest. You know you need to move in case the gunshot attracted any infected your way but you can’t find the strength in your legs to get up and go. You stay kneeled for what felt like hours before you heard the ominous clicking sound you had been waiting for coming from deeper in the woods, you drag yourself up and away from the sorrowful body staining the ground red, you don’t stop moving until you’re at the gates being greeted by Maria. 

“It’s done?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Thank you, one came back, said she’s pregnant, she’s gonna work to be able to stay here, said she wants the right life for her kid.” At Maria’s words, the rage inside you grew, you had to execute Abby and someone else got to bring theirs back, you stormed away from Maria without another word and as you slammed the door of your home shut and begin stomping up the stairs you’re met with Ellie standing at your bedroom door, waiting for you. You stop and sigh, you had forgotten that Ellie would be waiting for you at home in all your blind rage. 

“Hi El.” Your voice is tired and her face immediately twists into an expression of worry.  

“Are you okay?” 

“No, not really. I er- I think I’m gonna stay at Lacey’s for the night.” You didn’t blame Ellie or Joel but knowing they were part of what led you to have to take the life of someone you felt so much sympathy for made it hard to be around Ellie at that moment in time. You weren’t angry at her but you needed space to wrap your head around everything that had happened over the past few days.

“Oh... okay, is it because of me?” She looks hurt but not angry as you rush to her to hold her face in your hands. 

“No, god no Ellie. I just- I just need some time. I understand why Joel did what he did but... That doesn’t mean I wanted to be the one to kill her, you know?” 

“I get it. You’ll come back tomorrow though, right?” 

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning, I promise.” Your thumbs caress her cheeks as she leans into your touch and grips onto your waist as if trying to keep you with her. She leans in and presses a kiss to your temple before catching your lips in a tender kiss that causes a few stray tears to cascade down your cheeks once again. She pulls away and wipes the tears from your face before stepping out of your way to let you gather your things from your room. She watches from the doorway before trailing behind you like a lost puppy as you make your way to the front door. She grabs your hand and pulls you into another kiss, even softer than the last and as you both pull away and lean your foreheads on each other’s. She gazes at your broken face and it only makes her feel worse.  

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise it’s not your fault.” You take a step back and take a deep breath in and turn to the door to open it. 

“I love you.” You gasp and spin back to her.  

“I love you more.” You offer a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes but she can see the sincerity in them as she returns the smile and without giving yourself a chance to second guess your decision you slip out the door and begin walking to Lacey’s. 

psa: felt bad doing this to my bby Abby tbh but PLEASE don't hate me guys, this is supposed to be bittersweet not gut-wrenching I swear, i'm sorry okayyyyyyyyyy also sorry for ellie not being in this one as much!

tags: @emiliabby @readbydayana @radioheadfan699 @lil-elliesgf @isitadinosaur

[digitalagepulao]

Prodigal son terror

Li Jing in a fury grabbed his halberd, leapt on his horse and galloped out of the headquarters. He was astonished to see Nezha with his Wind-Fire Wheels and Fire-Tipped Spear. He swore loudly, "You damned beast! You caused us endless suffering before your death, and now that you've been reborn, you're troubling us again!"

"Li Jing! I've returned my flesh and bones to you, and there's no longer any relation between us. Why did you smash my golden idol with your whip and burn down my temple? Today I must take my revenge!"

since I'm on a Nezha streak, might as well do my design for him on the Expedition AU! given that i've chosen to give characters a closer likeness to their region, it's only fitting i do the same with import deities like Guanyin, Subodhi and Nezha.

he's a complicated figure to place in the timeline because he gained popularity as a deity much after, only really arriving in China by the time the Journey would have been set. FSYY was written closer to when JTTW was written down, and he was retroactively inserted on the Zhou Dynasty period.

so deciding what to even do with him is dicey. but then i said fuck it, mythological rules apply here, he was around for the events of FSYY, and it and JTTW are set in the same universe. and for the sake of having some fun, i decided to get funky with his concept.

Nezha had the likeness of his family when he was alive, as described in FSYY, but once he was reborn with a lotus body he gained Indian traits instead. this is to be a nod to his status as an import deity and his origin as Nalakubara, and as the centuries roll by he may present himself to mortals closer to the locals' appearance wise.

as for his looks, i drew inspiration from multiple sources. read more for my rambles <3

his armor is closer to reconstructions of Zhou dynasty-period armor, skipping over extra parts simply because his lotus body is so indestructible, there's no need for a full set;

there are two red Chinese knots with jade beads dangling from the armor ties. they are said to ward off evil spirits, which felt like a good fit for a guy known to banish demons. i picked a six-petal flower pattern, which represents reunion, unity and a bright future;

i included lotus petals and leaves on his outfit as they are common in Beijing Opera outfits for him, and his makeup is a call to it as well;

The pink from the cheeks and eyeshadow seeps into his ear shell, as to convey the way sometimes, you get so angry even your ears blush;

Another thing i referenced from Opera is the two red ribbons on his sidelocks, though I changed them to two bulbs of lotus roots;

Four petals drawn close to his urna as both to make it look like a lotus but also form five petals, which is an auspicious number;

His hair crown is a fancy princely [knot] with a lotus motif and a pearl in the center, as he was the Pearl Spirit before becoming Nezha;

I was going to go with elf-like ears but I thought I could do better, so I went for stretched earlobes instead. you can't see it that well but hopefully the very large golden earrings imply it well enough xvx;

His cheek dimples are common sight on religious images of him and it was a cute touch imo;

Younger Nezha wears a golden robe because of his title as General of the Central Altar in Daoist belief, and the center direction is connected to yellow or gold, and yellow robes are usually meant for emperors and their sons, which is a minor nod to his self-assureness and boldness;

The Cosmic Ring has spiralling grooves on it both to catch blades on it for defense but also as a callback to Opera props;

On his waist is the embroidered ball weapon he was attributed with in earlier myths, he was also meant to have the leopard skin bag Taiyi Zhenren gave him, bjt it was going to be obscured by the text so i omitted it;

A few depictions of him gave him a halo of fire, which was real cool so i added it as well.