People Are Saying Galadriel Hanging Off The Side Of Her Horse Wasn't Realistic?!?! Do Yall Not Remember

So pretty

when she says she doesn’t send nudes

König and Domestic Silk Moth Hybrid!Reader

Due to popular demand (about 4 people)

Context: in this one, I’m having König stay human and having hybrids in a pet role. As an insect hybrid, I’m making her small AF (like 2-3 ft tall). I did consider making her Barbie sized tho 👀. So this is gonna have size kink bordering on micro/macro just so you know!

König it stuck on medical leave, and pretty damned miserable. He sustained a break that’s put him out of commission for a while. He’s never spent so long in his empty home, and it’s driving him insane. He’s spent basically his entire adult life married to his work, so he’s woefully unprepared to keep himself entertained.

And despite being something of a loner most times, he misses the noise. He misses the bodies and conversation. He and Horangi have a phone call every so often, and text as frequently as the work allows, but that only takes up so much time in the day.

And it’s Horangi that suggests a hybrid.

That’s something that he could throw himself into to keep occupied, as well as giving company. And unlike a pet, a hybrid would be able to be mostly self sufficient whenever he returned to work.

(Horangi doesn’t want to say if he returns. But König is not a young man, and has sustained a serious injury. There’s a chance that even if he heals, he won’t be the same as before. Combined with his rank, it won’t be huge surprise if he’s pressured or forced into retirement if his utility is limited.)

König is apprehensive— so he doesn’t want something quite as needy as a cat or dog hybrid, where he’d have to deal with heats and noise. And Horangi happens to have an old friend, retired, who raises domestic silk moth hybrids with his newfound free time. You’re picked to be offered up, freshly cut from your thick silk cocoon.

And for König, it’s love at first sight.

You’re very pretty. Fluffy white fur, big, dark, eyes. And so small. You barely come up to his hip, and raise your arms, asking to be lifted. It’s only then that he learns domesticated silk moths are flightless, their wings are pretty but unable to fly. It makes him feel a little bit of kinship with you. Restricted movement, denied purpose.

And basically his life revolves around you from that point. König doesn’t have many involved or expensive hobbies, so he has a lot of time and resources to devote to your care. You’re something of a niche pet, so it’s a little difficult to find things made for you. He resorts to commissions. Don’t fucking look at his Etsy purchase history.

You live your life perched on his shoulders or in his arms (you’re much too small to keep up with him). He’s a little afraid of letting you in his bed at night, he doesn’t want to roll over and crush you by accident, but you keep crawling under his covers anyways. You can’t help having cocooning behavior.

He’s constantly sitting you on ledges. On the sink while he shaves, on the counter when he cooks, on his desk when he works. You’ve always gotta be within arms reach for petting purposes.

And the petting, the kissing… he’s so addicted to the contact. He’s been alone for so long, and you’re so soft.

And that just leads to him getting more and more curious about your body. You don’t mind— you love him! And he loves his little Seidenmotte.

He’s beyond delicate with you. You’re so small— he has to work you up quite a bit before he can even fit a finger into your cute little pussy.

God it makes him hard how he can pin you down by the stomach with just one hand. And you make these little pips and squeaks when he fingers you— it’s just too cute for words. He totally shares some pictures with Horangi as thanks. (Which might lead to a couple of other colorful character asking to see pictures of you).

Usually he fucks your soft, fuzzy thighs to get off. He’s so warm and heavy against your clit, his cockhead practically reaching your chest. He paints your tits with white, pearly ribbons that glisten against the fuzz of your chest.

If you’re on top, he likes watching your useless wings beat while you slide your wet little cunt over him, the ridge of his head making you shiver when it bumps against your clit. You usually end up making yourself cum once or twice, and when you’re too tired and sensitive to move yourself he’ll grab your waist and grind you against him, using you like a toy to get himself off.

You don’t spread your wings often, but when you do, it leaves a little bit of moth dust behind from the tiny scales you shed. König thinks it’s so cute to see it against his bedsheets— it’s like glittery fresh snow, proof of how excited he made you.

Random Thranduil Headcanons

- Is a marshmallow on the inside, especially when it comes to Legolas.

- Elrond is not afraid of him, he has seen the scared little boy that was lost without his father.

- When his wife died, he took Legolas with him everywhere. They would do everything together, he didn’t want him to wallow.

- (Legolas stopped him from becoming to callous and hard)

- Thranduil is secretly jealous of Elrond because he has more kids.

- Always wanted a daughter to spoil

- Loves arguing, if you start an argument be prepared to battle until the very end

- Is very, very tall

- (Taller than Elrond and towers over him because he thinks it’s funny)

- Has the most beautiful smile, with a dimple to die for

- Celebrian is overjoyed when Thranduil visits and they are constantly cracking jokes and playing stupid pranks

- Was afraid of Gil-Galad

- His father used to carry him everywhere on his shoulders

- He has healing powers

- Can heal animals, plants and speak to them

- Has anxiety and goes to Elrond for tonics

- Saw the same scared little boy in Elros when his parents were murdered, and he took him in under his wing

- Knows all of his kings-guard by name

- Has embarrassing nicknames for Feren like baby, darling or love. It makes him blush red to his toes.

- Galion is his bro, the line of king and servant is hazy with these two. He has known Thranduil since he was a baby so nothing is off limits.

- (Some of his servants have seen Galion stroking Thranduil’s hair while they were gossiping about other elves in the outer realms. When they are asked about this they can’t either confirm or deny this)

I need bratty sergeant and Simon Riley smut (im sorry if this is too blunt and also you don’t have to do this, okay ily)

"if you don't shut it, i'll shut it for you" / one-shot -> bratty!sergeant x simon riley [3] (can be read independently) part one - part two

⠀ ⠀⠀ `· . dead-flight .ᐟ masterlist -> REQUESTS OPEN!

cw: smut smut smut, oral (simon recieving), fingering (r), edging, overstim, rough sex, helicopter-fuckin', "pup", consentual sex!!!, fingers in mouth, one face slap, "slut" x1, p in v, creampie

he's fucking tired, the lot of his muscles aching with a deep, cloying need. he wanted to collapse on his barrack and dissapear for a week. the helicopter rumbles with sound as he sits on a jumpseat, closing his eyes to lean his head back against the walls.

"Lt!" his eyes open, and he swears, if he hears your voice again, he's about to pick you up and throw you off the fuckin' chopper.

"did you see that shot i lined up? wasn't that so cool--"

"sergeant. if y'don't shut y'reself up, i'll stuff y'r mouth myself," simon mutters, and if looks could kill, you may as well be on the ground, bleeding out.

you pause for a second, and then start right back up, moving to sit right beside him, prattling on and on about the mission, about your plans when you get home--

then you went and leaned over. just close enough to check if he was really listening. you barely even noticed what you were doing, but he did. tits pressed against him, your head craning to see if he was actually paying attention.

"sergeant, what the hell did i tell you?"

you freeze. are you actually in trouble, this time? the rest of the ride is filled with a tense silence, and you stare at him awkwardly, giving him big, apologetic eyes every time he looks at you.

how can you blame him for acting the way he is? pent up to hell, cock clubbed up in his pants, straining needily against the fabric? he nearly dealt with it the moment you landed. he wanted to shut you up, and wanted to see you cry when he did.

"so fuckin' loud," he huffs under his breath, and the moment the rest of the squad leaves the helicopter, simon takes the opportunity to grab you as you're leaving, forcing you back into a jumpseat and slamming the door closed.

the moment your back hits the jumpseat, you should've known you were fucked. "you just don't stop talking, do you, sergeant? like a ditzy, dumb f'ckin' pup."

he stands over you, his hand tugging your chin upwards, "what'd i say? that if you ran your mouth, i'd shut you up, yeah? i just fuckin' might."

your breath quickens, and you dig your fingers into his forearm, trying to pull him off, "sir--m' sorry, won't talk as much--" here you were, thinking he was going to sentence you to a thousand pushups and a hundred laps around base, but simon had other ideas.

"shut up." he stuffs his thumb into your mouth, pressing the digit down against your tongue.

you let out a strangled choking sound, blinking up at him in surprise. "god, m' gonna stuff your fuckin' mouth..." his eyes are dark, heavily lidded, and as you search past the mask, you note the lust taking over the forefront of his mind. "nod, lass, if y'want me to. i don't wanna hear words 'less you want me to stop."

you manage a nod. he gives you a nod of approval, his thumb dragging out of your mouth, smearing your saliva on your cheek. "fuckin' good pup."

his gloved hands pull at his plate carrier, tugging it off and dropping it on the seat opposite to you, shedding his headgear with it. he rolls his shoulders, grunting as he tugs off his shirt, leaving him in a tight, compression undershirt. you watch him like you're starved, taking in every contour of his muscles. he sheds his gloves too, tosses them to the jumpseat.

"like what y'see?" he teases, moving close, grabbing you by your hair, fingers digging into the strands. his free hand tugs down the zipper of his pants, reaching into his boxers and freeing his cock. it's heavy in his hand, flushed tip already drooling precum.

you blink up at him, eyes pleading silently, "sir, please, can i--"

his hand comes down on your cheek. "what'd i say, sergeant? shut up."

he's pulling your hair back, guiding you to open your mouth, and you do, his hips easing forward, the tip of his cock spreading your mouth open around his shaft. "suck, sergeant," he hisses, biting his tongue as you do.

you do. and fuck him, he's not touched himself for a damn long time. your lips seal around him like you're trying to milk him dry, your tongue flicking over his slit, sucking up precum and moaning while you do it--he almost cums right then and there.

"fuck'n hell, lass, you're..." he tightens his grip on your head, pulling you away, his chest heaving, "fuck."

"strip f'me, doll. wanna see y'spread out f'me, yeah?" he watches you, and it's not meant to be sexy, it's messy, how you tug your clothes off desperately, wanting to feel him against you. that desperation makes warmth pool in his gut.

he stops you when you're in your bra, your panties, nude coloured undergarments. but it makes some part of him scream. he kneels before you, eyes trained on your cunt.

"gonna be good f'me?" he's shoving your panties to the side, his thumb pressing to your swollen clit, satisfaction reflected in his eyes as your hips jump forwards needily. the way he speaks to you--speaks to your pussy--as if you aren't even part of the conversation has you leaking.

he smears your juices across your folds, twisting his hand to push a meaty finger in you, massaging your velvety walls, and he moans, his free hand digging into the skin of your hip, "fuck, doll, you're so f'ckin tight f'me."

all you give him is a series of choked moans, a breathy "please, please, please," and a tight squeeze of you around his fingers.

"so wet, i could slide right in, huh?"

it was like being pulled apart and stitched back together, as he curls his fingers deep against your gummy walls, drawing you right there. so close, if only a hair's breadth from falling apart--

he pulls away.

"fuck, simon!" you whine, your eyes welling with tears, "please, please..."

"no," he mutters, slapping your soaking pussy, a sadistic grin falling over his face as he watches how your hips jolt upwards, seeking more. his hand moves to pull off his balaclava, and before you can gawk at his face, he leans up, kissing you--the action is gentler than before, his tongue sweeping your mouth and claiming.

when he pulls away, he's panting, his hand moving to grip his hard shaft, fisting it, pushing against your thigh. "fuckin' hell." he lets go of his cock, pulling you up and holding you up over his cock, lowering you down. one hand holds you, wraps around your waist like you're weightless, the other guiding his cock past your tight entrance.

"tight as hell, sergeant. who knew y'r bratty mouth could be shut up so easily by a good fuckin'?"

he lowers you down slowly. just enough to keep you clenching desperately as you try to ease more of him in, to accomodate more--the burn is deliciously pleasurable. when you ease all of him in, he moans into your ear, his teeth moving to suckle at your neck.

he pounds into you, ferally. lifts you up, drops you down over his cock, your combined fluids dripping down his shaft and falling to the floor.

"fuck, gonna make me cum, this fuckin' cunt... s'pretty f'me, drippin' so much..."

you moan, squeezing harshly down on him, clenching, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave marks. he buries his head in your neck, bites down on your skin like he'll leave a mark, muffling his noises.

"you keep clenchin' on me like that n' i'm gonna--" you're mewling, drooling against him, fingers tugging at his messy hair. he's wanted you like this for the longest time, spread out for him and at his mercy... suddenly the hours of torture of you teasing him is all worth it.

but you're so on edge, from his denial of your orgasm, that when he bullies his cock right against that spot in your walls, you're clenching down on him, digging your fingers into his trapezius and throwing your head back. you're a wreck, but simon's not done.

keeps you bouncing on him, and he's just so close, spurred on by your spasming walls and desperate whimpers. "mmh, fuck, who'dve known that such a fuckin' bratty little slut 's just a needy fuckin' bird," his voice is hoarse, stuttered by grunts as he uses you like a toy.

"fuck'm coming, take--take it all," he manages, pulling you flush against him, your hips right against his pelvis as he pumps his load deep inside you, filling you up. like he owned you.

for once, you were quiet. but now that you know you can get him to behave like this? you won't be quiet for long.

"poly141" Where. Is. GAZ.

The Lord of the Rings + Tumblr Text Posts

Part 2

Day 3 of Inktober : Path

This is the photo I used for inspiration

Credit : Finn Hampton on Unsplash.com

cw: messy smut & hand fetish

simon’s bird is a twitchy thing, buzzing about with tepid energy thrumming underneath your skin. he’d even catch you shifting around when you’re sitting still for too long, gaze dancing between objects as you try to tether yourself back to the conversation. it’s an adorable thing—it could be worrying on days when it splinters into a spiralling—but it has always been cute.

even cuter was the way that you’ll only stop when his hand clamps down on your thigh. you’ll twitch, blinking at his hold, before melting. you’ll never look away, your mind is quiet even for a moment, and for a while, simon thought that it was the touch that grounded you. that it was the weight of his hand that eases up your flighty thoughts, allowing you a reprieve.

it’s only after you moved in with him that he realizes that grounding you didn’t even need to be his touch because your mind stutters at the mere sight of his hands. and what a delight that realization was.

it came to him when he walked into the living room after being holed up in the garage, fixing up your car, only to see you freeze at seeing the way that oil tainted his fingertips, highlighting the ridges of his veins and the rough patches his scars. what he thought was a scrutiny of how dirty he’s gotten, ended up being a quiet thrum of your admiration.

it made him dizzy with elation—oh how adorable you are with your futile attempts to rip your eyes from his hands, unable to utter anything but a breathless gasp of his name. god, look how cute you are. how easy. falling apart at the mere sight of his hands.

he didn’t even need to touch you for your desire to burn hotter, your eyes always gravitated at the way he massaged them with lotion or cracked his knuckles. he doesn’t even have a thing for a hands but you’ve made him more conscious of it, almost like it is something pornographic.

so, naturally, he had to do something about it.

buying the full-length mirror and installing it in the bedroom was a hassle but simon loves it now.

“don’t look away,” he rumbles before curling his fingers and plunging them deeper in you. the wet squelch echoes in the room louder than his voice did, drawing out a hiccuped squeal from the base of your throat.

this isn’t even the first time that simon’s got you propped on his lap with your legs forced open by the spread of his thighs, but being fingered in front of the mirror really has you feeling shy, huh? you can’t even watch yourself properly, tending to run away from the sight by screwing your eyes close and tipping your chin low like by doing so, you could pretend that the mirror isn’t revealing every debauchery he’s making out of your pussy.

but god. you should see this—his hand is so soaked with your juices that it’s got it shining like a fucking glazed doughnut. it’s so messy as you drip onto him, your cunt spasming like the greedy hole that it is.

simon croons this to you, his other hand cupping your jaw to brush his thumb just over your kiss-swollen lips, coaxing you to open to your eyes. telling you to see how needy you really are—and even then, your pussy is more honest than you are being right now.

“c’mon, baby,” simon murmurs, twisting his fingers juuust right, making you keen, your legs jumping in your attempt to shut them close only for simon to knock them wide open again. “look at y’r cunt, love, makin’ my hand look all glossy.”

he huffs a laugh at the way your pussy clamps down on his fingers at hearing his words, your cunt betraying your stubborn self once more. truly what a naughty bird he’s got; acting all shy when you’re just as hungry as he is—

“isn’t that right, hun?”

simon thought that it’d take another coaxing, another curling of his fingers or maybe finally adding his pinky to stretch you even wider for his cock, but your resolve fizzled out fast. your tearful eyes peel open, blinking to adjust them to the light. they dance from the reflection of his face, meeting his eyes, before finally dragging down to where you’ve got your pussy spasming around his fingers at his beckoning nod.

he feels more than sees the moment you get a glimpse at what a beautiful sight you make.

“si—!” you gasp, reaching up to clamp down on the arm that he’s got around your chest. your hips begin to wiggle, almost like you desperately want to ride his hand, and oh, that thought makes simon’s cock jump from underneath his sweats.

“si, i’m cummin— i wanna— i’m—!”

he doubles his efforts, fucking his fingers in, nudging them along your walls, before fucking them out in a dizzying pace that has you screaming, your body tensing like a string being pulled taut. it is so messy now, each thrust of his hand meeting the fat lips of your cunt echo with a wet slap, and simon truly can’t wait to lap up at your juices left on his pruning fingers.

your nails bite his skin but he doesn’t even feel the prickles as your walls begin to spasm, your jaw dropping for a soundless scream, then—

an angry gush. your squirt hits the mirror, splattering so wildly, and simon swears he’s gone cross-eyed with his lust.

how beautiful you are, your body locking on his lap for a moment as you ride out your orgasm before falling limply into his embrace, your eyes staring faraway like he’s fried your brain with his fingers alone. he croons, pressing kisses on your sweaty temple, and carefully pulls his fingers out. you rumble, whining in overstimulation, and simon pets you in comfort.

he lifts his hand up—it is wet and his fingers have pruned—before immediately stuffing them in his mouth. he didn’t even notice the way you’ve been watching him until you squeak at seeing him desperately suck on his fingers.

simon flicks his eyes up to meet your gaze from the mirror and, even with a mouthful, he gives you a grin. you breathe in sharply, still shy but refusing to break the heated eye contact, and simon rumbles, pleased, because his cock is painfully hard. it is rutting along the cleft of your ass, leaking pre-, and it is very needy for the feeling of your pussy hotly swallowing all of him up.