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@gwendolinesbunny
Oh to be pressure hugged by Alci. To feel her strong, muscular arms around my body. Her soothing voice in my ear as she places gentle kisses on my head. My small body wrapped in her larger one. To hear her heartbeat. To smell her perfume.
"You've done wonderfully today dragã mea. Just rest now, you don't have to do anything else. Let me hold you."
𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐄ᶠ
pairing: lady tremaine x reader
summary: you spot a particular redhead at the ball where you are supposed to find a suitor. however, that doesn't stop you. it will never stop you.
warnings: fluff
materlist | taglist
word count: 2.2k
Mornings together
࿔ Cinderella - Lady Tremaine
࿔ Romantic - married life, first spouse!reader
After so much years of marriage must part of the day has become a rutine, and yet it is something comforting, something full of love, even if it is rutinary it is not tiring, or at least not for her, after all it is the evidence of your shared love
To wake up in the morning at your side it will always be the best way to start the day for Tremaine, even if your beloved daughters may complain about having to wake up so early in the morning, to get ready to be in the table when it is just breakfast she just laughs softly, tenderly, lovingly, because her beloved family is a happy family, her daughters have the freedom to complain and ask for a few more minutes, she has the oportunity to give it to them because you are at her side, you help when it is needed, to love your daughters just as much a you love your wife, because every day you go out to work after spending the morning getting ready with her
Sharing breakfast together it is a vivid reminder of your family, of how all of you have the other to relay on, something to look forward and a moment where it may not be the most peaceful with how Anastasia and Grisella tent to bicker between them, but that is also a reminder of how good your life is
When you have to get ready, even if it is no needed, Tremaine always loves to be there with you, even when the servants where the ones arranging your clothes and getting everything ready she always likes to help, always fixing a lose hair strand, straighting the hem of your shirt, helping with the tie, she doesn't has to but she loves to do it, it is a little more moments she can share with you before you are gone for the day
Every morning routine ends up with a kiss at the door, a wish of luck, and promise to see each other later on the day, and even when every day is the same Tremaine still likes to follow the rutine, to do everything every day because she loves it, she loves her family, she loves you and even if the mornings have become something rutinary she still loves them, because she gets to share them with you
Lady Tremaine x reader (female)
If she were your partner.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ I'm just starting to work here, so there will be headcounts on this topic for now.
1. You met at the royal ball - Lady Tremaine immediately singled you out from the crowd. The way you behaved and your appearance intrigued her.
2. Before speaking to you, she carefully studied your background and lifestyle, gathering all available information about you in society. It was not just curiosity, but a desire to understand whether you deserved her attention.
3. Even if the servants have already prepared your outfit, Lady Tremaine always makes sure to check everything herself. She might adjust your cuff, fasten a brooch, or fix a loose strand of hair.
4. Instead of "be careful," you'll hear: "don't linger after sunset" and "avoid the alley behind the tavern." Her concern is expressed in instructions that are best not to ignore.
5. She won't openly dance with you at balls, as laws and people's worldviews prevent her from doing so.
6. One day, you accidentally left a handkerchief in the carriage. The next day, she returns it to you, but now the handkerchief will always smell like her perfume.
7. In the mornings, she almost always suggests that you take a walk in the garden to the willow tree.
8. If someone is flirting with you, she defiantly turns to another guest and conducts an animated conversation, but her gaze keeps sliding in your direction.
9. If her jealousy reaches its peak, she goes to her room for a few hours, and you find a broken cup and scattered papers there. She'll come back later, as if nothing had happened, but she'll give you something especially valuable‑as if apologizing.
Happy pride month cuz y’know you gay and stuff
i think i have a type...
— synopsis ﹕ ellie finds you walking alongside a highway during a blizzard in nothing but a silk dress && torn up boots.
˖ ݁ cw ﹕ ellie is creepy, unsettling, controlling undertones, which chapter two will indulge more in. reader is naive, quiet, hurt, vulnerable, a crybaby, the perfect thing for ellie to take advantage of . . age gap, (roughly 6 years), modern au — set in a horrific, unwelcoming town in the middle of nowhere. usage of the petname bunny, obviously ^.^ mentions of abuse, smoking, isolation, captivity, condescending praise. a simple start for my first ever series. ♡
an ﹕ hai everybunny ,, i didn’t think i would find a plot i am quite hooked on until a few nights ago . . n this is my first multi chapter ! i have never done this before , so please bear with me. i apologize if this first is a little . . bland ? there’s no extreme taboo topics , yet , but i promise my ideas will come together n i hope you all like it. kisses ! ♡ ( i also apologize if there’s any typos , it’s 2 am n i should be sleeping shhhh !!! ) n yes , i wrote normally without my silly typing quirk cause i felt my work was too difficult to read :[
wc ﹕ 1.9k
— 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑒 & 𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒
the wind blows cold, bitter air, your bare legs numb to the touch. snow is piled up to your ankles, fog obscuring your view ahead.
wearing nothing but a silk, lacy cream dress and old, worn-out boots, you cling to the shoulder of the highway, hugging your body for warmth. your hair is white, lashes clinging to the swarming ice. running away was your only option, he would’ve killed you if you hadn’t. though, you almost wish he had. it would be quick, merciful, quiet. a single shot, before he eventually turned the gun on himself. it wouldn’t have hurt like this.
a sudden, unsuspecting rumble vibrates through the frozen ground beneath your feet. you squint, trying to see past the thick, melancholic haze. two yellow taillights emerge from the blurred mist, a rusted white truck moving into view. it slows as it approaches, eventually coming to a halt. the engine rumbles, fighting against the sub-zero temperature.
the passenger side window slides down, a warm gust of air escaping. ‘the hell are you doing out here?’ a harsh, muffled voice snaps. your vision is cloudy, a fuzzy, unfamiliar feeling buzzing in your head. ‘jesus christ, get in.’ you reach for the door, too weak to pull it open. she reaches across from the drivers seat, pushing it open herself. once you feel the heat blasting from the ac, you immediately climb inside, tucking your knees to your chest.
‘god damn it, look atchu.’ her hand roughly turns your chin, blue & red splotches appearing across your almost frostbitten skin. you flinch, but she doesn’t seem to care. when she lets go, you’re finally able to get a good view of her. a lit cigarette sits between her chapped lips, freckles splattered across her pale cheeks. those sharp, forest green eyes scan your shivering frame, annoyance etched on her face. ‘are you dumb? why the hell are you walkin’ alongside the highway during a blizzard?’
you can’t seem to answer. your jaw is tight, a sob caught in your throat. your body stings at the sudden temperature shift, fingers turning different shades of pink. ‘quiet thing you are. name’s ellie, by the way. in case that matters.’ she shifts the truck into gear, pulling away from the side of the road. the tires spin on the ice briefly before finding traction, the engine much louder at a higher speed.
the drive is entirely silent, except for the extensive noises ellie’s truck makes to compensate for the weather. the windows are caked with a heavy, chilling frost, sealing you both inside a dim capsule of warm, cigarette-scented air. you keep your knees still closely tucked against your chest, watching the ice melt from your boots onto the muddy floor mat.
ellie eventually takes a sharp left turn, driving through a plowed stretch of land. the windshield wipers expose a small, visible patch through the thick ice, a secluded cabin seen in the distance. that’s when you shift in your seat, looking over at ellie with worry and fear in your sweet eyes.
the cabin looks run-down, neglected, rotting from the bottom up. 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑝, you thought. the truck comes to a final stop, ellie’s calloused fingers finding her keys. ‘get out.’ you scramble out of the passenger side, the snow so deep it slips into the top of your boots. you’re in the middle of nowhere. endless trees, that unsettling gloom of foginess following you where you go.
‘cmon.’ you quickly close the door, following closely behind her. your legs are shaky, barely supporting your weight. ellie unlocks the heavy wooden door, pushing it open and gesturing for you to enter.
the air inside is slightly warm, smelling of firewood, cedar, and dust. the interior is simple, yet comforting in an unusual way. thick black curtains hang from each window, the floors worn out. the living room is through an arch, two couches and a coffee table in the middle. the kitchen is practically empty, and there are more empty cigarette packets than there is food.
‘sit.’ ellie points to the rustic round dining table near the wall, her boots tracking in half-melted snow.
you walk over with hesitant, trembling steps, your frozen fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. the wooden chair creaks slightly as you sit, your knees pushed together. you look small, vulnerable, like you could break at any moment.
ellie doesn’t follow right away, her back turned as she navigates the kitchen with ease. you hear metal clinking, a plastic bag opening, and the whistle of the kettle as the heat is turned up. while she waits, the familiar orange emblem at the end of her cigarette lights up, smoke rising to the ceiling.
when she finally turns around, she’s holding a scratched-up mug. her sharp gaze locks with your timid, shivering face, setting the warm glass next to you.
‘drink.’ you peek into the cup nervously, the bitter smell of the plain black coffee hitting your nose. you shakily pick it up with two hands, resulting in the hot liquid spilling over the rim. as it hits your frostbitten knuckles, you let out a soft, muffled whimper. a warm tear rolls down your pink cheek, a choked sob leaving your throat.
ellie sighs, an irritated, deeply unamused sound that brings you right back.
‘are you serious?’ she asks, taking the mug from you. ‘you run away from home, almost freeze to death, and a little spilled coffee is what makes you break down?’ her chuckle is what terrifies you most, the humiliation burning in your stomach.
‘you’re a helpless little thing, aren’t you bunny?’ you hiccup at her words, those big doe eyes of yours looking up at her through soaked lashes. you nod gently, a smile tugging at the corner of her lip. ‘hm.’ she walks over to the kitchen once more, placing the full mug on the counter.
‘get up.’ her commanding tone is flat yet harsh, something you’re afraid of ever going against.
you push yourself up, your damp clothes adding to that chill you can’t seem to get rid of. ellie leads you down the hall, pushing open the door on the right. it reveals a bedroom, one with a queen-sized bed, dresser, and a small fire burner. you mindlessly enter, the room much warmer than the other.
‘get changed. there’s clothes in the top drawer.’ she shuts the door, leaving you alone in the faintly lit room. you slide your boots off, using the dresser as support. your socks are drenched in cold water, your skin sensitive and numb. you wince, pulling the sodden fabric off slowly. your fingers then wrap around the straps of your dress, sliding them down your arms until it’s pooled at your feet.
your skin is bare, exposed, nothing but your plain white panties hugging your lower half. bruises cover your stomach, that sickly purple colour creeping up. you tremble, brushing your fingertips over the tender spots.
you rummage through the dresser, taking a simple white t-shirt and some socks. you slide it over your head, the soft, dry cotton a relief against your cold flesh. it's oversized, hiding your body and secrets underneath. leaning down, you pull on the clean socks, rolling the long material down until it bunches loosely at your ankles.
the bedroom door lets out a soft, sharp creak as you push it open, your head peaking out cautiously into the hall. you walk silently into the main room, every step soundless against the worn floorboards. across the room, ellie sits on the couch, carelessly laid back, a lit cigarette between her lips, meticulously wiping down her switch blade with a rag.
she pauses, her eyes moving from your socks to your legs, taking in the yellowish bruises, then to your fragile frame wearing her shirt. you feel nervous, delicate under her intense gaze, like she could swallow you whole.
‘sit.’ she mutters, gesturing to the empty spot next to her on the rigid leather cushion.
you hesitate for a second, like a deer in headlights, then quickly make your way over. you crawl into the farthest corner, hugging your knees tightly. ‘didn’t realize how tiny you were.’ she doesn’t look at you, her focus solely on the metal between her fingers.
heat flushes across your face, turning the prettiest pink hue. you pull into yourself more, burying your chin into the collar of her shirt.
with a sharp click, ellie snaps the switchblade shut, tossing it on the coffee table with a thud.
‘what are the bruises from?’ she leans back, tapping the ashes from her cigarette into the ashtray on her side table. her arm stretches atop the backrest, smoke swirling around you two.
‘i-i fell, s’nothing . .’ ellie doesn’t buy it, not one bit. she chuckles, tossing and crushing her cigarette under her boot. ‘you’re a terrible liar, bunny.’ she finally looks at you, eyes narrowing at the way you’re hiding, hesitant to make eye contact.
she shifts her weight, those warm, calloused fingers of hers hooking your chin. you flinch, looking at her through your glossy, bambi eyes. ‘i know what a fall looks like, and it ain’t that.’
her thumb presses into your jaw, pulling a soft whine out of you. ‘it- was my dad . .’ you whisper, moving your face away from her grip. you nuzzle your head completely between your knees, ellie’s shirt soaking up your tears.
‘jesus.’ her tone shifts to something of disgust, that dangerous, untrusting expression she wears slightly slipping. she doesn’t offer comfort, or a warm embrace. instead, she pulls her hand back, adjusting her position to where she is now sitting up, leaning against her knees.
your sweet sobs are muffled, quiet, something you’ve learned after years of abuse. the following silence is worse than any false comfort you’ve ever received, a reminder you’re entirely alone, with no one to save you.
‘he ain’t coming here.’ you lift your head, looking at her through your tear-heavy lashes. ‘i can keep you safe, protect you from the world.’ another cigarette between her lips, the lighter flicking twice before it ignites.
a sudden feeling swarms in your tummy, your eyes glistening with a sense of desperation and need. ‘though, you’d have to tell me if that’s what you want. can’t get anywhere when you’re mute.’
you swallow the lump in your throat, lifting your head. her offer of safety and stability soothes the ache in your heart, the idea of being taken care of diminishing your fear of ever being subjected to such treatment again.
‘i . . i want you to, please.’ ellie locks eyes with you, a slow, thought-out nod replacing her response. she knew from the moment she met you that your naivety would come to her advantage, a subtle, possessive gleam flashing across her green eyes.
‘cmere.’ you move closer, crawling toward her until you’re inches away, sitting on your knees. her hand cups your face, her thumb finding your lips. ‘you do exactly what i say when i say it, and you never leave this cabin. understand?’ you nod, pressing your cheek further into her palm.
‘good girl.’ you melt, her praise is relieving, like a drug you’re growing to crave. although you’re trapped, broken, and too weak to be out there on your own, you’re infatuated with her. in this desolate, porcelain cage, you’re completely surrendered to her control.
chapter two coming soon . .
NEED HER.
✨Purrissa Weems✨
I’m absolutely OBSESSED with drawing this woman as the various animals she could have shifted into if we hadn’t been robbed 🥲
A more rustic brush test.🖍️
Here is outfit ref for Lady
#Gabycina#bondage #random
#crooked table, fuck it.
unreferenced vampirissa doodle because i cant sleep
Low effort Valentines drawing a day late cause I wan too busy simping for my wonderful sexy partner yesterday :p
Maleficent / Evil Queen (Grimhilde) headcanon
CW: suggestive, toxic yuri ✂️🌶️
Maleficent loves to be in control and be dominant, it makes her feel powerful. While Grimhilde does like to play a submissive role that makes her feel desirable, she is also power hunger, but Maleficent never lets her take control or even be on top of her. Mal's just too obsessive and controlling... and Grimhilde hates to admit that she loves it 😌
Thinking about different fairytale/storybook villains reactions to someone drinking a love potion and accidentally falling head over heels madly in love with them.
(Yes this prompt comes from Strange Magic)
Including; Inkubus, any incarnation of the Big Bad Wolf or the Phantom of the opera, Evil Queen's and Evil Princes, Wicked Witches (West, East, Ursula, Mim, etc), Evil Fairies, Hades, Severus Snape, Fenrir Greyback, Slenderman/Brothers, Captain Hook, Dracula, etc.
i had to remake these from scratch because tumblr deleted my draft but whatever here's my girls
