#Candle dear✨

[silver-spoon-ii]

Do you get jealous of Yin-yang when they get to hang out with candle?

hmmm….well….specifically with yin yang I don’t really get jealous as they have more of a familial bond with candle. I know how important it can be to have someone you look up to when you are yin yangs age.

[luna-azzurra]

Weirdly Healing Things to Do When You’re Feeling Creatively Burned Out...

Write a fake 5-star Goodreads review of your WIP—as if you didn’t write it. Go ahead. Pretend you're a giddy reader who just discovered this masterpiece. Bonus: add emojis, chaotic metaphors, and all-caps screaming. It’s self-indulgent. It’s delusional. It’s delicious.

Give your main character a Pinterest board titled “Mentally Unstable but Aesthetic.” Include outfits, quotes, memes, cursed objects, and that one painting that haunts their dreams. This is not about logic. This is about ✨vibes.✨

Make a “deleted scenes” folder and write something that would never make it into the book. A crackfic. A “what if they were roommates” AU. The group chat from hell. This is your WIP’s blooper reel. Let it be silly, chaotic, or wildly off-brand.

Interview your villain like you’re Oprah. Ask the hard-hitting questions. “When did you know you were the drama?” “Do you regret the murder, or just the way you did it?” Bonus points if they lie to your face.

Host a fake awards show for your characters. Categories like “Most Likely to Die for Vibes,” “Worst Emotional Regulation,” “Himbo Energy Supreme,” or “Best Use of a Dramatic Exit.” Write their acceptance speeches. Yes, this counts as writing.

Write a breakup letter… to your inner critic. Be petty. Be dramatic. “Dear Self-Doubt, this isn’t working for me anymore. You bring nothing to the table but anxiety and bad vibes.” Rip it up. Burn it. Tape it to your mirror. Your call.

Create a “writing comfort kit” like you’re a cozy witch. A candle that smells like your WIP. A tea that your characters would drink. A playlist labeled “for writing when I’m one rejection email away from giving up.” This is a ritual now.

Design a fake movie poster or book cover like your story is already famous. Add star ratings, critic quotes, and some pretentious tagline like “One soul. One destiny. No chill.”

Write a scene you’re not ready to write—but just a rough, messy outline version. Not the polished thing. Just the raw emotion. The shape of it. Like sketching the bones of a future punch to the gut. You don’t have to make it perfect. Just open the door.

Let your story be bad on purpose for a day. Like, aggressively bad. Give everyone ridiculous names. Add an evil talking cat. Write a fight scene with laser swords and emotional damage. Just remind yourself that stories are meant to be played with, not feared.

[kitten4sannie]

kitten fever

pairing: cat hybrid husband! sannie x fem! reader

genre: hybrid au, smut

summary: after you put your baby to sleep and head to bed yourself, you come to the discovery that your dear husband just hit his rut and desperately wants to put another baby in you.

w.c: 2.6k

warnings: needy pussydrunk maniac! san, service sub! reader, they’re giving switch energy as well <3, san gets lost in subspace, big cawk sannie, only pet names/praise (baby, mama/mommy (only a few times trust), sweetheart, princess), san likes to be called kitty, san humps reader’s pillow out of desperation, kissing, wet and messy, possessiveness, grinding, nipple play (f/m receiving), lactation kink (muahahahaha), face sitting that turns into a 69, oral (f/m receiving), good ol fashioned unprotected missionary, heavy breeding kink, bulge kink, knotting, creampie, just so, so much cum……

a/n: i did a poll a lil while back to ask what vibe everyone wanted for sannie’s bday fic and soft, sweet love making with husband sannie won by a landslide ~~ but ofc i had to add my lil spin to it and made him a hybrid husband in heat hehe <33 i wrote this all in one go just rn bc i’m a ✨chronic procrastinator✨ so i had less time to perfect it but i hope it’s just as enjoyable as my other fics 🥹🫶🏼 that being said, enjoy lovelies~

song rec: same dream, same mind, same night by svt (this is a love making song and you cannot convince me otherwise 🙂‍↕️) - sex on fire by kings of leon - terrible love by boston manor (“tell me i’m everything you want~ tell me you need me~ give it everything you’ve got, so give it all~” <33)

“Hush, little baby, don’t you cry, mama’s gonna sing you a lullaby,” you cooed gently in a sing-song voice to the sweet angel laying still inside her crib, continuing your soft serenade until her eyes closed, surrendering to another night of much needed rest after a long day of adventure and learning, her tiny fingers slowly releasing the grip they had on one of yours, her tiny fluffy tail uncurling from your wrist. When you saw that your babygirl had fallen asleep, you gave her a loving kiss on the forehead, before exiting the bedroom and heading to your own.

It had taken a fair amount of time to get your baby to go to sleep, making you wonder if your husband had fallen asleep himself while he was waiting for you to come back. He must’ve been tired, especially after how worked up he was during the day, zooming around the house to get chores done despite there not being a rush, not even giving you the opportunity to make dinner either when he put his signature ‘kiss the cat’ apron on, and somehow still having the energy to run a few miles on his treadmill afterwards, claiming he still had the zoomies.

As soon as you cracked open the door, you could hear whimpering and soft, breathy panting coming from deeper inside the low lit room, a few candles burning away on your respective nightstands. Poor, sweet Sannie was probably having a nightmare of some sort. You would have to wake him.

“Baby, nnngh, need you, need you so bad, wanna be inside you, need to give you more kitties,” San voiced desperately to no one, hunched over and driving his heavy, leaking cock back and forth across the plush, pre-cum stained pillow that was kept on your side of the bed, his sweaty raven bangs sticking to his forehead, his tufted ears splayed out in opposite directions. He lowered his head further to take in your warm, flowery scent, letting out an instinctive growl and bucking his hips forward until he began to emit little breathy ‘ah, ah, ah’s’. He slowly dragged his throbbing cock along the feathered pillow, leaving thick, milky cum shots onto the previously pristine material. “Cummingggg, filling you up so deep, mama, it won’t stop….”

Well, it seems like you wouldn’t have to wake him. Your husband was already wide awake and seemingly trying to impregnate your pillow. You entered the room and closed the door behind you, causing San to look up at you with big boba eyes, his ears now on high alert, sheepishness overtaking his blushing features and a gentle, understanding one forming on yours. “Oh, my sweet Sannie, is this why you were so active today? Are you in a rut?”

San tried to cover up the evidence he left all over your pillow, his long fluffy tail curling shyly around one of his bare legs, his stained briefs riding up a bit near his inner thighs. “I-i didn’t wanna tell you because it’s hard for me to control myself when I’m like this…I can only think of one thing…”

You took a few steps forward until you were standing at the foot of the bed, hovering over San, your hands already making their way to his overheated face to caress it. “And what is that, kitty?”

San just about melted into your touch, his hot breath fanning over your skin when he sighed, gazing up at you past his fluttering lashes. “Breeding my beautiful wife…” he whispered softly, turning his head to press a lingering kiss into the palm of your hand. “I want to make love to you….feel and taste every single inch of you…remind you why you’re mine…” He whimpered, closing his eyes for a second, before they returned to you, his eyebrows upturned with desperation, his glistening lips parted ever so slightly. “I’m burning up just thinking about it…”

You leaned down to press a gentle kiss onto his forehead, then his cheek, leaving one on his trembling lips afterwards. “Then, what are you waiting for, Sannie? Let’s play.”

-

“Baby, your pretty kitty, mmmnn, feels so good,” San panted, breaking the heated, messy kiss you were sharing to moan from the way you were eagerly grinding yourself on his lap, his hardened cock pressing up directly into your slippery, hot cunt, a bit of drool escaping his lips, only for you to lap it up from his chin, before your tongue repeatedly swirled around his. “Wanna knot you…”

“Not yet, Sannie….wanna have more fun with you first…” When San began to whimper and squirm around, you reached past his head to grab onto the headboard with both hands, pressing your forehead to his to keep him locked in on you. “You wanna feel me all over, yeah?” You moved your hips in a more precise motion, the pronounced edge of his cockhead catching onto your clit each time your cunt dragged up and down his length, making the both of you let out a collective moan. You lifted up your body a bit so that your heavy tits were bouncing ever so slightly in his face, watching as your husband fell into a trance. “Wanna taste me too, don’t you, baby?”

“Yes, mama, wan’ it all,” San nodded drunkenly, repeatedly licking at his lips and fangs, bringing his hands up to your tits to feel the weight of them, squeezing into them slightly, his tail quickly slamming against the side of the bed as though he were a dog. He knew they were filled with milk, and it drove him absolutely nuts.

How adorable. Your kitten was too predictable. You pressed your tits together, holding them near his pretty blushing face. “Does kitty need milk?”

“Yes, please!” San opened his mouth up just in time for you to press your chest into his face, his lips closing around one of your nipples, licking and sucking at it until he began to taste the sweet essence of your milk. Deep purrs reverberated from his chest and throat, clearly content, letting go of one tit to focus on the other, pinching your nipple to watch as your milk spurted out of it and landed on his small pink tongue.

“Nnngh, that’s good, baby…” Humming, you ran your fingers through your husband’s soft hair as he gently coaxed more of the milkiness out of your tits one by one, eventually reaching down to rub your thumbs over his nipples, rolling them in circles until he began to let out muffled moans and whimpers. “Sannie’s so sensitive, hm? Even more sensitive now that he’s in a rut…so desperate for Mommy’s kitty.”

San gulped your sweetness down, a few drops dribbling down his chest, before he gasped at the sensation of you pinching his sensitive buds. “Y-yes, Sannie wants to be inside mama so bad….” He nibbled on one of your puffy nipples, dragging his rough tongue over it just to hear you whine, looking up at you to take in your suddenly submissive gaze. “My pretty girl’s sensitive too, I take it.”

“Always, because of that tongue of yours…” you murmured, digging your nails into the headboard when he forcefully pushed your tits together and ran his tongue back and forth over your nipples, biting them with his fangs for good measure.

“S-sannie…!”

When San felt a fresh wave of slick leak out onto his lap, his eyes started to narrow into slits, his instinctive urge to dominate you beginning to slip past the surface of his hazy mind. “So wet for me, aren’t you, sweetheart? It’s all going to waste too….Such a shame…”

“Wanna lick it up, kitty?” you asked sweetly, bringing your lips down to his, tasting the sweetness of your milk on his moving tongue.

“Mm. Sit on my face, princess,” he commanded in a slightly deeper tone, waiting for you to climb off of him so that he could lower himself down onto the bed. Just as you faced away from him and lifted your leg up to go over him, San grabbed you by your soft hips and pulled you down onto his face, immediately getting to work.

San dipped his tongue between your slick lips and dragged it up, painfully slow at first, so that he could savor your warm taste, licking a long stripe toward and then over your clit. He repeated this action until all that could be heard in the room was his wet tongue coming in contact with your soaking cunt, along with the groans he was letting out with each lick. Opening his eyes to admire your pretty plush pussy, he pressed a kiss onto your bud, before sucking on it with varying degrees of intensity, reveling in the way his pretty wife moaned desperately for more. “That’s it, huh, babygirl? Your pussy’s getting so messy, you must be getting close already….”

“F-fuck, yes, I’m close…don’t stop, Sannie,” you sighed out, suddenly distracted by the sight of your husband’s throbbing cock standing at full attention between his thighs. Licking at your lips, you carefully lowered yourself down until you could slurp and suck the pre-cum that pooled out of his reddened cockhead with ease, opening your mouth wide enough to take most of his cock down your throat inch by inch.

“Oh my god, baby, I won’t last if you do that….” San tossed his head back for a second, temporarily losing himself to the pleasure of having his cock buried inside the hot, wet heaven of your mouth and throat, moaning hoarsely all the while. Feeling more of your slick drip onto his heated skin, he remembered about his current mission. Once his tongue returned to your dripping slit, you started to rock your hips in time with San’s lips, your clit even bumping against your husband’s nose, your thighs beginning to tremble.

You took San’s cock down your throat as deep as it would go, using your spilling saliva to jerk off the rest of his length that you couldn’t reach with your mouth, hearing him begin to emit muffled whimpers and curses against your pulsing cunt, feeling his thighs tighten up underneath your touch.

You continued to move in sync, your hips now desperately rocking against San’s splayed out tongue, your moans playing a hypnotic rhythm. You always seemed to fall into this matching pattern of giving and receiving, losing yourselves in each other’s love and pleasure. Just as you began to squirm around, San’s hands slipped from your thighs where they were previously squeezing to your waist, wrapping them tightly around your middle to keep you still as your release poured out onto his tongue.

“Sannieeee, so good, so good, gonna cum,” you whined out once you pulled yourself off of his cock, your lips connected to the sticky tip with a few strands of milky saliva.

“Me too, baby, me too. Fuck, take it for me, okay? Be good and take it all,” San moaned against your convulsing cunt, lapping up the rest of your arousal, just as he began to shudder, forcefully tossing his head back into his pillow.

You caught the seemingly endless stream of cum on your tongue, some of it shooting into the back of your throat. You swallowed it all without hesitation, before climbing off of him and leaning down to press your lips onto his.

He eagerly kissed you back, gently lowering you down onto the mattress so that he could climb on top of you, the both of you desperately exchanging your warm arousal with one another, only breaking the dizzying kiss when neither of you could take a proper breath. “I love you, Y/N…” he whispered near your cheek.

“I love you too, San…”

Gazing deeply into your half-lidded eyes, San gently lowered his body weight onto you, not having to ask to know what you both needed when he positioned himself near your entrance and slipped right in, the both of you moaning in unison.

“Ready for my litter, baby? I’m gonna fill you up over and over, okay? I won’t stop until you tell me to…” Saliva pooled in San’s mouth as a low, deep purr rumbled inside his chest. Part human or not, your husband’s cat-like traits still made themselves present when he was sheathed inside you like this, especially now that he was in a rut.

“Yes, give it all to me, Sannie, I want your kitties,” you begged breathlessly, hardly able to think now that you were getting stretched out by your husband’s thick length, your legs hooking around his small waist once he began to recklessly drill himself into you.

“I’ll give it all to you, baby, have it all, have all of me.” Huffing and puffing, San pounded his cock into you, slipping out a few times due to how incredibly wet you were, taking the time to slap his cock down onto your abdomen, just to show the both of you how his length just about reached your ribs, watching you swallow hard, your hazy, tear filled eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“I can take it, Sannie. I can, I promise,” you reminded him gently, just as he slipped back inside you, pounding your pussy as if he had never stopped.

“Yes, you can, you’re gonna take it all, because you’re mine, mine, mine,” San groaned out near your ear like a mantra, his heavy body flush against yours, your legs hanging off of his broad shoulders, slamming his cock into you like you were just a toy, your cunt taking it like you were made specifically for him, his tail wrapped tightly around one of your ankles, almost acting as an anchor to keep the both of you from slipping out of reality.

“Yours, yours, yours…” you chanted back, your nails starting to dig and rake down his back, starting to fade away once your high rapidly took over. “Sannieeee, give me your knot, please…”

Almost as if on command, San’s knot began to form inside your cunt, stretching you out to the max. He pulled back slightly so that he could press his hands into your abdomen, feeling just how thick and heavy his cock was inside of you. “That’s my good girl…Look at you….my pretty little wife, taking all of my knot like this. It’s gonna break and your womb’s gonna be flooded with my cum, you know…You wanna get knocked up again for me, baby?”

“Mm-hmm!”

He nosed at your neck, taking in your pretty scent, whispering, “Help me breed you, baby.”

“Breed me, kitty….Make me yours forever…” You clutched your hands into his waist and pulled his hips taut to yours, your cunt clenching around his cock just as San melted into you, whispering countless promises of love, mixed with involuntary curses into your ear, the dam finally breaking.

A short, broken cry tore out of your throat as you squirted onto San’s twitching cock, endless waves of hot cum pouring out past your cervix and filling your womb up with his potent seed, rendering you vulnerable to the very real possibility of impregnation by your dear hybrid husband. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Purring, San pulled you into his arms and began to lick at the tears that had stained your flushed cheeks, grooming you in his own special way. He nuzzled into you, his tail coiling protectively around one of your wrists, his lips ghosting along your jaw, one of his twitching ears tickling your own. “We’ll have to paint our baby girl’s room half blue if we end up having a boy.”

You giggled, nuzzling into your husband’s loving touch. “Bold of you to assume we won’t have another girl.”

San smiled at you, his brown eyes sparkling with love and adoration for you. “That’s fine. I’m a girl dad, after all.”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[erebus0dora]

my dearest, my loveliest, my most beloved fellow connoisseurs of a certain gremlin, it has been ten days now since i had the wildest idea of The Armand-Shaped Chaos Project, and boy oh boy

it is done

it is alive

and it bleeds and it burns oh so bright fghhgghnnhhh

those who guessed it was going to be a candle: ✨you guessed right✨

he burns and he faintly smells of honey because i used beeswax (ngl i was contemplating adding pineapple scent if u catch my drift, mhm)

my dear friend @yakyuu-yarou also suggested to add the red core so that he doesn't just BURN, he BLEEDS, and i have a tiny bit of footage of that exact thing (GIF below the cut)

imma make a proper reveal post with the details of the project and all that jazz, but for now i really need to sleep since it's been a truly wild ride 💜

[yuujispinkhair]

Hi Winter~

I hope you're having a great day✨

Today is my birthday! Could I request something with modern boyfie Sukuna?

I love youuuuuuuuuuu🥺✨

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, BABE 💗 Have an amazing day!! I wish you all the love and happiness! Here is a little drabble ;)

SPENDING YOUR BDAY WITH BOYFIE SUKUNA

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Fluff + mentions of smut. 18+. Minors don't interact.

Modern boyfie!Sukuna wakes you up with bday sex. And he makes sure to love his bday girl thoroughly, not stopping until you squeal his name and scratch his broad, tattooed back while he groans "Happy birthday, princess," against your neck.

He insists on carrying you princess-style to the bathroom afterward, cradling you in his strong arms and kissing your forehead. And when you jokingly ask him if carrying you around is part of his bday special, Sukuna grins that sexy boyish smirk at you and is like,

"Of course, I'm carrying you. My girl doesn't have to lift a single finger on her special day! What kind of loser would I be if I didn't take the best care of you?"

And you laugh and cup his tattooed cheeks and kiss him. Though, you know that Sukuna takes such good care of you all the time, not just on your birthday. You smile while soaking in the bathtub in your favorite bubble bath, your skin still tingling from Sukuna's kisses and touches while he is in the kitchen preparing your bday breakfast.

And then you are finally dressed and make it to the kitchen, your boyfriend's beautiful maroon eyes sparkle at you full of pride and love as he presents to you the birthday cake he made for you.

Sukuna spent three days working on it, baking all of it himself, and making all the decorations himself, too. It's truly a masterpiece, and you grin happily, imagining how much your dear boyfie must have cursed during the process anytime something didn't work the way he wanted. But it turned out perfectly. And he did all that for you. Because you are his love.

You hug Sukuna tightly, thanking him and unable to stop smiling as he turns you around so you can try the first piece of your cake while Sukuna stands behind you, his strong, tattooed arms wrapped around you, his tall body pressing lightly against your back. His large hands sprawl over your hips, and you can feel his smile against your neck when he kisses you there.

"I love you, princess. Happy birthday."

He lets you feed him cake later on, making you laugh when Sukuna rolls his eyes in pleasure and praises his own baking skills, though you agree with him because the cake really tastes heavenly.

But the cake isn't all Sukuna has planned. This day is only for you and him, and he takes you shopping later on and gives you the rest of your presents, beautiful flowers, and a necklace he saw you ogling once when you were window-shopping.

Sukuna's large, tattooed hand holds yours the whole time you stroll through the streets and the shopping malls. And you can't help but lean against him, smiling happily when you smell his sexy cologne and feel his buff biceps flex against your cheek.

In the evening, Sukuna leads you to your favorite restaurant, where he booked a table decorated with rose petals and candles. It's the most romantic dinner you've ever had, with Sukuna looking so sexy in the suit he is wearing for the special occasion and smiling that dazzling smile that is only reserved for you. He truly made you feel like a birthday girl today 💗

AWWW spending your bday with boyfie Sukuna sounds so sweet to me. I hope you enjoyed it!! Have a wonderful day 💗💗

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs and comments would be sweet.

[magickkate]

Good Evening! 🌙✨ Are you ready to infuse a dash of magic into your daily culinary adventures? Welcome to the whimsical world of Kitchen Witchery—a delightful blend of spell work, herbalism, and culinary enchantment! 🌿🧙‍♀️✨

🍲 Basic Ingredients for Your Magical Pantry:

Herbs: Rosemary for protection, basil for love, and mint for healing. Experiment with your favorites!

Spices: Cinnamon for prosperity, ginger for energy, and nutmeg for luck. Let your taste buds guide your magical choices!

Crystals: Place a few on your kitchen windowsill for added energy. Clear quartz, amethyst, and rose quartz are popular choices.

🌈 Setting Up Your Kitchen Altar:

Choose a Sacred Space: Designate a corner of your kitchen for magical workings. A windowsill, shelf, or small table works wonders!

Magical Tools: Incorporate a cauldron, candles, and small bowls for herbs and crystals. Personalize it with items close to your heart.

🕯️ Candle Magic in the Kitchen:

Color Magic: Choose candle colors aligning with your intentions. Green for abundance, white for purification, and red for passion.

Enchant While Cooking: Stir your intentions into soups, sauces, and stews. Feel the magic in every motion!

🍵 Brewing Magical Teas:

Create Tea Blends: Mix herbs like chamomile, lavender, and mint for relaxation or energy. Sip with intention and let the magic steep into your soul.

🌕 Harvesting Moon Energies:

Full Moon Feasts: Plan magical meals during the full moon for amplifying energy. Charge crystals and herbs under the moonlight for added potency.

📚 Witchy Wisdom:

Start a Grimoire: Record your magical experiences, recipes, and discoveries. It’s your personal book of kitchen enchantments!

Experiment & Trust Intuition: There are no strict rules in kitchen witchery. Trust your instincts, and let your intuition guide your magical creations.

🌻 Infusing Love into Every Bite:

Cook Mindfully: Turn cooking into a meditation. Infuse your dishes with gratitude, love, and positive energy.

Share the Magic: Share your enchanted meals with loved ones. The joy of kitchen witchery multiplies when shared!

🌿 Nature’s Bounty:

Grow Your Own: Cultivate a small herb garden or keep potted plants in your kitchen. Nothing beats the magic of using homegrown herbs!

Remember, dear beginner kitchen witch, your journey is as unique as the flavors you create. Embrace the magic in simplicity, trust your instincts, and let the cauldron of your heart stir up spells of nourishment and enchantment! 🌈🌟💖 ✨🌿🔮

[earthlybeam]

I struggle with chronic migraines, and I’m stuck at home with an awful one. I was wondering if you would mind writing something about Elrond taking care of a partner with a migraine? Thank you so much for sharing your writing. It’s absolutely incredible ❤️

I’m so sorry to hear that you’re struggling with a migraine right now. I hope you’re able to find some relief soon. Thank you for your kind words means so much 🥹❤️‍🔥 And enjoy my dear ❤️‍🩹🫶✨

Elrond suffers from chronic migraines from his insight so Elrond knows exactly what to do for you 💙🦋✨

↓

↓

↓

Lord Elrond Version below

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

✶ Elrond’s Care for His Partner During a Migraine Though Elrond himself has witnessed many pains throughout his long life, he is all too familiar with the struggles of chronic migraines, having endured them occasionally in his own way. This makes him especially empathetic and attentive when it comes to caring for his beloved during one of their painful episodes.

✶ Understanding and Patience as Elrond knows that migraines are not just physical pain but often include sensitivity to light, sound, and touch. He is patient with you, understanding that words may not come easily, and he speaks in a soft, calming tone, offering you gentle reassurance. His presence is quiet, soothing, and always deeply aware of your needs. “Meleth nín, I understand the pain that clouds your mind. Rest now, and I will be here, silent as a shadow, until the storm has passed.”

✶ Dim Lighting and a Quiet Space Since Elrond is keenly aware of the sensory overload migraines cause, he would gently guide you to a room with soft, dim lighting or perhaps a quiet corner in Rivendell. The sun may be setting, and he’ll carefully draw the curtains, letting in only the faintest rays of twilight to ease the intensity. The soft flickering light of a few candles is all that is needed in the space he creates, ensuring there are no bright, harsh lights or distractions. He will lower his voice, allowing you a calm atmosphere where you can focus on rest.

✶ Tender Care as Elrond’s touch is always gentle and deliberate, especially when your migraine is at its worst. He would sit beside you on the bed, never forcing any contact, but simply offering the comfort of his presence. His hand might hover over your forehead, cool and soothing, or he might lightly massage the pressure points along your temples and the back of your neck to ease the tension. His magic as a healer extends here, his healing arts focused on calming and alleviating your discomfort. If you’re open to it, he may use an herbal balm or brew a calming tea made from elvish herbs to soothe your senses, gently guiding your hands to hold the cup as he watches with caring eyes. “Let the peace of Rivendell enter you, Meleth nín. Drink, for it will bring rest to your weary mind.”

✶ A Soft, Soothing Voice as Elrond knows that words can be both comforting and grounding. In the silence of the room, he might softly speak to you in low, melodic tones. He recalls stories from Middle-earth, especially from a time when he was younger and healing from his own physical struggles. These stories are quiet, designed to ease your thoughts away from the pain. Sometimes, his voice might even be a simple, tender reminder of your love and the future you share “There are many who walk under the stars, but none have seen them as we will, together, hand in hand.”

✶ Presence Over Action Even if you do not speak, Elrond respects your need for solitude. He would not leave your side, but instead remain quietly within reach. His calm presence fills the room, offering peace without words. When you’re ready for his touch again, he is there. If you need silence, he will give you that, just as you wish. The deep bond between you means he knows when to speak, when to wait, and when to let time work its magic.

✶ A Cool, Comforting Atmosphere If you are too warm, Elrond will gently arrange cool cloths on your forehead or your neck, feeling the temperature carefully to ensure it’s just right. He might open a window to allow a cool breeze from the river to drift in, and he always makes sure the air is fresh without any disturbances. His elvish senses are finely attuned to ensure the environment is precisely right for healing. “I will make this world quiet for you, love. Rest and let your body and mind find solace.”

✶ Gentle Reassurance and Tenderness His concern for you is woven into every action, and his deep care for your well-being will always show. If you need to talk, he listens, and if you need quiet, he knows the comfort of silence. He will not rush you, but instead offer space for you to heal in your own time. Elrond will often give small, unspoken gestures of affection, like brushing the hair from your face, kissing your brow softly, or even holding your hand, simply letting you feel the warmth of his presence. His every action is intended to provide comfort without overwhelming you.

✶ Mindful of His Own Struggles Though Elrond would never let his own discomfort distract him from your needs, he is aware of his own sensitivity to migraine-like pains. There are times when his heightened senses become overwhelming for him, too, and he understands the exhaustion that comes with migraines. This shared experience allows him to connect with you on an even deeper level. Perhaps he, too, will take a moment to rest beside you, closing his eyes for a while to simply experience peace with you.

✶ Elrond is not just a healer in the sense of curing physical ailments, but a master of emotional support. His gestures are deliberate, slow, and filled with love and concern, ensuring that you feel as safe and cared for as possible during this painful time. His patience, wisdom, and empathy make him the perfect companion in moments like these.

Elrond Caring for His Partner with Chronic Migraine.

Lord Elrond’s soft footsteps echoed faintly against the stone floor of Rivendell as he entered the room, his heart immediately heavy at the sight before him. You lay on the bed, your face contorted with pain. The migraine had returned, and this time, it felt as though it might never relent. He could see it in the way your body was curled tightly against the ache, your hands gripping the sheets as if trying to fight against an invisible force. He knew this pain all too well. He’d watched it claim you time and again, each bout more merciless than the last. The pressure building behind your eyes, the way every sound, every shift of light became a dagger piercing through the calm. It was familiar to him, almost a shared agony. He longed to take it away, but he knew that, like him, you had to weather the storm in your own way. His heart ached for you, the person he loved more than anything in Middle-earth.

The world felt distant, hazy at the edges, like you were trapped beneath a layer of fog. Your mind was at war with your body as the migraine pulsed relentlessly. The pressure behind your eyes was suffocating, a constant, throbbing reminder that you were powerless to escape. It felt like time had stopped, like the world was spinning around you, but you were caught in the stillness of your own pain. You couldn’t remember how long you had been like this, lost in the torment. The silence in the room was oppressive, but not unbearable—not with Elrond near. Gently, he knelt by your side, his hand reaching for your forehead. His fingers brushed against your cool skin, a soft touch that was meant to be a comfort more than anything else. The strands of hair that had fallen across your face were swept aside with tenderness. When you felt the familiar touch of his fingers brushing your forehead, it was like a small ripple in the storm. His presence was your anchor, the only thing that kept you from completely succumbing to the darkness inside your head.

“Peace, my love,” he murmured, his voice a gentle balm against the harshness of the world. His heart swelled with love for you, but it was accompanied by a deep frustration. He wished he could take all the pain away. But for now, all he could do was be here. As pulling you from the edge of your thoughts. It was low, soothing, and for a moment, the pain seemed to soften around the edges. You wanted to respond, wanted to tell him you were aware of him, that you appreciated his care, but even the effort of moving was beyond you. You tried to shift slightly, to turn toward him, but the movement only made the pain worse. The weight of the migraine pressed on you like a thousand stones, keeping you pinned to the bed. You couldn’t fight it, not now. But you didn’t need to. Elrond’s steady presence was enough. His touch, gentle and tender as always, was a steady reminder that you weren’t alone in this. You could feel him close to you—his warmth, his love—like a shield against the cold, hard reality of the pain you were enduring. His hands were so gentle as they brushed your hair from your face, and though you couldn’t manage more than a flicker of a response, the act itself was enough.

You barely stirred, your breathing shallow and slow. He could see the tightness in your brow, the way your lips pressed together as you fought against the agony. Elrond knew you had become accustomed to these moments of suffering—knew how much you hated to be a burden, hated to be seen in this vulnerable state. Yet, he would never see you as anything but the light of his life, and this was no burden. He had to remind you of that—remind himself too. He moved toward the window and drew the heavy curtains tighter, shutting out the daylight that pressed in, leaving only the soft flickering of candlelight to illuminate the room. The darkness wrapped around you both like a comforting blanket, and he felt your body relax a fraction as the room became softer, less harsh. When you heard the soft rustle of fabric, you realized that the light had changed, and the soft glow of candlelight filled the room. The sunlight that had made everything worse was now gone, replaced by the comforting shadows of the room. The change was subtle, but it was enough for you to breathe just a little easier.

When he returned to your side, Elrond hesitated for only a moment before lifting your hand in his, holding it gently in both of his. You hadn’t even noticed when Elrond had sat beside you. But now, his warmth enveloped you as he took your hand in his, his touch both a comfort and a promise. His warmth was a quiet reassurance that you weren’t facing this pain alone, that you never had to. His hand held yours with such tenderness that it almost made you want to weep. You didn’t have to fight this battle by yourself. He spoke quietly, though his heart ached at seeing you in such distress. “Would you like some water, or perhaps a cool cloth?” he asked, though he knew you were too tired to answer. Still, he needed to offer the option. He never wanted you to feel as though you were powerless, as if you didn’t have a choice. The sound of his heartbeat, steady and strong, began to drown out the pounding in your head. The warmth of his hand anchored you, and for a moment, the pain seemed almost bearable.

You couldn’t respond, your eyes barely open, the weight of the migraine too much to bear. He didn’t press. Instead, he simply stayed, his hand steady in yours, offering his presence. Your gaze flickered, and you managed a small, almost imperceptible movement, your fingers tightening around his just slightly. He was there, he realized, in the way you sought him without words. The gesture meant everything. Even in the depths of your pain, you still found strength to reach for him, to let him in. Elrond leaned closer, his thumb brushing the back of your hand slowly. It was the only way he could think to reassure you, to remind you that he was there. “Rest, my love,” he whispered softly, his words as much for himself as for you. “I am here. Let go of your worries.”

Your eyes fluttered closed again, and Elrond watched you for a long moment, tracing the curve of your jaw with the gentlest touch. He stayed by your side, not wanting to leave you even for a moment. He knew this pain, this battle, and though he could not take it from you, he could stand by you as you fought it. His love was a steady thing—constant, undemanding, and he hoped, a balm for your soul. Elrond sat beside you, his thumb brushing the back of your hand with a slow, steady rhythm. He could feel the change in your breathing—slower, more even—though the migraine had not yet passed. His love for you swelled in his chest, and with it came a quiet promise that he would stay with you, no matter how long it took. He knew how much this hurt you—not just the pain itself, but the vulnerability. The trust it took to let him see you like this, to let him care for you in this way. There had been a time when you would have hidden this suffering from him, when you would have tried to endure it alone. But now, here you were, resting beneath his touch, allowing him to shoulder some of the weight.

His heart swelled with love, and he allowed himself a moment of gratitude for you—your strength, your trust. His thumb moved over your hand once more, each stroke a silent vow. The migraine had not released its grip on you, the world still a blur behind the relentless throb of pain. Every breath felt too much, every sound like an assault, each faint light an invasion. You wanted to retreat, to escape the pounding in your skull, but all you could do was endure. And yet, even in this agony, you could feel Elrond beside you. His presence was a steady warmth, a quiet comfort that anchored you in the storm. You clung to it, even though the rest of your senses were lost to the pain.

You weren’t sure when Elrond had returned to your side, but you could feel his warmth beside you now. His hand hovered near your forehead, cool and gentle, like a whisper of peace against the fire that burned behind your eyes. The faintest pressure of his fingers, just a soft caress, sent a ripple of relief through the storm, as if his touch could tame the ferocity of the migraine, if only for a moment. His presence, steady and unyielding, was like a shelter—a safe harbor amidst the chaos. Elrond’s voice, soft and soothing, broke through the haze of your mind. “Let the peace of Rivendell enter you, meleth nín. Drink, for it will bring rest to your weary mind.” You felt him carefully lift your head, his movements gentle, as if you were the most fragile thing in all of Middle-earth. His hands were firm yet tender as they guided the teacup to your lips. The scent of the elvish herbs was calming, delicate like the first breath of spring. The warmth of the tea, mixed with the soothing aromas, wrapped around you, inviting you to surrender. Despite the weight of your pain, you felt an instinctive pull to trust him, to take whatever comfort he offered.

With the smallest movement, your fingers barely brushing his, you took the cup into your hands. Elrond’s eyes were on you as you sipped, his gaze filled with nothing but care and love. You could feel the coolness of the porcelain against your fingers, the warmth of the tea against your lips, and yet, it was Elrond’s quiet presence that truly calmed the storm inside you. “Thank you,” you whispered, though it was barely more than a breath. Your voice was hoarse, almost drowned out by the intensity of the migraine, but Elrond heard you nonetheless. His heart swelled at the simple expression of gratitude, a reminder that even in your deepest pain, you could still reach for him, still let him in. “You do not need to thank me, my love,” Elrond replied softly, his voice full of quiet tenderness. “I would do this a thousand times for you, if it meant easing your burden, even for a moment.”

His hands remained steady around yours as you drank, guiding the cup to your lips with a grace that seemed almost effortless. You could feel the magic of his healing flow through him, a quiet force that washed over you, coaxing the tension from your shoulders, loosening the tightness in your temples. The tea, cool and fragrant, slid down your throat like a balm, and the effects were immediate. The pain didn’t vanish completely, but it softened, as if the sharpness of the migraine had been dulled, made bearable once more. Elrond waited in silence, watching over you, his eyes never leaving your face. He could see the subtle changes in your expression—the slight loosening of the tension in your brow, the way your breath became just a little bit steadier. He remained by your side, sitting on the bed with you, his warmth radiating in the quiet space between you both.

When the cup was empty, he gently took it from your hands, his fingers brushing yours as he did. His touch lingered for a moment longer, a promise that he would stay beside you, through every storm. “Would you like more, meleth?” he asked softly, though he knew that sometimes, all you needed was his presence. Your gaze met his, and despite the pain still clinging to you, there was a flicker of something—perhaps gratitude, perhaps something deeper. “No,” you whispered, your voice coming back with a little more strength. “Just… stay with me.” Elrond’s heart fluttered at your words. Without hesitation, he moved closer, his hand resting lightly on the bed beside you, offering his presence without asking for anything in return. He knew, after all, that sometimes all you needed was for him to be there, steady and unwavering.

“Always, my love,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead with the gentlest of touches. “I will stay, for as long as you need me.” His hand moved slowly to the back of your neck, gently massaging the pressure points there, soothing the tension that had built up from hours of pain. His touch was light but deliberate, each movement meant to ease your suffering. You felt yourself relax into the softness of his hands, the sharp pain in your head still there but no longer consuming you. For a long time, neither of you spoke. There was no need. Elrond’s presence filled the room, steady and unyielding, and you let yourself drift into it. His quiet healing, his gentle touch, his words of love—they were all you needed in that moment.

The storm within you hadn’t passed, but with Elrond beside you, you knew that you could weather it. His love, his care, were the things that would carry you through. And with each passing moment, the pain seemed a little less unbearable, softened by the tenderness of his touch and the healing magic he wove around you like a protective veil. “Sleep, my heart,” Elrond whispered, his voice a quiet command. “Rest now. I am here, and I will not leave you.” And as you finally allowed yourself to drift off, the weight of the migraine still pressing but dulled by the balm of his presence, you knew—no matter the pain, no matter the struggle—he would always be there, watching over you, offering his love, his care, and his steady warmth.

[chaotic--nat]

Ian Malcolm is NOT a coward

content: porn with plot (?), gender neutral! reader (if it doesn't feel gender neutral, please tell me so I can make adjustments !) edging, body writing, spanking, pet names like dear, baby, some projection, just...yeah !

small summary: you wanted to try some new things out with Ian in bed and he's more than willing to try new things with you !!

word count: 481

NSFW // 18+ content below !! minors GO AWAY !!

per request by: @jurassicjewels ✨

Dr. Ian Malcolm is NOT a coward, he's a man of his word! If his partner wants to try something out to see if they like it or not, he's more than excited to try it with them! Maybe...too excited...?

You've recently floated the idea to Ian that you wanted to try out some new things in bed, maybe some light bondage, or maybe even the use of candles, but the idea of him surprising you with what to try next sounded even better than planning out your evening with him. As soon as you suggested "surprise me", he did some research to see what would be the most fun for not only you, but him as well!

With the evening rapidly approaching, you couldn't help but wonder what exactly Ian was planning to do with you, but the lack of knowledge only made it more exhilarating! You wandered your way into his home office, and as you make your way to his desk, you see a few different things-- some eyeliner, markers, hell, even lipstick and you couldn't help but ask him what all of this was for, "ah, uh, don't even ah, think about it, just you wait till tonight, dear!"

Boy, were you in for a treat! Expecting to have hot wax dripped onto your body, Ian had your legs spread open with his as he teased and squeezed your tits! You couldn't help but moan and whine at his touch, begging for him to let you finish, he removed his hand and marked the other side of your chest with another black talley. Over those talley's he wrote "experiment one successful edges", and there were only a few lines under those words. You truly didn't know how long you could last or how long Ian was going to do this to you-- this absolute torture! You tossed your head back against his shoulder, begging for some kind of release, but he simply let out a small laugh, "I thought you were going to be a good test subject for me, baby. Won't you be good for me?" and damn that pretty condescending voice he has.. You couldn't help but oblige to the edging and denial that this man was doing! "You wouldn't want me to punish you, right dear?"

Little did you know that just shortly after that mark you would end up over his legs being spanked! And not only was he just spanking you, he was expecting you to count and remember how many spanks he did! You could barely count to ten before he gently rubbed your ass and kissed your left shoulder "Now you'll know for next time, baby, right?" You could only whine and nod to his sweet words, and as you tried to stay still, you could feel him writing some more on your body-- "property of Dr. Ian Malcolm".

-

authors note: such a sloppy more plot than porn piece, I kinda wanna develop the edging idea ngl, let me know if anyone would be interested in reading that !

[alastorsfuckassbob]

You're Never Fully Dressed-

Alastorxfem!reader

oh boy everyone's favorite! Please I have never written before, I just figured I'd give it a shot it was 1:35 and I was not feeling sleepy so an hour later here it is, its not edited so SORRY ABOUT THAT- all of my friends are normal and would definitely not proof read this hot garbo!

Basic Plot!! Yikes another song fic i know i KNOWW, the reader knew our good pal Al in her life but oopsies he "left" her (he died duh) and now shes taking a sad hot girl bubble bath to reminisce!!

Lyrics are bolded, past events Italics for the most part.

ALSO Please DNI if you're a minor k thanks bye!! You are responsible for your own internet consumption, so here are the warnings! If you don't want to view that ✨dont✨

Warnings include:

-Swearing

-Violence

-Alcohol Use but not abuse! (its hell duh)

-Abusive Relationships

-Slight Innuendo but not a strong one!

-Angst

The fire danced, flitting left and right. It was different than any other fire set in hell, it wasn't meant to hurt anyone or destroy anything. It was just a small flame, melancholically melting the dripping wax down the white lilac scented pillar. Floral scents were hard to come by unless you made them yourself, it was hell after all, its not like theres a flower garden planted on every corner. The candles single wick didn't produce more than a drop of light. It just flickered every now and then, entertaining its own little lonesome sway. Your demeanor softened as you looked at it from the petal filled bath you currently resided in.

Oddly you felt at peace, understood, almost comforted. You had learned to dance the same way it seemed. You caught yourself when you fell, twisting and turning to please an audience. It was a cruel existence. At least the flame looked content in some way, at least it would never know what it was like to contort under the will of another. Yet it was still a light in darkness, shining for no other reason than to survive...All it could ever do was take, even if it didn't want to, fire needs to burn. To burn it must destroy. You sighed sinking deeper into the bubbly water. You didn't want to think about your past. Not anymore. You didn't have to anymore anyway. Life had not been kind to you and that constant displeasure followed you through your death and into the pits of hell. Funny how suffering could follow biting desperately at your heels and the man who was so "desperately" in love with you in life just couldn't find it within himself to stay...God you sounded bitter. To be fair you were. After all he had ruined your life and he didn't even know it...It wasn't that bad was it? You probably would still be in hell regardless, even without his "involvement" or lack of- you had always been a sinner. It wasn't worth it to be upset, not anymore he's most likely dead, you definitely are, whose to say if he'd even wind up down here. You paused a moment, laughing at the silly conclusion overthinking had led you to.. no that fucker is definitely in hell. Sweet as he was up front, he had a dark side that went much deeper than his soft exterior could cover. You closed your eyes..

1923- Central New Orleans

Suddenly it was 1923. The flower lined streets of late spring in New Orleans. His smile never wavering as he dragged you from store to store. As your dear companion, and biggest supporter, he had asked you to assist him at the radio station. Now that you had finished school you would need a job anyway. You'd always had a beautiful voice and a knack for writing. It just made sense. His hand squeezed yours lightly pulling you from your thoughts. In his hands, he held a burgundy day dress and a matching bow.

"Darling, would you try this on for me? I believe it is high time you were rewarded for all of your hard work. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color"

You smile softly at his gentle tone, taking the delicate dress in your hands. You find yourself caught in his eyes. It feels like you two are the only people on the planet

You feel the familiar sensation of tears on your face, you open your eyes again, you hadn't realized you'd started crying.

you let out the shrill scream you didn't know you were holding in. the fluke of champagne you had so tediously been savoring since you began your bath cracked slightly. You downed the rest of the glass, and grabbed the bottle sitting lazily on the floor. You didn't want to think about him or your life anymore...but it consumed you. You had so many more important things to fret about in your..current..environment. Songs to sing, bitches to kill, people to fuck. A grand glorious array of newer shinier problems, and yet you were stuck sulking about the past. You take a deep breath shaking slightly despite the warm vanilla scented water surrounding you. You remove your hand from the water motioning to the shadow hiding behind a vase (of no more than slightly wilted roses). It slinks forward at your beckoning, climbing to the white marble countertop of your vanity, it clicks the worn down knob of your rickety old radio. light jazzy music trickles out and fills the air with lovesick nostalgia you weren't entirely prepared to let in. No matter what he had done...you would always fall back to him. Even if he was nothing more than ill-fated failed fourteen year "endeavor". fourteen years is quite a long time, even if the majority of it was spent more or less platonically. You really did love him. Love doesn't always follow those that leave, you are testimony and truth to that. You let your mind wander guided by the static filled notes of the radio.

Hey, hobo man

Hey, Dapper Dan

You've both got your style

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

Even through the shudder of the static, it really did sound like him. Despite being the "host" of the station. He had his fair share of performances. For such a Hell bound soul he had the voice of an angel.

You close your eyes once again and allow the melody to take you back to an easier time.

1926- New Orleans, Your apartment

You sing along with whatever tune the radio gives you. You're at peace, simply existing for no other reason than to be with your friend.

"Dance with me my little canary, your voice lights a fire within me"

He pulls you in by the waist. His hands splayed across your hips holding them with a gentleness you'd never expected him to hold for you. He leans his head down against the yours and places a chaste kiss on your forehead

"Alastor" you giggle, the sensation tickling you slightly. "You are quite ridiculous"

"Ridiculous?" he feigns hurt. "My darling I am so far from ridiculous the word does not find sense within my ears" he spins you around and into his chest, you roll your eyes ignoring his antics

"Dearest are you aware you are speaking with the future of radio?"

"The future of radio? Please Love, don't jest. The 20s surely have more in store than you" You laugh into his chest and he shockingly laughs with you.

Neither of you know it but you are both so drunk on the sound. To you, his laugh sounds like the swift church bells that used to ring throughout your home town whenever someone got married. It feels familiar and yet like a distant memory. It makes you want to hear it over and over again until your ears stop working, and even then you'd settle in just fine feeling the vibrations of his chest. He sounds like home. To him, your laugh sounds like the rushing creek and smooth algae covered stones resting deep beneath the trees draped in Spanish moss of his mothers cabin in the woods. Just hearing your laugh he can feel the spotted sunlight speckling his freckled face underneath the big willow tree. You sound like home. Everything about you- it felt like home to him. His hands were crafted to hold soft curves of your body. His ears were made to hear your voice and your voice alone. You were purpose, his home. You don't know it, but it is that realization that sparked the idea of marriage into his heart.

That fire was put out not long after.

You at least had those nine years as his friend, three years as his "copain" if you will- and two years as his fiancée...and so many years alone. You only spent 14 years in the company of this man. You had lived before knowing him a good 17 years, and a good long bit after.

Why were you so stuck?

You hum along subconsciously, the objects in your bathroom begin to glow a familiar pink, levitating slightly in the air as you continue to hum. Your ability isn't weak by any means, but for some reason you were. You were nothing in comparison to hells overlords, especially the newest trio of Vs. Your power is so deeply connected to your voice, how can you hold power when it doesn't belong to you anymore? You drift back to the memory of your arrival. Scared, alone, dressed a great deal less than modestly, and equipped with nothing more than a pair of horns, some wings you couldn't quite use yet, and a thin devil like tail. It was only your third hour in hell. You didn't understand the rules. You were playing a twisted game in which you didn't realize you were just another piece of.

Shock can make a person anxious and fear will make them stupid. He was tall and smelled distinctly of cigars, soured whiskey, and something pungently sweet you couldn't name. It burned your nose as you inhaled it. You would become well aquatinted with the smell of lust in the years to come, you just didn't know it yet. It seemed innocent at first, just a simple contract, no different than a job. All you had to do was sing and dance at a club, in exchange for safety. But it was different and it wasn't innocent. He was cruel and yet no different than so many of the men you had dealt with in life. He agreed to your terms of anonymity and thats about it. You had your private life and his life. Valentino never played fair. You didn't know that yet, and now you're hells favorite sinner, a least no one knew it was you. If he had asked you another day later you would have realized you could have probably fended for yourself, with some difficulty anyway. At least you wouldn't have to be in this mess. You wouldn't be fucking six people before noon. You wouldn't be constantly covered in bruises and scars...Maybe you could have found him, Alastor that is. Maybe you could have at least been friends again. Its silly to hope for anything more since your romantic relationship ended...✨the way it did✨

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

1931- New Orleans, The river

The two of you sit beside each other in a small wooden row boat. Your hair is tied back with your signature crimson ribbon. He fiddles with the pocket of his jacket. The Louisiana soundscape of crickets, frogs and running water accompanies your conversation. Fireflies light up the air, almost bringing the stars down to your fingertips. With a buzz and a gentle green glow, the small creature lands on your hand. Your smile leaks wonderment and Alastor can hardly contain the love he feels for you.

As a Radio Host, he is quite agile in the way of words, yet something about you has him constantly at a loss. He takes a deep breath, unsure of what to say his voice wavers as he begins to speak.

"y/n, I want to thank you for the effect you've had in my lif-"

"My love look at the stars!" You didn't mean to cut him off, Your arms stretched upwards your face turning to meet his. The stars were so much brighter then they were in the city, it was only natural for you to be excited

"Yes doll, I see them, they're the same as they were last night and many many nights before hand"

You let out an impatient huff

"that doesn't make them any less beautiful." a mischievous glint hides in your eyes "now wouldn't it be so dreadfully terrible if I got bored looking at you just because I've already seen you before?" You fake a yawn and look at him eyes seething with boredom

"It would be so dreadful considering I was about to propose to you"

There is no other word to describe what you felt other than shocked. You had been an item for quite some time, but you never figured he would stick around (and "seal the deal" if you will).

Tears begin to run down your face rambling small words of agreement and love. You had never expected him to..love you that way. He was who he was, a dreadfully popular radio host, and you weren't really anything more than an assistant. People really only listened for him..yet in this moment, he was speaking only for you.

"I love you so dearly my y/n. If life without you exists I do not want to exist through it"

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

1934: New Orleans, Alastor's house

The house was empty. He was gone. Fully and truly gone. It had been a year since you'd seen or heard from him and six months since the birth of your son. It didn't feel like your house, it didn't feel like your life anymore. It was all still his. His things still bled into your side of the closet, his last purchase, a book, dust encrusted and unread. The blankets and pillows set on the couch exactly as you both had left them after falling asleep to the rain the night before he left wordlessly. You found yourself sporting one of his shirts more often than your own...until eventually they didn't smell like him anymore. The whole house used to reek of his signature vanilla smell. Theres nothing left here but dust and the crooked board of the desk he insisted he could build himself "just fine".

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

That matters

1936- New Orleans; ✨that shitty bar you performed at✨

"Get the fuck up you bitch"

You felt his hand tangle in your hair and pull you to your knees. All you could do was groan in pain.

"I'm so sorry it won't happen again I promise"

You mutter almost to yourself. He rolls his eyes shoving you into the counter smashing a glass in the process. Your vision blurs for a second seeing the glass shards decorating your h/c locks in a halo. You feel the blood trickle down your forehead.

"Do you think anyone else would hire you? A whore with nothing to her name and a useless ugly bastard child from god knows who?" You feel angered at his words. Insulting you is one thing, but your child?

But then it sinks in, he's right. The 30s are a sick decade, nothing progressive about them. No one else would hire you. You are lucky to work here..despite it all. You tell yourself anything is better than living on the streets. The mantra doesn't dull the pain but it makes it easier to put up with. You don't have a choice. You have a child to take care of.

"Get rid of him"

you stay silent unsure if you heard him correctly.

"Get rid of the boy. I don't care if you leave him in a box on the street or kill him yourself"

He reaches for a small silver knife under the bar's counter. He places it against your throat.

" y/n..You won't like it if I do it dearest, besides you are saving him the shame of having a mother like you. At least if he's adopted elsewhere he has a chance at a half decent life" he took a deep swig from his un-shattered glass of whiskey, looking at you with such deep distain.

You had never hated anyone the way you hated that man..But he was right. You would never be able to give your baby the best life. It would never get better because you couldn't make it better. So you found a young couple not to far from New Orleans, they took him in, and he got to be happy. he ended up living a successful life. He still is. If nothing else theres that. You know your own misery doesn't automatically allow others to be happier, but at times its what keeps you going.

Your mind is flooded with more and more thoughts. Thousands of little memories pilling themselves on top of you. Who would've thought, even deceased, even owned by Valentino, even trapped in an ever so violent place, the real plight of hell would be your thoughts. You light a cigarette and get out of the tub. You throw on a dark red robe and sit on the vanity's counter to brush your damp hair. The song continues into a jazzy interlude before it reprises again

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But, brother

You're never fully dressed

You're never dressed

Without a smile

You stretch out your wings in the mirror, looking at your demonic self. No matter how many times you catch yourself in the mirror, even after ten years of this hellish existence. It still strikes you as odd. You look more or less the same. The same hair color and skin tone, although slightly more grey. The tail was just fucking weird no matter how long you had it. The song erupts into the finale distracting you from your thoughts. You begin to sing along with it, smiling softly. It really does sound like him. The same pink glow takes over the room as well as your body, Your eyes begin to glow that same soft pink, your hair floating above your shoulders.

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

You're never fully dressed without a smile

The last line comes out much quieter than the rest. A sense of sadness overtakes you once again as you realize how pathetic this whole night turned out. You'd spent the whole night "Simping", as Velvette would say, over a relationship that ended decades ago. Yikes. The static from the radio clicks up a few notches, You cover your ears at the sudden noise. You quickly reach for the dial in order to turn off the device..And then you hear it. You hear him.

"Dearest.." Its almost unintelligible through the static

You think you've finally fucking lost it. Ten years in Hell and you've officially gone "delulu"...another Velvette saying but it feels fitting.

“y/n.”

He called softly, the static in his voice heavy and nearly unreadable.

You almost didn't believe it.

"Y/n" He repeats the static fizzling out leaving his voice raw and almost natural. Fuck this was real. You didn’t respond. You didn’t know how to. You weren't sure if he could even hear you..how he would respond? Would it be worse if he did? It had been an entire decade since you fell, All of this time- he never bothered to contact you. Why now? Why so much later?... Had he forgotten about you? Did he just..die? You cant discern which is worse...that he had left you and your son and lived a long guilt free life...or that he made no attempt to even speak to you in the decade you had inhabited the same existence.

Ok that was all like exposition and shit..considering part two but I AM VERY TIRED RN

[blank-potato]

Help Me Forget

Pairing: Mat Cauthon x Reader

Summary:

“Mat…” You start, your voice softer now. “Don’t look at me like that,” he says, gaze flicking away. “I’m fine.” He tries to reassure you with his classic lopsided grin and a forced shrug of confidence, but you know better. “You don’t need to hide it under jokes and charm,” You say gently. There’s a pause. “You think I’m charming?” Mat asks, lifting a brow, a weak deflection, but still him. He finally faces you, but his eyes are distant, shadowed. His fingers twitch at his side as if he’s still stuck halfway between fight and flight. Or You and Mat are friends with benefits, and you can't help but want more. But when you see him struggling, you try and help him through it, your feelings for one another becoming more clear no matter how hard you try to hide it.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ Explicit Content, p in v sex, riding, oral sex (male receiving), hair pulling (a little), friends with benefits, friends who kiss, smut, angst, jealous reader, unrequited love (not actually), Mat being vulnerable with you, Mat going through it, Mat Cauthon's charm ✨

WC: 3.5k

A/N: Writing wot fics is the only thing that will help me cope with it being cancelled 😭Enjoy soft Mat :)

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆ ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆

This was a normal night. Candles flickering on your nightstand, the smell of lavender in the air, clothes abandoned and scattered on the floor. And of course, Mat Cauthon railing you into your mattress. 

A completely normal night.

“Tell just how much you want it,” Mat whispers in your ear, kneading your breast in his hand. You just know he has that little smirk on his face, but you can’t muster up anything to shut him up. 

“Please, Mat… want it so bad,” You beg mindlessly. 

As he rolls your nipple between his right hand and the other between his lips, you know it’s satisfying his ego. Having you panting under him like this.

He feeds you his cock, inch by inch loving the way your eyes roll back when you’re full of him. Or the way you scream when he hits the right spot, over and over and over again. But he knew just how to tease you, whether it was with his teeth on your nipples or fingers on your clit; he’d always have you waiting deliciously on the edge. Deciding when to push you over it. You’re surprised you haven’t started drooling. 

Having had enough of his games, you pull on his hair, just enough to make him tilt his head back, exposing his throat and dragging a soft groan from deep in his chest. He doesn’t slow down. Just looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, full of want and desire. Gripping at your hips and continuing to stretch you out so perfectly. 

“Feisty, aren’t you?” he murmurs, watching the way your pupils darken as you tug at his curly strands.

You grin, but there’s a breathlessness to it. “Only when properly motivated.”

“Plus, we both know you love it,” you whisper, leaning in close, your lips barely brushing his as you pull him back in, claiming his mouth again, this time with teeth, biting down softly on his lower lip before soothing it with your tongue.

He gasps into the kiss, hands gripping at your waist like he’s hanging on for dear life, completely at your mercy and loving every second of it.

This was a normal occurrence. One moment, you’d be trading jokes or glances across a room, and the next, he was tugging you aside, onto the rooftop, into a quiet hallway, the dark of your room, like it was inevitable. Like he couldn’t not have you.

Spending the night with one another had become a habit. A ritual. It was relief. It was comfort. But it was nothing more.

You told yourself that repeatedly. And at first, you believed it.

But then it became increasingly more difficult to pretend it wasn’t something else. That the way he looked at you in the quiet moments meant nothing. That the softness in his hands as he brushed hair from your face was just accidental.

And then there were mornings like this, where you stirred to the light pouring in… but he was no longer beside you. Just the ghost of his warmth in the sheets. The smell of him still on your skin. It hurt.

But you were just friends. Friends that fucked… hard.

But friends, nonetheless.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆ ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆

Tonight is another normal night. However, it isn’t one spent with him.

He’s across the tavern, lounging like he owns the place, flirting with the barmaid, the one with the braid and dimples, who’s hanging on his every word. You watch from your seat at the far end, fingers wrapped loosely around a half-empty mug, the liquid inside long forgotten.

You try not to stare. You have no claim over him. No promises were made. But that doesn’t stop the ache that coils in your chest.

You barely even notice Perrin settling beside you until he speaks, voice low and steady. “You may be in this tavern, but your mind is elsewhere.”

You glance at him, sighing softly. What use was it lying to Perrin Aybara? “It’s just one of those nights…”

Perrin doesn’t push. He never does. He simply follows your gaze.

Mat laughs across the room, dramatic and loud, tossing a coin in the air like he’s telling the most ridiculous part of one of his tales. And no doubt, he is, probably that story about blowing the Horn of Valere. Again.

The girl laughs too, leaning closer. Touching his arm.

Damn him.

You look down into your drink, pretending it doesn’t twist something inside you. Pretending you don’t already know how this night will end: him with someone else, and you with the bitterness of knowing you were never supposed to want more.

But you do.

“He may drink and flirt with other girls,” Perrin says quietly, eyes following the same scene you can’t seem to look away from. “But you…” He pauses, thoughtful, careful with his words, like always.

“It’s something special,” he finishes, voice certain. “He’s just…”

“Mat,” You say, flatly. The name holds multitudes — love, annoyance, hurt. All wrapped into one syllable.

Perrin gives a quiet hum of agreement. “He’ll realise it. Eventually.”

You want to believe him. Light, you do.

But you watch Mat, see the way he disappears through the back door of the tavern with the barmaid, laughing, his arm slung casually around her waist. No hesitation. No second glance.

And you wonder if eventually will ever come.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆ ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆

When you return from the tavern that night, the cool night air does little to settle the storm in your chest. You’re dreading the walk past his room, dreading the possibility of hearing laughter behind his door or, light forbid, a moan. Any sign that she’s in there with him instead of you. 

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That it’s none of your business. You repeat the lie like a mantra with every step closer. But when you finally round the corner and glance toward his room, something makes you stop.

The door is open.

The bed is still made, untouched. No clothes littered about the room. So they hadn’t done anything, which made you feel more relieved than you’d like to admit. The room isn’t empty, though. 

You walk in, seeing him standing near the window, muttering to himself in the Old Tongue, low and urgent, the words unfamiliar but heavy with meaning.

“Mat?” You say, cautiously.

Then, a twitch. You hear him scream in agony, and his hands fly to his ears, trembling, clutching tightly, curling in on himself like he’s trying to shut something out. Like he’s drowning in a sound only he can hear.

“Mat!” You rush to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He jumps at your touch, whipping around so fast it startles you. His eyes land on you, wide and haunted, but it’s like he’s looking through you. Nothing but pain etched into every line of his face.

“Please say something,” you plead, voice thick with worry. But it’s no use. His hands are still pressed against his ears, his whole body tensed like he’s bracing for something worse.

You cover his shaky hands with your stable ones. “I’m here,” You whisper, again and again.

He groans low in his throat, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched, every muscle locked in place as if trying to hold himself together.

“I’m here,” You say again, firmer this time, pulling him into you, your arms wrapping around his shuddering frame. “I’m here, Mat. Open your eyes…”

You keep whispering to him, over and over, until something shifts. Whatever it was leaves him with one final, pained cry that rips from his chest before it fades. Slowly, he peeks at you through wet lashes, his eyes wide and wild and so scared. His trembling hands finally began to lower.

You watch as the spark of recognition returns to his eyes.

He’s back. Not whole, not fine, but here.

It takes him a few moments, deep breaths and all, to collect himself. Then, too quickly, he tries to shove it all away. He pastes on a crooked smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You snuck up on me,” he says lightly, voice still a little rough from his screams, like nothing even happened.

But you’re not fooled. There are still traces of something darker in his eyes — fear, exhaustion, maybe guilt.

“Mat…” You start, your voice softer now.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, gaze flicking away. “I’m fine.”

He tries to reassure you with his classic lopsided grin and a forced shrug of confidence, but you know better.

“You don’t need to hide it under jokes and charm,” You say gently.

There’s a pause.

“You think I’m charming?” Mat asks, lifting a brow, a weak deflection, but still him.

He finally faces you, but his eyes are distant, shadowed. His fingers twitch at his side as if he’s still stuck halfway between fight and flight. You reach out, gently taking his hand in yours, and guide him over to sit on the edge of his bed.

He doesn’t resist.

“I don’t want to burden you,” Mat says quietly, his voice now serious and low, stripped of all pretence. “You’ve got enough on your shoulders.”

You sit beside him, still holding his hand. “You’re not a burden, Mat. Not to me.”

He looks down at your joined hands, then back at you, and there’s something in his eyes. 

“The voices… Sometimes I don’t know who I am anymore, where I am… It’s not just noise, it’s memories of lives I’ve never lived. Their pain, their fear, everything they carried. I’m losing myself and I can’t—”

He pulls his hand away from yours, cradling his head in both hands as if trying to hold himself together.

“It’s driving me to madness, and I’m…” His voice falters.

Without hesitation, you move closer and pull him into your arms. He comes willingly, his body heavy with exhaustion and fear as he leans his head against your shoulder. You run your fingers through his hair, slow and steady, each stroke reminding him he's here, now, with you. 

“I’m scared,” he finally whispers, his voice so small it breaks something inside you.

You hold him tighter, not needing to say anything yet. Just letting the silence speak for you. Letting your presence do what words can't.

"I'm here," you murmur eventually. "And you're not going through this alone. Not anymore."

He pulls back to look at you, with sad and desperate eyes, “For tonight, can we…can you help me forget?”

There’s a tension in the air, and you know exactly what it is, what it means. You know this isn’t just about routine, or because you’re the only one around. He’s trusting you to take away his pain. 

But instead of fighting it, you breathe in deeply and say, “I can.”

Your fingers reach up to caress his cheek, the rough hair of his beard coarse but familiar beneath your touch. He leans into your palm like it’s the only solid thing left in his world. He’s looking at you like you’re his anchor, like you’re all that stands between him and being lost to something dark and heavy he hasn’t said aloud.

So you kiss him.

Not with hunger, not with heat, but with certainty. A kiss that quietens his mind. A kiss that tells him to rest, to give in, to feel. And everything in him does. The chaos dims. The noise hushes. The only life that exists is the one where you are kissing him, and the only world he knows with you, in this moment.

He clutches your hips, his fingers curling into your clothes like he’s afraid you might slip away.

You feel his breath catch, and then he pulls back just slightly, eyes wide, glassy. A tear escapes before he can blink it away.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice cracking under the weight of everything he’s tried not to feel. “I… I don’t want you to see me like this.”

You knew that with Mat, vulnerability didn’t come easily. He was always hiding behind his crooked smiles, his half-sarcastic wit, all of it was his armour. Always deflecting. Always laughing things off before anyone could look too closely.

Scared, maybe, that if you saw too much, you’d see him as broken. Unworthy. A burden.

But you saw him. You always saw him, and you loved what you saw. 

“Don’t apologise,” You murmur against his lips, brushing soft, affirming kisses between the words. “You don’t have to, not with me.”

He closes his eyes, as if trying to let your words settle in his chest, to believe them.

You pull back just enough to look at him, really look at him. He’s flushed, open, breathing like the air is suddenly easier to take in when you’re near. And you say, gently but firmly, “You’re safe with me.”

You climb into his lap, the shift in weight pulling him closer, grounding him. Your hands cradle his face, and you scatter soft kisses across his cheeks, his jaw, the bridge of his nose. Each one a silent promise: you’re here, you’re real, you’re not alone.

When you look at him again, his eyes are fixed on yours, wide and shining, like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“I need you,” he says, barely a whisper. A confession, raw and trembling.

You press your forehead to his, your voice steady as your hands continue to anchor him.

“I know,” You breathe. “I need you too.”

You remove your clothes, his eyes completely glued to you the entire time, but something felt different. He wasn’t hiding anything, and neither were you. He tries to reach for you, but you lay him back down on the bed. “Let me do the work.”

He doesn’t fight you on it, just gives in. 

You help him pull off his clothes, taking your time in undressing him. Every intentional and accidental touch you give him sets him alight. 

Now that the two of you were naked, you felt exposed. You had seen each other like this, but it still felt brand new. 

“Can I?” You ask, and he nods quickly as if you didn’t even need to ask. 

You spit on your hand and take his cock, jerking it up and down slowly before building up to a faster pace. As you go faster, he lets out moans like weeps, bucking his hips against you, needing you more than he knew how to express. Your name sounds like a prayer on his lips,  reverent, desperate, full of something he’s never been able to say out loud. And in that moment, it’s clear:

To him, you were salvation.

“Light, forgive me…”

He runs his fingers through his hair, breathing hard, trying to ground himself in the moment, in you. His other hand rests at your waist, fingers twitching whenever you brush his sensitive tip. 

His eyes flick up to yours, tired but clearer. “Kiss me,” he whines, and you don’t hesitate.

You move toward him as fast as you can, lips connecting in an instant — hungry, desperate, searching. His hands fly up to cradle your face, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer, moulding every inch of you to his body.

Feeling his cock twitch against your bare pussy as you try and adjust in his lap.  He won’t let you go, holding onto you like you were something precious and leaving open-mouthed kisses against your neck. 

“M-mat…”

He pauses, leaving you shivering as he looks up at you desperately. “I can’t wait.”

You nod and move your way down his body until you're at his cock. The head is already slick with precum, showing you just how needy he is. It quivers in your mouth as soon as you wrap your lips around it, the weight of his erection heavy on your tongue. 

You keep taking him deeper and deeper, Mat’s moans only getting louder. His toes curling when he feels his tip hit the back of your throat. He didn’t know how long he’d last.

“Blood and ashes…”

And it wasn’t difficult enough, he hears (and feels) your moans. Sultry, tempting, erotic ones. Then vibrations get him that much closer, and when he notices your fingers working behind you to stretch yourself out for him, he swears he might finish right then and there. 

“Oh please, forgive me…” he begs again, legs trembling from the pleasure. 

The sight is almost too much to bear but thankfully you take it easy on him, pulling off his cock with an audible pop. Spit dribbles down your chin, but he’s quick, you wipe that away with his hand, pulling you forward towards his lips again. 

Grinding your folds against his slick cock, ready to take all that he can give you. As you lower yourself down, you curse a little, fingers digging into his back. He can barely form words once you bottom out on his cock. But you pull him back to reality, cupping his face in your hands. His head lolls to the side a little, eyes a little watery, lips trembling. But when he lets go, lets himself feel you, it relaxes him. 

He leans into your touch, lashes fluttering shut like your touch was healing him. Then, when he opened his eyes, he looked lighter, completely lost in you and you alone. 

“That’s it, focus on me,” You tell him as you start rolling your hips. He lets out a whimper that’s like music to your ears, reaffirming your every move with a moan. It’s like you were made just for him, perfect in every breath, every movement. In every way, your body answered his.

“Light, you’re… you’re everything,” he whines, the words tumbling out unguarded, half-lost in a gasp as his hands press against your back, trying to pull you impossibly closer. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop…”

Hands resting on your hips, guiding you up and down. “Need you… so much…”

He starts matching you as he thrusts from beneath you, making you lose all train of thought. “You have no idea…” he adds, breathlessly.

This was everything, having him beneath you, flushed and open, saying everything you’d secretly ached to hear. The way his hands clung to you like you were the only solid thing in his world, the way his eyes searched yours like they held the answer to something he hadn’t dared ask before.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, voice low and steady, anchoring him as you rest your forehead gently against his.

Your fingers dig into his chest, leaving little crescents in his skin. It serves as proof that this moment is real, that you are real. The tension in your hands mirrors the intensity in your heart, and you feel him exhale, like he needs it, needs the pain, the claim you’d have on him. 

He covers your hands with his, holding them there, pressing them in tighter.

“More marks,” he whispers, voice low and trembling, eyes locked on yours. “Want to remember this. All of it.”

There’s no teasing in his tone this time. You lean down, your lips grazing over the spot your fingers just left, and you murmur against his skin, “Then I’ll make sure you never forget.”

Every little mark you made on his skin urged him on. He wasn’t just fucking you, it felt like more, something he had been ignoring.  As you continue to lose yourself to the sensation of him hitting your spot perfectly, he says something that feels just as good. 

“I love you.”

He gasps it out against your neck, so softly it could have gotten lost in the rustling of sheets.

You freeze, just for a breath. Your mouth opens to say it back, but the words catch in your throat. Not because you don’t feel them, but because the weight of them felt so real. Like you had all the sense knocked out of you. 

So you kiss him instead, slow and deep, and he doesn’t press for more. Not yet.

Bodies tangled in one another for the rest of the night, whispered pleas becoming your shared language. You lose count of the times your name leaves his lips, but each one was as beautiful as the last. And when sleep finally finds you, it’s with your hand still in his.

Morning comes, pale and quiet. And he’s still there.

Even when he wakes up, eyes blinking open slowly, hair a fluffy mess, breath warm against your skin, he doesn’t make any excuse to leave. He just smiles softly, resting his head against your shoulder, pulling you deeper into his arms from behind like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

A comfortable silence settles between you…but in the stillness of morning light, with his heartbeat steady against your back, the feeling overcomes you.

“I love you too,” You say quietly, almost as softly as he did last night. 

He perks up immediately. Then, slowly, he turns your head toward him, his eyes wide and so hopeful it hurts.

"It took us far too long to admit that," he chuckles.

And then he kisses you. Tender, deep, smiling into the kiss like he can finally breathe.

You had helped him forget his troubles. Held him through the storm. But this was one thing you both wanted to remember.

Masterlist

[silver-spoon-ii]

Would you kiss Candle? If she was okay with it, I mean.

a-ah…i-i mean….if she wanted it…..N-NOT THAT I HAVE DAYDREAMED OF KISSING HER!!! J-just if I needed to then I would…

[sillysaurus]

🪞💄🔮💋🪻💅🏻✨🫖👠🏰💜👑

Vil Shoenheit Caregiver headcanons

He/she, Mama/Papa caregiver (mapa?)

Petnames: darling, prince/princess/princex/princette, dear/dearie/dearest, schatz, sweetie/süßer, sweetie pie, precious, sweetums, cutie/cutie pie, sweetpea, pearl, sugarplum, beloved, buttercup, doll, flower, snookums

Dressing up is his favorite activity! whether it be dressing you up or the both of you. She will spend forever taking pictures of you

She likes to draw you in cute little outfits! Or draw outfit ideas for you!

He makes clothes for the both of you! Your size doesn't matter, he will make sure your clothes fit just right <3

Makes sure you stay clean and mind your manners. She likes etiquette, being called ma'am/sir/madam

Other activities she loves are tea parties and royal pretend play! He is the queen <3

Hates to see you cry and ruin your cute face </3 will immediately drop everything to make you feel better

Likes when you style his hair/makeup, she will praise you for doing a good job!

Always has incense or a candle burning

She dotes on you constantly, even to others! Makes a big deal about your birthday and accomplishments, wanting everyone to know how special you are and how proud he is of you <3

^ Would definitely stroll/carry you around and show you off

You can play and fidget with the jewelry he wears!

Keeps all of the art you make, will show everyone and wear any jewelry you make him! If you make art of her, she will melt <3

Loves bathtime, for both of you. Will go all out with bubbles, toys, bathbombs, etc, to set the atmosphere and make it enjoyable! Likes for you to smell good so she bathes you with, mostly floral, soap and puts lotion on you. He emphasizes the importance of self care

Makes sure you are both well rested, beauty sleep! She likes fairytales and reads them to you before bed. He wears a nightgown and sleeping eyemask

Likes fantasy in general, unicorns, fairies, etc, He's like a fairy godmother!

Carries a diaperbag/purse for all of your gear

i will continue to update this btw! if i think of anything else <3

[wistfulwanderingone]

🖋️ Line & a Vibe: "Not What it Looks Like"

Yves (Crack Fic)

Submitted Line: “What do you think! Take your clothes off, would you!”

@chirp-a-chirp Hope this is "blushy Yves crack" enough for you!

✨ Want to play too? Toss me a line and a vibe → Original Post Here 💌

(Send a single dialogue line + a vibe or genre—I'll spin it into a drabble or one-shot!)

Submitted Line: “What do you think! Take your clothes off, would you!”

Character:Yves, Ikemen Prince

Title: "Not What It Looks Like (But It Absolutely Looks Like That)"

Vibe: Crack → Romantic Panic → Maximum Blushy Cat Energy™

It started with rain.

Because of course it did.

You’d gotten caught in the garden mid-storm, soaked through before you could make it back to the palace. Yves had found you under a gazebo, dripping wet and absolutely miserable, clutching a bouquet of half-wilted roses like a tragic heroine in a play. Naturally, he’d taken one look at you, turned crimson, and insisted—no, demanded—that you come change into something dry.

Except now you were standing in his suite, shivering in a towel, waiting to change—but Yves wouldn’t leave the room.

He claimed it was to make sure you didn’t pass out from hypothermia. In reality, he was pacing like a skittish cat in front of the fireplace, throwing increasingly dramatic glances at the ceiling, the wall, the decorative vase—anywhere but you.

And so you stood awkwardly in the corner, clutching the towel tighter, too cold to get frustrated, and too bewildered to ask why you were the one being modest.

“I’m not looking,” he said for the fifth time, facing the wall like it owed him money. “Just change. You’ll catch a cold. Or pneumonia. Or both!”

You arched a brow. “You know, I could’ve asked Nokto for help.”

Yves turned sharply, scandal blooming across his cheeks. “Nokto would’ve helped you out of the dress—and complimented your lingerie while he did it!”

“Well, you’re not exactly being helpful either.”

“I’m trying to be respectful!” he shouted, spinning dramatically. “I didn’t ask for this situation!”

You tilted your head. “So…do you want me to just…?”

And that’s when he exploded.

“What do you think! Take your clothes off, would you!”

The world paused.

So did Yves.

Because the door had just opened.

And standing there, leaning oh-so-casually against the frame, eyes alight with glee and a grin that could curdle wine—

Was Clavis.

He blinked. Once. Twice. Slowly. Then he smiled wider.

“…Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Yves turned the color of freshly boiled jam. “THIS IS NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE—”

“Oh, I know.” Clavis took a lazy step into the room. “Because if it were, there’d be music. Candles. Slightly more coordination.”

You were trying—truly trying—not to laugh. But Yves looked so horrified, so thoroughly destroyed, that it was hard not to choke on a giggle.

“I was trying to help!” he insisted, rounding on you as if you were his only lifeline. “She’s wet!”

“So I heard,” Clavis chimed in, wiggling his eyebrows. “Honestly, Yves…don’t you know how to please a wet woman?”

Yves made a sound that could only be described as “defeated cat screech”. He grabbed the nearest decorative pillow and hurled it at Clavis’s face. 

Clavis ducked it with ease. “Tsk. Pillows, dear baby brother. That’s not how you go about it.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a gentleman,” Yves snapped, mortified beyond salvation.

Clavis’ grin widened, practically sprouting devil horns. “I am being a gentleman. I’m thinking about the lady’s comfort. She’s wet…and tragically underwhelmed by your bedside manner.” He shook his head in mock sorrow. “It seems I’ve failed you as your older brother. But don’t worry—I’m prepared to offer a visual demonstration.”

Yves let out a strangled wheeze, burying his face in his hands.  “I’m leaving. This room. This kingdom. This continent.”

“Speaking of…” You placed a hand gently on his arm. “You know…you really could’ve just stepped outside and handed me the clothes.”

“I was panicking.”

Clavis, still lounging against the wall, grinned like a leopard who’d just found someone else’s lunch. “And to think,” he drawled, “I’m supposed to be the unhinged one.”

Tag List:

@ithseem @chirp-a-chirp @aquagirl1978 @queengiuliettafirstlady

@nyxthepixystick @ikeprinces-stuff @kaizoku-musume @candiedcoffeedrops @missaengg

@ike-garden2024 @writingwhimsey @reborn-elven-spirit @william-rex @avellanas-nutty-empire

@notjonahclemence @justonerandomreader @katriniac

[thestartome]

This pose was a private commission exclusively for Team-Flask @teamflasksims4stories to use in their story Heart Strings.

Thank you, dear Jodie and Carly, for this opportunity and honor to aid you on your journey and for entrusting me to bring to life such poses for your beautiful characters! I also wish to thank you for protecting artists, including myself. We must not let the thieves inhibit the communities creativity and collaborations!

There shall always be a candle in the dark. ✨🕯️✨

Poses and Render: @thestartome

Custom guitar swatch for my personal use, not available.

The wonderful custom content creators featured:

Below the cut for links!

Morgyns eyes @sugarowl https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-eyecolors/title/betelgeuse-eyes-2/id/1429022/

Morgyns teeth @redearcat https://redearcat.tumblr.com/post/185363187758/teeth1-maxis-match-new-mesh-human-alien

Morgyns hat @strangestorytellersims https://www.tumblr.com/strangestorytellersims/187727277493/cavalier-hat-v1-by-ssts-teen-to-elder-hat?source=share

Morgyns shirt @zeussim https://www.patreon.com/posts/lestats-lover-65173526

Morgyns skeleton hand jewelry @bellassims https://bellassims.tumblr.com/post/666885916328116224/moving-on-to-day-four-of-simblreen-you-can-have

Morgyns nails @pralinesims https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-sets-accessories/title/nail-pack-for-men/id/1338742/

Morgyns boots https://strangestorytellersims.tumblr.com/post/630652020846690304/adventurer-set-v1-by-ssts-teen-to-elder-2-vests

Guitar @studio-k-creation https://studio-k-creation.tumblr.com/post/164092198593/basic-handle-guitar-news4cc-standalone-new

Skeletons microphones https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-objects-furnishing-decor-sculptures/title/vintage-microphone/id/1525393/

Skeletons hats @evellsims https://www.patreon.com/posts/witching-hour-73375022

Skeletons eyes https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-eyecolors/title/monster-eyes/id/1638511/

Skeletons blouses https://www.tumblr.com/evellsims/638282944116621312/sorrow-accessory-top?source=share

Skeletons skirts @goodchillsstudio https://www.patreon.com/posts/gcs-augusts-cc-55166514

[idkfitememate]

Hi hiii a new idea come into moii!!

Since our litte Otter got stary eyes right? which means the eyes glow right? what if idk, at dead at night someone like Neuvillette or Furina(whatever character you prefer!!) get something to drink or to snack on, and at the dark hallway, they can see two glowing eyes staring at them at the dark, ofc they panic, is that a freaking intruder??? then slowly the glowing eyes move to the lights and out reveal themself, ✨Otter!!!✨ the character sigh in relief cuz, archons, thank god it wasnt some intruder!!

Idk this seems funny to me! cuz Otter scared them by their glowing eyes!

Just a little thought!

Otter anon🦦

Nighttime Shenanigans

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : Gn! Otter Reader x Neuvillette & Furina

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 278

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Fluff, crack

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Hehehehe ꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱…

“AHHHHHHHAJDBFUFOENWBSKFHRJTSK!!!-“

A scream startled Neuvillette awake from his rather peaceful slumber.

Waisting no time, he jumped up and ran towards the sound of who he assumed to be Furina. Vision glowing with power, he was ready to attack whatever had caused her fear.

Bursting through a door, he found the girl on the floor surrounded by water and broken glass. She was shaking as she pointed down the hall.

Looking down, Neuvillette’s eyes met the glowing eyes of something he couldn’t see in the dark. Both had a stare down as he inched forward towards a candle, the matches right beside it.

Flicking the match and lighting a candle quickly, he raised the candle in the direction of the beast.

And when light covered the hall…

Both were met with their darling Otter standing at the end, a fish in hand and halfway in your mouth.

“Ah. “Oh.” Furina quickly stood and dusted herself off, coughing into her fist in embarrassment.

“Well, uhm… thank you for coming, Neuvillette! This was a uhm… a test! Yes, a test. To… err… ensure that you would uh.. come when I call. And you have passed. Alright good night!” And with that the Archon ran off down the hall, and into her room. The sound of the door slamming echoed through the corridors.

“… Then I suppose you will be spending the rest of the night with me, ma moitié?” You chittered in response, fully stuffing the fish in your face before running over to the man.

“Very well.” Neuvillette picked you up as you munched away, the stars shining in your eyes. He sighed before smiling at you.

“Goodnight, my dear.”

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Otter is just a little goober. I love them sm ໒꒰ྀི ^ ^ ꒱ྀིა!

[witchyintention]

✂️ Cord Cutting Spells: Because Some Energetic Ties Just Need to Go

Ever feel like your ex is still lurking in your aura like the smell of cheap cologne and bad decisions? Or that you keep thinking about that one friend you haven’t talked to in years — and not in a cute nostalgic way, but in a "why am I still energetically babysitting this situation?" kind of way?

That, dear witch, is a cord. Not a physical one. An energetic cord — and they’re more common than you’d think.

Let’s get into what cord cutting actually is (hint: it’s not just “getting over it”), why it works, and how to do it the right way.

🧵 What Is a Cord, and Why Do We Cut It?

In magical and energetic terms, a cord is a tether — an invisible thread of energy — that forms between you and another person, situation, place, or even a version of yourself.

These cords can be:

Positive (mutual love, support, shared purpose)

Neutral (cords from casual interaction or old ties)

Negative (draining, obsessive, toxic, unresolved)

You form cords all the time — through intimacy, trauma, repeated thoughts, shared experiences, or even just being energetically open. And while some cords are nourishing, others are more like energy leeches in glittery disguises.

Cord cutting is a ritual practice to sever those connections — not necessarily to "end" the relationship, but to release the energetic baggage it’s dragging behind it.

✨ When Should You Do a Cord Cutting Spell?

Cord cutting isn’t something you do every time someone annoys you. This isn’t magical ghosting. Here’s when it’s actually appropriate:

After a breakup or divorce

After leaving a toxic job or environment

To let go of obsessive thoughts or lingering emotional pain

When you feel “haunted” by someone’s energy

When your spiritual hygiene feels clogged or heavy

To break soul ties or repeated karmic patterns

Cord cutting is about healing and reclaiming your energy, not revenge. If you’re still plotting their downfall mid-spell, you're doing shadow work, not cord cutting. Let’s call it what it is.

🚩 When Not to Cut a Cord

If you’re trying to manipulate someone into leaving you alone

If you still need closure and aren’t ready to let go

If the cord still serves a purpose (e.g., you're co-parenting or in active therapy)

If you’re emotionally charged and not grounded

You can’t just snip and dip — there’s still healing to do afterward. Think of cord cutting as surgery: it removes the problem, but recovery is up to you.

🔮 What You’ll Need for a Cord Cutting Ritual

Every witch does this differently, but here’s a classic setup:

✂️ Tools:

Two candles (one for you, one for them/situation)

String, cord, or thread (to symbolize the connection)

Fire-safe bowl or cauldron

Anointing oil or herbs (like rosemary, rue, lemon, or black walnut)

A knife, scissors, or something to cut the cord with

Optional: photo or item of the person, paper for intention writing

Moon Phase Tip: Great to do during the waning moon or on a full moon for full release.

Simple Cord Cutting Ritual

Here’s a gentle but effective cord cutting ritual for emotional release:

Set Your Intention: Write down what you’re letting go of. Be honest. Be specific. Say it aloud.

Set the Scene: Place the two candles in front of you. Tie the string between them. Light the candles.

Visualize: See the cord between you and the person/situation. Feel what it’s been doing to your energy.

Cut the Cord: Cut the physical string, and as you do, say: “With love and power, I release what no longer serves me. I reclaim my energy. So it is.”

Burn the Remnants (Optional): You can burn the note or cord ends in your cauldron to seal the release.

Cleanse and Ground: Afterward, take a bath, cleanse with smoke or water, and eat something grounding.

🧼 Post-Spell Hygiene: Clean-Up Is Spiritual, Too

After a cord cutting, you might:

Feel lighter (yay!)

Have unexpected emotions bubble up (totally normal)

Need rest, journaling, or integration

Keep up your spiritual hygiene. Cleanse your space, wear protective charms, and avoid falling back into energetic quicksand.

And remember: if the person re-cords with you later, it’s not because the spell didn’t work. It's because your boundaries are a daily practice, not a one-time spell.

💡 Final Thoughts: Cord Cutting Isn’t Cold — It’s Sacred

Cutting a cord isn’t about being heartless. It’s about being whole. You can love someone and still release them. You can forgive a version of yourself while still letting her go. You can mourn and move on. That’s magic.

So when you’re ready to lighten the load, untangle the threads, and call your energy home — cord cutting might be your next rite of power.

╔══ ∙∘𓆩⟡𓆪∘∙ ════════╗ --- Support Us --- ╚════════ ∙∘𓆩⟡𓆪∘∙ ══╝ Love the blog? I offer readings and spells on my Ko-fi shop! Subs on Ko-fi and Patreon (18+) get to see posts before they go live on Tumblr.