#Not to say he WON'T be poisoned in winter just that I'm thinking of something else

[muffinlance]

Hi just wanted to let you know I’ve been think about Zuko in TtS leaving the fire nation and dissociating his way through his trauma responsibilities in Book 1 and how that parallels Aang in Book 1 of Atla running away from the temple to escape being Avatar and how Fall is associated with Air/Wind which is the element of freedom, and with Appa, one of the original Airbenders being present when Zuko realizes that he can just leave, embracing freedom, and the parallels are literally driving me insane it’s all I can think about I love it so much! Thank you so much for writing this, I have to keep resisting the urge to straight up write a book report on it and I have so much faith in you that the parallels are only going to get better and more in depth from here I love it soo much!

Oh I LOVE when people pick up on the subtle thematic things

Can confirm this trend in Zuko's mental state shall continue as the seasons/books advance back to summer

[sunwarmed-ash]

WIP Thursday/[Sinful Sunday post??]

hey so im gonna be taking time off writing for another job all next week so I'm posting this so you have something to read. DONT WORRY Sinful Sunday will continue, I'll just be busy this sunday and next making that capitalist coin!

This may turn into a fic, it may not. I wrote it right after I finished QAF for the 36th time.

Tags: Angsty steddiegrove, sex work, HIV+ character, violence

"Where do you go at night?"

Steve and Eddie are lying on Steve’s bed smoking weed when Steve asks the question that will inevitably change the course of their relationship, their future, forever. 

"What," Eddie asks, trying and failing for aloof. He thought he had been so careful. 

“You sneak out, every night. Where do you go, when you leave?"

Lying is the only probable next course of action. If he wants to keep Steve in his life that is. The truth will sever everything they once had. 

“Dealing doesn’t exactly fit a normal 9-5," Eddie says. It’s a half-lie. 

"You were selling drugs in Lafayette at 3 in the morning? Do you think I’m stupid," Steve snaps.

Eddie’s entire body flashes hot with the amount of detail in that accusation.  

"What? No! Wait, how did you- hang on, have you been spying on me?"

"Answer the question Eddie!"

Eddie feels cornered, and that’s never a good place for him to be. Because when he feels trapped, he lies, and he can’t stop. He will say anything to cover his ass, even if its just to survive to see another minute. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you..."

Steve scoffs at Eddie’s attempt at self ownership. 

"Why can’t you tell me, Eddie? I mean, after everything we’ve been through!”

Eddie bites into his tongue. He wishes it was that easy. God, does he wish it could be that simple...  

“i can't, not with everything baby. I'm sorry.” 

“Why not?” Steve demands and now he’s angry. His eyes are lined with tears and Eddie can feel the beginning of the end coming like an approaching storm. 

“Because you won't love me anymore.” 

It’s the truth. And Eddie hates to even hear the words out loud. Because its gonna hurt so bad to hear it twice. From Steve’s lips. The soundbite will live with him for eternity. 

“Isn't that for me to decide,” Steve objects. 

“You've already decided.” 

Eddie remembers the shit Harrington pulled on Wheeler when she hurt his frail male ego by just existing in the same space as another man. He remembers the hateful way Steve spits the word ‘whore’ because he associates it with his father and all of his sins. It’s how everyone says the word. Like its poison in their mouth. 

Slut. Hooker. Whore. But that's what Eddie is. Until he can find something that pays better. Because he has to eat. He and Wayne won’t survive an Indiana winter without heat. And after Eddie was banished and then half-heartedly rewelcome into a unstable healing community, no one in Hawkins treats him the same. Weed sales have dried up. No one wants to hire him for any job. Not even the mechanic shop down the street that is desperately understaffed and Eddie is overqualified for. So what the hell else is he supposed to do? Wayne just turned 68. He shouldn’t need to work 12 hour shifts just to barely support the kid he didn't ask for in the first place. Eddie never should have been his burden. So this is Eddie’s way of giving back. Pulling his own weight so he didn't feel so much like a goddamn freeloader all the time. But could Steve understand that? Steve wasn’t stupid, but he also wasn’t, lets say as morally flexible as some other people.

"I can't- do this Eddie... If you’re going to lie to me." Steve says and one look into his eyes and Eddie feels what's left of the tie between them sever. 

"I'm not lying," He insists but its a half truth at best. 

"You're not telling me everything, that counts," Steve all but shouts. 

"You don't tell me everything."

He referring to whatever the hell went on between Hargrove and him two years ago. Eddie and Steve arent the only people different after an apocalypse. Their previous heated rivalry has all but burned out. So has Hargroves own personal brand of anger. They move around each other like chess pieces, always conscious of the others movement to limit interactions at school. But after school? Eddie’s seen Billy’s camero parked at Harrington’s more than it's parked in the trailer park. 

"That's different Eddie,” Steve huffs, scoffs as he pushes his hair back. “and you know it."

"How, how is it different Steve?" Eddie’s never brought it up before tonight. Eddie’s never been one for exclusivity, why the hell should he expect Steve to be?

"It doesn't involve you, or us. This does."

"Right,” Eddie scoffs, “Well, for argument's sake, it is safer for you not to know. For both of us."

Steve is silent for three beats too long.

Here it comes. 

Eddie can’t look at him. His face goes numb before the words can hit his ears. 

"Then you have my answer Eddie.”

It still hits him like a slap in the face. Steve’s done with him. And it hurts so much more than he anticipated it would. 

Eddie knew it was only a matter of time. He knew what Steve wanted in the end, and it was still someone more like Wheeler. A sweetheart. A family. Nothing Eddie can guarantee. Eddie doesn’t have much to say in his defense. So he doesn’t. 

"I'm sorry Eddie,” Steve, obviously uncomfortable in the silence, speaks again. “This is just, too much for me right now.”

"Okay,” comes out of Eddie’s numb mouth, even if it's the complete opposite. 

Eddie knew a clean break now would eventually be better than enduring their relationship fizzling out slowly. But it doesn't mean the inevitable failure of one more relationship doesn't hurt.

-two months later-

“Munson?”

Eddie blinks, of all the people to find him, here, he didn't think it would be Californian transplant, and fellow trailer trash bad boy Billy Hargrove from Hawkins. He just wants to disappear into the pavement. 

Eddie’s feet move to sprint, but Billy’s lighting reflexes catch him before he can. 

“Where the hell are you going now, Eddie?”

Eddie rips away from him. He hates the way his name sounds out loud. He hadn’t felt like ���Eddie’ in weeks. He’s barely felt like anything. More like Nothing and no one. A nameless face in a sea of sex workers, businessmen, and bar patrons that he cycled through every day. 

“It’s none of your damn business,” Eddie spits, though it doesn't have much venom. He doesn't have the energy. He's sick, he’s cold, and he’s so fucking tired. He still has two more clients he can’t blow off tonight if he wants to have a prayer at ever getting unburied under his last hospital bill. Billy Hargrove and Hawkins and all that past shit is his lowest priority.  

“People are worried man,” Billy says, stopping Eddie from taking more than a step away. “Wayne especially. Don't you give a shit about him?”

Now Eddie is pissed, because who the fuck did Billy Hargrove think he was, telling him about what he should do? Talking to him about Wayne. As if he understood a goddamn thing about their lives! His anger flairs up his cough that only aggravates the pneumonia-scarred tissue and then Eddie’s coughing so hard it nearly knocks him over. 

When Billy moves close to ‘help’ Eddie slaps him off. 

“Everything I’m doing is for him! You don’t fucking know shit, Billy! How could you, you're just a kid!”

And while Billy was 17 and Eddie was 6 months into his 23rd lap around the earth, he felt so much older. His tragic sequence of life events had aged him decades. He’d be lucky to make it to 24 at this rate. 

Billy watches him curiously, putting together pieces Eddie doesnt mean him to. 

“Why did you take off Eddie?” 

“Why do you care?” Eddie doesn’t really think it's concern he sees in Billy's features. 

“Wayne doesn't have anyone else. You scared the shit out of him when you left.”

“Oh and what, you two are bffs now,” Eddie asks bitterly. 

Billy shrugged. 

“We've been spending a lot of time together, yeah.”

Eddie scoffs wetly. Fantastic. Now even Wayne has his own Eddie replacement. A better, nicer son. If Wayne didn’t need him anymore, well, he didn’t have any more ties back to Hawkins. He should be relieved, but instead he just feels empty. Forgotten. Unwanted. Billy had said people missed him, but the only name he offered up was Wayne’s.  

Eddie sniffs up the tears threatening to spill and reaches into his jacket. He takes out the seven hundred dollars and change he’s managed to squirrel away after his last AZT prescription refill and holds it out to Billy. 

“What is this?” Billy looks at the wad like its poisoned, and well, he's not entirely wrong, it's certainly dirty money. But its still green. And that’s all the world runs on. And speaking of money, the man he was currently scheduled to suck off is honking at him from across the parking lot, eyeing Billy with violent intent. Eddie needed to move quick before this escalated. 

“I’m not coming back. T-To Hawkins, I mean. I can’t, so I need you to give this to Wayne for me. Can I trust you to get it to him?”

Billy finally takes the money, counts it, and then his jaw drops. 

“There’s over seven hundred dollars here Eddie.”

“I know,” Eddie sighs dejectedly. “It should have been more but,” but you got stupid and believed some pretty, coked-up twink instead of following your gut. And now you get to live with the weight of that decision, forever… “It doesn’t matter. Just, please make sure he gets it. It should cover the next few payments on the trailer.”

Billy looks at him for a long time. 

“What the hell have you been doing Munson?”

Eddie scoffs before the car horn across the street blares loud, startling him right out of his skin. 

“Nothing you want to know about. Just please make sure he gets it, and knows, I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Billy’s eyes lower suspiciously. 

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Eddie shrugs.

“Because it has to be.” Eddie can’t feel anything below his neck anymore. The honk is starting up again. He’s really pushing his luck now. 

“Eddie, come on,” Hargrove begs and why does it sound like he’s actually pleading? Billy’s never had a nice word to say to him or Steve. And now he’s gone for what, a few weeks, and his enemy wants to become best friends? He doesn’t understand this plotline. He’s ready to get out of it. 

“I’m gotta go, Billy. Please, look out for Wayne.”

Eddie leaves the very next minute and sprints across the street, just narrowly avoiding being hit by the semi that blasts his horn.

[daydaydayrk420]

Pleasure

Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes) X mutant male reader

⚠️ brainwashed soldiers, using each other for pleasure, wounds, behind bars, breeding, I'm using Google translate if I got something wrong in Russian you can inform me ⚠️

🚨 Minors and girls do not interact 🚨

______________________________________________________________

The Winter Soldier and The Demon.

They are two of the best Hydra assassins out there. Of course, the people who know the stories or rumors only think it's just a ghost story.

But they're wrong.

The only thing they don't know is that even though they're trained and brainwashed assassins they still get horny. Almost like they're in a rut because they don't have the needed contact unless they're allowed.

Which is what's happening now. The soldier is walking around in his cell. Fresh bruises formed on his back. He was training earlier but he couldn't properly think because of how sexually frustrated his mind was. Which of course got him in trouble. He got some beating with cop bats and sent back to his cell.

Bucky is pacing back and forth. He can't touch himself. He doesn't like it. He needs his ass filled instead. He wants to be bred. You could say he's practically in heat.

"солдат (soldier)," one of the guards called out as he opened the cell door. The soldier looked towards him and noticed his assassin partner following behind him. "Вы оба возбуждены, как собаки. К черту это. (You're both horny like dogs. Fuck it out.)" The guard said as he closed the door once the demon walked in.

The other assassin known as the demon is just standing there with his usual cold expression and wearing a muzzle that he can't remove. He's not allowed to because when it's off he bites others and uses the poison he has because of his mutation. The soldier knows that personally, He has a few scars from earlier days. He can see that the demon also has fresh wounds from a whip. He must've gone through the same problem.

The soldier doesn't hesitate. He wants to fuck and he wants it bad. He doesn't care who is it with. He grips the demon's shirt, pulls him closer, and kisses the muzzle. The muzzle has special material that won't soak the venom but it's thin enough that the soldier can feel his lips. The demon groans and rips their clothes off.

The soldat takes charge and takes them to the cot that's probably going to break any time soon. But the demon doesn't like that so he flips them and pushes the soldier onto the cot instead. He pins his hands above his head and kisses his neck through his muzzle.

The metal armed man moans and arches into it. When he's in this state of mind his body is so sensitive a simple scratch makes his dick twitch.

The demon lines up. They're both too horny to care for prep. The soldier only watches the demon with desperation. They both moan the moment their bodies are connected.

The demon doesn't wait and starts moving almost instantly. They both moan, pant and whine like horny animals.

Some guards snicker to themselves as they walk by. But the two assassins don't care. They just need to breed. Muffled slurs and curses in russian fill the room as the two men go at it like beasts. The cot starts to freak and hit the wall. But do they care? No. Intact, they want to break the cot. If it means they get more adrenaline and can go however rough they need? So what the cot breaks.

They will get punished for breaking furniture obviously but at the moment they couldn't care less.

The soldier claws at the demos back. The cot starts to creak. "Не останавливайся, блядь!" The metal armed man cried out as he started to get closer to his climax. The demon groans in response and lifts the others legs over his elbows.

A loud thump fills the room as the cot collapses. The assassins catch themselves thanks to muscle memory. One they loaded they got back to fucking. Two guards run towards the cell to check on what that sound was but once they see that their weapons just keep on fucking they silently curse under their breaths.

The demon's hips start to stutter. It doesn't take long before the soldier spills his cum over their bellies. His metal hand punches a hole in the wall without him thinking about it. He's too overwhelmed from the long needed climax. The demon is not far behind. He gives his last few powerful thrusts before he collapses on top of the soldier and fills him up with his cum.

The two catch their breaths. They both stare into nothingness as they feel that their minds are suddenly corrupted. Are these emotions? What's this warm buzzing in their bellies?

Y/n is teg first to move. He slowly wraps his arms around the metal armed man. Are they cuddling? This can't be happening. Right? They're brainwashed machines they shouldn't be able to feel.

Bucky is next to move. He also slowly wraps his arms around y/n. Seeking more of the warmth that fills his body because of him. What is happening? They both think. Y/n lifts his head up a bit so he can look into Bucky's eyes. They're... Lovely. He's used to seeing those blue eyes as cold with no emotions behind them..but now? He sees someone else. He sees Bucky.

Bucky is conflicted. Who's looking at him? Whose eyes are these? He reaches up. He wants to remove the muzzle even though he knows he can't. Y/n's eyes flutter closed at the strange feeling of... comfort?

"Эй! Поднимайте свои задницы и идите в душ!" One of the guards yelled and banged on the bars.

The assassins reacted immediately and stood up. They grabbed their clothes and walked to the door and waited for the guard to lead them to the showers.

Do they remember that sweet moment? No. Will it happen again? Who knows. But whatever happened there. It corrupted the brainwash. Maybe one day they'll escape this place.

One day.

[devildancing]

Unrequested Narcissa prompt feat. Bella

"Cissy, you can't do this. He can't be trusted."

The blonde has no option but to halt in place, eyes upon eyes latched onto the pale form that she cuts on their grand marble staircase. For a moment Narcissa Black is simply another pretty decoration in their haunting museum, silent and statuesque in her spidersilk dress. Kohl-darkened lashes brush against the alabaster crests of her cheeks, the line of her mouth curving into a Mona Lisa's smile. At least her sister has the decency - the frame of mind - not to use James Potter's name in the company of their father and mother.

❝ This isn't a game of chess, Bella. Flipping the board won't just end it all once you start losing. ❞ The voice that lilts from her plush mouth is gentle and airy, soft as a breeze in the spring. The hard gaze that meets her eldest sister's as she turns around is cold and glacial, a warning of the winter ahead. ❝ You'll want to think very carefully about what you say next. ❞

They both know why her sister has chosen this venue — this battleground for one final, desperate attempt at control. Narcissa won't see or speak to her anymore; she's barred the dark-haired witch entrance to a loving bond between siblings formerly open without reservation or secrecy. Bellatrix, being Bellatrix, has latched onto the one thing outside of herself that she can blame. She's never handled failure with grace.

"Oh, that's delicious!" Bella's chiding grates at the younger girl's brain, far too reminiscent of their Aunt Walburga for any sort of comfort. "If anyone needs to think about anything, it's you."

❝ Is my happiness such an insult to you, sister mine? ❞

She takes a step down the staircase, the usually stagnant air of the manor thick with tension as her mother and father eye one another uncertainly. Tempestuous as ever, Andromeda looks as if she's about to intervene. Narcissa only faintly registers the way Rabastan grabs her sister's wrist and the subtle shake of his head. If looks truly could kill, Rodolphus has murdered his intended a thousand times over.

"That's not happiness, Cissy — it...it's poison!" The hem of her gown drags along the ornate floor as Bella rushes forward almost desperately, gripping her little sister's hands between her own. When the blonde doesn't immediately pull away she thinks that there's still hope — that she's going to win this fight. Her thumbs press against the steady pulse beating beneath them, shaking their arms as if it might drive the words home. "He's just trying to isolate you, can't you see? He's using you! He wants to take you away, just like he did —"

❝ BELLATRIX! ❞ Always so quiet and reserved in their home, Narcissa's voice rings out as it never has before. The way that she shoves the other witch away speaks to the revulsion that she feels — the bile brewing in her belly. This can't be her sister.

"Who?" Druella's voice barely registers, confused and lost.

"I'm sure there's some explanation," Cygnus offers just as quietly. Out of the two of them, he has the better idea of what's coming to a head. "It's a misunder—"

"A misunderstanding?" Bella finishes the word for him, the eyes of these two sisters still coldly locked upon one another. "Would that were the case, Father! Would that were the case! Our little Cissa has been robbed of her sanity, led astray, and victimized at her darkest hour. James Potter swooped in and—"

The chorus of gasps from their audience is quickly drowned out by the raven-haired witch's pained and tortured screams. As resolute and unyielding as Narcissa has always kept her eldest sister in her mind, there's something sad about the way Bella so easily crumples to the floor. In fact, it's almost revolting, the way spittle forms at the corners of her mouth and the whole of her body seems to distort and twitch in different directions. Her sister's pain was so visceral that she couldn't be certain it wasn't her own. Even their aunt couldn't draw this sort of agony from any of them anymore. And yet, for something so hard, it felt so impossibly easy. Narcissa hadn't even had to pull out her wand, she'd barely even had to say the word.

❝ Do you feel that, Bella? ❞ She asks the question coldly, pale head tilting the side as unshed tears settle atop her lashes. ❝ The agony? The despair? The betrayal? ❞ The approaching sound of footsteps only has her focus harder, her sister's anguished screams piercing the air until the footfalls stop.

"Pl — please!" Bellatrix whines, breathless and writhing. Her pale face is flush with color, frightened eyes shining and wet.

❝ Do you want to die, sister mine? ❞

The footsteps start again but she isn't finished.

❝ I did — I wanted to die the night you did this to me. I still wanted to, while I was lying in that hospital bed and in the days after. ❞

The heel of a leather shoe scuffs against the floor.

"What?" Druella's voice drifts from the void. "I don't - I don't understand."

❝ What do you think, Bella? Should we tell them? ❞

"N-no!"

❝ No, you're right. You should tell them. ❞

" I — I" Her palms smack against the floor, actively fighting against the pain now. She's every bit the trapped animal now, ready to gnaw off her own arm. Narcissa doesn't waver. "I — I wasn't, I didn't mean — I DID IT! I - I did it! I'm sorry, I'm so - I'm so sorry! Cissy? Cissa? Narcissa, please!"

"Narcissa, that is enough." Her father's heavy hand conforms to the shape of her shoulder, breaking her concentration and thus the hold she'd had on her sister. It takes her a moment to come back down, for all of her senses to settle and for the blood to stop rushing through her veins.

❝ So you keep telling me, ❞ she laughs bitterly, shrugging off his grip and ignoring the painful stinging in her eyes. ❝ This time, I do believe you're right. ❞ Her deliberate steps carry her back to the staircase, her thumb and middle finger prying a priceless ring from her left hand. Narcissa simply lets it fall, listening to the sound of it spinning on the floor.

"You know this is all his fault." Bella manages to drag out the hoarse accusation, shakily sitting up from the floor. Narcissa doesn't even look back; she doesn't want to see a Titan fall like this.

❝ Bellatrix is the one who attacked me that night, Lucius was also there. ❞ She shrugs faintly as if her hand has been forced, despite not mentioning the missing member of their little party. Her posture speaks of weariness and exhaustion, yet her mind is running faster than it ever has before. ❝ Explain to his parents, spin whatever tale for the public that you'd like, but I think you'll agree that a match is no longer beneficial to our noble family. ❞

"What about the Potter boy?" Druella questioned, lost as ever. Suspicion laces her tone, disapproval evident on her furrowed brow. It doesn't touch anything inside her daughter anymore.

❝ What about him? ❞ Her tone is deliberately disinterested, despite the amusement etched in her shapely brow. ❝ If I've shown any kindness to James Potter, it's only because he saved my life. ❞

For now, that was all they needed to know.

[margridarnauds]

So, this is something that's been bothering me a lot, and so I'm going to apologize in advance to OP for the length. But it's also like. I have no interest in Haarlep. Mainly because Haarlep doesn't have any of the features of Raphael that I'm actually attracted to -- he's younger, he's smoother, he doesn't have the hard edges, he doesn't have the dynamic with Tav. There's nothing for me to dig into, really, and to make it worse, he makes disparaging comments about the character I *am* invested in (and, tbh, I fully believe that he's trying to manipulate Tav into a fight with Raphael.) And, to sweeten the deal further, the game will even punish you if you proceed with that romance too far, with a non-standard game over. Which you do not see with, say, Mizora (who is another devil! And therefore someone who could find plenty of ways to screw you over in the middle of sex!) or Minthara.

But the femme fatale is a well accepted archetype for female villains. No one shames men for being attracted to the femme fatale, and the femme fatale doesn't need her existence to be justified with the understanding that of COURSE she's deadly, but, of course, they like her for the RIGHT reasons, keeping in mind her flaws, because of course...

No. You don't see that kind of discourse around, say, Bond girls. (There is a lot of discourse around Bond girls, as there should be in the 21st century, but not "will they corrupt the brains of young boys into thinking that they'll get a woman like that or that a woman like that is perfect for an IRL relationship?") Lady Dimitrescu from Resident Evil 8 -- there was a LOT of discourse around Lady D (I was there, Gandalf, I remember the "Ethan Winters is actually a murderer" discourse), but not "Is it wrong to find her attractive? Is it shameful to find her attractive?" Because there was an understanding that she was an attractive villainous character, that she was designed to look attractive, and that Maggie did a stand-out job acting the role. Instead, they rolled out the Lady D body pillows and dozens of male streamers talked about her ass in front of a live audience, and it was seen as funny, because haha tall sexy vampire mommy wants to kill me. You don't see that kind of discourse around, say, Catwoman. Or Talia al Ghul. Or Poison Ivy. Or Black Cat. You do, however, see a lot of Rule 34 art that's very clearly geared towards male comic book fans.

And it isn't to say "Oh, femme fatales are proof that misandry is real" -- to the contrary, the femme fatale is a figure who is independent, yeah, but routinely treated like a sex object and can be quickly disposed of, especially after the hero's had sex with her (Hell, even in BG3, that you can kill Minthara as she's sleeping after you've had sex...there's a broader context, sure, but...). They're routinely killed off, sometimes at the end, sometimes, if there's a sequel, during the sequel. But there's an understanding that (1) they won't corrupt men's minds and (2) that they are worth considering as a viable sex symbol. And I am very clearly saying "the hero" because even though the femme fatale can be incredibly attractive to women who like women (I'm evidence for this! My first crushes were Maleficent and Ankh Su Namun!) , they are overwhelmingly still a fantasy geared towards men.

And do I think they did it INTENTIONALLY with Raphael? No. But I think that Raphael is part of a broader cultural context around villainous men -- that women don't know what they ACTUALLY want, that they have to be reminded that ACTUALLY, REMEMBER, THE DEVIL IS A *BAD GUY*. In reality...women are generally already aware of this. They know. But makers are not capable of seeing, generally, why women would willingly choose to go with the monster, so they think that, clearly, they aren't aware that he IS a monster. In all honesty, even as a child, I was aware that the villainous characters I was, naturally, drawn to weren't Morally Correct Options -- I just liked their style and I generally found that they treated the female protagonists with more respect than the so-called "heroes" did (especially in the 1990s-2000s.) Male heroes often talked down to the female characters, the villain, though? Treated them as a serious threat, or a valuable piece of the puzzle. (Even in BG3, I would say that a solid part of Raphael's appeal is that he *does* need Tav on some level, he does speak respectfully to them, and he does deal fairly with them, so long as they uphold the rules of the arrangement.)

In BG3, we have, functionally, two morally ambiguous male love interests -- the first is the Emperor, who is massively underplayed (and, on a fandom context, is constantly surrounded by people reminding you that he's a mindflayer...I couldn't have told from the tentacles.) The second is Astarion who...is very well written, sometimes to the detriment of other characters, but also...is curiously defanged at the same time? Great, he approves of when you do bad things, wonderful. He's never gotten to actually chomp down on a mortal, which is a plot point. The bit in the art book about him feeding mortals to Cazador and being a corrupt magistrate is gone, so that the Gur go from very correctly taking vengeance on him to....???? It's not clear what happened there, since all Astarion says is that they didn't like a ruling he handed down. And, of course, if you go with Ascended Astarion, instead of getting the chance to truly be his Dark Consort, partners in crime and equals, you get...oh, wait, the constant reminder, both in-game and in the fandom, that he's a Very Bad Option. The game goes out of its way to say that Spawn Astarion is the Nice, Healthy Choice. You go with Gortash, who also has a lot of flirting with Tav, both as an OC and as the Durge? Oh, wait, he dies. No matter what you do. You go with Raphael? Oh, wait, you're reminded that he's a joke, to the point where it can be unclear whether he's the butt of the joke or whether it's the players who found him attractive who are. There just are not that many options for women (who are attracted to men) who want to be power hungry equals with their partners. Minthara, meanwhile? You can take on Menzoberranzan together and establish a house in your name. She can be funny, everyone else can be, but the player isn't shamed for wanting to rule alongside her, or being ambitious. Even if you transform into an illithid, she'll have you as her consort, and there's no sign of "remember, she's Very Dangerous." And it's like...BG3 is an adult game. It is VERY CLEARLY an adult game. Intended for adults. It has a label and everything (and incredibly explicit scenes of sex and violence.) If your ten year old little sister is playing the game, then there are broader things to discuss. The audience, in my opinion, should be trusted with being able to go onto the dark side.

And, again, I don't think this is an example of misandry (I can talk quite a bit about how I think...while I truly believe that the female characters are good in BG3 for the most part, there are elements of individual plotlines that I don't really like the execution of -- including and especially the way that Minthara is treated) -- I think it's that female gamers (and I'm aware of the potential heteronormativity of specifying female gamers, but the reality is that, by statistics alone, while BG3 is overwhelmingly queer friendly in a way that I'm very proud of and that I applaud it for, most people playing will still be playing M/F dynamics) are never given a fair hearing, they're always treated as Not Really Knowing What They Want, Don't They KNOW That Devil/Vampire/etc. etc. Will Kill Them, or there's always an ongoing concern over Polluting Women's Minds (really going into the early fears around gothic novels there), instead of considering WHAT women find attractive around these men in the first place. It's not misandry, in other words, it's re-packaged misogyny.

While I don't have a problem with Haarleps existence, I don't like that Raphael is reduced to a joke on his behalf as if Haarlep is a replacement of equal value and he talks about Raphael with a wink as if it's expected of the player that we share his resentment for him. From a gameplay perspective the decision to implement a shapeshifter character was probably made for the purpose of being able to have "Raphael" shift into a woman so that dudes could get another romance scene as well. I'm saying this because the animation of that particular scene is clearly made with that dynamic in mind and only works if it's the female Haarlep on male player model or two males. Which is perfectly fine of course! But the end result we got is that men get both Mizora and Haarlep, while from your average womans pov it's just silly and pointless. So I think to make it more fair, the real Raphael should've been left as an option for the girls and those who prefer him. Could've had both.

[joannasteez]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄

pairing: frank castle x reader

warning: it’s basically porn with little plot if im being honest, a bit non-linear? but whatever

word count: 3.3k

a/n: nothing to say really besides enjoy and happy valentines day!!! and always, always remember that liking, reblogging and commenting especially aren’t mandatory but highly appreciated!!

The slow ghosting of fog, a single drip of rain. Air cold and crisp, the clouds gathered and ready to break, make way for the inevitable storm.

The single lashing of wind, cutting against skin and acute awareness. A futile warning before you're taken up and up and up.

That's what the licking shiver is like as it creeps its way down the arch of your back.  Standing on a lonesome cliff of euphoria, it's the quiet deep breath before the plunge.

The leather is wet, creases seeping with tears that roll in urgent succession, as if to keep up with the pace but still in their frenzy failing miserably. A gasp breaks, roughs up and out and you palm your couch tighter. Sink your head a little further into the leather.

You're teetering less than gracefully, on the verge of collapse and its good. So, so, good.

Another shiver erupts, pillages your skin of all the stillness it has to offer when you hear him rasp, breaths looming your heated skin. "That's it pretty girl".

A moan draws up from your throat, slow and steady like poison from a wound, eyes twisting at the firm lap of his tongue. Thick and hot as it slots and nestles its way to curl around your clit. A palm holding your arch in place as the other paws the meat of your ass, holding you open to press and lick further. Stubble scraps and pricks your skin, makes it tender but still, you pulse and clench around nothing, your little bundle of nerves on the verge of spent but alive and well all the same. It isn't until he hears it, the little chant nearly begging for more, that he slips a finger into you, "Please, please, please". Gives his tongue a couple seconds rest just to see the sight. The clench and unclench, arousal dripping as it coats his finger, and then he thinks you need more, you can take a little more. On this little winter, rose filled day, you can take whatever you need.

So he gives you another, strokes your pussy steady and sucks against your clit. Not like he's starved, no, like he's indulging.

You feel it all too quickly, the weight of release baring down on your bones, disrupting the pit of your belly.

"I'm coming again", because he'd had you on your back before, trembling, but now on your belly, arched on your knees.

And then he does it, slips his way past thick slick marred fingers and licks against the tightness you'd left untouched. Sucks and presses patiently, groans even when fresh arousal drips because of it. To repel is instinct, but you can't deny the quiver in your belly, the disembodied feeling his tongue brings as it presses, asks silently for entrance to yet another part of you. He'll break you eventually, make any other useless to you, with the way he's going. If he isn't careful, on this romance filled day, he just might make you drift far enough into uncharted territory. Where words that sound all too much like forever live. Root up out of you something pure enough he won't be able to bury.

His thumb looks to replace his tongue, presses a little harder and you nearly crumble at the tension. Shift your head to face him a little with stuttered breaths and words that just won't join. "Wait just-". His thumb is soothing, caresses the tight hole sweetly as the other rolls your clit. "Frank I-"

Even dazed he's intoxicating to look at, hair a bit longer than usual and starting to swoop low. Eyes blown and black with arousal, dimmed, like he's fallen into your taste. Has found the thing to fix the itch festering beneath muscle and skin, the sweetest ambrosia, solid and soothing like honey on his tongue. "Just a little bit yeah?" The bass underscoring his voice alluring, lulling you in and just like that your hips push back with need. Grinding to take his fingers deeper till a squelch sings and you hiss and coo. Mumble "ok", and then "ok" again with a little more urgency because now it's all you can think about.

"You want my thumb girl?" He teases with the stout digit, rolls and presses. "Mmm? You want it?"

You nearly sob, feel spit trail warm from where his thumb rubs in waiting till it flows between your lower lips. "Yes".

"Un-fucking-believable", Frank groans. At your beauty. A soft ecstasy. Throat lumping up, words drawn and mystified, raptured, as he delves slow. Feels the way you war against the tautness attempting to take hold. It's new and burdening he knows it, sees the bite your teeth take at your lips, the dimmed sitting of lusty eyes and knows just how good and new it is.

The momentum is oceanic. Waves pulling, waves crashing. Pressure here, pleasure there, but when he comes back, sucks in your clit with wet lips and strokes his thumb in your ass once, twice, and then some more, just enough that it’s a bit more than bearable, something shakes. Shakes and shudders in you, about you. Shifts you off axis and trips you off metaphorical feet. He's ruining you, slowly but surely, and it's unfair. As you whine into the creased leather couch, so damn unfair.

"Oh I hate you thats so good".

His laugh is scrappy. Genuine amusement as he goes about tethering his tongue to every drop of arousal that finds its way out.

Your chants, as they rush out and fly in whatever stuttered manner they choose, are wispy and tender still. Becoming muffled and disjointed by the dampened leather of your some-weekss-old sectional, but drunk and feathery all the same. ‘What a wonderful way to christen it’, the thought meandering loosely somewhere about you but never sticking to you wholly, never becoming solid, because is anything solid? Can any thought be made clear? Not like this, when you're molten and achy. Throbbing wild at the juncture of trembling thighs, pit of your stomach steadily churning to stone.

But oh when the stone breaks, cracks and crumbles to idle pieces, it's less than majestic and far from cinematic even. You quake and fly and pull along with your breaths a little ways away from consciousness. Coming back when something, his palm, mildly splinters your skin. Pains you with his own satisfaction, forcing another bout of pleasure to creep fast up your spine, a rippling that urges the jerk of your hips. Inevitably feeding you more of his slack fingers. You shake like a leaf still, and whine like stormy winter wind, and then when seizing bones grow dull, you stay there, arch less distinct, heady and weightless.

Frank moans in triumph, in need. Fire torching anew under seconds old satiation.

"Still with me, or you need a minute?"

A hand runs over your face, hiding a grin. "Don't be cocky".

And then it begins again, filters in like the opening of the world at sunrise, the muddled sounds of Brooklyn out your window. The rumbling train, and the skirting determination of cars. Buyers negotiating with sellers, attempting to get those last bouquets of roses, and you remember like the vividest dream, how you got here. From melancholy to him.

.....

The other guy had been too put together, too perfect. Every step leading up to this moment, it all had just felt too good to be true. The michelin star should have warned you not to waste your time.

"Would you like to order a drink while you wait?"

"No it's alright. He should be here any second now". Your wrist hadn't had a watch, suddenly feeling so naked, but you'd tapped it anyways, and it all just seemed to load more onto the waitresses face.

"Im sure its just the traffic".

She'd given one of those... expressions. A smile sharing equal parts of her lips with a frown, and maybe just maybe at any moment she'd offer your shoulder a good squeeze, draining what was left of the hope keeping your posture so upright. God the pity was unbearable. You hated it, hated him too for embarrassing you, and just the whole stupid ass holiday in general. Roses and chocolates and love making be damned.

You'd dipped out with slices of desert and all of your dignity. None spared for a man you could give less than a shit enough about to be wallowing so deeply in anger. It wasn't him so much as it was the let down of it all anyways. You'd been let down before, you could deal just fine.

Through the somber ride of the uber, and the pathway up creaky apartment stairs, wine had whispered for you sweetly.  A sultry crimson little song singing just for you.

'If only though', you'd thought as you sipped, 'to stare endearingly from the rim of a wine glass at another. If only to lure someone in with perfected coyness before a night of passion'.

Just one little night like the movies, had it been too damn much to ask for?

Pour after pour, you'd gotten a little more fuzzier in the brain and warmer. Resigned to the nights early ending.

Maybe you were drunk?, and thats why the door was suddenly knocking hard through the floors and into your chest. Maybe you were just somewhat buzzed, still with your wits about you and behind the door was Frank. The month and some weeks, not that you'd counted, had given him the beginnings of a beard and hair just a tad longer. Still as rugged, broken and beautiful as ever.

With wine in hand, you'd said "Hi". Surprised, a bit breathless.

"Hey", a thunderstorm still trapped after all this time in his chest. Finding its way out with words to rumble and shake you.

He'd shifted in the frame of your front door, eyes taking no real shelter in being un-obvious. You hadn't gotten undressed yet, subconsciously hoping and waiting for something to happen it seemed, for the night to veer off onto a less shitty course. You'd had this sullen pout to your fleshy lips, hips and dips hugged by fine ribbed fabric, wine in hand clutched like a life line and your eyes soft, playing at dolefulness, but still as beautiful as he'd remembered you to be before his little disappearing act.

"Drunk already?"

Drunk? no, buzzed?, perhaps. At that point you hadn't been so sure anymore, eyes drinking him in, it could've been then that after the sudden appearance, you were just on the precipice of burning. Through the cold desolation of disappointment tumbled a wayward flame, tall as a pillar, stoic, scruffy looking and tender some in his ways.

"I will be if you don't stop me".

You'd opened the door and stepped aside, closing it when he'd thumped in, near black eyes taking inventory of the place. The couch had gave in as you plopped into it, but Frank had kept to surveying still, looking around for whats changed and everything but the couch had stayed the same. You'd moved half of a half step, but not enough to where he was left in the dust of your memory it seemed.

Frank had sank into your leather sectional slow, getting a feel for its newness before his usual wide leg spread. Fingers having been so thickset and worked against the single rose he'd held up to you, littered in scars still, some new and others old, it'd given the elegant rose some pop. Soft, tender petals had opened before you in a wide bloom, accompanied by forest green stem and leaves, wrapped in baby pink paper and tied all up together with curly ribbon. The flower itself a deep bloody crimson.

Anything grandiose would've been some pseudo-romantic bullshit. There was beauty in simplicity anyways.

Flitting eyes could tell, as you'd taken a seat in the wide set of his lap, thighs draped over his own, the soft sullenness eroding to a clearer excitement, anticipation.

It've been a lie to say the same hadn't gone for him, trigger finger not so happy and his body undoing the hard form it would take as he stalked the streets of Hell's Kitchen.

"Florist said somethin' about pressin' it to preserve it".

"I didn't think you were the single rose type".

He'd palmed your thighs with beefy fingers then, skimming an opaque red warmth into the skin, as if to stoke a flame. "I'm old fashioned like that I guess".

You'd been waiting for the right moment, not too early or too late, to kiss him. Pull him in by his thick nape and slip the taste of aged wine onto his tongue. You'd sounded the way feathers drifted, precious and wispy in his lap, needy for a surface to rest on, for someone to catch you through shifty breezes and adore you.

He'd been so heavy in your mouth, the lay and swirl of his tongue weighty and nearly suffocating, like he'd meant to steal breaths from you. Or intended instead to lose himself completely. Frank had pressed into you everywhere, with tense palms to mold, like the pages of a book to a rose, to still you in memory.

When you'd followed heated instinct, gave his flushed ears kisses and the grazing tease of your teeth, he'd pawed a hand at your dress in a curiosity that couldn't be shaken.

"How was your date?"

The curled bow of his upper lip had been addicting as you'd met him there, like nectar to a honey bee. It'd been so good you'd failed even to be upset at the recounting of earlier disappointments, mumbling to him.

"He stood me up".

You'd never seen anything like it, the way he'd softened and hardened all at once, touch like a plume but the eyes hard and steely. Refined in their disgust. "Forget em', that piece of shit". It'd had his nerves simmering, the way his sharp jaw had twitched, but this was no typical righteous indignation, no, it was frustration. A dash of guilt. What was a date gone wrong compared to weeks of radio silence. The comparison was futile, like a needle to a sword, a street brawl to war. Even so, he knew better than to miss tonight. "Besides, you would've just wasted your time on an overpriced piece a'ribeye, cheap wine and mediocre dick".

"But thats what I wanted". You'd set out to pecking his lips, before correcting yourself. "...the steak anyways".

He'd nearly flushed you against him then, meat of your thighs and the hair at your neck all at the mercy of deft fingers. Warm tongue slotted between the purse of your lips. "Got somethin' for you, but it ain't no where near mediocre".

Cocky bastard.

You'd been on him, his hips straddled quick, and you'd giggled so damn silly and excited. "That's how you comin' tonight?"

.....

If it were possible to build and form and shape words into tangible things, like a potter does clay, Frank would mold some fragile thing or another into the word 'mediocre'. Form it good just to heave it clean against the wall. Break and splinter it, hear the pitchy clash and stand dark and proud in the debris. With flexed hot muscle and a sly grin, he was proud alright, pushing firm into the soak of you, bringing you back from the far away drift of memories and dreams.  

He's stewing in heat, feels like a pillar of flames, not on the precipice of combustion no, but blazing something ancient and eternal. You're so good for him, clinging to his dick like you need him. Can't be without him. "Look at that", he groans. Sets a hand to grip the couch arm just above your head as the other slips through your slit. "All messy and wet for me".

The beginning is slow, measured. A deep artful fuck that leaves you drunk and boneless. All rolling eyes and raspy coos. Legs bent at the knees and your fingers palming and twisting at sensitive breast.

He's nudging a thumb at the part of you lips, tongue meeting savory arousal. Licking and sucking with fervor.

"Atta girl".

His praise is rough as he swells and twitches and moans, knees like nails digging into the leather for better grounding. So when he plunges forward, it's full and vicious to the already frenzied nerves rippling about you. It's apology and possession, 'i'm sorry', 'your mine', 'i miss you', and you gasp at the stretch. The delicious wet split of it.

"S' so good Frank", your head lulling off to the side. Lip nearly torn between your teeth.

"Yeah? This what you needed?", clutching your neck to lift you. Hunching his wide back some to close the distance before his lips rush yours into a harsh sloppy kiss. "Needed me deep in that pussy again right?"

You squeeze him hard, as if its reflex. Moan out and flex stimulated muscle, float and revel in the soaked smack of his hips to yours till he grips your neck tighter. The wild lust breaking through his dimmed eyes. "Answer me".

"Yes".

Another squeeze and you're holding and clawing at his hand, whether to beg for release or to have it stay, you're not sure.

"Yes what?"

Oh. Him and those damn military manners, making your gut flip and knot.

"Yes", you try again. Wilt like a rose in his hold and whimper. "Yes sir".

He lets you breathe, clutches the backs of your knees with both hands and verges onto a particular sort of feral-ness he hasn't felt in a while. It's red raw and primal, un-abating, thirsty even, for blood?, no, but it's quite inexplicable. The way he drags out of you and ruts, like a damn beast, and all you're good for is clawing his skin and mumbling, moaning weakly and tightening till his breath chokes out short with curses and praises. You feel so good, so right, and in a world where everything is blurred and disjointed, so real. It's not so inexplicable anymore, and God he just wants to know.

"You missed it?", accentuating with the snap of his hips. "You missed this?"

You reach down and peel back the soft flesh of your lower lips, open more for him like a blooming flower, to circle your clit, and then you break him. Heave the unsure parts of him against the wall and watch him splinter into something new.

"I missed you".

It's a burden and with it lifted you come, cry and squeeze, pulse hard and shudder. Nearly sink into the damp leather as he pushes into you still. Your heart pounds, drums rambunctiously as you whimper and throb for him. He's warm and filling when he follows behind you, releases with sloppy stuttered hips. Flushed and sated.

Brooklyn isn’t so quiet anymore in the dazing afterglow, but it doesn’t turmoil either of you with harshness, but opens instead. Unfurls into the night like lulling white noise. Rumbling easy and soothing beneath hearts, bones and beautifully tired nerves. 

…..

Your bodies stretch out and lay on the opposite end of the sectional, teeming with a delectable hum just beneath your skin. Legs slack between the hard touch of his, head resting on his warm chest, feeling the skim of his fingers play at the end of your nape and the beginning of your back.

It's a while before you move to raise up from him, the silence nearly making the night timeless, and he's pinning you to his chest.

Frank's voice draws up lazy and deep, tingles nerves you thought already satisfied. "Where you going?"

You slink your way atop him to his lips, feel his length soft and warm against your belly as you peck his lips, trailing to his neck. "Coffee", you say and he perks up some. "Bought desert from the restaurant too if you want".

"What kind?"

"Chocolate cake".

He hums, seeming to like what you've got but makes no move to release you. Just pulls you away from his neck with a gentle hand and back to his lips. His tongue slotting through the pursed part of your own mouth, before his hand tightens the slightest, in sincerity you think, and he mumbles.

"Missed you".

[one-piece-aus]

Whumptober Day 29

Sabo x Reader

"Come on, [Y/n], we're almost out of this." Sabo tried to motivate you to keep going further.

"Sabo... I can't walk anymore..." you stated, knees ready to drop on the ground at any moment. "I can hardly stand..."

"I'll carry you then." Sabo went to your side, putting an arm under your knees and the other around your shoulders then lifted you up and glanced at your eyes. "Just stay with me, please."

"I'll try..." You smiled, touched by his sweetness and hope that he can save both of you.

You let him carry you, your head pressed against his torso, yet you knew your fate was inedible with your current condition. You were on a winter island, out in the middle of snowfall, and you had been hit by a lethal-poisoned arrow. The base had been an hour away from where you were, and while you might've survived long enough to get there in normal circumstances, the cold around only enhanced your condition. Sabo had let you wear his coat over your own, but the poison made it feel as if it wasn't there.

"Sabo..." you whispered, your voice not letting your raise it louder.

"I'm listening," he responded, keeping his eyes on the path ahead.

"I can barely keep my eyes open..."

"No, don't say that!" The blond panicked, gently shaking you so you stay awake. "Why don't you tell me what your favourite food is."

"My favourite food?" You took a moment to think before answering. "[F/f]."

"Good choice, any reason why it's your favourite?" Sabo asked trying to extend the conversation so you'd keep talking.

"It was what you offer to me when I first arrived at the Revolutionary Army after being saved. I was so grateful to eat something with such flavour for once, I couldn't stop crying when I ate it. I also am reminded of you whenever I eat it, no wonder I fell for you..."

"You- what?" Sabo stopped in his tracks and gazed into your eyes, thinking he misheard things.

"I... oh well, I suppose now that the beans are spilt there's no going back now," you sigh, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I fell in love with you, Sabo, from that moment and onward. I admire your smile, your kindness, your leadership, your determination, Dragon raised you well."

"[Y/n]... I... I'm sorry I didn't realize your feelings sooner..." Sabo apologized, and now a sudden spark ignited in him and he began striding with twice the speed he walked before. "We're going to make it back to the base [Y/n], and we'll be together. Don't give up on me now, I love you too much to see you go."

"Oh Sabo..." you weakly mumbled, talking now being hard to do. "The cold has spread the poison too far..."

"No, there's still time!" Sabo began dashing through the snow, not caring about his injuries. He couldn't feel the physical pain, his heart rushing

"Promise me, Sabo... promise me that you'll get your memory back," you requested, knowing he lost his memory and has been trying to recall what happened where the memory was fuzzy. "And tell me when you do, I'm just sorry I won't be able to respond when you do..."

"I promise you [Y/n], I promise."

"I look forward to hearing it..." Your eyes closed and your body went limp.

[lazypanartist]

Happy Yule from me, here is a Christmas present to you, my friend! I hope the holidays are wonderful for you and you get plenty of time to rest and have fun this season. Normally I bake things for people during the season, but since I obvs cant for you, I've included a recipe I use when I'm low energy but want something nice.

(Note: I use a holiday in this called Candle Nights. Candle Nights is a winter celebratory holiday meant for everyone of all denominations.)

Enjoy the story, it's called "Make The Yuletide Gay".

- 📝 Nonnie

---

"-and normally I would totally bring just like, some chips or order us all pizzas, but this year Mikey wants to do something different, and like, wants us all to make something. Like, MAKE make it. Which I guess works for everyone else but like…"

"You hate cooking." You stated bluntly. "Probably because you hate how tedious it is sometimes and lack patience because you prefer instant gratification. Which is utterly fair, it takes a lot of effort and time to cook sometimes." 

You stirred your peppermint mocha with a homemade vanilla biscotti while Leonardo pointedly sipped his sugar cookie latte, not looking at you. The two of you sat in your small dining room, the coffees picked by you when he claimed to be having an emergency and needed your help.

You think he would make up every excuse in the world to come visit you, honestly, but you didn't need them. He was welcome any time. Even though he could just portal chop his way in, you always left the window unlocked for him.

"Okay, so, maybe. Yeah. Anyways, I was like, sure, y'know? But then Mikey I guess remembered that I have a shakey history with cooking and he was like 'Oh uh you're fine to just help clean or something.'," Leo crossed his arms while ranting. 

"-...Which like Ow but fair but then Fivehead had to go and say he didn't want food poisoning like when we held Candle Nights like 3 years ago from my cooking, which like??? It's been three years, get over it?" He rolled his eyes, fiddling with and idly braiding his mask tails like hair. "Still, I was like 'what no I am SO gonna make something shut up' and Don said it would be inedible and all this is to say please please PLEASE help me make something for the dinner I want to prove I can cook."

He was actively now on his knees begging you, hands grabbing your pant leg as he gave the biggest puppy dog eyes he could.

"But you objectively hate it." You pointed out calmly. "Come on, don't dirty your knees like that, get up.

Leonardo whined and stuffed a biscotti in his mouth, flopping backwards against your armchair while throwing his hands in the air. "I KNOW!! I mean, I'm getting better, but fruit salad and scrambled eggs on toast won't cut it."

"I like your scrambled eggs. Especially now that you learned how seasoning works. You make them spicy without just drowning them in Louisiana hot sauce." You took a long sip of your coffee.

"I just..! I dunno. I gotta show them I can do this!! Besides, I kinda…really want to make something, y'know? Not just to make Dee 'Eateth Thy Words' but…I don't know…"

"It would be nice to have them appreciate something you made for them to enjoy?" Plucking up a cookie, you snacked while listening. 

"Yes!!" the terrapin snapped his fingers and pointed at you. "Nailed it!! Jupiter Jim's got nothing on your brains, babycakes!!"

That made you roll your eyes before you nibbled on the pastry in hand. "So, why come to me?"

The slider sat up more, giving you a look before motioning to your cookies that you had laid out for the talk. Thumbprint with homemade orange marmalade.

"I don't just call you babycakes because you have some nice buns."

"Fair, fair," you shrugged, "I suppose I could teach you, but…"

"But..?"

Your eyes trailed over to your kitchen, pondering. "What course are you doing?" You hope it wasn't the main dish. You don't have any whole chickens or, like, a pot roast. Or the time to get it, prepare and cook one.

"Wellll…Mikey wanted appetizers, Donatello is working on greens, Raph has sides, Pops has the main course, and April demanded to do her pumpkin carrot ginger soup. So I got left with dessert. Mikey was gonna do it too but I sorta…strong armed him to at least get that."

You thought quietly for a moment before getting up. "You listen to my instructions, and follow them well, okay? When are you holding it?"

"...in like three hours…"

You turned and narrowed your eyes. "Grab an apron and wash your hands with hot water up to your elbows. We're making a Cheater Cherry Chocolate Cake."

Your boyfriend saluted you before scurrying to do just that.

–

"Okay, so, what all do we need? Flour, cocoa…sugar…ugh, it's gonna suck measuring all this…"

You huffed and scooted the red eared slider out of your way and closed the cabinet he was staring into with disdain. "Yeah. Which is why we won't."

The terrapin watched you walk over to the pantry and open it, rooting in the storage before a few things were tossed his way, making him juggle the objects and set them on the counter before looking at what he caught.

"Wait…Box mix? No, Angelo will taste it-"

"Oh, no he won't," you grumbled, "no one ever really does, and they tend to prefer it, taste wise. Besides, that is the exact base used in the nicest bakeries of New York. They all do it, it's dumb to think it's inferior. It's a nice three dollar box mix compared to the 20-ish dollars worth of groceries you won't use regularly. And anyways," you shrugged, "this takes the tedium out of it all. I'm gonna teach you how to make a cake you won't feel is a hassle, then you can make it whenever."

The ninja's eyes widened a bit, staring at you full of wonder and warmth. "I love you."

"You don't get one back until you have this cake in the oven." You snapped your fingers twice and pointed to the box. "Go on, get the mix and pour it in the bowl. I'll grab what we need from the fridge. I'll instruct and get stuff but I'm not touching the cake so you can make it all by yourself for bragging rights."

Quickly he did as asked before looking at the back. "Follow along with the box, right? I need oil, water-"

"Mh? Oh no. Fuck that." You walked over with milk, butter and eggs. "Equal amounts of melted butter to oil. The sticks are pre-marked, so since that says a third cup of oil, do butter and pop it in the microwave for like, 10 second intervals until it's liquid gold."

Leo snorted and did as you said, pulling out the melted butter not long after and setting it aside, waiting for your instructions.

"Nice. Don't pour it in yet, it has to be done a certain way. Now, instead of a cup of water we use milk, and then whatever number of eggs are said on the box, we add one more. Set 'em aside and put the cold stuffs back. I'll grab our secret ingredient."

You meandered over to a cupboard over your coffee maker and began to rifle through.

"What is it? Tomato soup or something?"

"Eh, no. Not for this. You can, but sometimes the soups are seasoned so you gotta watch out for it and it's easier to use pureed tomatoes or just straight up juice. In any matter, no. It'll add more steps and then it's something you might not have anyway. Besides, there's a whole curdling issue and we don't want to mess with it and it's barely a secret if it's everywhere on TikTok. But!-" you leaned back, "I have an easier one for you."

The turtle watched as you grabbed two containers and walked over, setting one in front of him. "...Espresso powder?"

"Yup. One tablespoon and it kicks up the chocolate flavor like nuts. But, y'know, it's hella expensive and hard to get sometimes."

Your boyfriend winced and nodded.

"Wanna know what's infinitely cheaper, easier to get, and you have at the lair?"

"What?"

You set a small jar of instant coffee powder on top of the espresso. "It works just the same. One tablespoon, and it's basically just as good. Go ahead and toss that into the drys and mix."

After that, you greased the pan and checked to make sure the oven was preheated, "to whatever temp the box says," you instructed. Then you put the bowl in your stand mixer, watching as Leonardo first added the butter, waited a moment, then slowly poured the milk in thirds. Finally, he added each egg one at a time and let it run for twenty seconds before stopping.

"That's kinda…soupy."

"Yeah, you gotta trust the process. Mixing it more makes it more dense. Activates the glutens." You set two cans of cherry pie mix on the counter. "Now, dump those right in the pan. Mine is bigger, but it basically is just however much will cover the bottom of your baking pan. I just know that mine takes two."

After the filling coated the bottom and the cans scraped for excess goo, Leo poured in the mix and then threw it in the oven, setting the timer and looking to you for more instructions.

You shrugged. "Yeah that's it. If it were a tomato cake I'd start us on a frosting, but we don't need it with that because of the cherries. If you wanna make it pretty though, we can use powdered sugar on top once it's cooled. You can even make shapes with paper and make designs or patterns, but it's not necessary. Just let it bake until you can put a toothpick in and no batter sticks."

The ninja nodded and studied the oven for a moment, before his eyes widened.

"Holy shit. I just made a cake."

You snorted. "Yeah. Easy, right?"

"I. Geez. I don't feel annoyed or like my brain is melting."

"Good. That tells me it's not got so many steps that it drives you up a wall."

 

The mutant slowly smiled and cupped your cheeks, nuzzling your nose a bit in a cute way. "YOU… are the best date mate ever. Have I told you that?"

"No, but you can continue to do so while we dance to whatever that song is you've been looping this week and wait on this cake."

Your nose scrunched as he tugged you down into a quick kiss, muttering "It's Yellow Hearts by Ant Sanders" against your lips before pressing play on his phone and pulling you into a breezy, swirling dance.

–

"Thanks again baby."

You leaned against the counter, drying the mixing bowl and putting it up and away.

"Honestly it's no problem. I'll teach you how to make marmalade next time." You gave a small smile as Leo pecked you on the cheek goodbye, katanas already making a portal back to the lair. "Remember not to mess with it too much 'til dessert time. It should be cooled by then."

"Gotcha. You sure you…don't wanna come? I know April would be happy to see another human and Raph probably would like to talk to you about your little kaiju plushies."

You shook your head. "My grans are supposed to be back soon from their visit with my cousins soon. Should be like, in another hour. We'll probably get pasta somewhere knowing them. Now, go on, you still have to get all dressed up nice."

"Can I borrow one of your cool fancy looking shirts?"

"No. The last time you borrowed a shirt I got it back with a big rip down the side."

"Please? Pretty pretty please from the most incredible datemate ever??"

"...fine."

Leon fistpumped. "Awesome, I already stole one while you were doing the dishes. Alright, well, you're welcome whenever. Just say the word and your brave hero will come to your rescue~" 

You hummed at his preening. "Oh, thank you. My brave champion."

Your pet name made the terrapin flush and fiddle with his fingers a bit before giving a final, shy peck goodbye and leaving through the mystic gateway. You waved him off the whole time, and when he was gone, you sighed, a soft smile tugging at your lips. You began removing your apron, hanging it up before adjusting your poet blouse and heading to the living room to wait.

Your grandparents had gone on a vacation to visit your aunt and cousins in another country, and had been gone now for two weeks. You hadn't heard from them today, but, they were bad with tech and it wasn't surprising. Idly you yawned and turned on youtube, putting some toy refurbishment video on as background noise for the very quiet apartment.

One video became two, which became three, and then five. It was now very dark out, and you were still alone. Though, you WERE still texting Leon.

<Champ: Still nothing? Really?>

<Cutie Pie: Nothing. Dead quiet. Kinda freaking me out.>

<Cutie Pie: Candle Nights dinner going good?>

<Champ: NO. We're about to start. The dishes never got done because it basically got forgotten so it's been delayed and we're all getting a bit hangry.>

<Cutie Pie: Damn im sorry babes.>

Your phone began buzzing and you jolted, answering quickly. You were greeted by the voice of your grandfather, and after exhanging pleasantries, he got down to brass tacks.

"A…blizzard?"

Yes, apparently there were poor weather adviseries all over the place, and your grandma and grandpa were stuck for the next few days. Thankfully, they hadn't flown out yet so they could stay with your aunt, but…

"Yeah. No, I understand. I love you too, be safe."

You hung up with a sigh. Your phone buzzed and you glanced to see Leo had sent you a picture of the whole family. You smiled.

<Champ: Any news? You went silent for a while.>

You quietly began mulling over options before deciding to be honest and telling the mutant what happened.

<Champ: Oh shell.>

<Champ: Do you want me to come get you? Pops says you're always welcome and it's a lot of food. Raph made roasted garlic potatoes!>

<Champ: You shouldn't be alone on Candle Nights and I'd love to have you over.>

You smiled slightly.

<Cutie Pie: I'd like to, but I don't want to trouble you.>

<Champ: Oh please>

You heard the telltale Vworp of a portal opening nearby and looked up, shocked to see Leo leaning through it and waving you over. 

"It's no trouble, not when it's you. Now, come on. Don doesn't believe you didn't even touch the batter of the cake, Raph's getting you a drink and Mikey is putting together a plate for you. You GOTTA try the soup, I think this is April's best work yet."

Godd, I LOVE this! Domestic fluff always has me giggling, lmao. The recipe is great! And so is the tomato soup warning, lol.

Happy holidays to you as well, Nonnie! And to everyone else who reads this ^-^

[glacierheart]

❝ pear.  okay,  pear. ❞  that  was  more  normal  than  he  what  he  was  assuming  she'd  given  him,  considering  passing  along  odd  treats  with  odd  names  was  commonly  normal  in  the  winter  kingdom.  hands  hesitantly  took  the  pie  and  curiously  gave  it  a  small  sniff,  ❝ i've  never  had  pear  pie  before. ❞  it  smelled  sweet  and  cinnamony,  but  again...  how  did  he  know  there  wasn't  something  poisonous  to  it?  ❝ i'm  not  allergic  to  cinnamon  so  far.  ❞  just  wary  of  people,  maybe  he  should  have  her  try  it  first.  ❝ hm. ❞  a  contemplative  hum as blues flickered away in thought,  not  wanting  to  give  in  yet. 

he  couldn't  help  but  be  stubborn  and resentful when  he  was  constantly  judged–  even  in  his  own  kingdom,  he's  had  to  withstand  the  the  judgment  and  assumptions  he's  as  terrible  as  his  havoc  causing  father.  so  this  one  full  of  perfect,  do  no  wrong  beings,  of  course  he  felt  everyone  was  doing  the  same  if  not  worse.  why  should  he  help  them?  he  wondered,  but  didn't  say  it  outright  yet.  for now, he suddenly came up with a new idea. ❝ okay, not so fast shorty. maybe...  i'll  think  on  it  over  pear  pie. ❞ his free hand pressed against the top of her head, calming her bouncing down. trying to refrain from laughing at this quirk of hers. ❝ you  should  come  share  this  with  me. ❞  a  smile  he  put  on  tugged  at  caspian's  lips.  ❝ i  won't  be  able  to  eat  the  entire  thing.  but  my  horse  will  certainly  try  to  if  someone  doesn't  help  me.  ❞   he  doesn't  know  if  he'll  actually  think  on  it,  he's  stalling  and  wanting  to  see  her  take  a  bite  of  it  of  her  own  he's  that  deeply  paranoid  of  people.  recognizing  it  might  be  insane  to  be  this  paranoid,  but  better  safe  than  sorry.

Abby grew scared for a moment that she had somehow said the wrong thing or offended the young man, only by looking at the way he frowned. Relief came over her as she realized that it was nothing else than a misunderstanding. "Not pearl, peaR." Abby made sure to enunciate the word more clearly that time. The habit in her family to sing everything when she was a kid ended up becoming a tendency to roll her Rs as an adult, or at least that was what her teachers had told her parents. "And I swear on my honor, it has no poison, only cinnamon. Unless... you're allergic to it?" Her words were laced with honest concern. The last thing she needed was for her figurative olive branch (or pie, rather) ended up causing more problems than solutions.

"Well, because I am in no shape to survive any winter climate, and I know you can. And because... well, I figured I'd lost more if I didn't even ask in the first place." Abby didn't mention how she saw warmth underneath all his sharp, icy edges, how it was clear even in the distance, even without speaking. Could it just be her? For it to be only on the eye of the beholder? Abby much prefered thinking that everyone had goodness in them, some people just had more trouble letting it out than others. Abby stood on her toes, as she did whenever she got excited or hopeful. "Is that a yes?"

[siriuslyshewrote]

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 - 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 : Heyy I wanted to request something for Regulus Black with the prompts 5 and 30 if that’s okay😊 thank you in advance 🤍

“I’d do anything for you.”

“I always sleep best when you’re next to me.”

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Phew! This turned out far more angsty than I anticipated, but I hope you all still enjoy it!

Regulus Black was an intoxication, and addiction. Every second you spent with him, were minutes craving him when you were apart. His very soul was beautiful, you had told him once.

Structured cheekbones, piercing yet soft grey eyes,  sharp jawline that you trailed your fingers over, long black hair which had been cut short the summer Sirius had left home. It was no wonder that you loved him as much as you did.

"I'll have to go, soon." You murmured quietly to the drowsy boy you were curled up against.

Regulus' arms tightened around your waist a little, letting out a groan of disappointment. These were your stolen moments, your sweet moments that no-one else got to see, hidden away in the Slytherin dormitories, curled up in his tiny four poster bed.

"Stay." He whispered a plea. You turned, looking at his face, placing a hand against his cheek.

"James will kill me if I don't give him his map back tonight. They have some prank planned."

You referred to your brother, a year ahead of the both of you in school. Though he was Head Boy, now, and dating Lily Evans, he still couldn't seem to resist his pranks.

"I better not wake up with red hair again." Regulus murmured against your hair, as messy as your brothers.

You giggled against his chest.

"You were a beautiful red head." You grinned, pushing yourself up into a sitting position, stretching with a yawn, grabbing the map and cloak you had discarded for Regulus' touch.

"Just stay for a while longer." He whispered. "I always sleep best when you're next to me."

He was only vulnerable to you, wearing cold, indifferent mask with everyone else. You occasionally wondered why that was, why he had chosen you of all people to love, when you were so close to the brother that he hated.

He told you that you brought out the good man in him.

You shot him a look, running your fingers through his soft hair, that always smelt faintly of the outdoors and slightly of sweat from hours spent flying around the Quidditch pitch. Regulus always craved to be something better, with everything that he did.

"James may be oblivious sometimes, but even he is going to realise that I'm not just studying after hours in the library soon enough." You grinned.

The relationship between Regulus and yourself had been kept strictly in secret for months, if not years. Sometimes, when you saw each other in the schools halls or the Great Hall, caught one another eyes, you wished that you could wrap your arms around his tired form, link your hands together.

That could never happen.

You were the epitome of everything he was supposed to hate, and he you. You weren't supposed to fall for a Slytherin, and you weren't supposed to fall for someone such as Regulus Black, who, everyone thought, was on the 'wrong path'. He certainly wasn't supposed to fall for a bloodtraitor, one in the family who had stolen away his brother to boot.

"One day, we won't have to sneak around." He spoke hopefully, a shine gleaming in his eyes as he thought of the future. "One day, everyone will know that you're mine."

The two of you liked to live in a world of imagination, of better times that you hoped would one day come. As the world around the two of you grew more unsettled every year, you couldn't see the vision as clearly anymore.

"We'll never have to leave each other. I'll never have to leave." You crooned at him, repeating the words you both knew so well.

His hands, larger than your own, cradled your face.

"Things will be different." He promised.

But he was Regulus Black. And you were you.

"And what of your family?" You spoke quietly, smiling disappearing into a small frown. "How could you tell them?"

He smiled his crooked smile.

"I'd do anything for you, Y/N Potter."

You let yourself smile again, at his proclamation, brushing your lips against his, letting the map fall from your fingers.

Your brother could wait for a little while longer.

For a time more, the two of you could live in your little fantasy.

--------------

His eyes had lost the glimmer in them that you were used to, as he gazed at you, emptily, helplessly. His arm was the only thing bridging the gap between the two of you, as you stood on opposite sides of the cold dungeon corridor.

His dark sleeve had been pulled back, exposing his pale forearm - and the marring that had occurred, the snake tattoo that stared up at you with almost a satisfied look in its eyes.

This is what you get when you play with fire, it seemed to say.

The dark ink and the weight it carried had seeped into your soul, as you stood in the dungeon corridor, staring at it. Your lips trembled, back pressed against the damp stone wall.

"Why?" Tears were welling in your eyes, though  they never left the poison engraved into his skin. "Oh Merlin, why?"

You were almost unconsciously moving away from him now, backing away like someone would do when confronted with a rabid animal. You hardly registered that you were shaking.

"Please, Y/N, don't..." His voice cracked, trailing of helplessly.

"Don't what, Reg? Don't leave? Do you expect me to just kiss it better for you, pretend everything is alright?"

Anger pulsed through your body, along with the ache of a shattering heart.

"You promised you'd never leave me. You fucking promised."

Veins stood out in his head, and his hair was wild and messy. He was not your Regulus, he was an empty shell.

You gazed at him, openly in disbelief.

"I never factored in that you would join the fucking Dark Lord!"

You screamed at him, revelling in the way your voice echoed in the dim corridor, as your sentence yelled at him again and again.

"I didn't mean..." He was whispering almost at himself, now. As if realising what he had done.

"Do you even care what that bastard man is doing? He is killing people like me, Regulus! Like me, and James, and Lily, and Sirius. He hates James and Lily's baby before it is even born because of its blood. Is that what you think like? Do you think of dirty blood?"

"Please-"

"What have you even become?" You looked at him in disgust, tears dripping off your cheeks. "You disgust me."

"Y/N, please-"

"No." You whispered, wiping at your face , at the tears, furiously. "Whatever this was, whatever we had - it's done. We're done."

"Y/N-"

"Goodbye, Regulus. I hope you can live with the decisions that you've made." You said coldly, turning on your heel.

That night, in the winter months of 1978, would be the last time you ever saw or heard of Regulus Black, for a long time, until you stared blankly down at the Daily Prophet.

Staring at an obituary.

Regulus Black never could learn to live with the decisions he made. And neither could you. 

[yellow-faerie]

An edit for Nibenaes or Legolas' sisters?

Ok so the Legolas' sisters edit rather got away with me so wait a hot second for that one to appear. But as I did want to keep you waiting, here's the Nibenaes edit (with a small ficlet attached :))

There is poison running through her blood: she thinks she can almost feel it.

Like drinking from a stream on a hot day, the wicked thing crawls through her veins, making its way from the wound in her stomach up to strange her heart and brain.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles around a thick tongue. "I said we would be married after the war."

Rochind is obviously trying not to cry as he gently brushes her hair from her face. "It is alright meleth-nin, this parting will not be forever."

It is difficult to move now but she finds the energy within her to press her cheek further into Rochind's comforting touch. He gently runs his thumb over her cheek.

"Sleep, find peace so that we might meet again and be married."

"Do you...promise?" she asks through the murkiness in her brain.

"Of course, of course I promise. Betrothed, I love you and I-" hus voice cracks- "I will always find you again."

+

"Through here," Déowine says as Haleth's daughter appears from the shadows of the village outskirts.

She smiles - she knew Déowine's mother, who was a member of Haleth's original honour guard - and takes entry to the long hut.

There are a few villagers milling around, tending the fire and cutting up food. Their conversation dies as she enters but it is replaced by a hacking cough as Haleth pushes herself up in her bed.

"Mother," she says and hurries forward to help her sit against her cushions properly. "You are ill, you shouldn't move-"

Haleth scowls. "Nonsense, I shall sit up and look my daughter in the eye when we talk."

"Of course Mother," she acquiesces and perches herself on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I am old, my daughter, I have not felt truly well for many winters. I do not believe that I shall make it through this one."

She knew that this waws coming - such was the fate of mortals - but it still hurts to hear it from her mother's lips. They have always had their differences, have never got on perfectly, but to lose her...

"Do not cry Haldis, for your tears could be put to better use."

Haleth is not a soft person and certainly not a soft mother, so Haldis wipes away her own tears and turns the conversation to the last harvest.

+

"Oi Fëanorian! Get out of our city!"

She stops in the middle of the street as a stone hits the back of her head. Canaer growls beside her but she grabs xem by xir arm and keeps xem close to her side as the elf behind her yells something else that's muffled by the crowd.

"Hey, you can't just let that go!"

"Yes, I can. It's not worth getting into a fight, they were drunk anyway."

"I'm telling Arasell."

"Sure, be my guest. She'll agree with me." She finally lets go of Canaer's arm, determining that they are far enough away that xe won't turn right around to punch a drunk, grieving elf in the face.

"They insulted your family, surely-"

She turns around sharply and the expression she is making is enough to cut Canaer short.

"Insults and honour and that sort of nonsense is what got them into this situation." She swallows, and turns back to the road. "In any case, I'm not considered part of the House of Fëanor anymore."

"Really?" Canaer asks, incredulity crereping into xir voice.

"Yes, now just...drop it. Please."

+

She doesn't like parties, for they're too loud and invoice to much small talk (which she hates) but thankfully her father is of the same mindset and so parties in Nenost are irregular.

"On your third glass of wine already?"

"Fuck off Nelladon."

Nelladon laughs. "Ooh irritable today Carnistiriel?"

She swigs the rest of her glass down. "I'm going to kill you."

He shoves his own, half finished beer into her other hand, and gives her a lopsided smile. "I'd better escape then, hadn't I? I think I see someone who needs a dance anyway."

He gives her a soft punch in the arm and disappears into the crowd again.

+

"Haldottir," she's called by the Haladin who march to the Nirnaeth Aroediad.

They ask if she's going to fight, where she's going to fight, and look at her expectantly.

She is very good at avoiding the question. Her father forbade her from fighting, after all: she is to stay at camp and help the healers prepare for injured or a retreat.

Whichever comes first.

"Haldottir," they call her and she hates it.

She tells Crinthammos as much and her father's hard lieutenant softens. "It is always difficult to step out from your parents' shadows, particularly when they are as great as yours."

"What can I do?" She asks, desperate for advice, and Crinthammos just smiles.

"Be yourself. That way people can only see you as you."

+

"You haven't torn your breeches again Attamíriel," her father says tiredly and Attamíriel gives him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, Atya, I didn't notice until we were off the old wall."

"You shouldn't be climbing there," he says, taking the torn clothing from her hands and examining the imperfection with his critical eye. "It's an abandoned outpost for a reason - half of it collapsed in on itself."

"We were careful!"

"Careful enough that you got your breeches torn." Caranthir sighs and pats the seat next to him. "Come on, you can tell me about your day while I fix this."

+

She's only called Dwarf Friend once, in their tongue which she doesn't repeat to outsiders.

It was Gerí who calls her it as she and Crinthammos come to see her and Nelladon off on a journey north to visit her uncles.

She takes her aside as Crinthammos helps Nelladon check the saddlebags are packed correctly.

"You are strong, daughter of Caranthir," Gerí says, taking her soft hands between her own calloused ones. "You are like your father, a Dwarf Friend, and so you must keep your head high and your sight clear. Do not fall for petty arguments."

She had laughed in the face of Gerí's seriousness. "Don't worry, we are visiting my family, we shan't be in danger."

"I do worry. You are going into a political viper nest."

"Then I shall be sure to bring anti-venom."

Gerí sighs, shaking her head affectionately. "Ah, you'll understand one day. Now go, or else you won't get to the first check point before dark."

+

The trumpets sound as she dismounts and hands the reigns to Rochind, who will undoubtedly be glad of the company of horses after that journey.

"The King's Squire," someone announces as she strides into the throne room.

She bows before the throne, ignores the stares and whispers as she always has, and addresses the king.

"Lord Celebrimbor is dead and Eregion has fallen."

Gil-Galad must have already known - or at least suspected - that this was the truth. He sinks back in his throne just a bit but keeps his face severely impassive as the room erupts in discussion.

Elrond, standing at the king's side, stares at her in shock and she tries not to think that he knows what she did.

That it was her knife-

"Thank you," Gil-Galad says once he's decided that the nobles have had enough time to digest the news. "Is there anything for this court?"

"No your Majesty."

"Then you are dismissed."

She bows and flees to find Rochind.

+

Nibenaes wakes up on soft grass and dandelions.

Míriel's cloak is wrapped around her shoulders and she's otherwise wearing the grey clothes off Mandos.

"Nibenaes!" Someone - Rochind - calls and Nibenaes has barely had time to sit up before their face is buried in the crook of her neck.

"You were right. Our parting wasn't forever."

"Oh you insufferable woman," Rochind says, crying a little bit, and he reaches up take Nibenaes' face in their hands and kiss her lips.

Nibenaes thinks it is wonderful to be alive.

Wonderful to be her.

[the-king-and-the-druidess]

THE NAME OF THE SEA

"Morgana, calm down. Calm down. Please."

Mordred was trying to soothe her another fit of anger. "You're wasting your strength instead of saving it," he urged her. "Words don't give you anything. Deeds matter." He understood it all too well in Camelot.

There were a lot of good words and so few deeds.

They were alone in the dim hall, except for a couple of silent Saxons on guard. Mordred was standing at the entrance, and Morgana was impatiently pacing the hall, her black train dragging on the floor. From her steps, the candle flames swayed from side to side. From her words, the soul of a weaker person would have disintegrated into a thousand ice fragments.

Morderd overheard her screams and exclamations, almost laments behind closed doors and could not help but come in, although it was painful for him to hear all this. Not because of Arthur or Emrys she was cursing, but because of Morgana herself. She hurt herself with it alone.

"That's right, Mordred. Deeds." She didn't remind him of his betrayal–she knew how to forgive if she wanted to. "Do you know how many years I have spent alone and in silence? And all because of them? Sometimes I just can't hold back anymore!.. And I do not understand why I should. It's stronger than me." Morgana turned sharply to him, studying the blank expression on his face. "If I'm so terrible, then leave." She sighed sharply. "I won't hold you back."

Morgana looked away, focusing on the dancing candle flame, waiting. Preparing.

Mordred tensed up. A painful pause.

And then he went to the big table in the center of the hall and sat down, pulling the maps of Camelot towards him.

He won't make that mistake again.

"Let's see where they can advance to attack?" Mordred suggested as if nothing had happened, trying to make his voice sound as usual.

Morgana, like her name, was like the sea–destructive and formidable in the season of storms, all-consuming; and calm and soft, embracing and enveloping you with its charm in calm days. You just have to wait it out.

Mordred himself has learned to endure anything. And Morgana's anger and darkness still could not darken the memory of the light that he loved in her. Maybe they made it even brighter. He felt pity for Morgana and it made him love her.

Morgana let out a silent sigh of relief. He didn't leave. They will be together until the end.

"Let's see," she even smiled at him and sat down next to him on the bench. The anger and uncertainty are gone. She knew that they would come back, but now she was calm, released and so tired.

The raven sitting on a perch by the throne cawed, as if approving of them, as if pleased that no one had gone anywhere.

Morgana put her ungloved hand on his hand.

"What do you think?" she asked, however, not looking at the map.

Mordred sighed inside himself. They were able to overcome this storm.

"It seems likely to me that they will choose this place in the mountains," he pointed his finger at the inscription "Camlann" in poison green ink, and then looked up at his lady. "We should take that advantage."

Her eyes were shining.

"You're so smart, my winter prince," she told him mentally. "I agree. We will move to Camlann."

Mordred smiled a little.

"Why do you call me that? You know perfectly well that I'm not a prince." He replied in her mind; their mental connection was something more than just a conversation, something closer.

"Who says you can't become one? I'm the queen and I can make you a prince. You're nobler than any of those bastards out there in the palaces." Morgana could turn even a compliment into a shadow.

In fact, she called Mordred that because his cold eyes, his calmness and restraint that alone could quell her flame reminded her of winter. And also because when he returned to her, it was winter.

Morderd stroked her palm with his thumb and said nothing.

She was so strange. And he's even stranger. What kept him by her side was more than just revenge–when Kara will be finally avenged, Mordred knew that this would not be the end, that he would not go away from Morgana. He would save she, as she had once saved him.

They came up with a plan and strategy together, believing with all their heart that Camelot would be defeated and it all would finally end.

Then they went to her bedroom to spend one of the last nights together, the witch and her outcast knight, before finally plunging into the sea of oblivion in a place they have chosen themselves.

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 15

The Darkling x reader

Time was in fact ticking and as minutes went on, your palms got sweatier and your heart never stopped thumping in your chest. Any minute now Aleksander could stroll into your chambers flanked by oprichniki and have you arrested. You had crossed the line and you acknowledged that but there was no other way to do it with him. He was never going to sit down and have a regular conversation with you where he detailed his plans out step by step, even if you said please and begged on your knees.

It was morning now and still no word from Aleksander. You had to return to your boring duties of reading trade agreements and approving Grisha posts at the war fronts, none of which passed the time any quicker. You skipped breakfast and threw on the first kefta that caught your eye, only making sure it wasn't black. A simple summoner blue, to reflect your sullen mood.

A knock on your door caught you by surprise but you opened it anyway to reveal your least favorite Heartrenderer sulking at your doorstep.

'Ivan'

'The General requests to see you'

'He sent his puppy to fetch me, how cute' You open the door wider to let yourself through letting a deep breath go in preparation. Ivan sent you a glare worth a thousand words, something along the lines of I hate you.

'Relax, I'm only jesting'

The walk to Aleksander's quarters was silent. Ivan wasn't the chatty type and even if he was, he probably wouldn't have much to say to you.

As you went to open the grand double doors, he caught your wrist tightly

'Don't lay a finger on him again, or I'll rip your heart from your chest' He warned. Either Aleksander tattled the events that took place yesterday or Ivan was eavesdropping, your gut told you it was the latter.

'I didn't take you as the type to disrespect your elders Ivan' You didn't care to return his tone of voice. He was simply Aleksander's lapdog, not somebody to be scared of or feared.

'Run along now' You dismissed him, watching as he huffed and turned down the hallway.

Aleksander sat at the same desk as yesterday except now he faced you. He was back to his normal self, void of emotion and collected in his embroidered black kefta. You sat down on a random chair, clearing your throat.

'Did you finally come to your senses?' You weren't here for pleasantries or to dance around the subject, you needed answers.

'Of sorts. Yes'

'Get to it then, you have a lot of explaining to do. And remember, I know when you're lying' You tapped the skin above your heart, indicating that he had no way out but to tell truth.

'Ask away.'

'How are you going to weaponize the Fold?'

'Alina. She can let us get through it, I can expand it into the borders.'

'How?'

'The stag. I'll use it to control her powers as well as amplify my own. She won't comply otherwise. ' He's going to use Merzost to control the Sun-Summoner.

'The King?'

'Gradually being poisoned by Ms.Safin. He'll take to being ill when the time comes.'

'You're not going to kill him?' To ascend the throne, the King needs to die.

'In time' You took a quick pause and let the information settle. You still needed to ask the most important question and you feared once he answered it, your heart would break in two.

'Alina.'

'Yes. Alina'

'Is it real?'

He took a sharp inhale and pondered for a quick second while you held yours.

'Not anymore.'

'Anymore?'

'Before you got here, perhaps there was something, But not now. I swear on the Saints. All she is is a key to more power. Everything we've ever wanted lies in our future if we play our cards right Y/N' You were sitting too far away from him, but his hands still itched to reach for yours.

'I'm suspecting there is a downside to all of this'

'I need her to trust me.'

'And the only way to do that is by loving her I assume' You hung your head low when he gave a small nod.

'I wish there was another way. She's young and blinded by her friend Mal to see what's truly happening'

'What if she finds out?'

'We'll cross that bridge when we get to it' He stood up from his seat and kneeled beside you, firmly holding your knees.

'You're not a loose cannon Y/N. I didn't want to tell you because if I told you about Alina, you would seek us out and watch. I don't want you to see me with her' You recognized that everything he said was true, his heart hadn't skipped a beat since you got here.

'I'm sorry for the other night, for what I said. I didn't mean it' Throughout your years with Aleksander, you had witnessed him apologize to you and every time he did, his eyes were the true apology. They reflected his whole soul, bared his deepest emotions to you, and begged for forgiveness with immense desperation in ways that his words couldn't. This was no exception.

'We all say things we don't mean in the heat of the moment' All it took was those simple words for his eyes to wash away the guilt and reappear filled with affection.

'Why didn't you tell me about Zoya?'

He sighed again, resting his forehead against your arm 'I don't know'

'Are you done with her?'

'She was just an outlet Y/N, I truly haven't loved anybody since you. You crowded my dreams and my daily thoughts, do you really think I could move on?' He gave a gentle laugh with an undertone of embarrassment at his inability to get over you.

'I'm flattered'

Although the areas of the future that involved Alina rubbed you the wrong way for many reasons, you were glad to finally know the things Aleksander kept from you. No doubt there were things you omitted that would come up in due time, but you had gone what caused you the most stress.

'Will you finally stop running away from me? I've barely had any time to enjoy your presence' His hand came up to your face, nudging a thin piece of hair away. You melted into his touch, grabbing him by the shoulders and embracing him tightly, forcing both of you to stand. He held you as close, if not tighter.

'I'll do anything you want me to if it means you trust me again' His words stuck in your mind as he spoke against your hair. Your statement must have cut him deep. It hurt you too, you loved this man, you've loved him for more than a century, and being scared to trust him dwindled your memory of him.

You were the first to pull away but only for a second as your lips crashed onto his. It wasn't rough or needy, it was sweet and reflected your love for him. It was the kind of kiss you imagined when you dreamed of him at your weakest; when your dreams were vivid and lucid in comparison to your feverish body as it lay on the brink of death.

'Have you eaten?' He asked as you wrapped your arms around him yet again, not ready to let go.

'Not yet, but give me a minute' You closed your eyes, reveling in his scent and warm touch.

At last, I finally got my hug.

***

It was later on in the day now, you had forced yourself away from Aleksander after breakfast and retreated into your chambers, sifting through documents and pointless papers. You barely read them as you signed away, doing the tedious work Aleksander passed onto you as he focused on the stag. You didn't know much about the animal and willingly chose to stay out of the affair, never really caring for the amplifier. For now, all that it entailed was chasing false leads and ending up at dead-ends. Not your cup of tea.

The Winter fete was coming up and much to your displeasure, you were asked to make sure the Sun-Summoner was up to scratch for her showcase. It was important she makes a good impression on the foreign ambassadors, Ravka needed stronger alliances now that Zlatan was claiming the West needed to break away. He was colluding with the druskelle to capture Grisha, and wherever your Grisha were concerned, you had to get involved.

You realized the measly reports of Alina's progress weren't enough and you had to go right to the source. There wasn't a single part of you that looked forward to stepping into that boiling hut and conversing with the rude woman, but work had to be done.

You took your time walking down, chatting to bystanding Grisha and trying to stall, you really weren't in the mood to be bullied. You didn't bother to knock, you just waltzed in and searched the dark for her hunched figure.

'You again' You could've sworn she appeared out of thin air as her voice carried disgust along the room, it usually did when it came to speaking to you but you stopped caring a long time ago.

'Why are you back, Witch'

With the track record Baghra had with you, the nickname never failed to fuel your temptation to throttle her.

---

Part 16

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1

[limetameta]

Feel like neither Riza nor Kimblee care very much about their sexuality label, they'd just go queer and be done with it.

Riza's definitely more introverted, but Kimblee's not a full on extrovert like Maes or Roy for example. But does Kimblee talk a lot and do people think he's an extrovert because he can't shut up? Yes.

OK so this competitive thing, I envisioned that in the relationship they're both very cooperative and they won't see each other's accomplishments as something to one up - because that can very easily become toxic. But I didn't put them all the way on cooperative because these lil bastards will and can make stupid bets and try and see who'll do better because both of them have this deep desire to be the best.

Lmao they avoid arguments because they actually practise open communication. If Riza Closed off Hawkeye doesn't want to talk about something Kimblee will leave her to settle, but he's not just going to start an argument over it. Like these are actually mature adults. No babies here. This isn't a teenage romance. Open communication and boundaries ahoy.

Feel like Riza cried one time after her mom died, her dad told her never to cry again, and she rly never did. Other than when it's a psychotic break, at which point honestly you can't help be cringe and cry then. Kimblee on the other hand is like toxic masculinity isn't going to wear me down if I see a cute kitten in the rain, Riza, I'm going to weep. That's it, that's the only time Kimblee cries other than when he's, also, going through a psychotic break. Because again, you can't not be cringe when you're going through one.

Solf Jopen communication i know what i want in life Kimblee can and will confess his feelings first without feeling cringe. Riza would rather eat her own foot. It's because of her daddy issues. They're crippling.

They're both pretty chill but also protective of each other, though Riza's got that additional everyone I love dies thing going on that she needs to work through so she might be a lil extra overprotective where she smothers Kimblee in blankets in winter time because he keeps constantly complaining about the cold. He doesn't mind. He would purr if he could. He loves being pampered.

Riza's like Ron Swanson, whenever Kimblee asks her anything about her childhood she just says: I know more than you. Riza, meanwhile, knows Kimblee's entire family tree since Kimblee volunteered the information because he was telling her a story and it seemed like relevant information (it wasn't).

Formal - suits. Casual - not dresses and suits. Riza's lounging in her pyjamas after 6pm and Kimblee's lounging in a suit after 6pm. They're on the same couch.

Riza's like a crow, she listens real close to what Kimblee's talking about and pinpoints a perfect gift to give him like a little crow that's begun pecking at his window to be let in, is let in, and attacks him. Kimblee on the other hand strikes me as an acts of service kind of guy. Sure, anyone can buy flowers - but can anyone go to the other side of town to get you your favourite cake, huh? Huh?

I didn't do the music one because a) what's heavy music?? this man listens to classical music and it goes fucking HARD AS FUCK verdi dies irae vibes but also classical music can be very gentle and lulling you know b) riza listens to jazz and we have the same fucking problem here because jazz goes either HARD or damn this is really relaxing

Kimblee has to do physical exercise because of his job and he treats it as such. He will laze. Meanwhile Riza whenever she lazes is plagued by the horrors she's committed and is like no, you know what, i'm going to go run. And Kimblee, in his fort of blankets, just squints at her and goes: why.

Riza cooks better than Kimblee because she used to have to cook as a kid. But again, she learned to cook as a kid and never really upgraded after that. So they're both fucked because they know how to cook just well enough so they don't die of food poisoning, but not well enough for it to be considered actually edible. Like soldier edible, yes. But not for civilians. Maes is perfectly okay with eating their cooking, but he'd rather die than feed anything they have to Elicia.

Riza is the more reserved one. But in private she likes affection, too. Though it can get a bit jarring for Kimblee that one moment his head's in her lap and she's running her fingers through his hair and then someone walks in and she's shoving him off of herself because ew pda. Like Riza please TT-TT

Solf always in control of my actions my life my alchemy my movements my job Kimblee wants to relinquish some of that control to someone else for a time you know. This man's a sub. Riza my life is spiralling and I can only find some peace of mind and control in having kinky sex Hawkeye needs a win. She is a domme. It works out. Safe sane and consensual in the bedroom if not on the field.

Riza's always hot. Kimblee can be cute, but he's just more hot.

Both of them are kinky. You'd be surprised but it's not Kimblee who comes up with half of the things they do. Riza's imagination is a terrifying thing. Kimblee's absolute disregard of his own safety is another matter entirely.

[lokisprettygirl]

Caution this may be unhealthily long.😋

How would he make her eat???? What other ways does he have??😏😏

The only person hotter than loki is loki in a suit (or nakey maybe) so her argument is just stupid and she's stupid. I have feeling she's slept with the guys Y/n slept with as she claims them "hotter than him"😒. Has she slept with Steve too??

I don't think she should've eaten pasta right after not eating for so long😥.

Sameera did him bad huh, did Thor do something in that area to make it worse??

They're being so cuteee. You can get me to love anything.🙃🙃

I have a poison bottle with Steve's name on it😌. How about you suck that face in before I punch it and push it in instead. Sick bastard.

Did she get herself attacked? Did Steve do it??Whatt is happening???? Ooh I'm invested now!!

And yes loki hug her. Hug all her problems away. It's so sweet it hurts 🥹.

Her mother just makes me think if loki didn't show up she'd probably have the same fate. I hate her father and yet somehow steve is still worse (I think).

Sad thing is that media thing is very accurate. Media treats celebrities like stories instead of people with feelings. Their misery is a way to make some extra bucks. And people call that having a work ethic in that business honestly it just lack of humanity when it comes to someone they assume is doing good.

Loki can do as much cooking as I can 😌. Boil water. They both do know what they're doing tho, right?

What did thor do with his wife this time!!??? I have a feeling again😅.

Wow Bucky has no personality of his own does he? Why does he love his job to this level? Does he not have enough brain cells for being able to find any other one ?🙂

They're getting some hand action in the car😏😏I love that he calls her darling now. The journey of ma'am to darling is just 🤯.

He's feeding her everyday 🥺. Every time he wants to keep his distant but can't is because he doesn't wanna be another man to hurt her. Was that line in BMUBMD too??

People like Katlyn are the reason people probably assume y/n is like that. Call her a slut, she probably is. (I hate that word but when it fits, it fits)

Now she wants to sleep with loki. Why am I not surprised, seriously what is wrong with people?

They're actually bullying her about being a chubby kid. That's healthy you sick fucks. I hate them sooo much.Imma kill her father too exsqueeze me.

They just give her loki😒. What is he another dress? Loki please say no to her advances somehow. Damn she's a bitch for no reason, isn't she?

How is a granola bar unhealthy 😑. They're dumb too.

Yes she shall eat atleast three meals a day. And maybe snacks sometimes. She's healthy and that's all that matters. Loki is an angel. So he should just take her out of this hellhole. Or I'll say the winter soldier words to bucky and make him kill everyone or these bitches. (Yes a very despicable thing to do but I'm mad) she's beautiful and she should feel like that.

Yay he's gonna protect her for the rest of her life. Look at him making plans with her forever 😁. You've got me hooked again.

I read it all in just a day. There is no patience in my personality. What am I gonna do now??😩😩

I tried to keep it short these are all the necessary points I had to say. And I wrote this in intervals so if any of it doesn't make sense pardon me.😅

I've yet to read the requests so I have that atleast. I had so much fun binge reading your stuff. I don't think I've ever read it in a binge before except when I was re-reading it but that's different. Your stories just hit different either way. But as a binge reader this was such a fun experience. I'm willing to wait just to have this again. Thank u this was loads of fun!! ❤

🧁

Ahhh I love this so much. And even if I try I won't be able to answer to every point 😭 but thank you so much I'm so glad you got to binge read and enjoyed💚

She probably couldn't have gone like this forever, arrival of Loki is breathing new life into her and he's trying to help her get back to living in a healthy manner. He hates watching her suffer like this.

I think he knows more about cooking but he didn't want to embarass her when she admitted that she couldn't even boil water 🤣

And yes that line was definitely in BMUBMD.

I also based reader's physicality on myself so it feels deeply personal to write this one.

Yesss Katlyn she's your typical bitch rich kid, that's how he assumed y/n to be when he met her but obviously that's not the case 👀

EVERYONE WANTS TO FUCK LOKI THAT SHOULDN'T BE SURPRISING 🤣🤣

Bucky gets paid well for all the venom he spews, he wants to be in Steve's good books and he knows Steve hates y/n so that makes him hate her.

Hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story.thank you 💚💚

[horrorslashergirl]

Kinky December Day 4: Fireplace Sex with Chromeskull

Authors Note: We spend the fourth day of this event with Chromeskull and it seems this Florida guy hates the cold. Let’s see how Jesse deals with it. I decided to introduce my home country in this piece and share a little of my country with you all. Greetings from Romania! I hope you all have a warm winter.

Chromeskull x Reader- Not the usual Florida heat

Winter was all about the coldness, the pure white snow that fell from the sky, fluffy coats that hugged your body and drinking hot beverages, but that wasn't the case in Florida. You weren't looking forward to decorating a palm tree for Christmas, so you suggested your lover spending this year Christmas in your home country, which he agreed, all for you.

You had to stifle the laugh the first time you got off the plane in Romania and the first cold air that hit your bodies; Jesse was a shivering mess, pulling the black coat closer to his body, the mist of cold air that escaped his mouth with each breath he took.

The whole ride to the cabin you rented for the holiday was spent with Jesse searching for warmness, his body flush against yours in the backseat and the constant signing about how cold it was and something about him freezing his balls.

After five hours of driving, you reached the cabin, Jesse entering the cabin first and setting your and his luggage on the wood floorboards. The cabin was still cold and he had a constant frown on his scarred face, half of which was covered by a scarf.

'It's freezing cold inside.' Jesse signed with shaky fingers and you rolled your eyes at his bickering.

"Of course it's cold. We have to start making the fire, big baby." You told him as you waltzed into the living room, pulling your scarf off and coat, stretching your arms above your head. The cabin was very cozy and it was so good to be finally back in Romania, Jesse on the other hand? Not that much.

There was also another problem, the lack of firewood and you knew that the next words that will leave your mouth will make Jesse want to go back to Florida with the next plane.

"You will have to go outside and get wood for the fire." you told him and he gave you a simple look that said 'Are you kidding me?'.

"The ax is outside on the front porch. Good luck, stud." You told him, hiding the smirk that formed on your face as you heard the front door open and shut with a bang.

Jesse was a southern guy in all ways possible, spending all his life in the Floridian heat, so being dragged into your country when the winter was in full blast wasn't exactly something he enjoyed, but you knew he was doing all this for you and that made you happy. Looking around you decided that you should start decorating the cabin and make it homely.

You were grinning in victory when you found the Christmas decorations in a closet; as you were putting the shiny globes on the empty Christmas tree in the living room you heard the front door open, something being dropped on the floor and the door closed with a bang. Peeking your head in the hallway, you saw some wood by the front entrance.

It was a silent request: Start making the fire while I get more wood so my dick won't be transformed into a popsicle.

You quickly started to make the fire in the living room by the fireplace, your eyes shining as the bright flames came alive, the warmness kissing your cold hands. 

After one more hour, you looked around the now Christmas decorated living-room; Christmas tree beautifully shining with lights and all kinds of decorations, the flames dancing in the fireplace. Next, it was the food; you skipped into the kitchen and mentally thanked your friend for taking their time to come and bring the food, the fridge full of all you needed to cook.

You decided to make something homely, something traditional. One of the Romanian dishes that best represent the Balkan influence is the popular sarmale, stuffed cabbage or vine leaves with a mix of rice, minced meat, onion, tomatoes, and herbs. A favorite for most Romanians, this dish is usually served with cream and polenta and is a sure presence on all Christmas tables across the country. You also grinned wickedly when you found a certain bottle in one of the cabinets in the kitchen. Traditional spirit with approx. 40% alcohol, made from the distillation of plums. Its stronger alternative is Palinca or Țuică, usually prepared in Northern Romania (Ardeal county), distilled twice and made from different sorts of fruits.

Jesse loved fine liquor, so the thought of him taking a sip of this would be interesting; it was a strong drink and the note on the bottle made you giggle.

'A little treat before having fun.'

Back on cooking, next, it was Cozonac, a kind of Stollen made from leavened dough, into which milk, eggs, sugar, butter, and other ingredients are mixed together before baking. You decided to make it with almonds. After putting it in the oven, you decided that the last on the list would be a traditional warm soup, knowing Jesse will need something to put the coldness away.

You started to make meatball soup, a traditional Romanian sour soup with said meatballs consisting of pork and rice. They are seasoned with parsley, lovage, salt, borş, and sour cream.

Whipping your hands you were looking proud at the table filled with the warm Romanian cuisine, and just like the time couldn't be more perfect, you heard the front door open, a gust of cold wind and snow coming into the hallway.

You walked there to see Jesse covered in snow and shaking like a Chihuahua, and you giggled, making your behemoth lover glare at you and you knew if you were a piggy the ax he was holding in his gloved hand would be impaled straight in the center of your forehead.

'I hate winter. I hate the snow. Romania is cruel.' he signed, pulling his snow-covered coat, scarf, and hat off. Your eyes noticed the pile of wood by the door and you smiled warmly at Jesse, walking towards him and resting your hands on his chest, nuzzling into his cold chest, the turtleneck he was sporting didn't help much to keep him warm.

"I cooked for us. It's all warm." you whispered into his chest, rubbing his sides to get the coldness away.

'Finally. I'm starving. Chopping piggies heads off is much funnier, than chopping wood.' he signed, following you into the kitchen and you rolled your eyes.

Typical Jesse.

Brown eye widened as you entered the kitchen with him, the smell of delicious food hitting his nose, it was much warmer here from the oven constantly working up from your cooking.

Filling two small glasses with , you offered him one and he looked at it suspiciously.

"I'm not gonna poison you, idiot." you told him with a smirk making him snort.

You both raised the small glasses in salute and drowned the drink; you were used to the strong alcohol, but Jesse? You laughed as you watched him cough, looking at you like you were crazy.

"Stronger than whiskey, huh?" you asked Jesse all smugly.

'It's very good, but....How do you Romanians live drinking it?' he signed, making you giggle.

'By the way. Drinking isn't supposed after eating?' he asked you and you shake your head.

"Not this one, baby. Normally, Țuică is only consumed before the meal." you explained then offered a seat for him at the table, first serving him the warm soup, which he eats eagerly, probably starved from all the wood chopping and cruel weather outside.

Cruel for him of course.

Next was the second dish, which he looked at with confusion.

"Go ahead, take a bite." you urged him, continuing to eat your own meal.

You were ready to get another portion of sarmale, but your eyes widened when you saw that the big bowl was empty. Looking at Jesse you saw him lean into the chair, a content look on his face, rubbing his stomach.

"You eat all of them." you said, almost dumbfounded.

'It was delicious, doll. How come you haven't cooked these meals for me before?' he asked, filling his glass with the traditional Romanian liquor that he seemed to get accustomed to.

"I didn't think you would like them that much." you whispered and he simply smirked, shrugging.

'So? What else you got for me?' he signed, ready to eat more.

"I didn't think I would have to feed a lion, but we still got some dessert." you told him, offering the plate of cozonac to him.

He took a small bite of the good and his brown eye lit up, getting the plate from your hands and eating all of the pieces. After he was done, he closed his eye and sighed silently, his stomach full and feeling like he was in heaven.

"Geez, all Americans are big gluttons?" you sassily asked with a raised eyebrow, amused to say the last, but also very proud of your cooking.

Jesse opened his eye and gave you a lop-sided smirk.

'Everything that you do is delicious, baby girl....Including your own little self.' he signed, licking his lips as he gave you a not very discreet look that made you blush.

"Well, I'm glad you aren't bickering about the cold anymore, but I have to wash the dishes." you told him, getting from the chair and walking to the sink, only for a pair of strong arms to wrap around your waist, pulling your body flush against Jesse.

"Jesse?" you called on to him, only feeling his lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, his face nuzzling into your hair, the embrace you were trapped tightening.

'I want more dessert.' he signed in front of you, turning you around and backing you into the living room, his eyes on the fireplace and he pulled away from you to put more logs to keep the cabin all warm and cozy.

'Come here, doll. Come to daddy.' he signed, beckoning you over to him, which you happily did.

You could never deny him anything, not Jesse. He did so many things for you, treating you like a princess, making sure you had no worries, that you were always smiling. Walking over to him, you pressed your lips against his, your hands moving up and down his chest, while his own were cupping your asscheeks through your black leggings.

Tongues rubbed against each other, loving how you both tasted, how delicious you were. Teeth nipped at his lower lip and he let out a silent growl that vibrated through your mouth. The next thing you knew, you found yourself on your back on the soft, fluffy rug in front of the fireplace with Jesse between your legs.

He looked down at you with a mischievous smirk.

'Since I'm a guest in Romania, I should get the full-on experience, sugartits.' he signed deviously and you chuckled, starting to kiss his neck, your hands moving under his black turtleneck and over his chest, your cold hands making him shiver and jump slightly.

'Fuck....You're so cold.' he signed, resting his forehead against yours as your thumb grazed one of his nipples.

"Mhmm....You know I have bad circulation. You weren't bickering about it back in Florida." you commented, making him snort, one of his hands moving under your leggings to pinch your buttcheek, a squeal leaving your lips.

He didn't waste another moment with signing, tugging on your sweatshirt off along with your leggings and socks, leaving you in only black matching lingerie.

"Hey....You're way too overdressed here." you whined, making Jesse chuckle silently against your collarbone, his hands moving behind you to unclasp your bra, nipples hardening as you felt the tickle of the flames kiss your skin which was so sensitive from all the teasing.

Your hands found the edge of Jesse's turtleneck and tugged it up, exposing inked skin, your fingers running over the intricate designs, admiring every detail that he had to offer.

"You're so handsome." you whispered; God, he loved you so much.

Jesse never thought that he would ever spend Christmas with a beloved one ever again, not with the face he had, but you proved him wrong and he felt like this was all a dream and he was afraid he was going to wake up. he couldn't bear the idea of losing you.

He has pulled away from the dark thoughts when you cupped his scarred cheek, looking up at him with a longing look on your face.

"Jesse.....mae love to me." you whispered, giving him an innocent look from under your eyelashes.

He felt all his restraints leave him; he couldn't control himself when you looked at him like that. Lips crashed into yours in a needy kiss, his hands working on his black cargo pants and socks, pulling every layer of clothing off. Finally, his hands tugged on the waistband of your panties, pulling the last piece of clothing that separated both of you.

You shivered when you felt his intimidating length brush against your inner thigh, his big hands cupping your ass, loving how small you were compared to him, all the power dynamic between you two was making all the blood rush straight to his cock.

"You're everything I've ever wanted," you whispered against his neck, your teeth grazing his Adam apple.

Jesse tightened his grip on your skin, brown gaze looking down at you and when you tightened your legs around his hips, pulling him closer, his cock flush against your already dripping pussy, he felt like he would almost come undone; the effects you were having on him were making him feel like a virgin teenager.

One hand moved between your legs, running his palm over your slit, his face into the crock of your neck inhaling in your sweet scent; you were just so perfect and when he guided his length inside you, he thought he died and went to heaven.

You were such an angel, an angel that decided to sin with the devil.

You were so warm and tight, gripping his length like a hot soft blanket, so wet and ready to be pounded into oblivion. He started with slow and long thrusts, savoring every inch of your walls.

"H-Harder, please...." you moaned out, your hands gripping his biceps, nails dragging over tattooed skin.

'Beg me...Beg me to fuck you, my queen.' he signed with shaky hands.

Your breathing picked up, gulping down, and wetting your lips with your tongue.

"Jesse...Please, fuck me harder. I need you so bad. I’m…so…dam…horny right now." you whined, inner walls clenching on him as he picked up his pace, not wasting any moment to bring you such satisfaction, knowing he was the only one able to make you beg, make you shake under him all helpless.

The sounds your pussy was making around his cock was music to his ears, feeling your juices coating his cock with every pull and push of his hips. He would have liked to tease you more, but he loosed his patience. He will have more time tomorrow to tease the hell out of you, but now? All he wanted was to fill you up until you will be dripping his cum until the next day.

Jesse wished he could have more control around you. Gripping your legs tightly he began to pound into you mercilessly, making your breasts move with each push against you; scarred lips pulled into a snarl as he felt the delicious knot in the pit of his stomach.

Oh so close, just a few more thrusts.

When you came hard on his cock, squirting over the rock-hard length he came undone, following in your climax. Your nails dragged down his back as you felt hot jets of cum coat your inside, milking him for all he was worth.

"Te iubesc atât de mult." you whispered in his ear, making his eye widen, your accent so sweet.

You thought him a few Romanian words so he knew exactly what you said, but it was the way you said it; so sincere and innocent.

'God, I love it when you talk Romanian.' he signed, nuzzling his face into your neck, layers of sweat coating your bodies as you snuggled into each other in front of the fire on the white fluffy rug.

"Mmmm Jesse.....Will you pull out?" you murmured into his chest as he laid you both on your sides.

'Later....You're so warm.' he signed, lips pressing against your forehead.

"You're such a child." you said, rolling your eyes, but your arms tightened around him.

Not even the big blizzard outside bothered Jesse anymore, not when he had your naked form in his arms.

'Will you make more of your traditional food?' Jesse asked, eye shining like a child's with enthusiasm.

"Mhmmm.....if you will take care of the firewood." you replied.

'Crap...'

END