#Sulfur baths

[mercless]

the nose shape... 🥰

[suetravelblog]

Tbilisi Thermal Sulfur Baths Georgia

[morningbloodystar]

they arent to hot right?

they're amaaaaaazzzzinnnngggg. my mou' fee's like - like - sulfu' ba'!

[switchelsweets]

Y’all aren’t having your characters write on one of these?

Are you the "I have strong feelings about parchment" Tumblr user? If not, I feel like I saw you might know who they are. I was going to put parchment in a fic, but then I was like "no, I can't do that without asking the Parchment Person first because I don't want to get it Wrong."

...no, but I know the post you're talking about, and I too have strong feelings about parchment, esp because I've worked on it before.

I took an illumination course while getting my illustration degree and did an "H.M." in the style of a medieval manuscript on a small piece of the stuff.

Parchment is not paper. It's cured calf or pig skin.

It's thick, and HARD like non-corrugated cardboard. If it's been stored in a roll, it does not want to unroll. If it's been stored flat, it does not want to roll. It's got the same texture as skin, because it IS skin, and you have to account for that while working on it. It smells like rawhide. It actually takes ink in a really interesting way- there's a half-second to blend of fix something before it actually sinks into the parchment, but it doesn't bleed once it's in there. It also never comes back out. It's not bright white like paper, almost a buff color, and white stands out on it.

Fascinating stuff. Actually pretty fun to work on, but it's definitely a medium for highly polished and important pieces (like illuminated manuscripts), not for casual note-taking (because it's MAD EXPENSIVE to make)

I should go hit up the local art stores and get different paper-and-other-art-media samples to demo for everyone for fanfic purposes because they are VERY different things that have different purposes, prices, origins, and societal connotations, all of which can be used in your writing.

[gonzodangerfeels]

Classflow presentation keeps going to the first slide.

[cauliflowercounty]

Knives Dance (Part I)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

After years of writing *literally nothing,* I never expected bald Austin Butler to inspire me again :)

Life does wonderful things sometimes.  Feyd Rautha is a fucking snack. And whoops it looks like I invented a planet and a culture :/

Summary: You're the daughter of the Duke of the House of Ronen, and your father and Vladimir Harkonnen have arranged a marriage between you and Feyd-Rautha to join your two houses.  When the House of Harkonnen pays a visit to your planet, Feyd discovers something unforeseen within himself during an assassination attempt…

Reader: she/her pronouns 

Warnings: innuendo/suggestive content, attempted assassination, blood, violence, multiple murders

Word Count: 4.2k

Part I | Part II | Part III

--

The hydraulics whirr as the black metal ramp of the Harkonnen vessel opens downward onto the stone landing pad on planet Youra and hits the ground with a low thunk. Feyd follows his uncle as he floats out of the vessel toward the doors of the Youran citadel, which is nestled in the center of a towering mountain covered in dense forest. Through the canopy, he sees the flickering lights from within the treehouses that adorn the forest cover. 

The fortress itself is bathed in a warm, yellow glow from the round floating lanterns that surround it.  As they hover, they seem to spiral upwards in a concentric spiral and extend their reach up into the night sky. A line of Youran soldiers flank the walkway, dressed in ceremonial garb of earthy, brown leathers with teal accents and intricate geometric patterns.  As the Harkonnens pass, the soldiers bow their heads to them, allowing the carved silver helmets to shine in the evening light. 

The environment here could not be further from that of Giedi Prime with its cold, industrial landscape devoid of color and the stench of sulfur and gas.  The jungle air here is saccharine and floral on Feyd’s tongue.  He feels the brush of the evening breeze flowing past him out toward the sea from the surrounding jungle. As he breathes in, he notices the richness of the air, imbued with the essence of all the flora that have made Youra a treasure trove for natural resources and experimental medicines, reminding him why he and his uncle have arrived on this planet.

The endeavor to secure spice on Arrakis had not gone as smoothly as the Harkonnens had hoped, especially with constant Fremen attacks sabotaging their forces and Rabban’s pitiful attempt at countermeasures. The current state of their operation and the number of soldiers they were losing daily called for acquiring a new tactical advantage.  As much as they hated to admit it, they would have been foolish not to seek one out. 

The advantage lay on Youra, the planet of island rainforests and the home of the minor House of Ronen, where an uncountable number of plant and animal species flourished, supplying the population with life-saving natural compounds the renowned scientists had been extracting from nature and developing for centuries.  Through this arranged marriage, the wealth of chemical knowledge and access to the raw materials would become House Harkonnen’s. Feyd could begin to taste his ascension to power. This was simply the next step necessary to turn the tides of this conflict on Arrakis, which would inevitably end in him assuming the title of Baron if not Emperor. 

With a low rumble, the double doors in front of Feyd open to reveal your father and yourself.  Laying eyes on you for the first time, Feyd stops in place, his heavy black boots almost stuck on the ground.  When the conversation of an arranged marriage came up with his uncle, he was beyond apathetic, knowing that this would be a political move in which he had no obligation to have any investment. The woman would become his wife only by title.  To his astonishment, he is entranced by your beauty, to the point of speechlessness. He almost completely ignores your father’s greeting and speech about the union of your two houses. You are radiant with your skin that glows in the light, unlike that of the Harkonnen women he is used to seeing. You look into his eyes, and he feels almost locked in, the rest of the world fading until all he sees is you. 

“Welcome to our home, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you say to him, not breaking eye contact from underneath your headdress. Your striking eyes bore deep into his soul. It’s almost as if they’re calling to him.  What’s most interesting to Feyd is that they don’t seem to contain a hint of fear or apprehension. He is used to making those around him crumple under the weight of their own terror with his mere presence so he can exploit those emotions and manipulate them as his own personal playthings.  In defiance of his reputation, you seem undeterred by him staring straight at you. As your eyes glimmer in the lamplight, he feels his breath almost catch as they taunt him, draw him. Snapping himself out of the trance, a smirk forms on his lips, remembering how his uncle taught him to behave. He forces himself to relish the thought of toying with your apparent resolve. 

As he looks down, he eyes your lavish, floor-length regalia. The same deep brown and teal that your father and the soldiers wear decorates the patterns on your cloak. He notices lines of gold thread woven into your hair, an appropriate show of the natural resources of your planet. 

Strange, he thinks. The cloak is rather large and heavy. Despite matching the designs of the other Youran garb, it seems out of place to be a traditional outfit for the aristocracy of a rainforest civilization where the warm and humid conditions should prove inhospitable for cloaks of this nature. 

The delicate, meek flower he was expecting to relish picking apart with ease you are not. He’s figured out you're a woman with something you’re intent on hiding from him.  You’ve put on this front either bravely or stupidly, and Feyd-Rautha will peel back every layer one calculated move at a time until you are finally entirely his.  

He steps forward and reaches down to take your hand in his. “My betrothed…” he whispers to you, his voice low and gravelly. “We finally meet, Little One. I must say you look exquisite. I expected nothing less.” He brings your fingers up to his lips and brushes his lips across them before pressing firm a kiss on the back of your hand  His uncle seems most disgusted by Feyd’s tenderness, but Feyd keeps his gaze on you through hooded eyes, knowing that the first move in any game is imperative to the success of his endeavor.  He sees yours flicker for a moment as your body tenses listening to his praise. He’s got you right where he wants you. 

–

Dinner is filled with monotonous diplomacy, tiresome pleasantries, and planning of the wedding to take place on Giedi Prime, but Feyd hasn’t let his attention break from you. It’s as if the kiss he planted on your hand was the catalyst for the first crack in the wall you’ve put up, and now he’s waiting for the perfect moment to make his next move.

All of dinner he’s watched as you attentively listened to his uncle and your father exchange words and eat your dinner. He hasn’t failed to notice how your eyes dart over to look at him through your lashes. With every gesture you make and every word you say, he feels unequivocally enraptured. As much as he’s tried to suppress his emotions and stay faithful to his uncle’s teachings, grounded in violence and viciousness, his mind starts to wander.

He wonders what must it be like to have your touch flutter across his chest when he watches you delicately grasp your water goblet.  When you fold your lips around your cup to drink, he imagines what they must feel like on his skin if you were to drag them down his neck tantalizingly slow. What if you were close enough to him to have your breath fan out across his skin as your lips caressed his? What must it be like to hold your softness in his hands? The very idea makes his breath hitch. 

Of the many thoughts he has as he watches you, many of them becoming increasingly lewd as dinner continues, one remains in his head: if he is this captured by just your face and gaze, basking in the light of what you’re concealing under your cloak, must be heaven adjacent. 

His desire to use you and leverage your own will against you is being chipped away little by little. Feyd’s hardened persona that his uncle helped construct is withering with every second he spends in your presence. The notion is nearly frightening to Feyd, but with every single glance and gesture, his heart, which may have turned to stone long ago, is beginning to accept it.  

Feyd rips his attention away from you as your father stands to thank the Harkonnens once again for coming. “I shall have my servants show you where you shall be staying,” your father announces as he rises from his seat. “I have arranged for our head researchers to show you what progress we have had in our synthetic undertakings as of late. I guarantee you will be very interested in what they have to offer.” 

As you stand, he notices how your hands pull together the front seam of your cloak, preventing it from opening. Curious.

You bid him goodnight and turn away to head to your quarters as a Youran servant beckons him to the guest wing.  That night, Feyd cannot rest as he lays awake in bed in the opulent guest suite, images of you running through his head, and he almost smiles thinking about when you say his name so sweetly.

 “Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.”

–

The next day, Feyd sees little of you.  In the morning, he makes his way to your quarters only to be informed by a servant at your door that you have already departed for the day.  When he asks where you have gone, the servant provides a murky response about your duties as Lady of the House and wedding preparations, which he as her betrothed would “surely understand.” Just as he decides he will find you himself, he is seized by his uncle as to meet the Youran ministers of culture, science, and development to learn about their acquisition.

Feyd cannot deny that your homeworld is impressive.  It’s steeped in centuries of exploration and inquiry with unmatched record-keeping of not only science but tradition, too. The ceilings are vaulted and adorned with gold. The walls of the citadel are covered in elaborate murals painted on with vibrant colors or carved into the surfaces. Some depict traditional folktales, gods, and ceremonies while those opposite them describe the evolutionary lines of species, a true testament to Youra’s modernity and dedication to preserving your peoples’ history in living memory.  If only he knew which mural decorates the wall concealing you. 

As the picture of your world’s history becomes clearer, the air of mystery surrounding you only grows. Not once has he heard talk of you after his interaction with that servant, but throughout the day he has sensed hushed whispers that are almost certainly about him instead. As he passes soldiers, some of them almost seem to leer at his presence.

 A few times, he thinks he can almost see the hem of your cape disappear around corners, but when he goes to investigate, there is nobody there.  The anger he expected to have inside him due to your avoidance is nowhere to be seen, and only a burning intrigue remains. 

“What a little enigma my wife is,” he thinks to himself when he enters the banquet hall for dinner as the last ray of sunlight fades from the windows as the sun dips below the horizon. 

Almost on cue, the doors to the hall open again and to his gratification, it is you.  He stands up from his seat and walks over to you. He cannot deny his own inclination when you smile at him softly, putting him at ease.  

“Good evening, Na-Baron,” you greet as he stops in front of you. Your dulcet tones go straight to his heart, causing it to skip a beat. “I hope I’ve not kept you waiting long.”

“Not at all.”  He takes your hands in his once again, running his thumb along the back of them and savoring the feeling of your soft skin. This time when his heart swells, he lets it happen, surrendering himself to your charm. “I would wait an eternity for you,” he says, realizing you enjoy it when he romances you.  

“You don’t strike me as a man who likes to be kept waiting,” you reply, looking up into his eyes. “I am surprised you are not frustrated with me.”

“I make exceptions,” he replies, noticing how your lips curl into a small smile. “… for when it truly matters.  Since you’ve been absent all day, tell me, Little One, what have you been doing while you were hiding from me all day?”

You let out a gentle exhale. “I assumed you might be curious about that,” you say to him, as you clasp his hands in yours, beginning to tug him backwards to the doors.  “Would you join me outside before we eat, Na-Baron?  I have something I want to show you that I’ve been working on in preparation for our marriage.”  

Allowing you to lead him, he follows you as you pull him through the halls of the fortress.  He senses the answers to the questions he’s been asking himself are within his grasp.  You both head outdoors and descend a grand staircase toward a courtyard nestled in the center of the fortress that overlooks the ocean that is now a murky midnight blue. 

The nighttime lanterns light the way once again, and you both continue into the courtyard which is unlike anything he’s ever seen before. The ground seems to be a single sheet of rust colored stone that is marbled with shards shimmery metals.  The slab has massive circles cut into it spaced in a perfect grid.  Inside the circle is a golden pool of luminescent water.  Tall, half moon shaped walls cradle each pool with glyphs and carvings etched into them. 

“What is this place?” he asks you, basking in the light emanating from all of the pools that surround the both of you as you continue down the center aisle.

“This is my favorite place in the castle,” you explain.  “It’s where we keep one of every species our researchers are currently studying. The rock wall above the pools describes each evolutionary line and the discoveries about it we’ve made. There’s one I want to show you if you would allow me.”

He nods as you bring him to a pool whose accompanying slab remains blank. Looking down into the water, he spots a single indigo fish with long, delicate fins that trail behind it in the water. He watches as it circles the pool. It slows and shudders momentarily. A single incandescent scale breaks off and floats to the bottom of the pool. You kneel to gather the scale from the bottom, holding it so that he can see how the light flickers off its surface.

“Does it intrigue you?” he hears you ask, and he nods in return as something he thought he lost long ago begins to emerge inside of him: his sense of wonder.

“I have never seen such a creature. Would you tell me about it?”

 “It would be my pleasure,” you grin. “This fish was discovered on an archipelago on the other side of the planet. I’ve been studying this fish with our most expert researchers. The pools it lives in almost disappear during the dry season, but we’ve found that they survive to the wet season because of their scales somehow.  My father doesn’t know any of this. He still thinks we know nothing of this creature.”

“It’s marvelous,” he whispers to you, eyeing the small bubbles floating to the top of the water from the fish’s gills. 

“I wanted to show you this fish because this is at the heart of our culture on Youra.  Our people are on a constant mission to learn and discover, so we can help and care for those we hold dearest.  With our marriage, the House of Harkonnen will be a part of that endeavor. I’m showing you this fish because when the fish shed their scales at the beginning of the wet season, they contain a high concentration of a novel compound that allows living things to retain water.”

He sees you fidget with your own hands as you explain. You’re nervous, he realizes. 

“We have been able to extract it from the scales they drop,” you say with a slight waiver in your voice. Here you are bearing your hard work and dedication, your soul to him. Your vulnerability is evident.  Before you were so confident with your gaze and now your eyes never stay on him for more than a fraction of a moment. If you were anyone else, he would have taken full advantage the opportunity to leverage your weakness, but he cannot bring himself to do so.  “This knowledge is my gift to you na-Baron. I have been aware of your endeavors on Arrakis. I realize you may not be as invested in this arrangement as we are, but I wanted to give you this to mark the beginning of what is to come… I don’t expect you to do anything in return. Only wanted to communicate my intentions.”

His heart quivers as his mind darts back to the countless times his uncle has “gifted” things to him as rewards for doing his bidding.  The concubines, armor, and weapons all fall to the wayside; now they’re all tainted in Feyd's mind by his uncle's conniving ways.  They were never gifts in earnest, always being transactional or part of another of his uncle’s Machiavellian schemes. Never in his life had he been given something so thoughtful, something intended to truly protect him. The previous notions he had before of possessing you are bitter on his tongue. Now, he could never and the shame he feels for maybe the first time in years begins to burn into his psyche. 

“Na-Baron,” you plead, bringing him out of his own thoughts.  “Say something, please.”

“Thank you,” he finally says, taking your hands in his and giving them a squeeze. “I am grateful for your generosity, my little flower.”

Your eyes well up with tears and you let out a relieved sigh before your emotions bubble out of you.  “You cannot fathom how happy I am to hear you say those words,” you say, bringing your hands to his again. “I was so worried about showing you this!”

Right when he opens his mouth to respond, his instincts as a warrior kick in as he hears the soft whistle of something flying through the air towards the both of you. In a flash, he’s grabbed you by your shoulder to force you to your knees as you let out a bewildered yelp.  The sound lights his veins on fire and fills him with rage.

Against the blank stone slab of the fish’s pool he sees it: a green splatter of a sinister substance that drips down the stone in long tendrils. Below, the shattered remains of a poisoned dart sinking into the water.  You’ve seen it, too. He swivels himself around in the direction the arrow came from. A hooded figure is emerging from behind another one of the stone walls, a serrated dagger in hand, poised to strike you down.  Feyd reprimands himself for leaving his weapons behind in his room in the name of diplomacy, but he’s prepared to fight empty handed to protect you and punish your assailant.

Before he realizes, you’ve shed your cloak, allowing it to drop to the floor behind you and Feyd can finally see what you’ve been hiding. You’re wearing a sage green dress with a bodice plated in iron that’s been secured to in place with intricate leather straps and golden loops that wrap deliciously around your figure. The symmetric slits in your dress that extend almost to your hips reveal your garters where two silver daggers that curve into formidable hooks are secured to your outer thighs.

As soon as he realizes you’re armed, you’ve already grasped the leather wrapped handles of your weapons and drawn them from your thighs with a flourish, launching yourself at your attacker. The ground reverberates with your power, and your blades ring out as they clash with your opponent’s. The man grunts upon impact and with a vigorous push, you knock his weapon upwards and away from you as you swipe at his face with the other hand. When he stumbles backwards, his face covering is swept to the side. 

“Ozran!” you growl as the man regains his composure. “What is the meaning of this? Traitor!”

“I could say the same for you, Lady Ronen, revealing our secrets to that Harkonnen!” Ozran snarls at you, his eyes wild as he begins swiping sloppily at your head, which you dodge with ease. Feyd knows the man is getting desperate. Ozran is quickly realizing running away would have been the best option after his poisoned arrow missed.

Ozran attempts to shake off his regret by hurling himself at you, trying to recover the situation now that he’s committed to one-on-one combat with you. “I will not stand by and have the rewards of our peoples’ work reaped by them.  Without a daughter to marry off, our intelligence will remain ours, and I will protect it to the end, even if that means killing you.”

Feyd hears you tisk at his pitiful attempt at your life as your heel makes contact with his nose.  Blood gushes from his nostrils and drips down his chin in thick droplets.  He staggers back and loses his footing as you drive your blades into him, your footsteps smearing his blood on the floor as you move.  Ozran’s hope drains from his eyes, and he coughs as you pull your knives back, his blood spilling onto the stone floor from the gaping hole in his body. He drops his weapon and it clatters on the ground beside him.

“Too bad you couldn’t get close enough to actually do any damage,” you say sweetly to him as he wheezes. “You were never a man worthy of battle. I’m surprised you even worked up the courage to merely attempt to kill me.”

“D-don’t worry, dear Lady,” he sneers as his knees hit the floor.  “There are more of us who don’t appreciate our leaders betraying our ideals. They will avenge me, and you will join me in death.”  With that, his body crumples in the pool of his own blood. Drawing his last breath, Feyd sees Ozran’s consciousness fade.  From the shadows and behind the other stone walls, he senses more figures lurking.

“Na-Baron!” you call, as you throw Feyd your second knife, which he catches with a flick of his wrist as you pick up Ozran’s weapon.  Your dagger is robust and extraordinarily crafted, truly a weapon worthy of your status Feyd thinks. With that, he joins you in battle when Ozran’s allies pounce, eager to avenge their fallen comrade. One by one, he cuts the treasonous soldiers down with you by his side, slashing their throats, stabbing them in their backs, hearing their bones break, and tendons tear.  It’s exhilarating, fighting not just for you, but with you in perfect synchronization.  

When the last one falls, their mangled bodies are piled around you.  He looks at you with complete admiration in his eyes.  Without a second thought, he pulls you close with desperation. Cradling your face in his free hand, he kisses you roughly and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, tasting the familiar tang of iron. As you kiss him back with a fervor that makes his senses sing, he uses his other arm to pull you close, if he’s worried that you will join the souls of the dead around you and leave this world, something he can’t bear to think of now.   

Reluctantly, you both break away from the kiss, resting your foreheads against one another.  Your breaths are thick and heaving.  You look down at his dominant hand, which still holds your second dagger.

“Are you going to kill me now, Na-Baron?” you ask as you look up at him, and he instinctively throws the knife away, letting it clatter on the floor. He shakes his head.

“I never anticipated my betrothed to have such prowess in battle,” he whispers lowly, returning his hand to your body.  He drags his fingers across the places where the straps of your dress make indentations in your skin, making you shiver at his touch. His grip on your waist tightens when he palms your supple skin. You hum a sigh of satisfaction that is almost music to Feyd’s ears, and he could listen to it all day.  “Watching you cut down each of them… What a lovely surprise it was… You are truly an unexpected paragon, my dear.”

“Unexpected…” you chuckle, blushing at his flattery. “May I ask another question of you?”

“Of course,” he replies, peering down at you with an ardent stare.

“Before coming here, were you aware there are many dangerous things in the rainforest, Na-Baron?” He nods. “Then why would you assume I am not one of them?”

“Clever girl,” he grins, pressing another kiss on your forehead. 

“From now on, my blades will fight for you, Feyd-Rautha.”

“And mine for you, my love,” he replies as he dips his lips back down to yours.  What a fool he was before, anticipating so little from his future wife. Now he knows better.  He realizes who you really are, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough.

--

Thank you for reading!

Knives Dance Part II OUT NOW!

Let me know if you want to be added to my Feyd tag list

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@austinbutlerslovers

[quack-quack-snacks]

Elephants In Love

Pairing(s): Inexperienced!reader x Inexperienced!Arisu Summary: This is basically a rewrite of Season two episode six, the elephant scene, except with the reader and smut. They’re both virgins and awkward as shit but they like each otherrrrrr Warnings: Fluffy fluff fluff, fingering, sex kinda in water (Don’t do that it’s kinda dangerous), unprotected sex (Def don’t do that, wrap it before you tap it), super soft fluffy sex. Word Count: 3,513

“Oh. My. God.”

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. 

“Arisu!” You called out to the boy. He was a ways away from you, checking out a puddle on the ground. He dipped his hand in but then flinched back. He faced you with wide eyes, realizing the same thing as you. “It’s a hot spring!” You exclaimed excitedly. “The water’s perfect over here! It’s hot but not burning, you know?”

He smiled at you sincerely, watching as you clenched your fists to resist the urge to jump up and down in joy. Although the smell of sulfur in the air made his nose twitch, he held back any complaints to not ruin your moment. “Really? Then let’s get in!” He prompted, running toward you and taking off the flannel over his undershirt. “When’s the last time we took a bath? We can’t pass this up!”

“You want to bathe together?” You questioned, looking away in embarrassment at the thought. 

“Huh? Oh,” he said quietly, realizing his words. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “How about I go over there,” you pointed to the part of the spring behind a rock. “And you can stay here?”

He nodded in agreement, a light hint of pink dusting his cheeks, covered just enough by the lack of light that you couldn’t see his visible embarrassment. 

Walking over to the rock, you took a glance back at Arisu but quickly looked away when you saw him taking off his shirt. You scolded yourself for having feelings for him, but it was just so easy. He was so easy to fall for, with his beautiful face, high cheekbones, and kissable lips. He was kind too; always sacrificing himself to help you and others. It was rare to see him so happy, so excited; it was beautiful and you cherished each moment he shared his happiness with you. 

You took off your clothes, setting them down on a piece of broken rubble near you for when you got out. Stepping into the water, you went slowly to adjust to the hot temperature until you finally settled down. You let yourself float on the water, soaking in the feeling of a bath after going so long without one and letting your head go under the water for a few moments before returning to the surface and smoothing your hand over your face to get rid of the water that collected there. 

You heard Arisu let out a pleased sigh. “I could die right now and I’d be happy.”

“Don’t go dying on me just yet, we still gotta get home so I can be your friend in the real world,” you demanded, half joking and half serious. 

He was silent for a moment before he replied. “Yeah, I’d like to be your… friend, too.”

You were about to reply when the strangest thing in front of you appeared. You let out a small sound of surprise. Arisu started calling your name, worry in his tone, but you just were unable to form any words. He appeared from behind the rubble and his eyes landed on the same thing that captured your attention. “That’s not possible,” he breathed out softly, stepping more towards you. “They can’t be real, can they?”

In front of you were two large elephants, their feet three feet deep in the water. You were absolutely mesmerized, so much so that you didn’t even realize how close he was to you and how naked your body was under the crystal-clear water. 

“They’re taking a bath too,” he said with a childlike wonder that was so precious. 

“I’m pretty sure there was an animal exhibit relatively close to here. Maybe they escaped there after everyone disappeared,” you theorized.

“If we hadn’t been brought here, we’d have never seen this,” he spoke again. The thought was both heartwarming and heartbreaking. You never wanted to be in the borderlands, you were just thrown in without any explanation. But if you never made it in, you would have never met Arisu. You would have never seen the elephants in front of you; never met the friends you made through the games. 

A sad smile made its way onto your face as you watched one of the elephants stick its trunk into the water. “Yeah,” you whispered.

“You know what’s kind of crazy?” He asked rhetorically. “I’m feeling emotional, and I’m not entirely sure why.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the exact same way. “Yeah, I feel it too.”

After a moment, you turned your head to look at Arisu only to find him already looking at you. The two of you stared at each other for a long moment, just basking in each other’s presence and the calm atmosphere. Your eyes began to travel down his face to his chest. Water droplets collected on his skin as he stood tall. The lower part of his body was covered by the water and the thought brought you out of your haze. You turned around quickly, pressing your hands to your cheeks to calm the heat collecting there at the expense of your embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry!” Arisu apologized from behind you. You could practically see the awkward position he was probably in at that moment. “I didn't see anything! Just elephants! I’m only looking at them,” he reassured. “I love elephants.”

At the end of his rant of an apology, you turned back around to face him. “Arisu,” you called. He stopped in his tracks as he was walking back to his designated bathing spot. “It’s okay,” you said shyly. “I- I didn’t mind,” you confessed, cursing yourself for the lack of confidence you had in the words. They were true, you genuinely didn’t mind, but it sounded so hesitant when it came out of your mouth. “You can stay.”

He turned around slowly, looking at you for confirmation which you nodded at. He then lowered himself into the water until it met his broad shoulders. You had a small smile on your face as you watched him. He was just so beautiful you couldn’t believe it. Even if nothing came out of this, you would be happy just to stay by his side as a friend. 

Arisu slowly walked up to you until barely two feet were separating the two of you. Your eyes locked and it was like the world stopped at that moment, just allowing the two of you time to look at each other without any interruptions.

That is until one of the elephants collected some water in its trunk and sprayed it over its head and back. The two of you looked over in awe, a breathy laugh leaving your lips as you unconsciously let your fingers skim against his. You didn’t even realize it until Arisu let out a soft gasp and looked down at your hands. You looked down as well but didn’t raise your gaze to meet his, too nervous to see what his expression would be. Instead, when you realized he didn’t pull away, you softly, with a barely-there touch, pressed your fingertips against his. Your lips formed a soft smile when he took the next step and interlocked your fingers. 

Finally looking up, his eyes, soft and adoring, stared back into yours. His smile mirrored your own: gentle, hesitant, hopeful. It was when his eyes drifted away from yours to look at your lips that you finally saw the signs in front of you. 

He liked you too. 

You’d had the thought of him returning your feelings fluttering through your mind on occasion, but you always pushed it away, thinking he was just being friendly. You should have just listened to Usagi, she always knew he liked you and encouraged you to confess your feelings. She was right, as usual.

You lifted your right hand to place it on his cheek, lightly brushing your thumb along the scar on his cheek. It was one he’d gotten during the whole fiasco during the Ten of Hearts game back at The Beach. You don’t like the memory that accompanies the wounded tissue on his face, but you always thought it was beautiful. 

He leaned his cheek more into your hold, letting out a deep sigh and briefly closing his eyes. When he opened them, he lifted his free hand hesitantly before placing his palm on the side of your neck, pulling you toward him ever so slightly. He gave you every opportunity to pull away but you didn’t want to. You just wanted him to close the distance between the two of you and kiss you. He stopped again when he was less than an inch away from your face, your lips brushing with each breath. Deciding to take it into your own hands despite your nerves, you pushed forward and pressed your lips against his in a soft kiss. It wasn’t a very long kiss but it felt like forever before you slowly disconnected yourselves. He didn’t let you stray far as he rested his forehead against yours with his eyes closed. 

He let out a quiet laugh. “I’ve been wanting to do that for months,” he confessed. 

You grinned, leaning back in to give him a short kiss and giggling when he tried to chase your lips as you pulled away. “Me too,” you admitted in a low voice. 

He gently disconnected your interlocked hands and you started to pull away, thinking the moment was over until he wrapped his - now free - hand around your waist. In a frantic and panicked attempt to stop you from pulling away, he pulled you toward him with a little too much force and your bare chest crashed against his. The hand that held his cheek fell to his shoulder while your other instinctively placed your palm just below his collarbone. His eyes were wide as he gazed into your surprised ones, his body stiff as a log when your breasts pressed against him under the water. The both of you stayed still, trying to figure out what to do in the unfamiliar territory. It wasn’t until you inched the hand on his shoulder to the back of his neck that you felt him relax, your own body relaxing as a result. 

You pulled him back in to connect your lips again, both of you feeling more confident with the situation. He gently started to lead you backwards until you met a large slab of slanted concrete that was halfway in the water. It was tilted just enough to make it so that you were still being caressed by the soft ripples of the water but you weren’t fully submerged as Arisu carefully lowered you onto it with a hand protecting your head. He pulled away from the kiss, looking to make sure each thing he did was wanted. 

It was.

You let a finger trace over his neck, smiling proudly when you felt the high speed of his pulse and the subtle shiver that ran down his spine. He watched you with such awe as your fingers skimmed up to his jaw, then his cheek, then his lips. You traced his bottom lip with your thumb, caressing the dimples caused by the smile he was shining down on you. Pulling him down, the two of you kissed again, though this time it seemed more heated; more passionate. His mouth found its way down your neck, leaving soft pecks against your skin until he reached just past your collarbone. He leaned back to look at you as if just realizing your position. 

With the placement of your body on the rock, the whole of your torso was out of the water and put on display for Arisu’s eyes to roam freely. He blushed when his gaze settled onto your breasts, still dripping from the water of the spring and with your nipples slowly becoming pebbled from the growing excitement in your core, but he wasn’t able to tear his eyes away. 

“Are you just going to look at me all day or are you going to do something?” You asked him. Your tone was teasing but he caught the slight vulnerability laced beneath the words. He noticed the way your fingers twitched as if wanting to reach up and cover yourself from his judgemental - or at least, in your mind - eyes. 

“You never told me you had a body built by the Gods,” he said genuinely, hesitantly tracing a hand down from your neck to your breast, going slowly in case you changed your mind. Your body continuously tensed up and relaxed in excitement as he skimmed his fingers over your right breast. You let out a soft whimper and saw his eyes dilate, lust filling them. He got more confident and wrapped his hand around your breast, squeezing gently. 

“Arisu,” you moaned out softly as you grabbed the hand not fondling your breast, and moved it down your body towards your core. “Please-.”

He watched in awe as you led his hand under the water to where your cunt was slightly distorted from the water but wet for other reasons. 

You moaned out and dropped your head back on the rock as his fingers swiped through your folds, bumping your clit each time he went up. 

“I’ve never done this before.”

Your head snapped back up to look at him as he nervously looked into your eyes. You could see the fear of judgment and insecurity in his gaze; you could also see the confusion when you smiled at him. 

“Me neither,” you whispered, bringing your free hand up to caress his cheek. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips before leaving a trail of kisses down your neck. 

“Do you want to?” He asked, being extra careful about making sure you wanted this.

“Arisu,” you deadpanned, but he quickly cut you off. 

“Ryōhei. Call me Ryōhei, please. If I’m going to be making love to you then I want you to call me Ryōhei,” he pleaded and you had no choice but to concede. 

“Okay, well, Ryōhei,” you started again and he let out a little moan of approval into your neck that made you blush. “We wouldn’t have gotten to this point if I didn’t want it,” you reassured and he raised his head to look at you. “I want you, I have since the day we met.”

He smiled at you before resting his head back into the crook of your neck. “Okay, then. Are you ready?” He asked as he lined his fingers up to the entrance of your core. 

You nodded and he gently latched his teeth onto your neck, making you gasp before he slowly entered his middle finger into your wet, warm cunt. The feeling was similar to what it felt like when you played with yourself but so much better. Ryōhei’s fingers were longer and hit places you could never find. He may have been inexperienced but he was obviously naturally skilled at it. 

He started to slowly pull it out before pushing it back in, rougher than gentle but not too rough. Your moans and whimpers encouraged him to continue and he did. He brought his thumb down to try and find your clit, finding it after a few seconds of effort. He was glad he at least knew a bit about the female body and how to properly please them (he partially had porn to thank for that). The choked moan you let out the moment he pressed his thumb to your bundle of nerves made him grin cockily into your neck. 

“That’s it,” he whispered against your skin and you breathed shakily. When he slowly pushed his ring finger into you alongside his middle finger, your legs, which had been wrapped around his waist for the majority of your activity, squeezed around him as your moans slowly got louder and your breathing picked up. You weren’t sure how he was able to make you reach the edge so quickly but you didn’t really care either. “I’ve got you, just let go,” he reassured you, pressing kisses along your neck and shoulder. It was the needed push for you to reach your high. He kept pumping, riding you through everything and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. 

Once you reached the end of your orgasm, Ryōhei slowly pulled his fingers out of your pussy and brought it over to massage your thigh as you breathed heavily. When you opened your eyes, you saw him looking at you with the most awestruck and lovesick look in his eyes, it built your confidence but also made you overly shy. You forced yourself to not look away from his intense gaze, staring straight back at him with a look that had Ryōhei grow harder than he already was. 

“Do you want to keep going?” He asked you, having brought both hands down to your thighs to massage them and love on them. Your heart clenched at his sweetness and you knew this was the boy you wanted to marry someday. 

“Please,” you answered in response with a nod. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a loving kiss. He smiled into the kiss and slowly started to readjust you so you were higher on the rock, your - still dripping - core now on full display for him to see. 

When he pulled away, he immediately lowered his gaze over your body and eventually to the pussy he would be inside in a few minutes. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful. How did I get so lucky?” He asked rhetorically before letting his right hand leave your left thigh to grab his erection and drag the head through your fold, circling your clit with it every time he passed over it. “Are you ready? I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he reassured. You looked down at where he was still dragging his penis over your cunt and realized just how big he was. 

And you meant it when you said it was big. 

Despite your nervousness about his size, you nodded and pulled him down so this time you were hiding your face in his neck. “I’m ready.”

As soon as you said that, he slowly began to enter his dick in you, going so slowly as to not hurt you. You whimpered at the stretch, the pain mixing with the slightest bit of pleasure. When his hips pushed flush against the backs of your thighs and ass, he stayed still, reaching a hand down to rub at your clit to help you adjust to the pain. It worked. The pain morphed into a dull ache and the pleasure started to take over. “Please,” you whined and squirmed just the tiniest bit against him. He got the message and slowly pulled out until only the tip remained, only to push it right back in again. He was so deep, you swore he hit your cervix. The pleasurable pain of the feeling made your head fall back and your legs squeeze around Ryōhei’s waist. He kept one of his hands to press against your hip and keep you in place while the other rubbed tight circles on your clit. 

It was such an intense feeling that you couldn’t believe it was actually happening. You were losing your virginity, but most importantly, making love to Arisu Ryōhei, the boy you’d been falling in love with since the day you met him in this dreadful world. You wished the moment would never end, but you knew it had to.

Especially since you could feel your orgasm coming up on you very quickly. 

Almost like the two of you were in sync or he was reading your mind, Ryōhei said, “I won’t be able to last much longer. Fuck, you’re so tight,” he moaned out. 

“Me too,” you whined, bringing him down to your level again so you could messily slam your lips against his. The kiss was little more than the two of you breathing heavily into each other’s mouths until you could feel the warm feeling of Ryōhei’s cum painting the inside of your walls. Him cumming triggered your own orgasm and the two of you moaned into your interlocked lips. 

He continued to thrust the two of you through your highs until he slowed to a stop and gathered you in his arms for a cuddle session. You laughed under your breath and wrapped your arms around his as well to return his affection. 

“I’m in love with you,” he confessed into your ear from where his head was resting against your temple. His lips traced against the shell of your ear as he spoke and it made a pleasurable shiver run down your spine. You smiled at his confession of love and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“I am so in love with you, Ryōhei.”

You were quietly grateful for those elephants because they ended up being the whole reason you and Ryōhei found your way to each other, this time as lovers instead of friends.

[undertheorangetree]

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter Three- The Coronation

Summary- The coronation has come about on an even day.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Incest. Mention of (dragon) depression. Bitchy Cregan Stark. Cunnilingus. Fingering. P in V sex. Descriptions of child sexual abuse. Aemond’s brothel trauma. Still angsty babes.

Author's Note- This chapter is a beast besties (10.3k😬) brace yourselves. Link to the full story belowwww

series masterlist

This high up, surrounded by nothing but the mist of the clouds and the frigid air, she feels as though she could go anywhere. It would be easy. One word and Silverwing would turn and fly across the Narrow Sea, deliver them both to the Free Cities. She could live well enough in Pentos or Myr, surviving off the good will of others and the menace that comes from her dragon. It would be an easy life, one that is becoming more and more appealing as the descent brings them lower, but she does not have Silverwing turn. Instead they continue their descent over Blackwater Bay, casting a dark shadow over the half repaired city below them before landing before the ruins of the Dragonpit.

It has yet to be touched since the storming of the pit, only the bodies having been cleared away, graves dug for the Dragonkeepers nearby. Being here makes her feel sick but it is the only place near enough to the Red Keep that can accommodate a safe landing. Even here though, it is difficult, Silverwing hovering in the air for a moment before finally managing to find a place clear enough of rubble to land comfortably.

Ser Willis Fell is waiting for them nearby, sitting proud atop his horse with the reins of another clutched in his fist. He inclines his head in greeting when she looks his way but she takes her time in dismounting. She stays in the saddle for a moment too long, only coming down when Silverwing lets out a mildly irritated huff, more than prepared to return to her nest after flying for so long. Though she loves to fly, she has noticed her dragon longing more and more for her nest these past few months. She has assumed that the loss of Vermithor, of her mate, has made her melancholy and she cannot find the heart to push her when she is so clearly devasted. They are two fragile beings now, broken and battered, and she can do nothing but pray that their bond will help get them through this.

Silverwing drops her head when she finally dismounts and she raises a hand to her muzzle, running it over warm dragonscale. Silverwing lets out another huff, bathing her in the smell of sulfur and ash with her breath and she lets her forehead rest on the dragon's nose for a moment. She breathes in the comforting smell of dragon, not quite ready to return to the Keep yet but knowing she has no choice, before stepping back with a nod. Though Silverwing hesitates for a moment, eventually she manages to depart, the beat of her wings sending the dust around them swirling.

With a haggard sigh, she turns on her heel and makes her way toward Ser Willis and the horses. They both balk somewhat when they smell the dragon on her, taking small steps back to distance themselves, but they are well trained enough not to run. Ser Willis dismounts at her approach, inclining his head, and she manages a small smile.

"Ser," she greets, acutely aware that this man was present on her wedding night, the memory forever lodged into her mind like an axe in a tree.

"Your grace. I trust you had a pleasant ride," he says, ever the picture of duty, one hand offered to her while the other holds the reins steady.

"I always do," she sighs, taking his hand and allowing him to aid her in mounting her horse.

She turns her chin up to watch Silverwing as she leaves, wings spread wide as she returns to the caves above the sea. Already there is a longing in her chest, wanting nothing more than to go with her, but instead she looks toward Ser Willis and offers him a nod, allowing him to lead the way back to the Keep.

With the coronation scheduled to happen the following afternoon, the main streets are far too chaotic to attempt to travel them. With so many lords and ladies still scheduled to arrive throughout the day, they are too crowded to so much as walk through, much less ride through on horseback or, Gods forbid, in a wheelhouse. Instead, Ser Willis takes them through the backroads, riding so close that their horses are all but pressed chest to flank. It is a poorer part of the city so she knows what he is expecting. For some cutthroat or beggar to come lunging from a dark corner in an attempt to slit her throat or steal his money purse, but other than a few bewildered stares followed by hasty bows, no one comes forward. She assumes they are all too busy watching the arriving lords, the current retinue making their way through the opposite street to so much fanfare she feels she may go deaf.

She looks over her shoulder to glance at Ser Willis, eyes still locked on the opposite street. "Who's arriving, do you know?"

He follows her gaze to stare through the awnings, squinting in an attempt to make out the heraldry. "House Karstark, I believe. No doubt Lord Stark is not far behind."

That gets her attention. She looks at Ser Willis for a moment, knowing her disbelief is palpable. Jace had written to her about Lord Cregan, every word filled with admiration and respect. He had gushed about how she must meet him, how after the war they would take their dragons and fly north so he may show her everything he had experienced there. He had raved about the weirwood forests, the Old Gods, the people who lived there. He had loved all of it but he had loved Cregan most of all. They had gotten on so well she had half the mind to believe they were brothers separated in the womb from the way he spoke of the young lord. When we go north together, he had said, you will see what kind of man he is. You will love him as I do.

She had wanted to meet him.

Jace had wanted her to meet him.

Read the rest here :)

Taglist- @ammo23 @bellstwd @kckt88 @aemondsbabygirl @shygardengalaxy @duds31 @at-a-rax-ia @ladymarg0t @queenofshinigamis @drakar-i @cl-0-vr @castellomargot @moonlightfoxx @ladybug0095 @marihoneywk @the-common-cowgirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @bunny24sstuff @helaenaluvr @toodlesxcuddles @eternally-passionate @herfantasyworldd @lokiofasgard12 @ashovertheriver @hypocritic-trash-baby @heavenly1927 @bunbunbl0gs @divxnee @hopebaker

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[chxrrywxvss]

Kurt Wagner X Demon Hunter!Reader

𝕆𝕗 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔹𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖

“I am a man of my word.”

Kurt Wagner x Afab!Reader Word Count: 2.7k A/N: Guys sorry it's out so late I lost motication for a while. Also sorry this is so rushed I'm trying to get my other asks out as fast as I can

Warnings: Maybe some suggestive stuff

NOT PROOFREAD.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting silvery beams across the deserted streets of New York. The night was alive with whispers, the kind that only this city could conjure. Somewhere in the depths of this urban labyrinth, you stalked the shadows, a demon hunter by trade, your instincts sharpened by years of relentless training.

You had heard rumors of a new player in town—the Nightcrawler, they called him. He was a creature of the dark, known for his uncanny ability to teleport through shadows, slipping away just as quickly as he appeared. Some said he was a menace; others claimed he was a misunderstood soul. Your job was to find him and get rid of him, as your employer had instructed, claiming he scared away the tourists. As you rounded a corner, the air shifted. A chill ran down your spine, and the familiar tingling sensation of being watched crept over you. You tightened your grip on your weapon—a sleek blade gleaming under the moonlight. The city felt different tonight—charged, electric, as if it sensed the impending encounter.

You stopped for a moment, tilting your head higher to sniff the air. While you probably fucking looked insane, it was a perk that came with your ability: you could track people.

When you tilted your head toward a church, your nose wrinkled as the awful smell of sulfur hit your sensitive nostrils. Bingo.

—-----------------------------------------------------

The heavy wooden doors creaked as you pushed them open, stepping into the cool embrace of the old church. The air was thick with the scent of incense and aged wood, the muted glow of candles flickering in the dim light. It was a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the city, a place where shadows danced along the stone walls and the silence whispered secrets. The smell of sulfur mingling with the scent of aged wood and incense invades your nostrils, making your eyes sting. “Fucking ich,” you muttere under your breath, moving forward.

You wandered through the rows of pews, your footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. The stained glass windows cast colorful patterns on the ground, depicting stories of old tales of battles fought and won. You paused before one, the image of a knight slaying a dragon. How original.

You moved quietly, your footsteps muffled by the thick carpet that lined the aisle. The church was empty, save for a few scattered pews and the grand altar at the far end, bathed in ethereal light. You paused, allowing yourself a moment to soak in the atmosphere, the sacredness of the space. It was a refuge, a sanctuary from the darkness that often threatened to overwhelm you.

But your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden chill that swept through the church. You instinctively reached for your weapon, the blade hidden in the thigh holster  beneath your coat. You turned slowly, scanning the shadows that clung to the corners, feeling the weight of unseen eyes upon you.

“Looking for something?” a voice called out, smooth and teasing, reverberating through the empty space. You noted the distinct German accent.

You spun around, heart racing. There he was—the Nightcrawler—leaning casually against a pillar, his frame silhouetted by the flickering light of the candle behind him. His eyes glinted mischievously, and a smirk played on his lips. “Or perhaps someone?” “Well, I’m certainly not here to pray.” You retorted, pulling your crossbow from your back. 

“Why do you hunt me?” he asked, his voice smooth and inquisitive. He leaned forward, and the shadows coiled around him, as if they were extensions of his very being.

“You know why,” you replied, keeping your stance firm. “You’ve been causing chaos in the city. People are scared, and I need to find out what you’re really after.”

A smirk danced across his lips. “And you think you can just chase me down in a church? You must know I’m not so easily caught.”

With that, he vanished into thin air, leaving only a swirl of darkness in his wake. You cursed under your breath. You had expected him to try to escape, but the way he moved was disorienting—almost surreal. But it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.

—-----------------------------------------------------

You focused on your senses, allowing the lingering scent of him to guide you. He was nearby; you could smell it. You sprinted toward the back of the church, where the air felt cooler, almost electric. As you reached a side door, it swung open, and he appeared again, this time further down a narrow corridor.

“Catch me if you can, liebling!” he taunted, darting away into the darkness beyond.

You chased after him, your heart racing. The narrow hallway twisted and turned, leading you deeper into the church’s catacombs. The air grew thick with the scent of earth and stone, mingled with the faintest trace of incense. You could hear him ahead, his footsteps light and quick.

“Why run?” you shouted, trying to keep your voice steady despite the excitement coursing through you. “I’m not here to kill you—yet.” That was a lie.

He laughed, a low, melodious sound that echoed back to you. “Oh, but you are a hunter, aren’t you? It’s in your nature to chase.”

You rounded a corner and skidded to a halt as he reappeared, blocking your path. The flickering light from the candles behind him cast an ethereal glow. “What’s the matter, hunter? Not so confident now?” he teased, stepping closer.

You could see the mischief in his eyes, but there was something else too—something that hinted at something deeper. “I’m not afraid of you,” you shot back, your voice firm. 

With a swift motion, you lunged, but he vanished once again, and you felt the rush of air as he reappeared behind you. You spun around just in time to see him darting down another passage. You followed him, determination burning in your chest.

The chase became a blur of shadows and movement, twisting through the darkened hallways of the church. You could feel the tension building, the thrill of the hunt fueling your resolve. Yet, with each turn, you caught glimpses of him—his laughter echoing, his form flickering in and out of the shadows.

Finally, you burst into a large chamber, the altar illuminated by a single beam of moonlight streaming through a cracked window. You landed on top of him, catching him by surprise. He ‘ported around the room ,taking you with him each time. The smell of sulfur is unbearable. Eventually, he teleported you both to the ground, you landing on top of him, blade to his throat.

“Is this where you kill me?” he asked, his voice low and breathless. Or do you have other plans, schöne Jägerin?” 

“Not yet,” you panted, trying to catch your breath. “This is where you explain yourself.”

“Explain?” He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what do you think I have to explain?”

“I’m tired of your games,” you replied, your frustration boiling beneath the surface. “I’m not here to kill you unless I have to. I need to know what you’re after.”

He studied you for a moment, his expression shifting from playful to contemplative. “Very well, hunter. I’ll hear you out. But first, you must promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?” you asked warily.

“Trust,” he said, stepping closer, his gaze piercing through the shadows. “Just for a moment.”

You hesitated, weighing your options. You had trained to be wary of creatures like him, but something in his demeanor intrigued you. Maybe it was the way he moved, or the way he spoke—there was a depth to him that you hadn’t expected.

“Fine,” you said finally. “I’ll hear you out. But know this: if I sense any deception, I won’t hesitate to end this.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, a hint of admiration in his eyes. “Let’s talk.”

—-----------------------------------------------------

“I’m listening,” you said, your voice steady.

“Do you know why I’ve been lurking in the shadows?” he began, his tone shifting to something more serious. “No, please enlighten me.” You narrowed your eyes, skepticism rising. “Because this is my home, too. And other people, they don’t understand that. They think of me as less than, as an animal to be exterminated..” He murmured, the corners of his lips pulling into a slight frown. It gave you pause. “So you haven’t been terrorizing the people?” You tilt your head, blade lifting an inch off his throat. “Precisely, mein freund! I am a man of God, and of my word.” He gave you a big toothy grin. Somehow you don't believe that, but you sigh and sheathe your knife again.

—-----------------------------------------------------

The church was thick with silence after your agreement, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved tension. You studied the Nightcrawler—his enigmatic presence both unsettling and oddly magnetic. He leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, a playful glint in his amber eyes.

“So, what’s your name, demon hunter?” he asked, breaking the silence. “Or should I just call you ‘hunter’? Oh, liebe has a nice ring to it.”

You replied with your name, trying to sound nonchalant. “And you’re not getting a nickname until I know more about you. You still haven’t told me your name. Your real one.”

He chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “Fair enough. Call me Kurt. It has a nice ring to it, nicht wahr?”

You raised an eyebrow, the corners of your lips threatening to curl into a smile. “Kurt, huh? That sounds almost… human.”

“Almost?” he countered, stepping closer, his shadow stretching toward you. “What gives you the impression I’m not?” He teased.

“Just a hunch,” you said, maintaining eye contact. “It could be the whole ‘vanishing into thin air’ thing. Or maybe it’s the blue skin.”

“I’d like to think you find me exceptionally charming, handsome, even.” He preened playfully.

You rolled your eyes, a smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. “Yes, you smell like sulfur. How charming.”

He feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. “Ah, the pain! Imagine being judged by your scent alone. I thought we were past that.”

“Past that?” you echoed, crossing your arms. “We just met! I have to judge you somehow. It’s in the job description.”

“True,” he admitted, his expression shifting to mock seriousness. “But I can assure you, I’m much more than my scent. I have layers.”

“Layers like an onion?” you shot back, unable to resist. “You know, onions make people cry.”

“Touché.” He grinned, the playful banter lighting up his features. “But I promise, I’m not that pungent. Think of me more like… a fine wine.”

“A fine wine?” You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re really reaching now. Do you come with a corkscrew?”

“Only for special occasions,” he winked, stepping closer. The playful banter was drawing you in, the tension between you both palpable. “So tell me, what’s a demon hunter like you doing in a place like this? Surely, you have more exciting places to be.”

“Exciting?” you repeated, rolling your eyes again. “You mean like battling creatures that want to eat my face?”

“Now that sounds thrilling!” he exclaimed, leaning forward with exaggerated enthusiasm. “You should try teleporting sometime. It’s a rush, I promise.”

“Right, because I’d love to disappear and reappear somewhere else without any control over where I end up,” you replied dryly. “I’ll stick to my grounded methods, thank you.”

“Suit yourself. But I can’t help but wonder how many times you’ve had to chase down targets like me. It must get boring after a while.”

“Boring?” you asked incredulously. “Have you ever stalked a demon through the underbelly of the city? It’s anything but boring. It’s exhausting, dangerous, and sometimes downright terrifying.”

“Ah, but think of the thrill! The chase! The adrenaline!” Kurt said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s almost romantic, wouldn’t you say?”

“Romantic?” you echoed, taken aback. “Chasing demons is romantic to you?”

“Why not? You’re pursuing a creature of the night, after all. There’s a certain… allure to it.” He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking, the air thickening with unspoken tension.

“Is that your idea of romance? Chasing down supernatural beings?” You challenged, heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite understand.

“Perhaps,” he said, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “But it’s the connection that matters. The thrill of the hunt, the unexpected encounters… It can lead to something more.”

“More?” you pressed, intrigued despite yourself. “Like what?”

“Like this,” he replied softly, leaning in just a fraction closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Like the chance to see past everything, find the truth beneath it all.”

You held his gaze, your heart pounding as the moment hung in the air between you. “And what truth would that be?”

“That we’re not so different, you and I.” His voice dropped to a whisper, pulling you in with an intensity that left you breathless.

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of confusion and curiosity. “You think we’re alike?”

“More than you know.” He smirked, tilting his head as if assessing you. “You’ve got that fire in you, that determination. It draws me in.”

“Is that your way of flirting?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “Because it’s working.”

“Good to know,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “Though I must admit, I’m not used to hunters being so receptive to my charms.”

“So you do this with every hunter, then?” You raise a brow.

He chuckled, heat rising in his cheeks. “N-No, that’s not what I meant… Not every hunter is as.. beautiful as you.”

Your pulse quickened, the air between you charged with an undeniable tension. “What do you want, Kurt?”

“I want to know you,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours, a sincerity in his voice that made your heart flutter. “I want this moment—whatever it is—to last a little longer.”

You swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat. The playful banter had shifted into something deeper, something that felt dangerously intimate. “And if I say yes?”

“Then we embrace the unknown together,” he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “And who knows where it might lead?”

You hesitated, caught between the thrill of the moment and the caution that had been ingrained in you as a hunter. But something about his presence felt different—inviting, even. “Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay?” he echoed, his expression lighting up with surprise and delight.

“Okay,” you confirmed, stepping closer. “But if this goes sideways, I’m out of here.”

“Deal.” He grinned, his playful demeanor returning. “But I promise you won’t regret it.”

As if drawn by an invisible force, you leaned in, closing the distance between you. His eyes darkened with intensity, and for a moment, the world outside faded away. Time stretched, and in that heartbeat, it was just the two of you, suspended in a bubble of electricity and possibility.

Then, without thinking, you closed the gap. Your lips met his in a gentle kiss, a spark igniting between you. It was tentative at first, a question hanging in the air, but as he responded, deepening the kiss, the playful tension transformed into something more passionate.

You melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body, the way he enveloped you in shadows and light. It was a kiss that held promise, filled with the thrill of the unknown, the taste of danger lingering on your lips.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, you could see the surprise mirrored in his expression. “Wow,” you breathed, your heart racing. “That was… unexpected.”

“Unexpected, but not unwelcome, mein herz” he replied, a smirk returning to his lips. “I must say, I didn’t anticipate that.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, a grin breaking through your surprise. “Though I can’t say I’m completely opposed to it.”

“Good,” he said, his tone teasing.

After a bout of silence, you clear your throat and step away from him. “Well, I-I should go.” You said, walking toward the church doors. You pause, looking back to where he stands, tail swishing behind him. “How do I know I’ll see you again?”

He grinned impishly. “I am a man of my word, schatz. You will see me again.”

[shmreduplication]

HAPPY MY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

Please try to have a few good moments for my birthday by:

listening to jazz at kcsm.org (and consider donating a little 🙏 [they're a local radio station to me and they also broadcast worldwide online, it's almost entirely listener-funded and they have some jazz history educational programming with the music, and the music sounds so nice with the lab machinery noises at my job])

watching some cute cat videos by heidiwranglescats (instagram link)(and consider donating a little 🙏 [she's my brother's friend and does cat TNR in Brooklyn and rescues the kittens and adopts them out. The videos of the kittens getting sulfur baths are my favorite because they don't know what's happening and then they're covered in yellow soup, it's adorable])

looking at baseball hats from a small artist on kickstarter (and consider purchasing 🙏 this one has a nice koi fish design as their next stretch goal link [i collect baseball hats and kickstarter has a lot that fit my design requirements of nice embroidery, no text, and something I'd actually wear and supporting one kickstarter will encourage other artists to also do baseball hat campaigns on kickstarter and then I'll get to support even more small artists worldwide by buying their hats!])

[suetravelblog]

Tbilisi Georgia

[girl-dot-tzt]

I typically would have a fun caption here but this is important, this is the picture that cracked my egg:

Fair warning this is a little heavy...

When I took this picture I had a full beard, I'd just gotten back from a "boys trip" and I was the most miserable I think I've ever been in my life. I wanted to be pretty, I desperately wanted to be pretty, but all I could feel was repulsion at myself.

It felt like the stench of the sulfuric acid and Quicklime baths from my job would never come out, my facial hair continued to thicken, I was 20 and I had given up. Resigned myself to the numbness of a comfortable factory job that I could feasibly support a wife and kids on. I didn't wince at my reflection, in my mind I was disgusting thoroughly, so seeing myself just made me feel a hollow confirmation. I figured I wouldn't be alive by the time I was 23 anyways, I had my chance to be pretty. Instead of taking it I spent my whole life wrestling and then working in a wire mill, of course I was disgusting. I didn't have any friends either, so nobody would really miss me either.

I limped my way through life, looking for hookups every now and then. Until eventually I got asked for a picture of myself.

I'd tried to take fem pictures of myself before to varying degrees of success, spent hours snapping hundreds of photos while contorting myself until eventually just giving up and trying not to cry.

But this cute trans girl i was talking to asked me for a picture, In I think a lazy last ditch effort to look pretty one more time I snapped this photo first take. No real effort or posing, I just laid on my back and took it.

I don't remember how long I cried after I took it, it must've been hours.

I'd thought pictures of me looked cool, I'd thought pictures of me were sentimental. But I'd never liked a picture of myself before, and I liked this one. I had curves, and a cute waist. And my skin looked soft, I didn't look like I was only capable of violence.

I, me, that thing I wear in the mirror has the capacity to be pretty. I stumbled my way to the bathroom and shaved off my beard, I was awake.

It was a long while until I realized I was happier as a girl, I went through a ton of different labels. But I was trying. I was awake.

I'm... still struggling, hrt isn't a magical "make you feel better" medication, and it's not fucking cheap. But God dammit I'm trying now, I have a life that I can envision. I have hopes and dreams and wants and things I want to do now, and It feels like I've finally reached the starting line.

Don't spend your life wondering what could've been.

[sashiavi]

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𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝙰𝚟𝚒'𝚜 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙺𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 2023

#7•𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝙳𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐•#7

𝙰𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒 𝙸𝚝𝚝𝚘 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ³ᵏ

Contrary to popular belief, Arataki Itto was actually a very clean man. He took pride in his appearance, always carrying a comb for his wicked, thick hair, just in case he needed to gussy up. His embellishments on his clothing were always polished and replaced if missing, not a stitch out of place. His large fangs were pearly and white, brushed thoroughly every morning and night, his form bent over a small sink with frothy toothpaste dribbling down his chin was a sight to behold. Itto's skin was (freakishly - in your opinion) clear - minus the stark red tattooing that painted his body. He claimed he had a 'Super Duper Top Secret Special Arataki The One And Onsen Enjoyer Itto' method to having immaculate skin. Not that you were particularly listening to him.

"Aren't you permanently prohibited from the Hot Springs in Inazuma City?" You quip at him. You weren't wrong, he was in fact banned. For life. Your boss seemed to terrorize the city in the most underwhelming fashion possible.

Somehow, you found yourself atop a high mountain, skin bit at sharply by the cold wind, you were surprised there wasn't any snow. You press on, nearly dragged by the aforementioned Oni, he insisted that he would graciously share his little secret with you. Through a set of thick bushes and trees you come across a small clearing, a steaming hot spring nestled by thick boulders and cliffs. The air was wet and humid, the water slightly clouded, but the scent of sulfur was welcomingly absent. Itto puffs his chest out, clearly proud of his little discovery, already showing you all of the 'cool and awesome features' it had to offer.

"This rock could totally be used as a cup holder!" He bouts. Did he even bring a cup?

Before you can even reply Itto was already working his clothes off, untangling the intricate buckles and straps adorned over his body. You're quick to look away, finding a sudden interest in a lavender melon, though, not before you catch a glimpse of his large naked form. You hear the water ripple softly as itto climbs into the spring, groaning out a long "Ahh" as he sinks into the steaming water. You glance back, his arms stretch over the slippery smooth stone behind him, resting his elbows on the lip of the pool. His thick, painted chest peaks above the murky water, large pecs rising with his deep breaths. Weirdly, he looked as though he were in his natural habitat, this large hulking creature resting, relaxed in his own personal bath. Itto definitely had an essence of dominance, as if he owned the place, he probably thought he did considering he had found it.

"C'mon! Are 'Ya comin' in or not?" He calls from his spot. Oh, right. You were here for a reason, to experience the spring he had gushed so highly about. The idea hadn't fully set into your brain, you didn't really have time to think of the logistics of the activity - to be naked with Itto; The boss of the Arataki Gang, the Gang you were very much apart of, therefore your boss. Naked, with your boss, practically sharing the same bath. Maybe it wasn't too late to take a leap off of a nearby cliffside. Did Itto experience embarrassment? You were starting to think he did not. You pressed your lips into a thin line, the water was clouded, if you kept your body submerged maybe he wouldn't see you.

"Can you look away?.. please?" You plead softly, the last thing you wanted to do right now was perform a strip tease for him. A strip tease? Why was that the first thought to pop into your head? Alright, maybe you have had the one off, maybe several, countless sleepless nights thinking about the large Oni. Archons, It wasn't your fault that he was beautiful. The man of the hour shrugs his shoulders, tilting his head back against the lip of the spring and shuts his eyes. You were doomed. The soft swell of his Adam's apple accentuated by his extended throat, his sharp jaw angled prettily under the tree's shade. Was he aware of just how handsome he was?

You blink away from him, carefully removing your clothing and folding them into a neat pile. The cool mountain wind makes your skin shiver, prickling with goosebumps, the steaming spring was looking especially tempting. You wrap your arms around your chest, ineffective against the breeze but still bringing you a slight comfort, at least some part of you was covered up. Tentatively, you dip your toe into the spring, the warm water swells under your touch. You carefully step in, bypassing the slippery stoned ledges naturally carved into the pool. Your arms stay around you as you sink into the pool, sitting directly across from Itto, a good few feet away.

Itto peaks an eye open, downturned from his position, he gives a cheeky smirk and lifts his head to face you. You sink further under the murky water, cheeks flushed from more than the steaming spring. Archons, could this be any more embarrassing?

"Why are you all the way over there? I don't bite!" It apparently could. Itto's voice was ever boisterous, you were sure he alone could cause an avalanche, maybe that was just what you needed. You'd never have to think about this situation ever again. Reluctantly, you cross the length of the hot spring, carefully making your way over to where the large Oni sat.

You weren't careful enough it seemed. You felt as though something brushed against your calf, slimey and thin like a tendril. Oh Gods, there was surely a flesh eating whopper flower about to pop up and snatch you for dinner. The thought is stupid but your brain wholeheartedly believed it for at least 0.2 seconds - So did your body. You jolt unexpectedly, yelping shortly as a little tendril of grass attacks you under the water's surface. Your foot slips on the slick rocks beneath you, launching you straight into the unsuspecting Oni.

If you weren't already embarrassed (you were), you sure as hell were now. Could the Abyss just open up and swallow you whole? Please? Your body was frozen in place, your soft tits pressed into the Oni's hot skin of his chest. Your hands brace his large shoulders, your finger's barely wrapping around the swell of him. Your legs were stuck, straddling the thick quad muscle of his thigh, flexed hard due to the startle of you slipping on to him. Archons, Itto was handsome, never have you seen his face so close before, his strong, pretty nose, sharp brow and jaw, soft, parted lips. He looked stunned, crimson eyes wide, tongue poking behind his thick canines.

Everything about your current situation was warm. The warm steaming water, the hot press of his skin, his warm breath on your lips, sweet and strawberry scented. His tongue wets his bottom lip, stained red from one of the many lollipops he'd nursed on during the hike up to the spring. Your eyes dart to his mouth and back at his face, he follows suit, swallowing thickly as he inches ever so slightly towards your lips. You're not sure who closes the gap, but your lips end up on his, slow and tender. He breathes you in, his broad nose knocks into your own as he tilts his head. Your tongues collide, slipping and rubbing against each other, as sweet as candy. Your tongue swirls against his, lips open and pressed together, drinking up each other's soft moans. Slowly you pull away, only just, hot spit connects your mouths together, barely getting a chance to snap before you dive back in. His thick canines carefully bite at your lips, irritating them deliciously, making them ache and swell.

Your hips move on their own, grinding your achey cunt on his thigh. Itto's breath catches in his throat, growling lowly on your tongue. A large palm squeezes at your hip, slowly guiding you in his lap. You moan sweetly into his mouth, chest rising heatedly, a soft pressing ache blooms in your clit as you squirm on his thigh. The water below dribbles from your palms as you slide them from his chest to his neck, wrapping your arms snuggly around his shoulders. You card your wet fingers through his hair from the nape of his neck, tangling the strands with the moisture on your hands. You feel his unoccupied hand slide down your front, over your bellow and towards your navel. He thumbs at your clit, rubbing slow circles over your achey bud.

"I-Itto!" You wine into his mouth. He mutes your cries with a harsh press of his lips, Archon's he couldn't get them off of you. He drinks in every little noise you make, swallowing them up with his tongue. The pads of his fingers press elsewhere, dipping ever so carefully into your hot cunt. You sigh as he slips his thick middle finger into you, tugging at the hair growing from the nape of his neck. His finger teases you, fucking into you with quick short curls before slowing down, pressing his thumb to your clit. His pace alternates, always surprising you, earning him the sweetest whines to eat up. A second finger joins, nestling into your pussy, rubbing at the sweet little spot inside of you. You can't help but grind into them, wiggling your hips down on his yummy fingers.

The thick length of his cock presses into your soft tummy, his fat velvety head rubs against your sternum. Archons he was huge, the thought of his cock splitting you open makes your pussy ache on his huge fingers. Your hand comes down to cup his fat cockhead, carefully rubbing up and down. You thumb at his slit, teasing and hot, it was his turn to whine into your lips. Your cunt clenches on his fingers, begging for something longer, thicker.

"Gods… Can I sit on it?" You whine into his mouth, biting against his plump bottom lip. You're fairly certain his mind short circuits, his very last brain cell is fried. His lips part with a soft moan, his cock twitches hard on your front, clearly he's entertaining the thought. His fingers curl hard in your sweet pussy, fucking you fevourishly. Your head tilts back with a short hiccup and he kisses across your cheek, warm lips land behind your ear. He nibbles softly at your skin, big teeth pressing so sweetly into your neck.

"If you can take me, Doll~" His voice is low and cheeky, Archons you've never heard him like this. You squeeze at his thick cock to prove yourself, flicking your wrist in just the right way. Itto moans a laugh, capturing your lips in a quick, searing kiss. You move to straddle his lap, legs already aching from just how big his body was. You rub your sweet pussy on his cock, catching his thick head on your achey hole. He groans as his fat cockhead slips through your folds, slick from the warm water and your own creamy arousal. Gods you must be dripping if he can still feel it.

"..Want you…" You keen, chest heaving, pretty tits pressing into his chest with every hot breath. Itto nods, his brows pitched up, eyes foggy and glossy. He wanted you too. You guide his fat head to your achey little hole, wiggling your hips over his cock as it nestles into your little pussy. His large palms brace on your hips as you *slowly* sink your cunny down on his length. Your pussy was somehow hotter than the steaming spring around you, creamy and tight and just so right for him. His cock stretches you nicely, stinging in the best kind of way. His length was never ending, sinking into you forever it seemed, Gods you swore you could feel him in your throat. Was this what heaven was? You were willing to sin again and again if this was your destiny.

"Take it all.. Yeah, yeah, lookin' so good in my lap-" Itto babbles. Gods he was so vocal - And you loved it. Your pussy kisses at the base of his cock, clenching sweetly on his thick length, squeezing lovingly. Itto continues to babble sweet praises, lips pressing into your neck and shoulder with every few words. His palms caress over your skin, settling on your plump ass cheeks, squishing the flesh with his fingers. He gently pulls you forward, rocking your hips on his cock, nestled so deeply inside of your cunt. It was your turn to whine, stringing sweet pet names into his ear, praising him for filling you so well.

You take initiative, carefully lifting your hips in his lap, dragging his length out of your warm cunt before dropping back down with haste. The sweet press against your cervix makes you cry out, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck. You continue, fucking his fat cock with slow thrusts, relishing the thick stretch of your walls. It was slow, it was intense, and you never wanted it to end. Ittos breaths are heavy, laced with a soft pitch of his voice, his chest heaves against yours with his breathy pants. He has to resist fucking his length into you from below, resist grabbing your smaller form and having his way with you. His hips crane into yours accidentally, pushing his cock head well beyond where you thought was physically possible. You moan from your throat, whiney and high pitched.

"F-Fuck- 'm sorry Doll" He moans pathetically, soothing his hands over your behind. You shake your head, pressing your teeth into your bottom lip.

"No.. not sorry- Fuck me~" You keen. Your legs ached, the water's resistance did a number on your thighs. Itto's jaw drops and his eyes roll, Gods you were insatiable. He snaps his mouth shut with a click of his teeth. He squeezes your ass, fucking his hips up into your gushy pussy, relishing in the soft squeeze it gives his cock. He starts out slow, tentative, testing the limit of your creamy cunt, pressing his tip hotly into your aching walls. The hot water ripples around you, lapping in waves against the edge of the pool. You wiggle and squirm in his hold, trying to grind your sweet cunny down on him faster. He nips at your bottom lip, spreading your ass cheeks and bottoming out hard in your pussy. He relishes in the loud cry you give him, grinning dopily before he picks up his pace.

He thrusts up harshly, his fat cock fucks into your soft pussy over and over. He bounces you on his cock, the water of the pool splashes and laps at the slippery rock edges. Your pretty tits rub at his chest, sweet and bouncy, standing out insatiably against the red tattoos he adorns on his skin. Gods he was strong, battling the thick resistance of the water with his hips and forearms just to fuck you. Your puffy clit grinds into his navel, sending the sweetest ache into your cunny. You string a sweet babble of his name;

"Itto~ Itto! 's good Itto!" You hiccup, fucked stupid in his lap.

"Such a pretty girl~ P-Pussy's made for me~!" He babbles back. Archons he was drunk on your cunt, he couldn't get enough of you. He certainly wasn't letting you go after this.

"..'M close~ Itto- I-Itto 'tto~" You cry, breath caught in your chest, clit aching, pussy clenching over his fat cock. The water was hot, he was hot, your cunny aches and burns as he fucks you. A pretty little line of drool dribbles from your lips, Itto is quick to lick it up, shoving his tongue into your mouth. Your pussy clenches on him, your hips grind into his groin, your puffy clit aches and stings in the best way possible.

"..'M cumming- Ittoittoi-itto! Cummin-!" You squeal into his mouth, humping his fat cock into your cunny, somehow matching his impossible pace. Your pussy clenches his thick cock with your orgasm, squeezing his aching length so sweetly. Your lips kiss at his sloppily, hiccuping sweetly as you ride your high on his cock. Your orgasm spurs him on, fucking you with long, slow thrusts, bullying your cervix with his fat tip. He pressed in deep, groaning on your tongue, whispering sweet praises as he rides out your cunny. His fat cock shoots the thickest, creamiest ropes into your pussy, pulsing hotly with every spurt of his load.

When all is said and done, Itto runs his hands over your back, soothing your sweet hiccuping form. He kisses into your hair, giggling dopily, hugging your smaller frame and sinking further into the warm, steaming pool. You hum into his neck, nosing at his wet skin.

"My legs hurt" You snicker from your nose, lifting your head to place a firm kiss on his lips. He soothes his palms over your thighs, carefully lifting you, cradling you in his arms like a princess. Your head tucks against his chest, fingertips tracing over the thick red lines on his skin. Everything was warm, the steaming spring, Itto's skin, your heart. You relax into him, maybe coming along was a good idea.

You dread the trek down, maybe you can convince Itto to carry you. He huffs a short laugh and kisses your forehead. You hum, you don't think he'll need much convincing.

This... This was three thousand words I am so sorry

I just- I just think he's really really neat *sob*

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Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always Appreciated! Ily ♡

♡KinkTober Taglist♡

@heath-sama @yejiswifex @hunnibunnix @bleh09 @madsw9 @py-schi @wizzardcatwithastick @shiningpaint-marbleheart @cherrytomato2 @i-am-silver @your-tears-taste-sweeter @kqzutcra @themusingsofmany @kaijubxnny

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

[leathfaic]

Ghost is a man who never needed to do much to draw attention when he goes clubbing. His impressive frame ensures he gets plenty of attention. That natural air of authority honed over years as a commanding officer ensuring he has his space if he wants it, unwanted approaches stopped before they even begin.

Still lots of eyes stick to him casually leaning against the bar. Always had an easy pick of those brave enough to approach him. Even before the scars in his face he attracted a certain type, the twinks that wanted to be thrown around, bears wanting to play with someone in their own weight class they weren't sure they could out-wrestle and everyone in between who just likes tall, strong blondes. Ever since the scars that has only intensified, might be that he loses out on some vain types, but the daredevils flock to him even more now.

So really he can't complain. He's not the biggest fan of the places, avoids scrungy punky ones altogether for very personal reasons, but they serve their purpose. Finding a quick lay mostly. Sometimes just enjoying a space where he's not the only gay man for miles and miles.

When he starts to go clubs with Soap though, it becomes a very different experience.

First of all he's not looking to take anyone home or to a convenient dark corner.

No, he's here because Johnny likes dancing and what Johnny wants he usually gets. Simon could never deny him anything.

So there is no one Ghost is looking at but Soap. And bloody fucking hell it is worth looking.

Johnny's easy confidence bleeds off of him and mixed with his natural charm he commands the entire rooms attention. His body helps, sure, sculpted muscles barely hidden by a mesh shirt and jeans so tight there's nothing left to the imagination, but there's plenty of good looking men around.

None of them carry themselves like Soap does though.

He watches as Soap enters the dance floor, seeming to melt into the beat. Dancing as effortlessly as he cleans an entire building of hostiles. A fucking vision in strobing lights as he let's the rhythm dictate his movements. Wide fucking smile painted on his face.

People flock to him, wind themselves around him in more or less proficient dance moves, probably hoping to leave an impression over the gaggle of obvious suitors.

Soap toys with them, dancing with those he finds entertaining, neatly sidestepping those he doesn't. Bathing in the attention of wandering hands and lips.

Ghost wonders if they can feel how dangerous of a man he really is. If they can smell the slight hint of sulfur from the demolitions workshop he's been crammed in all day. If they can see the edge in his eyes, that predatory glint of a man trained to kill walking through a crowd of unaware civilians.

Most probably can't.

Some who can probably find it exciting.

In the end none of it matters anyways.

Because it is Ghost's gaze that Johnny seeks when another man winds around him, littering his neck with kisses. And it's on Ghost's wordless command that he abandons the crowd of hopefuls. Meandering over to him, well aware of all the looks following him as he sprawls himself in Simon's lap unabashedly.

It's a unique rush of power having the man they all want at his beck and call. To take a sip of whisky and shamelessly kiss it into his mouth. Making sure just a little spills over painting a golden line for him to lick up.

Keeping his eyes on the crowd and bathing in their envy, their hunger and their shock.

He indulges for a few minutes, let's Soap shower him in affection while keeping him and the room in check with his dominance over the situation.

It's a game they both know Ghost will lose down the line, will drag Soap out of the club like his life depends on it. Maybe throw him over his shoulder just to make a point.

But not yet. Now he makes sure Soap drinks some water and sends him off again with a well aimed slap to his arse.

And Johnny smiles bright and wide. Drifting into the crowd, the crowd that is apprehensive at first but before long they can't help themselves. There's some wary glances shot at Simon, but his ongoing indifference seems to embolden them. Crowding Soap like moths would a light.

And Ghost finds himself suddenly enjoying clubs a whole lot more. Revelling in Soap's obvious bliss and the knowledge that the man who drives the whole dance floor senseless will follow him in the blink of an eye.

Let them get their hopes up, he's got nothing to fear, to be jealous over because he knows the only thing that matters:

Soap commands the whole room without even trying, but Ghost is the only one who commands his attention.

[comfortless]

hi syl! omfg i cannot believe we are mutuals, i love your works so much. but have you heard of the midieval concept called “marriage on the gallows?” basically, a person who was given death penalty can still be saved when someone promises to marry them. all i can think about is könig going to a live hanging/ burning at the stake and using marriage on the gallows to have a wife.

not like she was framed or anything, right(????) but don’t worry, könig promises to make her happy and alive now that he’s her husband. or maybe knight! ghost was the one who was about to be killed but y/n is like “I CAN FIX HIM” and marries him instead.

chanting Torta, Torta, Torta hi!! i am hugging you for this. <3 i have heard of it! but never did i think to apply it to König and now here we are… ^^

content/warnings: forced marriage?, vague religious imagery, injury, threat of public execution, vague smut.

When you sell your soul, really sell it, you’re cutting away from the umbilical cord that tethers you to whatever waits in the darkness of the afterlife. You kneel, you pray, you bathe yourself in sacred water and parrot divine words, but you don’t realize you’ve become obscured in invisibility, a shadow, a husk.

He’s clipped her wings and the only thing left to do is end her flight, let her go tumbling down into a pit of sulfur from the rope lead tied to her neck: to die before a sea of jeering faces, horse shit and fine wine, gilded paintings and the darkened splatter of blood, dried and crisp against a wooden stage.

König knows something about that, because there’s a dense, thorny guilt curling in his chest as he looks up at the little sparrow led up to the rope with her face pushed down by a hand that doesn’t belong there.

She’s done no wrong; smiling sweetly at a man like him shouldn’t have resulted in this. His heart shatters when he hears her begin to cry, her battered face wrenched up to face the crowd by the hangman’s cruel hands.

A little, flightless bird like this could never have done what he did to get her here. Gentle, sweet things knew so little of the very blood that pulses in veins, of what a man’s innards look like spilt out on a thick blade.

But of course they will believe anything— she’s a commoner, no special asset to the village. They needed their farmers, their tailors, and men like him— the blacksmith they all shunned as though he had risen from the fiery pit he worked away at himself. They didn’t need her.

Only he did.

So when he steps through the crowd of vultures to watch as the rope is tightened around her delicate neck, his voice comes in a roar. He propositions the hangman that he will take her as his wife, haul this devil back to his shack at the village’s edge and ensure that she— he will spill no more blood.

She weakly raises her head to eye him, recognizing him immediately as the man who had accused her of murdering that stable boy only two nights prior. Her stare is not judgmental or accusatory: she doesn’t have a clue of the lengths he has went to- would go to- to tether her to him.

A fortnight later, the woman becomes his bride.

She doesn’t know what brought her such a malison, how she came to be the wife of a man who once cast his accusations toward her, but she’s grateful to the man who’s cursed her to suffer him.

There’s no celebration, no flowers or dancing. There’s a kiss she nervously leans into at the chapel, shy, while his heart bursts into flames.

She isn’t blessed with meaningful vows, only a pleading profession whispered into her ear when his kisses reach from her neck to the curve of her jaw.

It’s consummated in that darkened shack, not a candle lit where smoke has painted the walls black with ash and dust; a place where she curls her arms over him sweetly and breathes her thanks against his shoulder, where his fingers commit every curve, dip, and ridge of her to memory. His words are lost in her hair, her shoulder, her chest as he devotes every remnant of himself to her entirely. He isn’t gentle, but he tries when her tight whines and whimpers fill his ears, drowning out even his lamentations.

She tolerates him four times over before he can will himself to pull away from her warmth. The guilt is replaced by a sense of purpose, a certainty that all he’s done has been entirely for her. She tells him that she would never hurt another thing, and he whispers against her skin, “I know.”

His flightless engel does not remain downtrodden.

Each morning she wakes him with giggles, face warmed in memory of the night’s prior rapture. She bakes for him, sweet things that he’s never thought himself worthy of prior while he buries himself against her, yearns to pry apart her ribs and bury himself in her softness for all time.

He kisses at what remains of the scars along her neck when she finds him melding down steel for a new weapon, takes her into his lap just to watch the flames dance in her eyes.

[time-woods]

Do you have any hc for good omens? 🙀

Crowley constantly looks like he’s been sunburnt- n also has redish orange swirly markings all over him (my reasoning is something to do with the boiling sulfur bath ya knows)

Crowley purposefully makes his heels click on the ground whenever he walks just to either annoy people or cause he just likes the sound his shoes make,

Aziraphale/ all angels have blue mouths just cause I wanted angels to be a little more inhuman plus it just adds a pop of color/ visual interest

I fee like Aziraphale sets aside books that he thinks Crowley would like but knows he’d never read them but hes got hope, same for Crowley but he sets aside music cds that he plans to get Aziraphale to listen to one day,

Some random headcanons for the 2 of thems