#knives fantasy

[thepenwrites]

May I request number 6 with Edward Cullen??

Summary: it’s a warm day out, overcast weather, but still warm, nonetheless. You and your darling Edward are relaxing in the woods near school, having an impromptu picnic.

Picnic (Edward Cullen x Reader)

“Over here, love!” You call, finding a spot amongst the fir trees next to Knives High School’s Forest. You had suggested it, after perceiving Edward to not have hunted in quite a while.

Not because you had clairvoyant abilities like Alice, but because you had foreseen a potential danger. Hungry Vampire + Loud – Obnoxious – Sweaty – Human – Cafeteria = Chow Time.

And you did NOT want that to happen.

Edward had trailed after you at a leisurely pace. More than likely taking in the spot, with a pinched look on his perfect, marble features.

“It looks nice” he said, joining you where you began to lay the picnic blanket down next to a great white oak tree.

“So” you began, both settling on the red tartan blanket “am I able to sample the lovely, packed lunch your mother packed for us?” you finished, already pawing at the bag Edward held.

Only for him to stretch his hand out to the side.

“Hey!” you pouted, reaching out. Only for him to move his hand again.

Oh. It. Is. on.

Without delay, you began to furiously reach for the bag, each time getting closer and closer until you found yourself panting and in his lap.

You turned your head, finding him smirking at you and perfectly composed; not a crease or sweat mark in sight.

“Fine then” you grumble “I don’t want it”.

You turned your body away dramatically, arms folded, and pretty bow-lips folded unintentionally into a pout.

“Oh, my sweet girl” Edward chuckled out “forgive me, I was only teasing”.

He drew his face nearer to yours, his unoccupied pale hand reaching up – breaking your intense eye contact with a nearby tree – to turn your beautiful bronze face to him.

“I merely wished to set the place up for you, that you may partake in your meal in good comfort” he explained. “Allow me to do so” he continued, setting out the packed food.

“For I wish to gaze upon your beauty whilst surrounded by mother nature” he concluded.

Never before, had someone made you feel this way. Had someone, made you feel as if only you mattered, in all of existence.

“Only you, Edward” you breathed out, gazing at him fondly as he set out the plastic utensils.

Zoning out, you thought back to your first meeting over a year ago.

---

You had moved over with your family, from rainy England after your father had an accident at work.

He had the bright idea of taking the (sizeable) settlement money and staring up a business in a local city abroad in Canada.

Though your family had moved to a home in the suburbs and your parents commuted to the city.

Being new, you hadn’t the chance to learn to drive yet, and so you walked almost 40 minutes daily to High School.

Eventually, Edward had seen you walking, realised your situation as a newbie and offered you a ride. Which led to hang outs after school…which led to you finding out about vampirism.

At first you were freaked out (reasonably so), but after thinking on it, decided to give him and his family a chance.

“So, now that were dating, I want to tell you tha-”

“Who said we’re dating?” you interrupted, hands on your hips.

Shocked amber eyes gazed into your chocolate brown ones. “Bu-but…you know our secret” he finished lamely.

“And?” you began “I don’t recall ever being asked out” you crossed your hands and gazed across at him, nearly matching his impressive height.

“Oh” he looked down. Then, he pulled himself together and asked- “Y/n, would you do me the honour of being my girlfriend?” Hopeful eyes bored into yours.

“Yes Edward” you replied. “I will”

“She’ll say the same when you MARRY HERR!” called out Alice’s shrill voice from somewhere in the house.

“ALICE!” Edward cried out, opening the door and running off to chase his pixie – like sister, all whilst leaving you laughing at their antics.

---

“-n? Y/n. Hello, Earth to Y/n?” coming back to yourself, you felt a cool hand stroke your cheeks. “Where were you, my love?” he asked, peering into your eyes, wishing (not for the first time) that he could read your mind.

“Right…HEREE~!” you screamed, jumping across into his arms, whilst being mindful of the spread-out sandwiches.

Settling back down, you looked at the delicious food. “Okay, I’ll try this one first…” you reached out for a strawberry jam sandwich.

Biting into it, you looked up at Edward, only to see him smiling back at you fondly. You gestured towards him, offering the sandwich jokingly. He shook his head, chuckling whilst saying:

" I love you, Y/n" " I love me too" " you're supposed to say it back, idiot" "your idiot~" You sing – songed, before both breaking down into happy peals of laughter.

And so, you both spend the rest of the afternoon lunch soaking up the warmth of the weather, and of each other.

---

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a comment~ I also write for other characters. Okay, byee~.

Other works: Meadow (Edward)

[sh1-n0bu]

hehehehheheheee pretty birb bf

winged bf who pick you up into their arms, gently cradling you as if you were made of glass and the finest jewelry as they tell you to “hang on” before unfurling their wings and taking off into the sky

winged bf who show you the beauty of flying, holding you securely in his arms as you take in the way how the world below you looks so small and beautiful. who only has a gentle smile on their faces as you point out the big apartments and parks where you go to for a picnic date. who only has eyes on you as you admire the twinkling lights of the world under you

winged bf who wrap their wing around you whenever you shiver, even if it was one of those annoying sudden ghost bump things you get out of the blue. he’s still worried, let him worry for you in peace😠

winged bf who plucks a feather out of their wing, gently tucking the soft feather into your hair, or on your jacket — wherever you want. he wants you to carry a piece of him to remind you by even though you regularly steal his clothes

winged bf who allows you to be only person to touch his wings, to care for them, to brush them, to just… well, touch them to your heart’s content really. he doesn’t care if you put the tip of his long feather ends over your lips, mimicking a mustache, he doesn’t care if you want to use it as a blanket, he doesn’t care if you wanna use the ends like a cat toy in front of his face. he’ll indulge in your silly shenanigans

winged bf who sheds at least once a year, filling your shared home with the old feathers. who is either smug about it or is apologetic as he helps you broom the excessive fallen feathers. at this point you could probably make a plushie or some sort of art project from the amount of feathers that he shed. to which he objects, saying these are all old and weakened feathers, offering his wing for you to pluck feathers from if you really wanna make an art project

winged bf who hides the two of you under his wing when cuddling in bed, the added layer of his own extra limb making the scene feel more intimate than it is. as if the entire world is blocked out, just a meager existence passing by as you two enjoy this moment of comfort as his wing becomes a curtain to give you two privacy

winged bf who sometimes gets too sexually frustrated and pent up with your curious hands constantly touching the place where his wing is connected to his back, the skin and muscles there are sensitive, making him jump in his seat whenever you do it to tease him

winged bf who knows that it isn’t your fault. you probably don’t know, you don’t have a wing after all, so you don’t know what it means when someone touches your wing. who only calms your worries with a forehead kiss, usually handling his problems himself

winged bf who lets out a whine into his hand, muffling the embarrassing noise as your hand wraps tighter around his cock. he was way too sensitive than usual and it was all because of your wandering hand on his wings. he probably should have explained it all to you but right now, he found his words escaping him, mind melting into a muddled mess as he finds his hands clawing at your own in desperation

winged bf who mumbles out a weak protest of being “s-sensitive! aaah… f-feels too sen—♡︎ sensitive! y-your haaandd♡︎” as his legs start to shake, staring through teary eyes as you coax out yet another climax out of him. his tip an angry cherry red from the continued torture of your hand, his slit weeping precum over and over again despite having just came, getting hard in your hand embarrassingly fast

winged bf who gets tortured by your loving hands for who knows how many times. his eyes are getting blurry and breathing started to hurt. even more, his dick was stinging, twitching every time your tight fist comes up to the tip, letting go briefly as if to taunt him, touching the dripping slit with the tip of your finger and making him whine loudly before fucking his cock into your hand again and again. this was just pure torture, he wanted to escape and run away but you were whispering such nice words to his ears. calling him your good boy, your angel, how you loved being with your beloved like this… could he really ever refuse you?

winged bf who gets more and more twitchy in your gentle hold as your hand picks up speed, the filthy wet noise of his earlier cum being used as a lube filling the room alongside his loud moans. who begs for you to not to touch his wing as it flutters around, dropping a feather or two onto the floor due to moving around so much. who only lets out a pathetic whimper of a “cuz’ ahh haamgh—! [n-name], please! please don’t—♡︎ d-don’t touch them...? they’re sensitive too aanh haagh mfgh♥︎!!” when you ask him why

winged bf who felt like his skin was on fire. everything felt too much but felt too little at the same time, his cock painfully hard again in your hold the moment you ran the tip of your finger over the bane of it. his muscles were getting tense, a strange sense of feeling coiling around in his stomach as you kiss the place where his wing and back connects, shifting around frantically with a chirp or a preen falling from his swollen lips

winged bf who weakly paws at your hand around his dick, wanting to push it away but chasing right after it with his hips as the strange feeling in his stomach just continues to grow worse. it didn’t felt like his usual orgasm, the way he would just fall apart in your hands. it felt more intense and that scared him. who cries out through loud whines and bitten back sobs that “f-feels weird!! aanhh haah [n-name]—! it mnggh♡︎ feels weird! my c-cock feels unnck haah ahh amhh weird♥︎♥︎!!”

winged bf who throws his head back into your shoulder, hands covering his beet red face as a scream tears through his lips, muscles tightening, body going taut in your arms when you gently bit into the base of his wing, your other hand keeping his wing in place so it wouldn’t flutter and knock you away as he fucking squirts into his stomach, painting his muscles and your hand white. who lets out soft chirps and noises, legs twitching and hands struggle to decide whether to hold onto you or to muffle his embarrassing noises

winged bf who only lets out weak noises and chirps when you try to communicate with him, asking him if he was doing alright and if your angel was with you right now after that overstimulating experience. who immediately hides within his wings the moment a sliver of sobriety hits him, too humiliated to even look you in the face because what was that? and why did he felt… so good?

winged bf who gives you a weak glare that you know isn’t exactly serious, pouting at you and complaining about how you messed up his mind and stuff. who lean into your touch as you push his hair away from him, getting to see the still reddened face and the few tear stains on his cheeks. who grumbles about how you have too much power over him when you chuckle, leaning in to plant a kiss to his pouting lips. who chase after you with a demand for a proper kiss this time

⇨ sephiroth, genesis, angeal, hawks, xiao, venti, angel devil, vash, knives, sunday, simeon, raphael + anyone you can think of!

[theglintofyourblade]

Dagger with Sheath | Turkish | 19th century | Met Museum

[hemlock-dreams]

Speaking of puppy eyes, canon Peter (in comics and especially MCU) is known for having big earnest brown (puppy dog) eyes.

I feel like it's mentioned in Pick Your Poison that Hunting!Spider Peter has these, too? So, how much of a sucker is Deadpool for them?

He loves 'em! He thinks they're so pretty and expressive, especially combined with the thick brows.

The excerpts are from Chapter 2 of Pick your Poison!

[running-with-kn1ves]

An Elven Winter

CW: None! Arranged marriage, very cozy very comfy, winter nights, grossly affectionate moments

Synopsis: You’re late for dinner with your brawny elf husband, again. Is he going to scold you this time, and live up to his name as a heartless elf?

A/N: Your favorite boy Cirdan is back! Here's the OG piece I wrote with him if anybody wants some more comfort and cuteness.

Snowflakes whipped from the left across your face, illuminated by dampened yellow street lanterns with an icy blue tinge to their miniscule edges. The cold stuck to your eyelashes, to the tip of your nose, to the bottoms of your trudging boots. 

When was the last time it snowed this hard? Not in years, certainly. Not since you began to share your home with another warm body, waiting to welcome you home away from the chills seeping into the openings of your sleeves. You could see your home only two doors down now, the front bathed by hanging porch lights, a trellis covered with dead vines propped against the dark, unlit corner of the cabin. Everyday he’d water that thing, and everyday it’d continue to shrivel under the coldening wind.

Your face creases with concern for what your spouse's reaction may be once you make it home. He might fawn over every trickle of water that was once snow on your shoulders, fraught by the coldness of your fingertips in his palms. It wasn’t his worry that was exhausting, it was the fear of making him feel anything other than glowing warmth, of adoration for you.

Your feet slid over one another racing to the front doors in a jog. Another wave of guilt washed over you for the tenth time tonight for being, what was it now-- an hour late to dinner? How your lovely, saint of a husband worked endlessly to make your homestead full of comfort and homeliness-- and yet you couldn’t make it in time for a meal he had spent endlessly curating. You would beat yourself over the head if you had a moment to spare.

But there was nothing you could do to turn back the time, to slide any quicker on the glassy, frozen ground. Tripping to race up to the door, you fumbled over stone steps in impatience.

The delicately carved door handle was just as cold as the tip of your nose was, hardly putting up a fight as you pulled it toward you. The door opened with a breeze of thick comfort blowing against exposed skin unveiled on your body. Warmth and the smell of a working oven flooded to the points of your cheeks, the door’s creaky nature betraying you as it let the other resident of the house know of your return home. 

This would be the part where you shout “Honey, I’m home!”

But you’re given no time, no time at all. A crackling fire fills your ears, the sudden appearance of a dastardly large silhouette clouding your vision of the kitchen table, plates upon plates decorating a tablecloth you knew so well.

“It’s nine.” His voice relented, the emotion detected and yet hard to describe as you look up to read his face. 

His cheeks are tinted a slight red, as if he had been outside in the cold, waiting for you. 

“It is; I’m sorry, Cirdan. I really thought I'd get here sooner, we were trying to wait out the snow. And, well.. That didn’t really do much.”

His eyes were full of thought, expression in their hardened lids and watery irises. Being late for things seemed to be your specialty. It broke your heart into desperate pieces when you saw the look on his face-- hardly concerned with the cold food, but locked on to you to see what had gone wrong, if you were hurt, what he could do to fix it all. 

“Don’t apologize. I’m just.. So glad you’re home.” He genuinely sounded relieved, a rough stutter you hadn’t heard in a long time, if not ever before. 

His body, so untraditional to what elves were expected to be, came forward to hold you just as gracefully as any normal, lean and tall version of the creature would. But he was all brawn-- a hard and heated rock that snug itself tight against you. A thick hand made its way into your hair to press the top of your head to his pointed nose. 

His taut inhale was shaky, white strands of hair much longer than your own crowding your view. 

“I was nearly about to go out there and find you myself. It’s no place for you to be, out there in the snow. Cold and alone.”

It sounded as if he had scared himself with anxiety-ridden thoughts about where you were in your tardiness. 

“I know.” You muffled against his chest, the wool of his sweater smelling like sweet potatoes and rosemary. 

If it were anyone else you’d be embarrassed to press your head deeper, to lean into the touch so clearly full of desire. But you knew no other way to make up for all that you had done. Your briefcase bag fell to the floor, crumpled and forgotten. 

The affection was so tender you nearly forgot about the sensation of frostbite clawing at your fingernails and the aching in your stomach. It resounded out in the room with an acidic gurgle, forcing your body to go rigid with a mix of exhaustion and embarrassment. 

You could feel the soundless laugh Cirdan let out through the shake in his body-- his warm, scarred arms your safe space. Even the apron two sizes too small on him smelled of sweets. It  hugged him enough for you to feel the ridges underneath his sweater. 

“Are you hungry?” He asked, gently releasing you from his stroking bear hug. 

“You have to ask?” You mumbled, still somewhat embarrassed by your show of weakness. You were supposed to be the strong one, carrying out the toughness of reality and endless meetings between the human and elven realm, while your unconventional elf husband finally had a chance in his brutality to rest, to be easy and let his heart and scars heal. But you were only human. 

“I kept it warm for you, wasn’t sure when you’d be back.”

 Your chest ached at those words.

You were tempted to let out another ‘you don’t have to do that’ or ‘you should’ve just left it in the fridge’, but it would only serve to dishearten him even more. 

“Thank you,” Was all you could half-heartedly murmur, looking up to stare at him. 

His hair fell sloppy along his face, snowy locks hiding his grey, blinded eye. He had started letting it show in privacy, when scrubbing the stove oven or reading in his colossal wine-red chair, black specs you called his ‘old man glasses’ falling off his nose. You pushed the heavy strands behind his pointed ear, letting your hand slide down the curve of his jaw. 

Cirdan merely smiled longingly, crinkling at his eyes and gazing at you as if you were all the stars in the sky held in front of him. He leaned just slightly into your touch, its coldness offering a stark contrast to his warm, honey skin. 

“Go, sit by the fire. I’ll bring your dinner.”

You were again ready to protest, but an intensely soft fleece blanket was draped over your head, covering from your forehead to your calves. It was originally made for your husband, twice any human’s size and still long enough to cover his shoulders. Cirdan had turned to the loveseat beside him to grab it, leaving you to buckle under the weight of swarms of fabric as he moved toward the kitchen. Blindly, you made your way to the orange glow in the middle of the room, bright flames caressing freshly chopped oak.

The corners of your home closest to the outside world had a chilled air of ice, but within the middle was where the heat resided, beckoning you to the fireplace onto a small elk hide rug. 

Cirdan’s footsteps upon the soft kitchen floor came toward you, steam rising from the plate held in his hands. He seemed so relaxed, shoulders drooped and yet posture enviously perfect, an effect of having an elven spine and ruthless upbringing. His loose sweater was soft on his carved shoulders, reminding you of your shared cozy bed-- of his body radiating glowy warmth against you, rustling sheets tangled as you push deeper against the crook of his neck.

But your stomach was too insatiable for anything other than food right now, even warmth. The herby, peppery scent brought drool to your mouth, looking at the elf with wide eyes in hungry desperation. 

“It’s hot, let it cool off for a second.” Cirdan blows on the mouth-watering food as he hands the plate to you with a potholder on its lip, protecting you from the heat. He is quick to grab a pillow and place it in your lap, gently letting the plate rest.  “I kind of went overboard; something in me felt like cooking tonight... We can give the leftovers to the neighbors.”

“No!” You shout territorily, covering your plate as if he were ready to steal it from you. “It's mine to eat, I mean.” 

You don’t leave room for the conversation to continue, shoveling a forkful of well-seasoned vegetables in your mouth. The moment a green bean touches your tongue you realize your mistake. 

“Haw, hawt!” 

Your open mouth does a dance as you try to fan the heat, so eager to eat that you forgot to heed his warning. 

“I told you!” Cirdan exclaims, a laugh escaping him as he reaches for a glass of water on the table behind him. “I guess my intuition knew you’d try something like that.”

You take the glass with unheeded swiftness, letting lukewarm water settle in your fiery mouth. 

A hesitant swallow leaves your tongue numb and your hunger yet to be filled.

You reach for another bite, this time for a heap of buttery mash potatoes, soft and fluffy like the piles of snow outside yet starkly contrasted in their steamy heat. 

You know better now, blowing on the fork before taking a hesitant, small bite. 

Cirdan merely gives you a watchful, entertained grin. He doesn’t have the pompous smirk of most elves you’ve met with, but instead a full, close-lipped smile that reaches to his sharp eyes, his uncharacteristically full cheeks rising, his face slim and etched like the rest of his kind yet with more ruggedness and expression in it, remnants of a jagged past etched into his skin. 

“I’th really good.” You cover your full mouth, singing his praises with potato and sweet, savory bread in between. 

“I’m glad you like it,” The comment he passes hardly utters any attention to what you say, instead busy watching you consume like a ravenous animal. Cirdan brushes back hair that falls close to your plate, stroking just gently a thumb over your cheek. 

You swallow a few more bites before you feel the ache in your stomach subside. The intense way the elf keeps looking at you is not unforeign, but you still have yet to be comfortable with it. 

“Thank you for the food,” You wipe your mouth with your sleeve, hoping you weren’t too many levels of disheveled. “but, I have another favor to ask.”

“Hm?”

You witness in his eyes the willingness, eagerness to see what you desire. 

“Let me brush your hair?” 

Cirdan’s lips part in an ‘o’, before returning to the usual gentle hardness of his face.

“That’s all? I thought you were ready for dessert.” 

The elf lets out a stifled laugh, deep and bouncing off the small cabin walls in pure delight.

You shoot a self-conscious gaze at him, lips half upturned in a hidden smile; you’re not sure whether to laugh or bashfully tell him nevermind.

“You know you don’t have to ask. I was waiting until you were done to clean myself up--” He turns to the side, opening a stool compartment stuffed with a myriad of little things from nail polish to old lighters. His gentle hands searched for a delicate hairbrush, elven in the intricacy of its design and dwarven in its robusticity. The curving vines against the brushes ivory skin along with its weighty hold made it a piece of craftsmanship worthy of generational pass-down. 

 He takes your plate fit for kings off of your lap, moving it to the floor closest to the fireplace. In this house, everytime you attempt to do something, it seems to be done at-hand immediately before you can think to move. 

Cirdan wordlessly hands you the brush, tender fire under his palm gliding over the icicles you called fingers.

You attempt to scoot behind him, blanket nearly falling from your shoulders to do so, but the elf catches you. 

“I’m not letting you freeze to death on my behalf first,” He grunts, grabbing your hands in a chokehold. “You're practically frozen my love.” 

The tendrils of his fingers wrapping over your own were akin to hot coils, oddly welcoming and conflicting to your body void of warm blood. 

“Your behalf? I’m the one who suggested the idea!” You shake your head in mild disbelief. “Besides, being near the fire is warming me up. I’ll be unfrozen soon.”

Your airy voice is sarcastic and not nearly as teeth-chattering as it once had been-- yet still, Cirdan huffed over your fingertips, letting out heavy breaths to warm the parts of you that were yet to be anything but icy. 

“You aren’t going to win this fight.” He looked up at you, a serious furrow of his brows, “I won’t lose you to such simplicities of frostbite, you’re too precious.”

Oof. Right in the heart. Everytime you see his resting brooding face like that your chest lurches in worry--- but then he’ll say something so sweet in sincerity that you want to collapse into a puddle.

You open and close your mouth like a gaping fish, unsure what to say to beat, or even match that. 

The elf deeply exhales once more against your trembling fingers, letting silence float between you with the sound of crackling flames flickering in between. 

With a final heavy breath against your knuckles, he straightens your fingers out, placing them over his heated cheeks. Even with the ridges of bone and scar on his face, he was squishy and pliant like a human. Your thumb brushed against the healed tissue leading from the bridge of his nose to his blinding eye, relishing in the slow blinks he gave. He looked… tired, and yet full of comforting bliss. You break the silence with an anxious swallow.

“I can't believe this.. you should be scolding me, making me eat cold leftovers in a dark room for being late, once again. Instead you're welcoming with open arms and a full stomach? I just don't get you; I don't know if I ever will.” 

You smile a little sadly, grateful and mystified.

“Maybe you won't understand it,” Cirdan moves his lips to your palm, nudging it with a kiss. “but it's what I'd want.”

You did understand that. All those nights he laid in the cold snow after throwing himself against battalions as a living shield, coming home to an even colder room, eating alone and wondering if anyone was thinking of him. If he meant anything more than a body to be used. He wouldn't let you feel that way, if he could help it.

You nuzzled so hard against his face it made you both scrunch up your noses. 

“Oh I just-- wish I could stick you in my pocket and never let you go-- never let you feel anything but warmth and softness and love again.”

Cirdan grinned, his expression practically basking in the adoration. 

“You don’t know how good it feels to hear you say that.” 

You kiss him rough, not caring if the temperature difference sparks you both, making your noses tingle with electricity and your lips buzz. With gentle encouragement your hands holding his face might lead elsewhere, but tonight you wanted to show him the chaste devotion, the love he deserved in any way you knew how. Cirdan was fervent with his kiss, though he still seemed concerned with your warmth as his hands searched blindly for the blanket slipping from your back. 

You roll your eyes, letting your lips fall away with a warm breath. You're quick to get back to what you want, the task at hand.

“We're getting off track-- will you let me brush your hair now? I promise I won't freeze you with my icicle fingers.”

You drum your fingers against the sides of his cheeks, watching as he reaches for the forgotten brush on the rug, slightly dazed. You leave the tepidness of his face to snatch it with playful ease, ushering him to turn around.

“All right, all right, my love,” He concedes with a sigh. “Whatever you desire.” 

You grasp the edges of his messy hair as he faces away from you, pulling out the slipping black elastic band to let the rest of it fall; It’s gently knotted at the tips, but the rest of it still holds a sleek shine created from fine, thick strands and patient washing. 

“It’s my turn to take care of you..” You mumble, holding a fistful of silvery white strands with a calm stroke of the brush. The rhythm lulls you into a peacefulness, listening to the flickers of fire in front of you, the gentle snowfall from outside your little world of warmth and coziness. The blanket falls to your elbows-- you don’t go to fix it, so enraptured with the task at hand. 

Cirdan begins to hum just the slightest, his eyes shut in a stoney, calm expression that you can see if you tip just slightly sideways. It was a solemnly elven tune, and yet it slowed your heart so simply that you felt a wash of nostalgia and ease run through you. 

You would trade anything to keep this December night going, to have the man in front of you, held in your arms forever. Cirdan’s warmth was inseparable from your own, your bodies impossibly close for comfort. 

[oldschoolfrp]

Frank Frazetta's Death Dealer novels by James Silke, Tor Books

Prisoner of the Horned Helmet (1988)

Lords of Destruction (1989)

Tooth and Claw (1989)

Plague of Knives (1990)

[ichimakesart]

Commission for @tzimizce

Thank you for commissioning me☆◇☆◇☆

~☆◇Prints◇☆~▪︎~☆◇Commissions◇☆~▪︎~☆◇Kofi◇☆~▪︎~☆◇For inquiries: ichimakes@gmail.com◇☆~

[bestlaidplansproductions]

Want to play a villainess isekai game where 1 of your love interests might murder you?

Try Save the Villainess' upcoming demo, which is = My Next Life as a Villainess + Knives Out.

See our links in our pinned post on our tumblr blog!

[taffywabbit]

commission for Mikkytus!

[ydolem-art]

Inktober day 23 : Misdeed in the Mist

[georgiapeach30513]

Inside Her Fantasy, Part 4

Summary: so you could take it off

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), PIV sex, cream pie, mentions of videoing, mentions of phone sex, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.9K

*dividers created by @saradika-graphics

Previous

Series Masterlist

Willow drops a magazine on the table in front of you, but you push it away without laying down your Kindle. She lays another one down, and you scoot it aside as well. Annoying. This is your daily reading hour, and she’s interrupting. Another, and you glare up at her, and she drops a stack full down on the first three.

Removing your eyes from her, you look down to the magazine on top, and quirk up a smile. God, Ransom looked so good in that car. He felt so good driving away from the game with his hand tightly on your thigh. You couldn’t see much from the pictures, but apparently that little Beamer is synonymous with your boyfriend.

“You went to a game,” that much is obvious. You’d think by the way the gossip rags were talking you discovered a cure for an incurable disease. You play coy, shrugging, and pick up the magazine, flipping to the big gossip in question. Who knew that going out with your boyfriend after he played a winning game could be so scandalous. Deserving of all these front pages? If only they knew you and Ransom would rather be in Bucky and Sarge’s backyard with the kids.

“You went to a game, and walked into the locker room,” you sure did. Had a few bodyguards with you. You made them follow you, while you and Ransom drove around for a while just the two of you with stolen kisses at every red light. Ending with a dinner at the Patriots’ favorite restaurant, and they had it rented out. Completely private.

You and Ransom had danced to the music. He showed you off to his teammates. He swayed you back and forth while you watched Bucky playing pool. He even taught you how to play pool. He mostly enjoyed leaning over you, whispering in your ear, and so did you. It was the most low key thing you’ve done in years, and it was one of your favorite nights.

Each day with Ransom shows you not just how much you’ve fallen for him, but how much you are completely in love with him. It was loud, obnoxious, raucous, and you could barely hear anything but music and laughter. But whenever Ransom said, ‘Bud,’ everything fades away, and you couldn’t help but smile at him. Only his voice could be heard.

His voice rings above everything else in your life. You love what you do, you adore performing for your fans, but life currently felt dull if Ransom wasn’t in the moment with you. And when he’s around — it sounds ridiculous but it’s like there’s a brightness, and a glow.

Willow clears her throat, and you look up at her sweetly, “You have to tell me these things, so I know how to get in front of it. That is my job.”

“What is there to get in front of?” Normally you trust Willow. But whatever is in these magazines didn’t seem like a big deal. Looking through another you see that someone’s Instagram story was used to show you and Ransom in a world of your own. His hand is dangerously low on your back, so low his fingers touch your ass. He’s pulling you so tight against his chest, and you are beaming up at him. You wish this was a clearer photo.

“If you’re going to do a,” she sighs, looking away from you before blurting out, “A showmance, then I need to know.”

You tear the page of the girl’s instagram post out, and balk up at Willow. Did she really say what you think she did? How could she not know what is happening between you and Ransom? It is so pure and amazing, and she cheapened it with one word. “This is not a showmance!”

“You’ve literally just met the guy, and you’re wandering around after a football game acting like you’re in high school,” she seriously didn’t know you. Just met him? You’ve been hanging out with him. You have stayed behind the scenes. She knows this about you! But something innocent as high school sounds like a breath of fresh air.

“Maybe that’s what I need in my life! Everything has been so calculated for the past few years. Launching the biggest tour of my career. But I — I love him,” Willows eyes burst wide as she stares at you. You didn’t say that easily, despite what some people state as facts. “I haven’t just met him. I met him after the concert, the one I invited him to? And I’ve talked to him everyday since then. I’ve made every down time be about spending time with him. I love him.”

Damn, that feels amazing to say. You love him. You love Ransom Drysdale. You are in love with Ransom Drysdale. Ransom is the one.

Willow takes a deep breath, sighing as she stares at you, “You’re taking him to Rhode Island, aren’t you?” You shrug. You hadn’t even thought about it. Rhode Island is your sanctuary. Only the most special people in your life got to venture there. Of course it makes sense to take Ransom. Show him your oasis. The most private location you have. Total privacy. For the most part. As private as you can get.

“I know you. And you deserve happiness, too,” you did. And it is Ransom. You didn’t care about how many people wanted to pry into your life anymore. He is in your life. You want him in it. You want to share your love with the world. A bit of it anyways. You want them to see who is making you this happy. See who you want to spend the rest of your life with. That’s scary to think about, but you’re in love. Possibly never been in love like this before, but still, in love.

“You’ve got a couple weeks off. Spend it with people you really care about,” Willow spins on her heel, leaving you with bubbling thoughts. It seems ridiculous to plan sex, but you’re ready. More ready than ever, and you’re glad that you and Ransom have waited. Extra happy that Ransom never once pressured you. You’re pretty sure he’s enjoyed the ride just as much. And no sex doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.

You expel a breath, already getting excited for the next stop on the tour, if only for it to end so you can have a mini break. You’ll spend every moment basking in Ransom, or he in you. You want to spoil him with affection and all the attention. Buy a new dress just for the occasion. A soft melody sticks into your brain, and you record yourself humming. The words aren’t quite there yet.

Whatever lyrics come later, you know they’re Ransom. All about him. Maybe you had to have those extra domestic moments with him to understand what string of words need to be there. It didn’t matter. It is Ransom’s song. Your ode to him.

You hum that diddy again, stroking down your guitar, and still no words come out. Your eyes look out at the horizon, trying to focus on anything but how difficult this stupid ass song is being. Listening to the seagulls squawk as the waves crash onto the rocks. It’s a peacefulness that you cannot get enough of. Letting the world lead you to lyrics.

You strum a chord, and smile as a line comes to your mind. Reaching to your phone you press record, and hum and write lyrics as they happen. Yours and Ransom’s love story spilling out with your voice. He’d be here soon, but you wish he was with you right now. Hearing you sing the story of him. You could write an entire album about just him. He was that amazing.

You pause a moment, and take a deep salty breath. Inhaling a world separate from whatever roaring noise is going on out there. A place to reset, and a place you didn’t share with anyone, but your mom. You hum again as his feet crunch in the pebbles. Hearing every step he takes before seating himself behind you, and his arms rest softly on your thighs.

“Bud, it’s beautiful out here,” he softly kisses on your shoulder, and you tilt your head, giving him better access to your neck. He takes the offer, and kisses almost too gently over your skin. his warm breath brushes across your skin, and sends lust pooling in your core, “How much time do you have off?”

Ransom has been chomping at the bit to mark your skin. “I have a two weeks,” he nips at the sensitive column, and you attempt to strum your guitar. Weakly sighing a few words before you stop. How can you concentrate with his sinful mouth biting over your skin?

“Keep singing,” he teases, nibbling a bit harder, and sucks a bruise on your skin.

“I can’t,” you whimper. Your legs start to spread on their own accord, and the wind blows up your new dress that you bought just for today. Just for him, “Ran,” his eyes flutter close at your voice. “Ransom,” you start again as his ministrations slow.

Singing out a few lines breathlessly, he gulps. His giant hands rub on your thighs, and you sing the line, “I only bought this dress so you could take it off,” and he pauses completely. Freezing in his spot, and you sing it again, adding sighs at the end of the line that make perfect sense for the song.

“Are you recording” you nod as an answer. Leaning back into his broad chest, and feeling his cock throb against you. He’s been so stoic during this, and this is about to go too far. Or not far enough. A hand slides from your thigh, under the new dress, and up your body. Stopping at the apex of your thigh, “Keep it on,” he whispers on your skin while his hand cups your covered mound.

Lightning flashes in your mind at the contact, and you desperately roll your hips. Your body pleading for friction while he softly kisses over your shoulders. Up your neck, and behind your ear, kissing over the shell, “What sounds will you make when I enter inside of you?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. You didn’t. This moment is beyond pleasure. It’s taking your relationship to a place you’ve never been. It’s giving yourself to him, “We can keep recording it,” you tease him, and he growls behind your ear. Giving your lobe a little bite.

“Just the sound?”

“Whatever you want,” throwing everything out the window. All your safeguards that you put up around you. Because you know deep down Ransom would never do anything to hurt you, or to make you lose your trust in him. Both of you traveled for your job, you had to have some way to connect you when you are worlds apart.

“Why are you promising me this?” He whispers against your body.

“Because I — I trust you,” chickenshit. You should have been honest with him. You already told him you didn’t have sex with someone unless you knew you loved them.

“I love you, too,” your half lidded eyes, shoot fully open. Looking out at the water again, but wishing you could look behind you better. Twisting your head, you look at him the best you can, and he’s got a boyish grin on his face. “That’s what you were meaning to say, right?”

“Yes.”

“Does it make it easier to say, since I kinda said it first? But, I added a too, so really you said it first. And I think you’re in love with me. I think you are madly in love with me,” a smile spreads across your face as you nod at him. “And I’m hopelessly in love with you, too.”

“I love you, Ran.”

“Yep,” he groans, scooting away from you. He stands up awkwardly, and your eyes lock onto the aching bulge in his pants. “Unless you want me to discover your body on these rocks, where anyone could maybe have a drone or long range camera, we should go inside.”

“Yeah,” you let out the longest breath of air, standing with the guitar, and your phone. “We should — should go inside.”

“Turn off the recording,” you look at him a bit confused. He just said, “Our first time making love is just for us. But I’m not leaving the bed, the couch, the table, the counter, the bathroom, the theater, the pool, the stairs, the…”

“I get it,” you giggle again, stopping the recording on your phone.

“I’m going to have every part of you, in every part of this house,” you hope that this is a promise because there’s nothing you have wanted more than him. All of him, and everywhere. He holds out a hand to take your own, but instead, he slides up your dress enough to pick you up. Placing your legs around his slim waist as he carries you towards the house.

“I can walk,” you giggle, staring up at him in awe. Noticing every fleck of gold and green in his eyes. He only shakes his head no. His steps are steady. He seems to be counting them, and struggling to keep his eyes off you. You’ve never wanted anything more than him, and you’ve thought you’d been in love before, but this time is different.

And not in a way that everyone says that this time is different. Different in a way that puts all the other times to shame. You knew as you were falling for them that it ultimately wouldn’t last. Some things you just know deep into your bones. You made things work before because you love love. But with Ransom, you feel him. That invisible string that was leading you to him had wound itself so tightly around the two of you. It is holding you two in place because it’s where you’re meant to be.

You could give up your career if it only meant spending more time with him. Building a life and family with him. It all made sense. You see it unfolding in front of your eyes. He sets you down on the living room floor, and starts a weird hum. It’s off key, but it’s the very song you were just attempting to sing to him. He was actually paying attention to you. Humming, and spinning you around in the middle of the living room like it is the most natural thing to do. Simple, and meaning so much to you.

You join in with his humming, mumbling a few of the lyrics in with his off key sound. Knowing that this is your home. Not this house, but him. You smile as you gaze up at him. Basking in the innocent part of love. It really is so high school. Love should be fun. It should be several things, but this is the most blissful you’ve been with love. Not in an overly goofy way, but a way that is just — Ransom and you.

You smirk as you spin away from him. Starting to walk towards the hallway. You’re the one taking calculated steps as you head towards the bedroom. Stopping in the doorway, and you spin to look at him, “I only bought this dress so you could take it off,” most men would rip the dress off your body, but Ransom’s hands slide behind your back, and he pulls the ribbon, letting it drift to your sides. Loosening up the dress, and he pulls each strap gently off your shoulders.

It dips lower, revealing your lack of a bra. Ransom’s Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. And with one shimmy of your hips, the dress drifts to the floor. Piling down at your feet, and you look up at him through your lashes. They don’t make men that look like Ransom. All man. Thick enough to crush you if he wanted to. Towering over you, and yet he is still the biggest teddy bear you know.

His arm props up against the doorframe, eyes wandering down your body, “I think I’m a bit overdressed,” taking a deep breath, you reach for his jeans first. Undoing the button before you pull at the hem of his shirt. Tugging it up his body, and he finishes removing it. You press both hands on his chest, smiling when you feel his rapid heart beat.

“Don’t tell anybody, but there’s very few things that make me weak.”

“And what makes you weak?” Leaning forward, Ransom wraps his arms around your legs, just below your ass, and he hauls you out of the floor. Walking you to the bed, where he tosses you on top. He steps out of his shoes, and pulls only his jeans down before crawling into the bed. Immediately leaning over your body, and capturing your lips.

His weight, and bare chest press up against your own, and you pull him as tight to you as possible. Fingernails scraping up and down his back, while his hand roams down your body. His fingers tease the elastic on your panties, while he sweetly nips over your mouth, “Ran, what are you thinking?”

“How much I love you, and even though I don’t deserve you, I don’t want to fight this. I can’t,” you caress his cheek, leaning up to give him chaste kisses. He’s beautiful. You didn’t throw that word around often with men, but he is. “What are you thinking?”

“That I’ve never loved anyone like you before,” his mouth cocks into a grin. “And you’re killing me here,” instead of going under the elastic like you need, he cups your covered mound, and you whimper at him. “Ran — please?”

There’s something in the whine of your voice, coupled with the sweetest pout from your face. You said please. Softly and weakly begging for him, and he pushes aside your panties, and runs his fingers through your slit. Gaping open his mouth as he watches you face fill with pleasure, “You’re soaked,” you know. You’re heated, and drowning in your own arousal at this point.

“Is this all for me?”

“No, there’s so much more,” you bite on your lip when he finds your bundle of nerves. Giving it a few teasing touches before he dips down between your lips, and toys with your entrance. “Keep going,” you goad him, and he pushes two fingers into your warmth, and euphoria rushes through your blood. Arching your back as you struggle to breathe.

“Shh,” he whispers. His own mouth going agape at the feeling of your velvety walls. “I need you to breathe for me, Bud.”

“I’ve never…I’ve never felt like this,” your chest heaves as you take in too short of breaths. “What are you doing?”

“Exploring you,” he presses an innocent kiss to your lips, “Learning you,” his motions are as slow as flowing honey. Working his drenched fingers in and out of you while he places open mouth kisses over your heated skin. Sucking and nipping over your body. Exploring every inch. His mouth travels lower, and he sucks a nipple into his mouth. Rolling his tongue around the pebbled peak before venturing to the over one.

He pulls off your body with a pop, and sinks lower. Lower. Grazing his lips over your belly button before trailing kisses on down. Ghosting over your panties before he stares at your body swallowing his fingers, and he presses the most gentle sweet kiss over your clit. “Every part of you is beautiful, Bud. Every inch of you is a work of art, and I can’t get enough.”

Men could say words like this frequently, but Ransom never did. He never went past sex with women. He was a player, and had long believed that love could ever happen to him. Until you. You changed everything. You made him not only believe love could happen, you showed him. You made him realize that football isn’t everything. You made him want more than the life he’d been living.

His tongue licks gently up your body. He moans at the taste of your honey. Smiling when you peer down at him, looking every bit as innocent as you are, “I just want to saturate you in pleasure,” he whispers before his lips circle around your swollen nub, and you mewl, lifting your back off the mattress.

His fingers drive into your heat in tandem with his mouth. Perfect rhythm that has your toes curling, and your body lifting off the mattress. The lyrics to Ransom are long gone, and all you can see is bright blinding light. The pleasure is nearly too much, and maybe if you were thinking about it, you’d know this man has had ample amounts of practice. But they didn’t matter anymore. his past is gone, and only his present remains. And that’s you.

All that matters now is Ransom humping the mattress with the same flow as his fingers and mouth. Desperately working himself up by your whimpers and movement. You grip tightly to your nipples, and roll them between your forefinger and thumb. So much stimulation that it makes you dizzy. It makes you yearn for more than his fingers. You want to become one with him. You want all of him. You need him.

You’ve never wanted anything more. You may be blinded by the pleasure that he pushes into your body, but you still know that the beautiful man making you feel this way is the man that you’ll marry, have children with, and spend the rest of your life with. Your career and his career be damned. You can take care of the two of you. You’re obsessed and you know it.

“Ransom!” His name leaks out of your mouth as fire courses through you. Everything inside of you is molten lava. So much heat. “Ran — Ransom!” You cannot help but scream out his name because you can’t think of anything else. Nothing else matters. Just Ransom. Just him.

Dropping your tits, you grip tightly to his hair. Tugging right at the roots as your body floats off the bed, and you clench your eyes closed. “Ransom!” Your mouth falls open as the most beautiful high ignites you, and your body heaves as you sit up, and stare at the devil between your thighs. Licking, and smacking his lips as he cleans you with his tongue.

“I need you inside of me,” reaching up, he rips apart your panties, and tosses them onto the floor before he rips his own off, and knees himself onto the bed. His wide berth keeps you spread, opening up wider to accommodate his size, and Ransom sinks lower to the bed. Hovering over your body, while he runs his cock through your velvety folds, and you gaze up at him.

“I need you inside of me now,” you plead, and he presses his length up against you. Gasping, you look between your bodies. The tiniest gap separates you, but you witness him right at your entrance. “Ran,” smirking, he pushes through your walls, and you bite on your lip. Whimpering. Tugging. Scratching. Pulling. Wrapping your legs around him.

He doesn’t stop his descent in you until he’s filled you to the brim with him, and you gaze up at him. It was right. That string has wrapped itself so tight around you and Ransom that you can’t even think straight. Can’t see. Nothing else in this world matters except Ransom. You’re glad you waited, but now you’re going to get to enjoy him in so many more ways.

He whispers your name as he kisses around your hairline. So soft and gentle as he makes his way around the perimeter, before he absorbs this moment. Tucking it into his mind on days that he’s going to have to be away from you. And remembering every bit of you. The slight arch, and furrowing of your brow as your cunt stretches to take all of him. The way he can feel your heartbeat pulsing deeply. Your scent, and how it flared to life when he entered you.

He has had doubts about love and soulmates for so long, but he can’t deny the way he feels as he’s seated inside of you. Everything becomes more clear right at this moment. This is the best he’s ever felt for various reasons. But the main one being how much he is utterly destroyed by you.

He could say it over and over again, and it still wouldn’t be enough. He could shout it, he could carve it into his skin, and it still wouldn’t be enough. This is what true love feels like. What he thought was never for him. It is. It’s all for him, right here in his arms. He doesn’t want to go fast. He barely wants to leave your warmth as he pumps into you. There will be other times he can rail you.

No, now, he just wants to take his time and memorize every part of your body. Wants to learn your spots, and the things that truly drive you insane. Know all your secrets that you keep hidden. He wants to integrate himself into your body, so when he’s not there you crave him. And he never ever wants to stop kissing you.

If he’s not swallowing your whimpers, he’s peppering kisses all across your shoulders. Over your collarbone, up your neck, but your favorite; behind your ear. Blowing heated breaths over your skin, and watching goosebumps flood over your body. You cling to him like your life depends on it, and he feels his life truly does depend on your touch. Addicting. You are his favorite drug, and he never wants to detox.

Drawing himself up and pulling all the way out, so he can see your sweet pitiful face. It’s like the pleasure has reached such a peak that you are wordless. Thankfully you’re still breathing, but the function to talk doesn’t seem to be there, “Bud, honey, you okay?”

You stare up at him, gulping, trying to get words to come out of your dry mouth, but it just comes out as a choked, “Uh huh,” gazing up at him like the work of art he is, and then something lights up in your body, and your brows tilt up.

“Oh, sweetheart, are you about to come?” There is no way this man is making you come going this slow. But you don’t want him to change his pace. You want him just. Like. This. “There you go. You think we can come together,” his voice is so soft and pretty as he kisses on the edges of your lips. “Hold on, for me?”

You nod your head, biting on your lip as he stabs into you. Vision going blurry with the faster speed, and your toes curl with the most blinding pleasure. His hips pound onto your body with so much force if he wasn’t holding you, your body would be bounced up the bed by his sheer force alone. Everything in your body tightens. Everything pulses.

And then you hear his own moans. Here the way he’s reacting to the pleasure, and it becomes so much sweeter. His athletic body and training gives him the best stamina. My god, do you thank him for his training. “Fuck,” he putters out, gritting his teeth as he barrels into you. “Fuck. Fuck Fuckfuckfuckfuck!”

“Ran, baby, just let go,” you coo softly at him, and his own brows pitch up, and you grip his round ass. “Ran! Ransom!”

“Don’t take your eyes off me. Keep looking at me,” that is a task as you hang on for dear life. Your body sets on fire as the impending high shoots to your limbs. All the way to your fingers and your toes. Your cunt squeezes him so tightly, he stops his movements. Just when you think he’s gone back on his goal of coming with you, his eyes blow wide, and he whimpers out your name.

He spurts his seed deep into your cunt, while you stare up at him. He looks so much younger after his release, and you want to curl yourself around him, and hold him tightly. He needs protection after making himself be that vulnerable. “I’ve never done that,” he breathlessly says. You are not sure which that he’s referring to, and you don’t know if you want to know.

”Unprotected sex. I mean I’ve…”

“Ransom, no,” you shake your head. You know the man is well seasoned, but you didn’t want to hear about it. “I don’t want to know.”

“Okay. That’s fair.”

You take a deep breath, and brush his fallen hair out of his face. He needs protection from you in a different way. And you would. “Are you going to write songs about this?”

“I don’t know. Do you think it’ll be too invasive?”

“Can I have approval first?” Your mouth quirks to the side, and you give him a nod. “Then okay. I trust you. Now about filming us?”

“Well,” you giggle, he’s so beautiful, “We’re both on the road a lot. And I’d rather you not be watching porn, unless it’s us. I’m okay with phone sex, FaceTime, and stuff like that. But sometimes I may be in a completely different time zone.”

“So we’ll make our own porn,” he says with a smile. He begrudgingly pulls himself out of you, and lands flat on his back. “I can get used to that,” you could, too. Whatever it takes to keep you together.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

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@rogersbarber

[ares-sun]

[theglintofyourblade]

Dagger with Sheath | Iranian | 18th–19th century | Met Museum

[lunarthecorvus]

Knife throwing and Inej

(This is all based on my experience as someone who knife throws)

~~~

No one talks about the calculations that need to be done when knife throwing because you need to be a certain distance for a spin knife throw and a no spin knife throw which in my experience is much harder. So when character like Inej who throw knives, they are probably also having to make sure to have the correct distance to throw the knife (spin wise) for it to hit someone otherwise the knife will bounce of the person without wounding them or just land handle first (unless it's a double edged blade like a blade on both ends).

Another thing is having different knives (i.e., different handles, weight, design, etc) wise is that each knife has to be thrown differently, distance wise, force wise and position of hand wise. For example, it's hard to go from a heavy knife to a light knife quickly when throwing because the knives have different conditions that suit throwing the knife. It's just cool to think of Inej taking in these calculations when throwing knives and how good she is at it that she could shift between all these different knives (unless she has all identical knives).

Weather conditions also play a factor in knife throwing, in winter it's much harder to throw knives because the blade are slippery (because of rain and we know it rains a lot in ketterdam), and if the balde had a metal handle it would be freezing cold to touch/ hold. My best guess as to how she would deal with this is to wear gloves (I did wear gloves but it messed up my ability to throw without gloves and the gloves ended up with holes in them because throwing knives do make your skin callous/ rubs your skin), but I can definitely see Inej just ignoring the cold and getting on with it. When I tried to ignore the cold (I was in 1°C my hand ended up getting blue and barely being able to move after being outside for more than 3 minutes. So my best guess is Inej has some fabrikator gloves, hopefully stimulating the grip of skin, not a fabric.

Basically, Inej is so freaking talented with knife throwing, and her skill is vastly underappreciated, especially with how quickly she learnt it. She's an amazing knife throwing badass.

(I just realised I wrote a lot more than I intended about knife throwing and Inej, I definitely have more to say from my experience, if you have any questions just let me know, and if I've said anything factually wrong feel free to correct me :)

[running-with-kn1ves]

Hi lovely, to celebrate the new year! I was wondering if you could please do a fluff/smut with Cirden.

Does not have to be hardcore smut only a taste!! thank you so much 4 taking the time out of your day and writing we all appreciate your work.

A/N: took it in me to get this done before January ended!! putting this man in the spicy is so bittersweet b/c it feels so wrong (but so right). And thank you for your kindness!! Lord knows I've been needing some grace. Thank you for being so sweet I'm glad people actually see my stuff <33

CW: NSFW/SMUT, public(?) doing the dirty in the woods, hunting, elf X reader, established marriage

WC:2.8k

Gender Neutral Reader X Male Elf husband

"Raagghh. I haven't caught ANYTHING..." One of your arrows lands in the dirt, it's blade skinning against the ground before it fell flat. You couldn't even manage to stab a lizard that blundered past you, it's skittering body running as your arrow slumped.

"Don't get discouraged," Cirdan mumbled with unmoving lips, focused on the prey only a few meters in front of him. "It's only your first time with a bow and arrow."

He still managed to whisk away your heart in his crouched battle stance as you curled on the forest floor, his arrow flying as it released with a snap. The harsh squeak of a cottontail broke the silence of the ancient trees, a fatal jump being it's last movement before it succumbed to the ground in a helpless flop. Your husband moved forward without you to slice it's throat. You looked away in shame; he had been hunting for your dinners ever since your joint movement into the cottage currently a mile away; he had cut the heads off deer and ducks while you sat back and covered your eyes. You couldn't even shoot down a bird, not only from your poor aim but your heart lurched everytime you saw its feathered breast beat with life, its beak release a hymn of song. Every now and again you could garner the courage to help him defeather or clean the bones of his latest catch but when seeing their heads or lifeless eyes, it made your insides churn.

It was dispiriting, knowing you couldn't provide in the way he had learned to do since he was a child. But by Gods and Goddesses, did he not look fine holding that bow and pulling back its string, showing the strength in his chest and the unwavering focus in his grey-blue eyes. You memorialized the image in your head, toes scrunching deep in your sewn leather boots (created by cirdan and his many talents) with your knees pushed together, gaze focused on the ground.

"Whats wrong?"

You looked up from your place in the dirt and dead leaves, your spouse like a pretty ice mountain that you had to strain upwards to see. He placed three dead bunnies by their ears into the sack that was once on his back; if he were alone, he would've just carried them by hand back to the cottage.

"Nothing, I was just... thinking. It's beautiful out here."

You looked up at the canopy of trees, dappled light speckling between the small empty holes that neither branch nor bushy leaves covered to block the evening sun.

Cirdan bent down, placing his sack on the ground as a warm hand came to cover the top of your head. A calloused palm pushed your hair back, patting you with deadweight.

You couldn't see the rest of him with his gigantic arm in the way, his voice like an omniscient invisible God of the forest. 

"Don't worry if you can't hunt...I'll do enough for the both of us," His palm slid to your cheek in a messy fashion, attempting to be heedful of how firm his touch was, too used to handling his bow with untamed strength for the day. His hand was a pillow on your cheek as he pressed his thumb against your temple. "It's my job to take care of you."

He spoke as if mostly to himself, thin silver lashes disguising his eyes while he watches your lips with a small, almost unnoticeable quiver. But he didn't waver as you stared back, gaze running from his deep pupils to his strong nose bridge, down to his dripping jugular.

It was tension inside you and it was unbearable. It took choking yourself back to not scream "just kiss me, dammit!"

But elves weren't the hasty type,(especially your aloof husband), and you didn't know what Cirdan would think if you came forward so hungrily. Would he think you were just some lust-crazed old bat that replaced the careful spouse he once knew?

"Come, let's go back; the wind is picking up. I won't let you catch a cold."

The forest was all but blowing, a leaf tumbling every now and again but practically silent. And yet, who were you to argue with the seasoned elf who had survived in forests like this?

You took the outstretched hand cirdan put in front of you, allowing him to practically lift you to your feet as your bow held limply in your other hand with defeat. Alas, another day with no progress in conquering your woodland fear.

You let Cirdan lead you, following him past old oaks and emptied burrows, unable to keep your wide eyes off of him. It was nice, to distract your disappointed mind from your empty game sack to the hauntingly beautiful portrait of the manly elf before you.

"What is it?" Cirdan stopped, looking at you with those long locks covering his scarred eye, the other staring with a darkened brow.

"Nothing!" You'd repeat, looking away with your antsy feet bouncing, hoping he'd somehow read the growing need inside of you. And this carried on a countless too many times before you saw the clearing that led to the desire path back home.

What were you to say? That you wanted him here and now? That you wished he'd just smile and hold you and tell you to take off your hunting clothes and everything underneath as soon as you got back home? Yeah, right. As if the stoic beast that you married would be so forward, as hopeful and desiring as you.

You sneaked glances, learning better than before when aiming to witness the veins in his forearm that traveled to the hand interlocked with yours, the pants that fit his slightly toned ass just right. Gods, were you really so sinful? But, was it so wrong to want your husband, to think of him panting above you and his beautiful thighs encasing you with heartache and hunger?

Cirdan stopped again. You were about to tell him now this time you really weren't looking but he didn't face you, instead dropping his bag along with an unused set of arrows accompanying his bow.

"I think... I understand."

You tilted your head at him, maybe at a poor attempt to get him to look at your cute side.

"I'm supposed to do more than...be a a simple protector."

You would've pressed for more information, if it weren't for the oddly timed shove towards a nearby tree. Cirdan took the bag from your hands faster than you could ask "what the hell are ya doing," his sharp face only mere inches away and angled as if he was about to kiss you.

But maybe, that was just your imagination, your mind centered only on his smoothened pinkish lips.

"Is this what you wanted...?"

The elf brute inched down, nudging your nose with a deep exhale. His hands engulfed yours, holding them down at your sides as he pressed his lips snuggly to your cupids bow.

The sheer power of his face pushed your skull against the tree; along with it a warm, humid hand came from behind to press along the curve of your back. His pointer finger inched, massaging into your tailbone as the elf's thigh quickly entrapped you between he and the old oak.

That hand moved down to the waist of your hunting trousers, digging beneath them to reach more savory skin.

You almost jumped at the slight clutch of your left ass cheek, your husbands eyes shut as he rubbed his forehead against you.

Lost words were grumbled under his breath with a gentle rasp, his other hand leaving your fingers as they braced against the bark of the tree behind you.

"Cirdan-- wha," you tried to figure out what you were feeling, what the right thing to do would be. Which was, to tell him that this was not the right place, nor the right time. But that gentle nudge of his tented crotch against your leg made any thoughts of lucidity drift.

"Want you..." He spoke, barely above a hum. "Isn't this, what you needed? Looking at me, at my..."

"Don't finish that sentence," you warned, unable to meet his gaze as he softly squinted open his eyes. "Maybe so but--! Right here?? Right now? In the woods?! Even I'm not desperate enough to make us do it...here."

"No creatures come to the edge of the woods... too smart for that. We're too far away for any hunters to venture close enough." You could see even he wasn't one to normally suggest this idea; but if anyone knew this forest, it was him. "Besides, said I want to take care of you.. did you not think I'd follow through on that..?"

"But, wait, I mean-" you nearly whined, hardly able to contain yourself with the hand massaging your backside, the fat of his buldge grinding into your quadricep. He was almost as bad as the rabbits he so skillfully caught, their known libidinous currently rivaling his own.

It was still atleast a 15 minute walk back to the cottage when following the path directly back. Could you make it that long? If not, could you bare the anxiety of having him bend you over in the woods completely out in the open?

"I didn't know you were so... pent up." You choked. "I mean, you're not just doing this for me, right?"

Who were you kidding? He was practically rubbing on you like a fox in heat.

"Please don't make me beg." He looked at you directly, finding your lost-at-sea eyes that had been rapidly searching for any creature or holy figure nearby witnessing you and your husbands' immoralities. He wasn't whining nor desperate but rather asking you, to please, not make him put himself even lower at your mercy-- if that was even possible.

His directness caught you off guard; sure, you had been on the edge of ripping your clothes off and throwing yourself at him but-- to have him beat you to the punch?

You couldn't help yourself when he leaned in, his soft locks brushing against your shoulder as the tip of his pink tongue swiped your lower lip, his confidence having grown since the first time you made love to him in the dark.

You opened your mouth greedily, nearly starvingly so as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. How could you say no, when he asked you so genuinely, when your groin ached to be caressed by him?

With the confession of your open mouth and the lewd noises of your labored breaths, Cirdan moved quicker than with the normal diligent pace he tended to do everything with. In a split second your leg was wrapped around his hip, his large hand rubbing gently at the front zipper of your trousers, reaching in deep between your legs to get a good cup full o' you. 

You couldn't just ignore the cries of his loins as he lunged forward, desperate for your affection. You undid the two buttons holding the elf's own wood-colored slacks up. They drooped only slightly to show the clean grey of his happy trail, your palm digging in to reach for the stiff piece that craved a special touch.

It slid out so easily, his tip warm against your wrist. You couldn't help but watch him leak just a bit, slightly hard as a thin vein pulsed under your thumb.

"Gods please...I said t'not make me beg." He muffled in your ear, taken aback uncharacteristically as you stroked with the intent to milk him for all he had.

It was so cute and fat, the small grey-white hairs of the front of his cock leading down to his crowned jewels, making you appreciate the differences between humans and elves. His pointed ears twitched upward as he practically foamed at the mouth against your neck. A gentle palm came to push your shoulder against the tree with simplicity.

Without unzipping, cirdan shifted to pull your pants and undergarments down to your knees; in a matter of two seconds he managed to strip you half naked. Your hand was pulled away from the elf, interlocked instead with his fingers as your bare thigh was hoisted further up against his naked hip.

His chest pressed up against you as he slowed to get inside, looking at you with glazed over, hooded eyes. He didn't look away, he couldn't. There was something about the sweat at the corner of your brow, your slightly ajar lips that kept him going, entering inside of you with raw cock and raw determination, awaiting to see that expression of nearful ecstasy that would wash away all the neediness you had been experiencing.

You didn't know how he could do it, stare at you so intently without any break away while you sweated under his gaze. If he wasn't currently bottoming out inside of you right now, you would've felt like you were under interrogation. You both huffed simultaneously once your hole swallowed up the entirety of him, your right leg limp over his thigh as he pressed you up further against the tree.

"Feel okay?" Cirdan panted, and you could see he was barely keeping himself at bay. What a gentleman, controlling himself from fucking you blind-- not that you would've minded the latter, of course.

You responded in turn by grinding down on him, rolling your hips forward to have that needy, hungry and achingly thirsty spot become just a little farther quenched.

It was difficult to not throw your head back and scream, feeling so warm and full as you gripped the back strands of the elfs hair.

With the time you had spent with him you realized Cirdan wasn't much of a grunter, preferring unconsciously to huff and pant and wordlessly suck through his teeth when he was inside of you. If you were lucky, you'd get to see him furrow his brows in exasperation, frowning as if he was concentrating hard on something important and not just from rocking into you. The challenging part about being his first lover however, was that he was still learning not to finish in the first few seconds of plunging inside.

"Ill.. n'take care of yo..u" he muttered, lifting your hips as your bare ass scraped against the bark of the tree. "Take care so good..."

You would've laughed at his drunken fervor if you didn't find it so endearing, the urge to stick your tongue into his heated cavern of a mouth washing over you like a wave.

Cirdan accepted the kiss greatfully, placing a hand behind your head to grace your thump against the tree. You could hear the branches shake, a stray dead leaf falling on the top of your head as he rutted forward, your own pelvic floor pushing against his thrusts. The elf's nose smushed against the side of your own, lips practically consuming one another as his lashes brushed your cheek. Sweat formed on your back dripping to your legs, but you didn't care. It felt too good, your senses only focusing on where he was caressing or what would be next, the cold breeze reminding you that you were still outside.

That fear remained in the back of your mind, your eyes occasionally opening and scanning the forest that you could see beyond Cirdan. But there was nothing, nothing but the trees and dead fallen logs blocking pathways.

Your kisses drifted away as you saw a hunched over deer, somewhat 10 paces away with its head burrowed in a bush.

Cirdan slowed, the deep drilling inside of you now merely a thick discomfort of occasional thrusts. He could feel you were getting lost in your worry, your grip on his shoulders loosening.

"Ma’sal’shiral," he grabbed your chin, turning you away from the fear of the forest. "Going to make you feel love unlike any creature has known;" he kissed you with wet lips, giving you breath and teeth. "So please, don't turn from me."

The horrible ache in his eyes, the twitch inside of you-- for how torturous it was for yourself, it was just as bad for him. You would've apologized, turned the mood even further south into sourness if he hadn't begun rocking again, holding your back to keep your sensitive skin away from the tree. He huffed into your cheek, pressing hard up against you as he cherished everything he could touch. The deer that once took over your thoughts was now pushed to the edge, your eyes half-shut now that all you could feel was the depth of your husband, his precum mixing with the heat of your hole. The crude sound of skin on skin, the slight slap of elf balls hitting your ass-- it nearly sent your mind into overdrive.

And even with the pain of tree bark rubbing against your skin, the stench of petrichor and sweat in your nose, you wouldn't trade this moment for anything.

This might even be better than the bed... Okay, maybe not. But that didn't matter with Cirdan so far inside of you he huffed with inclination, tempting to keep his orgasm at bay.

[broadsandbroadswords]

daggers and axes and polearms oh my: swords and more in our zine, which you can buy here! all proceeds go to the transgender law center!