#repost yes

[pangloss-artee]

jax stop touching her balls

[dxstopiaa]

Close Confinement

Synopsis: Party games were a great way to pass the time, but seven whole minutes with the scribe himself? [Request]

Characters: Al Haitham x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: NSFW content, interact at your own risk. [Includes: Soft sex, Virginity loss, semi-public sex, praise, pet names] [it took me a while to write this, but i hope you like it! <3]

Boring, tiresome and irrelevant.

The trinity of words which circulated the young post-graduate’s mind, all to describe the topic of socialising and parties. If it was up to his own decision, Al Haitham would’ve rejected the offer in less than a second. However, it was not.

Duties and desideratum of the Akademiya’s students, he was told. According to many of the matra, there was a high demand of past students requesting a sort of reunion— a celebration, as illustrated on the infamous community message board.

In short, the Acting Grand Sage had no choice but to cater to their desires, hence the situation he found himself in. Snapping back from his thoughts, he glanced back at the venue he had organised, half proudly, half nonchalantly. Not too bad for the first try.

Of course, with the help of his rather irritating roommate, who wasn’t as insufferable when he had something to occupy himself with. Kaveh stood expectantly beside the Scribe, tapping his pen on his pale lips, surveying the checklist he had prepared. The quiet hum which left him already told he was satisfied enough.

One topic that Al Haitham didn’t see on aforementioned list was guest entertainment, something that he ignored in hopes of not having to deal with it. Spoiler from his future self— that approach did not go to plan.

Instead, the Acting Grand Sage found himself musing over you, who currently sat opposite from him. That sweet, soft-hearted girl who always greeted him so kindly, always keen to listen to his theses and reports with such attention. Even now, you just looked too cute for the most stoic of men to ignore. The Scribe would gladly play any silly game to amuse you.

“Al Haitham, just spin the bottle already!” Cyno groaned, wanting nothing more than to get this stress-inducing situation over with. A series of agreements from the other two graduates followed. You merely stared at him with anticipation.

He’s changed a lot, you thought. Appearance wise, his silver tresses were more the shade of oxidised metal, not to mention his muscular physique, just how much has he undergone in recent years? Still as nerdy as ever though, another book resting on his lap.

The ashen-haired scholar scoffed—smoothing his fingers over the virescent glass, pushing it into a spinning motion. Friction worked its magic, slowing down till the neck of the bottle faced directly towards you.

The group immediately began snickering, observing your cheeks redden, putting the ripest of berries to shame. You looked up again, witnessing the smug expression of success on their faces. The tension between you both was overpowering, about time they did something about it.

“That settles it then! Go on..” Kaveh coerced, pushing the both of you into a poorly-furnished conference room to the left of the lounge and locking the door from the outside.

Cliché. Was this a punishment or rather a reward from the gods?

Al Haitham didn’t know what to do with himself. This wasn’t like him at all to be thinking in such ways but— Archons, your dress barely covered your thighs from him.

You were biting the insides of your cheek, averting your eyes to anywhere but him, despite only being a few inches away. You’d understand his actions soon enough, hopefully.

He cupped your face with his palm, brushing away stray strands of hair that obstructed the view of your precious eyes. Your breath hitched, leaning into his gentle touch. He pulled you in closer, intending to wordlessly claim you as his own.

“May I?” Al Haitham pleaded, his piercing, turquoise irises tainted with affection. His voice was quiet— almost strained, like he was afraid of rejection, something you’d never do to him.

You hastily nodded your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kissed you delicately, a faint taste of sweet wine still left on his lips. The Scribe trapped your body against the wall, pulling away just to kiss you again at the sight of your smudged lipstick. His mouth trailed down to your neck as his hands did to your waist.

His touch was hypnotic— your mind was hazy and overcast with him, countless dreams of this years ago now enacted in-front of you. His hands travelled further, grasping onto the underside of your thighs and wrapping your legs around him to stand comfortably imbetween them.

Al Haitham was curious as to how you’d react. Would you be quiet and anxious, rarely moaning and instead gasping? Or would you be vocal, crying his name out at any given moment? He traced a slender finger over the front of your panties, observing you squirm into his touch.

“Haitham…” You muttered, a flutter of butterflies swarming deep within, each flickering motion of a wing seeming to spur a different emotion. Desperation, apprehension and lust.

“Yes, darling?” He continued to skim over your clit underneath the fabric, clouding your thought process over. You reached to cover your mouth, whimpering into your own hand.

“I haven’t done this before—” You whined upon feeling his clothed erection press up against you, needily rolling your hips against him. Your face flushed from the confession and the sinful noise you let out.

“I’ll be gentle, angel.” The Scribe comforted, which felt strange for him to utter such words. Anyone who knew the scholar would be aware of his abrasive, arrogant nature— but his heart followed no limits when it came to you.

And gentle he was, softly pleasuring you with skilled fingers, coaxing angelic sounds from your pretty, hesitant lips. Al Haitham wanted nothing more than to see them swollen and wet from kisses. A few seconds later you were essentially begging for his cock, palming his crotch with your inexperienced hand.

Your pleads were just adorable, who was he to deny you of what you wanted? With his fingers wet with your slick, he slid them over his flushed tip. It was quite the confidence boost for you to exclusively see the Acting Grand Sage deteriorated to this mindless state.

He prodded at your pussy, barely even managing to hilt himself with you clenching so tightly, hearing your timid sobs from the stretch, tears forming in your eyes.

“I know, darling, try to relax for me…” Al Haitham amorously whispered, planting short-lived pecks on your forehead whilst he massaged your thighs softly, giving you a few moments to adjust before beginning to move.

The feeling of his girth dragging against your insides was a simultaneous sensation of pain and pleasure. You struggled to restrain yourself, opting to bury your face against the scholar’s chest. With each prolonged thrust, your brain struggled to comprehend anything else.

“You’re doing so well, angel.” Al Haitham could feel you squeezing around his cock at his words, murmuring how it was all too much for you, phrases adjourned by blissful moans. You were close, those erotic grunts from his ajar mouth did nothing but worsen the tingling in your lower abdomen.

A final firm thrust and you finished around his cock, gripping onto him so much that he came inside of you. Your sublime expression so innocent, eyes half-lidded in euphoria. The Scribe pulled out, letting you stumble against him for support.

“So good for me, let me clean you up, sweetheart.”

The long-forgotten graduates were still at the very same table, entertaining themselves with numerous glasses of alcohol and a card game of the General’s choice. It’d be a complete lie if they were to say they hadn’t had a clue about your prior predicament.

The lipstick stains over Al Haitham’s face and neck, his dishevelled hair accompanied with your dress creased and legs still trembling from implied events— all telltale signs of something more explicit.

“It’s called seven minutes in heaven, not thirty minutes making your neighbour’s ears hell!” An embarrassed complaint from an even more ashamed blonde, flicking a card at his chuckling roommate.

[stargirlintodust]

[skyellux]

Let's go Barbie (˶╹̆ ▿╹̆˵)و✧♡

[frenchublog]

Steal their look 👗

[confirmeddead]

[rohirriiim]

MCU COSTUME APPRECIATION Hayley Atwell as Peggy Carter | Agent Carter Season One (2015)

[fuck-kirk]

Them™️

[ruubesz-draws]

Godzillas need trimming too, I believe. Too bad Minus One hates it...

From this:

[originalartblog]

Apparently much-needed reminder that reposting artists' art (by saving the images or screenshotting them and reuploading them yourself) on other platforms without the artists' expressed permission and without credit is theft and an insult to their passion and craft. You are profiting (in views, in attention, in feedback) from someone else's work and ideas, who do not get that feedback for sharing their creation.

If you are an art reposter, you are a thief and I have no respect for you.

[gio-scrabbles]

The rest of Sonic Movie 3: This dark and powerful hedgehog with a traumatic past named Shadow is destroying everything we love as revenge, and we must work together to stop him!

Doctor Robotnik and Agent Stone:

[tharenia]

soriku week this year has my favorite theme: opposites attract 💕

[frenchublog]

[snailsnaps]

i still think about them

[ash-and-starlight]

quick psa bc apparently it still needs to be said

DO NOT REPOST ART

idk in which language i have to say this for y’all to understand

DO NOT REPOST ART

i dont CARE if you credited the artist i dont CARE if u found it on pinterest i don’t CARE if you found it on instagram i don’t CARE if u found it laying in the corner of the sidewalk i don’t give a shit. it’s simply not yours to take and post without permission

repeat with me. you can repost only. and i mean ONLY. if the artist has given you explicit permission BEFOREHAND, asking them after you reposted does absolutely nothing. nada. nisba. niente. zero. it’s even worse.

(and permissions to repost are not blanket statements. if an artist is ok with reposting it doesn’t mean that another artist will be too, if you have the go-ahead to repost a certain art doesn’t mean that the permission extends to the rest of the artist’s work as well. “oh but i thought—“ i don’t cARE. ASK EVERY TIME.)

PLEASE begging to show even a crumb of respect for artists/writers/creators and their work it really is not that difficult

[cillsmurph]

CILLIAN MURPHY

96th Academy Awards Winner for Best Actor