#sacrilege fic

[syneilesis]

I started something with Gabriel from What in Hell is Bad? and in a game about devils and demons, I just had to latch onto the homicidal angel 😂 I don't know if I could finish this, so I'm posting what I already have. Warnings for religious sacrilege and dubcon. This is supposed to lead to revenge/hatesex, but I ran out of steam before it even happened lol. For reference, this is how Gabriel looks like. An incentive for me is that he's voiced by Tamamo Azul Tsumugi Amano Haru. Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

There's something to be said about the pure and divine, tainted and in chains. It's the control, perhaps. The power over one that is seen as untouchable, grander. Superior. That blinding radiance—smudged into ambiguity. Doubt. Beauty in the sullied.

Gabriel looks at you with incandescent hostility in his crystal-glass eyes, and a frisson of thrill runs down your spine. You bite your lip to keep the grin threatening to escape at bay.

“Child of Solomon,” he proclaims, still proud despite his tattered armor, despite his enchained limbs. His bruise is a stark cloud on his cheek, and the blood on the corner of his mouth still drips. “The last thing you'll see before I kill you is the joy I'll feel striking you down. Remember that.”

You hum. “Just empty words from someone who can't even move his legs.”

Propped against the wall, arms raised and shackled, Gabriel remains beautifully defiant. He jerks against his restraints as if to lunge at you, but the only freedom he's afforded is the manic hatred fracturing his stubborn resistance. Almost mocking, you kneel, his hips between your legs, and trace the blood that lines his chin. When he moves to retaliate, you grab his jaw and hold him firmly, admonishing.

When he first appeared to you, long ago, Gabriel had said, in that melancholy voice of his, that your death is nothing personal. But now, his savage transformation lights the blood in your veins, the bright, acrid taste of his loathing, his current helplessness.

So you kiss him.

It's all teeth: unforgiving and merciless in the face of his rage. He attempts to bite you but your hand grips his face in warning.

He ignores it, and you growl, an iron-tang sting on your lower lip, which you lick off above his darkly crescent stare.

“The fact that you're here, captive, means that your God has abandoned you.”

He bares his bloody teeth like a beast.

That doesn't deter you; in fact, it elates you, that hot rush of satisfaction shooting through your veins. It makes you lean towards him, your lips a hair's breadth away from his own. And then you ghost along, upward, until you can whisper directly in his ear: “I am your God now.”

His fury almost destroys his chains, but you're assured of their strength, so you only move slightly backward to avoid his attempt at an attack.

You don't miss his full-body shudder before that.

He trembles under your palms, harsh twitches when your skin comes into contact with his, and you draw a line at his sternum, remembering how his weapon drew his own blood and marked you, his forever prey.

You tear at the remaining fabric of his clothing. The cacophony echoes his rasping breaths.

Between your legs, his arousal strains against his trousers.

[zeldaseyebrows]

The next chapter of my grad school AU is out!

The title is: The One Where Link Cries. There's drama, exposition, spicy times, and Link gets to have a little breakdown as a treat. Hope you enjoy!

[zivilzz]

"My dear boy, here's no reason I couldn't help you with certain things when it comes to finances."

"Don't play with me, Father; I know you're not familiar with the concept of sugaring."

"You'd be surprised, my dear."

Crowley spluttered and tried to suppress a coughing fit.

————

Vine Slips of a Strange God.

Chapter one - A well of Living waters. ✨

Read fic here - Author @depraveddame ♥️

The first 3 pieces of Chapter one, a Good Omens Priest AU fanfic “A Vine Slips of a Strange God.”

Read Fic for more pieces or follow me here as I will be posting the finished illustrations for this wonderful piece when I get through them. ✨

[thehistorykev]

ok ok, what if we made a fanfic about kevin priest and twinyards demons? what would we do? I'm thirsty for it!

[blueparadis]

𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐃; 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐌𝐀

( 𝐜𝐰. )_ makima x demi-human!f!(dom)reader, supernatural au, slight canon typical elements, pov!shifts, pwp, 1night-stands, pinning, wlw, friends with benefits, ēxplicit sūmt, power dynamics, s/d dynamics, mention of succubus, undertones of violence and murder. 𝐰𝐜 :: 2k.

( 𝐬𝐲𝐧. )_ being an assassin in the world of devil hunters was not a walk in the park; until y/n was forced to make a deal with the demon.

( 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. )_ @6-022-10-23 OMG bunny finally it's here 😭 I'm so sorry that I made you wait for so long. I finished it earlier than expected... I tried my best to align with the ideas you gave me but can't promise much. Well, i hope you enjoy this. Ik i did >:)) | redirect to blog navigation.

Being born to a renowned family with a long chain of pure bloodlines, where the next generation is blessed with astounding abilities to surpass the previous heir, is not in everyone's stars. Those who have it, despise it and those who do not, they envy it. But neither was the case with y/n. She came from a family of trained guards. Her family was part of a small clan who were devoted to ‘leaders’. They have dedicated their life, body, and soul to their leaders and they must protect them at all costs. That is their fate. That is their purpose in life. That is why they are born.

Another lukewarm Friday night rolled in.. Y/n was humming to herself as she combed her hair. It has been ten years since her parents passed away. They were killed by a local mafia gang who claimed to be as their ‘money-lender’ and hence, y/n had to work for them to pay off the debt. But fate is such a fickle whore when it comes to enacting a perfect revenge. While the money-lender slept peacefully every night, y/n spent every night being wide awake drunk on revenge. On one such night she decided to visit the church, just to calm herself but instead came back with blood all over her tattered clothes and a demon residing inside her, a succubus. The demon insatiable with lust, and her mind hungry for vengeance. What could be more appropriate than to make a deal with a succubus to enact her perfect revenge? It was a Friday just like today when she killed all the made men of the local mafia gang along with the leader and received loads of cash from the government as a reward. Her parents must be proud of her.

“Lily, I can now braid my hair like my mother.” Y/n chimed looking at the mirror. She blinked twice and uttered, “Amen” The reflection in the mirror did not change except for her eye color. It turned red. Although there was no one in the room, she kept talking. “Well, I hate that I can't cut my hair now. It has become so long and sometimes it gets in the way.” She let her body fall on the soft mattress and exhaled deeply. “You know you cannot cut your hair.” a voice echoed in her room.

“Should we go to the parlor to color our hair?” she asked scrolling through her contact list. They were full of gang leaders from several parts of the town. “yeah. We can. I don't think it would affect our bond.” Hearing such a green signal made Y/n’s heart jump with joy. She laughed and mentioned that the first thing in the morning she would do is eat a burger from Mcdonald's and then go straight to the parlor.

Yes, being in contract with a demon came with more pros than cons or at least that is how y/n wished to see it. From the day she had a contract with the succubus, she was never alone. Lilith, in short, Lily, the succubus was always there to watch over her whether she liked it or not. Better to get along than to enrage a demon— that was the idea; she wished to follow it till the last breath of her life. And why should not she? She is now a government-aided bounty hunter who has a deal with a demon. What could possibly go wrong?

“Is this seat taken?” A woman with peach-colored hair, perfectly braided who wore a pair of formal trousers and a shirt enquired softly holding her food tray that contained a soft drink and a pack of french fries. Y/n scanned the cafeteria and found two men in black suits guarding the entrance and exit of the place. You moved to a side without responding hoping she would take the sit next to you but she did not. Instead, she sat in front of you.

“She looks tasty.” The food stuck in your throat, your cheeks warming instantly at the voice of Lily at the back of your mind. She has a habit of doing this, especially around men. Maybe y/n was too comfortable as a vessel for her. Chugging half of the water bottle you were about to ask her. . . but she shot her chance first. “You are,” She rested her chin on the back of her palms leaning over the table. “You are the one who killed a group of fifty men of a local gang a few years ago. Isn't that right?”

Bingo. Damn right. She came doing her research. Just like the people say, her presence alone is formidable. Wonder how much she knows about you? Is she aware of the fact that y/n knows the devil she is in contract with? Taking in a deep breath through your nose you tartly spoke, “And, you are the one who died quite a few times, Makima.” you took another bite from half of the burger. “quite fatal I presume yet here we are.” She cocked her head to a side, eyes almost ready to devour your presence, your soul, your spirit, and everything else around you. But you kept eating. Grabbing the napkin you left your seat exclaiming, “Yet here we are drinking, eating. chatting.” without maintaining eye contact. As you walked passed by her you heard a sharp intake of breath. Makima gasped as she felt your presence fade away. what on earth was that? it was as if two famishing comets crossing each other while destroying other celestial bodies.

That was the first time when y/n met Makima. Strange things started to occur after that, as in, you kept seeing her several times, crossing paths at local bars and restaurants. Must be work you thought and brushed it off. But one day you spotted her at a cozy bar that was adorned with neon lights in a quiet revealing dress — that is unlike her. “She’s alone.” Lilith’s voice echoed in your head.

“you think so?” you whispered lowly. “she is always with her guard dogs.”

“no, no. I meant she is lonely.” Sharing a look with Lily through the reflection of the wine glass you thought, ‘Really? How could you tell?’

“Y/n L/n we know our kind. no matter how much power we have, we are lonely. We can have anything using that power, so in the end, without it we're nothing.” You swirled your drink as she added. “she must be having one of those days.”

“Like we have periods?” you asked a little louder than usual, earning a look from the bartender. It is a good thing that you always keep the Bluetooth headphones plugged in, even if they are turned off. They saved you many times.

“Perhaps. But we sometimes get tired of it. Of our power.” what a cruel thing to say for a powerful being to a powerless creature. You gulped the rest of the drink, grabbed your purse, and left the place. You can not make the same mistake twice. You can not take another demon into your house.

A few weeks passed.

When the full moon was beaming at her brightest, the stars were celebrating her beauty, human life was being absorbed by you and Lilith was having her share of meal y/n crossed paths with Makima again. She was in her work attire. Both of you had blood splotches here and there. Without exchanging any set of words you offered her a cigarette. She took it. Puffing out a drag you blurted. “My house is nearby. I'll get you fresh set of clothes.”

“Is that so?” she asked lighting her cigarette. Part of you presumed she would be such a good girl unaware of how to light a cigarette to upload her reputation. “Fine by me.” It was a friendly walk under the full moon. She told him that she is grateful for this, might as well repay you if given a chance.

“It's fine. sooner or later I'll probably work under you. Better to appease you than to lock horns ” you said in a robotic manner like you were taught. But you did not expect Makima to laugh at this. “oh!she likes you.”

‘Lily not now. NOT. NOW.' you warned.

You showed her the bathroom and gave her a fresh set of clothes. Meanwhile, you got refreshed too. When you were out of the bathroom, in just a pair of spaghetti and shorts you noticed Makima was drying her hair with the towel. You smiled exchanging glances. You stood behind her to get a look in the mirror. Makima’s hands turned lithe, eyes focusing on your reflection as you closed the gap between her and yourself. You could feel her breath rising and falling faster than usual. All you did was stare at her a little longer and then Makima tore her eyes away. Before she could escape you clamped your palms against the edge of the dressing table. Her hands blocked her chest, in a manner of self-defense or being embarrassed. You leaned closer, closer than she expected, closer than you expected.

“you look very fresh.” leaning further to reach her petite shoulders, you whispered. “you are staying for tonight, right?”

’course she is. You felt her fingers on your boobs, lightly grazed and the next thing you knew was you had her pinned against the wall, her hands clasped above her head and another grip on yours holding her in place. Melodious moans filled the room, no resistance from her side. Warm - wet neck kisses, boobs being pressed to one another, rubbing against each other as both of you hungrily shared mind-numbing kisses.

She was trying to get rid of your hold from her wrists. At least she was trying to but it was not enough. Your lips peppering kisses on her chest overpowered her strength. Makima was in no state to use control. You broke the kiss standing inches apart from her, looking right into her galactic eyes — last chance before you devour her, a last chance to say no.

Makima was quick and straightforward. So, you expected her to be like that in bed too but she was not. All she does was work. She goes for a drink but that is not enough to blow off steam for the line of work she is in. Y/n had thought about this many times after spotting Makima in that bar. She looked every bit of you when you were human.

Carefully, getting rid of the nightgown Makima looked at you sheepishly. You smiled and guided her to the bed, hovering above her, maintaining eye contact as you inserted your hands inside her panty. Warm, wet, needy. It did not take you long to push two sets of fingers inside her while your lips worked over her areola. Her hands tried to reach your feminity but she was too lost in chasing her high. You pushed your fingers further and quickened the pace feeling her strong grip over your arms, eyes shutting, back arching as her fluids coated your hand.

Sure, Lilith fed on lust but her preys were not on women, only men. It has been a while since you had slept with someone and they were still alive. To think that, a girl like her would be a virgin was every bit of shocking it was as much as it was exciting otherwise she would not have been tired just after three rounds of orgasm. At least, you expected her to be awake for pillow talk or even sharing a smoke. Stealthily, you left the bed standing in front of the mirror in the same spaghetti and shorts but with bite marks all over your neck, and waistline.

“told you she was a virgin.”

You rolled your eyes and headed towards the bathroom grabbing your phone.

-

@tokyometronetwork @public-safety-network @underratedcharactercorner

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Posting Update!!

The Vessel fic is done I just need to edit it!!!!!! Also on the cusp of being finished if I can make myself focus for more than 5 seconds...

Troubled Waters (Iceburg x Fem! Reader) FLUFF/SMUT - I just need to write the smut, which shouldn't be to difficult (that strange man is fine as hell I want to climb him like a tree).

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) pt. 10 - inspiration has struck! Production on this chapter has increased by 20%, and I'm a little over half way. All I would like to say about this update is I hope you're ready for more farmer IV.

The Baptism (Charles Greywolf x Fem! Reader) SMUT - Part 3 of The Sacrilege Series! I just need to write the smut, the set up is there, I'm just having some trouble with the flow.

Sacrament of The Night pt 1. - Terrified about posting this not gunna lie, the chapter is about half way done, we're meeting Isabella this chapter and getting a feel for the Village she's going to be spending her time studying in. This one will be out relatively soon, just... Nervous, nervous, nervous

Untitled Dave Miller Smut - Just need to write the smut, Dave's creepy and grungly enough straight from my brain

[reverielibrary]

Falling & Worship

Two fallen angels, one long-steeped in sin, one still bright with holiness—no matter what roles they play in the mirage of a bedroom, at the end of the day, one is an angel and the other a demon.

Wordcount: 1651 | Contains: Angel x demon, Nonbinary characters, Trans characters, T4T, Penetration, Roleplay, Themes of virginity, Corruption, Possessiveness, Dom/sub, Catholic guilt, Complicated feelings, Unrequited love, Angst

He knew that this angel was too good for him and always would be. Fallen or not, they were still an angel through and through, even when they sinned. That holiness could not be wrung from them, didn't rot away when he helped them cut their dying wings off. They were good, far too good.

Not like him. He was still falling every moment, plunging farther from that heavenly light that used to bathe the whole of him. He'd forgotten the brightness of a halo, the weight of wings, the taste of holiness. He wasn't just a fallen angel—he was a demon now. Sinful, impious, evil. Further from God's love with each passing moment he spent seeking out any indulgence on Earth he could sink his claws into.

But this angel... they excited something in him that nothing in Heaven or Hell ever could. Brought in like a helpless stray, all alone and disorientated, freshly fallen and still in shock. He had latched onto to them the moment he'd laid eyes on them, held them gently in his teeth like a canine, refusing to put them down but also not biting down, either. Claiming, protecting. Savoring them like a candy on his tongue as he gave them their first taste of sin, of hedonism and decadence, watching them indulge in the earthly pleasures he had come to love so dearly.

He wanted to corrupt them. He wanted to strip them of all their holiness piece by piece, and in booze and blood and debauchery make them into a creature of desire, another hungry animal living in the mortal world. He wanted to be their fall.

But no matter what, when he looked at them, he still saw that light, that warmth, that goodness. They were sweet, and kind, and too soft for the world, let alone for Hell. Haloless, wingless, they were still an angel, just as declawed and defanged, he would always be a hungry animal.

He hated that they would always be too good for him. More than that, he hated that he wanted them so badly just as they were, a holy thing in their presence that made him feel like a sinner, like a human. He hated it, and he wanted them so, so badly, in any way they would allow.

They had asked him to be their teacher. Asked so politely, so innocently. He was the only one they'd trust with something so intimate, they'd told him. He had nearly bitten his tongue off holding himself back then. It was something human lovers said to each other, not fallen angels. But there they were, and he'd said yes. Of course he'd said yes.

He'd slowed down for them, but he did not ease them into anything. It was all he could do not to tear into them like a Christmas present, so considerate was the best he could offer. Considerate, aware, flexible, but not merciful. He had forgotten the taste of mercy long ago.

They were eager to follow his lead, entirely in his hands, and he was just as eager to have them at his command, all to himself. The others had wanted a piece—a virgin fallen angel was a rare and special treat for a demon, and he had not been one when they'd all met—but he'd banished any thought of the sort like a dog protecting a kill. They were all his, and his alone.

To watch them experience ecstacy was an intoxication all its own to him. Their first taste of food, their first blissful high, their first thrill ride, their first swim in the ocean. He was esctatic to be their first fuck.

He never wanted to stop. He wanted to chain them to his bed, keep them like a secret, hoard them like a treasure. His angel.

They'd chosen a female form for themself, "like Eve," they'd said. Something backwards about being subservient. He couldn't deny he liked that arrangement, but he knew they didn't mean him, even if they didn't know it. They were still serving Him.

A cunt was exciting on them. It had been funny to tease them with their unsculpted mortal form, sexless as all angels were, smooth like a Barbie doll. He knew from personal experience how sensitive they were, and his mind was full to the brim with all the ways he was going to push their sensitivity to its limits.

He thought he'd give them a more classic first time, romanticized vanilla—two fallen angels playing husband and wife, mommy and daddy. He'd dressed them up nice in a skirt and blouse and apron only to take them all right off, smearing their lipstick, tearing their nylons. They were putty in his hands, following every step he led in their dance, obeying every command, endless obedient. Just like an angel would be.

Despite how badly he wanted to ruin them completely, he reigned himself in. He left off the fun extenders for his clitdick, giving them just his natural length, enough for a shallow fill. He kept them in missionary. He talked them through it. It was almost romantic, by his standards, away.

They whimpered and whined when he'd touched them first, showing them all the lovely sensations a hand could give a clit. They made such pretty faces, brows curved and hands gripping his arms. It was adorable. They moaned and whimpered and panted with overwhelmed desperation the moment he entered them, first with a finger, savouring the slick velvetly warmth of their tight cunt. He fucked them open enough for two fingers, watching them bite their hands as the stretch inundated them. He smiled and told them to keep their mouth clear so he could hear them, and they did just as they were told.

The look on their face when he positioned his swollen dick at their hole was delicious. He wanted to have that look framed, to keep it in a locket. He took them by the hips and slid into their cunt as far as he could, still playing with their clit as he began to rock into them, gazing into their eyes the whole time.

Having lost their words, they could only yip and gasp and moan, and they did. They were not quiet, and as they began to buck against him, grinding into his fingers and forcing him deeper with the angle of their hips, he felt a rush of pride, like he was claiming a victory. They were his, so completely his, and to be that close he had to drag them down into the depths with him.

When they came, a flash of their halo returned, their physical ecstacy tangled up in all that goodness. It was blinding, and right away he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

Still, he did not let them go.

They spent nearly all their time at his side. He hadn't told or asked them to, but he wouldn't have had it any other way. He needed them like his mortal body needed water. The others called it obsession, and he wished they were right. When they started to hold his hand with not explanation like it was the most natural thing in the world, he started to fear that it was much worse. He was falling in love with them.

They told him once, as they were stumbling drunk through the streets away from a graveyard, barely able to breathe for laughing so hard, that he was their best friend. Those words burned like hellfire. He didn't want to be their friend.

He wanted to be their God.

He tightened the leash after that, pushing everything they could bear as far as he could. He would snap and growl at anyone who so much as looked at them too long, always with an arm around them or a hand on them, a claim, a tether.

Then, when they were alone, he would play however they wanted, however he wanted, always pushing, digging for something. They were fascinated by roleplay, and he brought them countless roles for them to play together: businessman and mistress, master and pup, married sweethearts, knight and prince, nurse and patient, mommy and doll, cheerleader and slasher, priest and sinner. They were always submissive, even when they topped, though he found there was some whiny brat hiding in their goody-two-shoes.

He devoured every moment, every sensation, every bit of them he could get, always starving for more. He was rough and mean and doting and generous, and they were always as vulnerable as an open wound. The first time they begged for him, he saw stars. They had plain-sight hickies and bruises in the shapes of his hands for weeks after that.

They lived every moment to the fullest, partying and parading and indulging in fantasy and each other. It was paradise.

But all the time, he knew. He knew they would always, always be too good for him, because they were an angel and he was a demon, no matter how much they rubbed off on each other.

They'd finally asked him what had changed when he'd spent all weekend eating them out and fingering them and kissing them with their cum on his tongue, focusing entirely on pleasuring them and neglecting himself. He told them nothing had changed, and that much was true. Nothing different, nothing new.

He had loved them for a long time by then, and he couldn't do anything with love but worship. Maybe that was still a bit of angel left in him. When they asked if he was alright, he took their hand, looked them in the eye, and said, "Of course, lamb. I'm with you."

Then he got on his knees and worshipped like it was all he knew, because what else could a fallen angel do in the face of a love he could never have?

[revenantghost]

i just want to say thank you for your Trigun Twangyhop playlist, it's my go-to writing music right now and it's so much fun!

Oh man, you're welcome!!! It's so funny because I didn't even see this ask until rn, and over the past few days I have been going feral adding songs to this playlist instead of focusing on stress, and it went from like, uh. One hour or so long to like? Um??? FIVE HOURS????? But I'm honestly really happy that anyone out there's enjoying it! <3

If folks out there have got no idea what I'm talking about and are curious:

[carebeardean]

1x06 + lyrics

/ fascination by tamino / one by U2 / first disciple by tamino / stuck in a moment by U2 / small hands by radical face / miracle drug by U2

[boxboxlewis]

(you know) i'm such a fool for you

unfortunately for us all i think this song (a banger) IS about daniel pining for scotty james... daniel would be like "i just...why were you holding her hand?" to scotty, and scotty would be like daniel. she's my fiancee, right? we're engaged. now get back to sucking my dick.

anyway this fic is set just before the wedding when daniel is still trying to convince himself it's not going to go ahead. something will come up, at the last minute. scotty will tell him it's all a joke. he's keeping it together, he thinks, but several people have asked him in voices of concern what he's taken, so... maybe he's not keeping it together very well.

due to brain poisoning from #positivethinking instagram he decides the answer is to do one BIG ROMANTIC GESTURE. they're in venice, so... he'll swim to the palazzo where scotty is staying, and then serenade him while treading water. that's gotta work, right?

(it does not work: scotty is mortified, daniel is mortified, everyone in venice is mortified. every chumbaiting f1 news site is running stories like HE THOUGHT HE WAS A MERMAN, SOURCES CLAIM: BEHIND DANIEL RICCIARDO'S AQUATIC BREAKDOWN. it's a disaster. this fic gets 50 views on ao3 and 3 kudos)

[watchingblsnowandforever]

i discovered the AO3 Problem early in the evening.

Now you tell me how I'm supposed to sleep without my extremely fluffy romantic lore of one of my favorite ships. How??

[zeldaseyebrows]

Chapter One of Sacrilege and Sororities is out!

This is the botw Grad School AU I’ve been talking about forever and finally am publishing. I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: After an assassination attempt, Link and Zelda must live together and navigate the impending Calamity, grad school, strange dreams, and their complete disasters of personal lives. One of those things is more difficult than the others.

Pairing: Link/Zelda, OG Link/Hylia

Rating: E

Excerpt:

“I hate him!”

Zelda narrows her eyes with the vengeful focus that comes after consuming copious amounts of spirits. However, her righteous anger would be more chilling if she wasn’t hunched over a toilet bowl in a sorority house bathroom. The cute sand seal printed shower curtain surrounding the claw foot tub destroys any sort of gravitas Zelda’s tirade could have possessed.

“So I’ve heard,” Urbosa replies.

So I’ve heard for the past hour, Urbosa thinks, shifting to get more comfortable on the cool bathroom tile.

Even though it’s already 2am, it’s still going to be a long night. But she’s a loyal friend, and would never leave Zelda in her darkest hour. Even if it means missing the party she’s hosting or getting puke on her skirt or having to listen to Zelda rant about her poor appointed knight and bodyguard for an egregious amount of time, Urbosa’s in it for the long-haul.

Zelda wipes her mouth with a piece of toilet paper Urbosa passes her then continues her drunken rampage, “He’s just so… short! And everyone thinks he’s such hot stuff, because he can do athletics and kill things and looks like –and I quote verbatim– a ‘sexy little androgynous jock stoner elf.’ But they don’t have to see him at 5 a.m. But you know who does?” Zelda smacks her hand against the toilet bowl in emphasis and raises her voice even more. “Who does have to see him at 5 in the bloody morning when that monstrosity of an alarm goes off so he can do push-ups and pull-ups and sit-ups and all the other ‘-ups’ and make me feel bad about myself?”

Urbosa, demonstrating her infinite wisdom, does not answer the rhetorical question. A crisp spring breeze flutters the lace curtains and sweeps through the bathroom. It brings the sounds of intoxicated women laughing and dancing and cheering. Urbosa wishes for the thousandth time that Zelda could just be a happy drunk like them.

Balling her hands up, Zelda shrieks, “Who does? I do! I do because my awful father made him my bodyguard and my accursed roommate. All because he pulled that dinky little sword out of the stone while he was camping.” Zelda contorts her face and pretends to brandish a sword but ends up bashing her arm against the toilet lid. “Oh, I’m Mr. Sir Link Perfect Arse Chosen Hero and I’m barely clearing 5’3” on a good day, but everyone and their mother still wants me. I’m so quiet and stoic and annoying and I wear a stupid little knit beanie and have a motorcycle and a ponytail because I’m soooo cool. Look at me!”

“His beanie does make him look like one of my ex-girlfriends,” Urbosa mumbles to herself then refocuses.

“He’s such a little weirdo and I think he’s in love with his ratty old crockpot. If he even can feel love, since he’s as empty inside as a kiddie pool after it gets drained because someone’s shat in it. He even named the crockpot. Its name is Brenda. Brenda the crockpot.”

Urbosa draws upon every single ounce of willpower she has in order not to burst out laughing.

[alrightbuckaroo]

hello ada!!

⚠️🖊️🌎 for the wip game!

Hi Lola!

⚠️Which wip your most likely to finish or update next?

Next up is chapter two of the time loop au! It's coming next Tuesday and it's where the story really starts to pick up (basically Carlos' starts to realizes something's off lmao)

In regards to unpublished, the sequel to summer slipped us is next and then on deck is my personal favorite the Old West AU (my beloved)

🖍Post Any sentence from your wip

As I know you like the Old West AU, I offer you this:

Nancy adjusts her fascinator and undoes the top two buttons of her blouse. “Gentlemen,” Her smile is saccharine and secure. “Let’s go rob us a bank.”

🌍What tags or warnings will your / one of your wip(s) need if you intend to share it?

I did not plan to make this all about the Old West AU lol but it might have graphic descriptions of violence simply due to gunshot wounds, minor character deaths, things of that nature.

That said, in regards to tag, Religious Imagery is probably going to be the third one LOL

ask me about wips!

[p1nk-matter]

revisiting my old ao3 and wattpad library (cringed at the latter's saved fics) i found this one gem of fic for jean kirschtein (aot) w/ following cws: smut, blood play, ritual sex, defiling, blasphemy (fatherjean is too fine ngl). id personally add horror/terato (reader's some sort of creature..? idk) anyways it's called Confessions of his desires by @erenspersonalmilf on wattpad, in case you're interested!

Like my fav tumblr writer, this fic too is not continued due to author going ghost but yk..it is what is and that's fully understandable.

[demonscantgothere]

Remember that bath!fic idea? Yeah.

And I'll Ask for the Sea by Helholden

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power (TV 2022), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types  

Warnings: Teen And Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, F/M, Complete Work

Relationship(s): Galadriel/Halbrand (The Rings of Power)

Tags: Galadriel, Halbrand (The Rings of Power), Unresolved Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Awkwardness, Flirting, Denial of Feelings, Bickering, Bathing/Washing, Bath!Fic, Don't Judge Me, Only Tolkien Can Judge Me, I'm Going to Hell, Takes Place During Episode 5: Partings, While They Are Still in Númenor, Touching, Lots of Touching, Voyeurism, Galadriel is Embarrassed, Halbrand is Not, Elf/Human Relationship(s)

Summary:

Halbrand turned quickly, giving Galadriel a view she did not expect. She had to catch herself in midstep and look away, pretending it was nothing she hadn’t seen before lest he mock her for impropriety. Halbrand, upon finally seeing who was there with him, dropped back into the water immediately, water sloshing over the side and slapping against the floor. His eyes were wide. The dagger fell from his hand, clattering to the boards below with drops of glistening water. “Galadriel,” he said, half in shock. Unless her eyes deceived her, he sunk further down. “What are you doing in h—” In which there is Galadriel/Halbrand bath!fic. Yes, you read that right. Well, as close to bath!fic as possible with these two. Phew.

* * *

Steam rose from the water due to the heat, bathing the room in a haze that distorted the view through the crack in the door.

Normally, Galadriel believed in propriety above all else, save her own her ego, but the pull was unmistakable as she found herself drawn to the door out of curiosity. No one was around, and within his peaceful reverie, Halbrand would not realize she was near.

Her breath caught in her throat, her hand to slipping on the door. Through the crack, she could see Halbrand in the large basin, fully submerged in water, but naked beneath it. Her heart raced at the thought. Never a truth she would utter out loud under any circumstance high or low, but in the confines of her heart, it was fully acceptable to her. He was in the water. She would look away if he rose. He did not. Instead, he laid his head back on the edge of the basin, hair falling over the edge. It stirred new feelings in her. Teeth bit the edge of her lip, and she leaned closer, breathing harder.

Halbrand lifted his head, turned toward the sound of her breathing. Galadriel fell back in shock, hitting the door by accident with her hand as she caught herself. Her heart leapt into her throat as he turned halfway to the door, his brow furrowed in cautious thought. Halbrand suddenly stood halfway, water pouring down his back. Galadriel felt the heat rush into her face now that his backside was in full view. He reached over and snatched a dagger from his frock over the edge of the bathing basin, holding it up in the air as if danger was near.

“Who’s there?” he called out, partial fear in his voice.

Galadriel felt embarrassed, but more so that she frightened him unnecessarily.

Thinking quickly, she knocked on the door. Her hand reached out and grabbed it, twisting the handle. What was she doing? There was no excuse for this, but she would find one she could pass over him. The door opened easily, no lock having been set despite his unease, which took Galadriel back.

Why was he frightened if he left the door unlocked?

Halbrand turned quickly, giving Galadriel a view she did not expect. She had to catch herself in midstep and look away, pretending it was nothing she hadn’t seen before lest he mock her for impropriety. Halbrand, upon finally seeing who was there with him, dropped back into the water immediately, water sloshing over the side and slapping against the floor. His eyes were wide. The dagger fell from his hand, clattering to the boards below with drops of glistening water. “Galadriel,” he said, half in shock. Unless her eyes deceived her, he sunk further down. “What are you doing in h—”

Galadriel tried to think quickly. Her eyes roved over the room to the shelf of dark bottles. More of the water in the basin sloshed over the edge and splashed against the wooden floor as Halbrand adjusted himself. She walked over and grabbed one of them with assurance. “I forgot this,” she said, walking back towards the door. “Apologies for having disturbed you—”

Halbrand grabbed her wrist, the one holding the bottle. It caused her to freeze, her heart leaping into her throat. His eyes scanned the label to figure out what it was; he huffed, the corner of his lip curling up.

“You didn’t forget anything,” he said, a cold tone of assurance to match her own.

There was nothing for it.

Galadriel looked directly at him, here gaze unwavering. “I did, Lord Halbrand. Now, if you will but only let go of my hand—”

With a firm pull, he tugged her toward him. Galadriel had not stumbled in so long, but she almost did, catching herself at the last moment and finding a way to not make a spectacle of it yet. Her eyes burned in a showmanship of anger. “Let go of m—”

“—Were you watching me?”

Of all the things for Halbrand to ask, Galadriel least expected this. Her mouth fell open, finding it so much harder to conjure up half-truths when standing face to face with a naked man who already knew what she had been doing in secret behind the veiled curtain.

“ . . . Of course not,” she sputtered, believing none of it herself.

His grip didn’t loosen on her wrist. His eyes were daggers boring into her soul. “Lie to anyone else, but don’t lie to me, Galadriel,” he murmured, and she felt the heat crawl up and stain her cheeks.

This was dangerous. This game she was playing. This was dangerous.

She held up her chin in defiance, despite her reddened cheeks. “What if I was?” she asked, looking him up and down despite the cloak of water around his body. Her eyes met his again. That defiance. He looked pleased, satisfied with himself, and it upset her. Galadriel attempted to pull her hand away from him, but he pulled her into him—somehow his strength pulled her over the edge, and Galadriel landed in the water with him with a splash that sent a portion of the soapy water over the edge.

Halbrand lifted her up from the water as she gasped for breath, his hand cupping her cheek.

“Are you all right?” he asked hurriedly, a look of concern on his face. Despite the awkwardness, he still managed to be worried for her. It was endearing, if it were not so pesky and annoying.

“I am fine,” she spat, grasping for balance. That balance just happened to be his chest.

“ . . . Are you sure?” Halbrand asked, causing her teeth to grate on edge.

“Yes, of course—I—”

She was face to face in a bathtub with a naked man, her hand on his chest; it slipped from the water between them, and Galadriel felt the hot brand against both her cheeks as she ripped her gaze away from Halbrand’s chest. They locked eyes for what might have been a few moments, but very well could have been longer in the silence that stretched out before them. The weight of it sank into them both eventually, how compromising this position was—and if someone saw them. Quickly, and with ease, they both pulled away from each other. Galadriel averted her gaze, her hands grasping for purchase on the rim of the basin.

“My apologies—” she began to say, but he cut her off.

“There’s no need for that . . . ”

As elegantly as possible, she slipped out of the tub and whisked away a towel to wrap herself in with ease. She began to walk towards the door when Halbrand’s voice stopped her.

“ . . . You don’t think your wet clothes will raise suspicion?”

Galadriel paused, glancing down at her soaked dress. Her cheeks flushed harder again. He was right about that, too, of course.

“There are fresh clothes on the shelves behind the divider,” Halbrand offered helpfully. “Just . . . promise me . . . ” He drawled it out on purpose. “ . . . No peaking while I wait on you to finish.”

Galadriel refused to give him the satisfaction of looking back at him because his words brought the heat back to her face. She disappeared behind the divider, bringing the towel to her hair and drying it with her hand as she surveyed the clothes for something that looked suitable for her. An ivory linen dress with silver lace detail caught her eye, and she pulled it from the shelf to hold it up and see if it was tailored close enough to her frame. On the other side of the divider, Halbrand began to talk. His voice sounded distant enough that she put down the towel and began to undress.

“If you wanted to watch,” he teased from the bathtub, “all you had to do was ask, you know . . . ”

“Do not flatter yourself,” she shot back in anger.

“My, my . . . ” he said, and she could hear the humor in his voice. It drove her mad. “ . . . Is the Elf ashamed? I’ll have to be honest. I didn’t know Elves had the same proclivities as Men. You all act so uptight, it’s maddening . . . ”

Galadriel froze midway into the new dress. Her face was burning. “Do you have no shame,” she spat back, “or is that a trait all Men lack?”

“ . . . Perhaps just me,” Halbrand quipped. His voice sounded further away now, and Galadriel swiftly clothed herself. Did he get out of the bath? She never heard the slosh of water . . .

“Maybe you have been separated from your kind longer than you ought to have been,” she fired back. “Being back among them could teach you some humility—”

Halbrand appeared around the divider to her right. Galadriel drew back in shock. Thankfully, her dress was all the way up, but it was not fastened in the back. Halbrand, who was only clothed in his trousers and somehow forgot to put a tunic on, was bare from waist up. His skin still glistened with water. Galadriel realized only too late that she had been staring at his chest again. He cleared his throat, and she cast her gaze up to his face. Her face blazed with embarrassment and something else. He was smiling at her.

“ . . . Do you need help with that?” he offered suddenly, gesturing at her dress with his finger. Galadriel debated whether she should allow him, and then remembered it was not him who had been doing something impertinent for once. Slowly, she nodded her head and turned around, baring her back to him.

Galadriel felt him gently take her hair and move it over her shoulder, his hand grazing over the ridge of her uppermost back before pushing her locks to the front and laying them carefully down. He ran the tips of his fingers along the center of her back, and Galadriel shut her eyes briefly against the onslaught of sensations it stirred within her before opening them again to get a bearing on her surroundings. Halbrand took his time with each button, making sure his fingers grazed against her bare skin in the process. Her eyelids slowly drifted shut; it was a pleasant feeling, of course, and she had no complaints for it. When he was finished, he gently brushed the shoulders of the fabric out to make sure it was smooth.

“There,” he whispered, having leaned in so close to her ear before she even realized it. Her eyes shot open, and she pulled away from Halbrand before whirling around to face him.

“ . . . Thank you,” she managed, turning away from him to leave. She hurried to the door before he could stop her. She did not want to face any further questions of what she had been doing in the first place, but Halbrand’s voice called out to her before she could escape. Perhaps she should not have stopped, should have kept going, but something stilled her feet as her hand clasped at the door with a firm grip.

“ . . . Galadriel?”

She paused at the door, glancing back at him one more time. Halbrand stood in front of the divider now, grinning at her with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Next time, just ask,” he teased her, still grinning.

Galadriel fumed, feeling the color rise in her face once more, and she whirled around and stalked out of the washroom, shutting the door quietly behind her to not draw any attention to herself.

There will not be a next time, she thought as she walked away, but something prodded at Galadriel to halt and look back at the end of the hallway before she turned the corner, her hand touching the wall as she gazed back with the smallest measure of longing.

Halbrand stood outside of the washroom door, a tunic pulled over his torso now, his arms still crossed as he watched her leave.

He smiled back at her as she stared back.

Quickly, Galadriel fled around the corner and out of sight. That was dangerous business, after all, and she was not so sure where it would have led. She was glad she had gotten away from it before things had gotten any further.

There were some temptations better left unexplored.

[obwjam]

just had chatGPT write a fic for me i’m losing my mind