#sage: that's how desperate i am

[cillixn]

Stumbled upon this masterpiece; you’re welcome ☺️ 💕

FUCK LMAOOO sleep paralysis demon lookin ass pic dgSKSKS ACTUAL JUMPSCARE i mean omg how sweet! 💖 may i offer you this in return?

[xxgoldie]

alhaitham x fem!reader, established relationship (marriage), just fluff

thinking about alhaitham, whose mind it is basically impossible to change once he makes a decision. this is the bane of many researchers looking for funding or permission for something. but there are rumours - rumours that he would do anything if his wife asked.

so you wake up in the early morning to a knock at your door, an absolutely desperate researcher you were vaguely acquainted with, begging you to get your husband to approve his department's budget request. and hell, it doesn't seem like they're asking too much money, and you figure since he came all this way, you could help them out.

so that's how one lucky researcher gets to witness the acting grand sage, for once, speechless, getting chewed out by his wife. you tried asking nicely, being sweet and pouting at him, but he doesn't budge. so what choice do you have but to tell him off? it only takes a minute of back and forth and one 'I am your wife' for him to sigh and sign the paper, handing it to the stunned researcher.

"fine, just don't tell anyone about this," he grumbles, looking at you pointedly, "I'm supposed to be top authority around here."

the researcher scurries off before Alhaitham can change his mind, and you shoot your husband a shit-eatingly sweet grin. His frustration melts away when you kiss him, though.

"you'd better not get used to doing that."

"aw, but how am I meant to pass up an opportunity to visit my lovely husband at work?"

"if you want to see me, you can just show up. you don't need to meddle."

"where's the fun in that, though?"

inspired by & Juliet's version of 'I Want It That Way' wc: 277

[capseycartwright]

you're my sun, my moon, my guiding star

“Fine, let’s have it your way then,” Eddie slammed his phone down on the kitchen table. “You set me up a dating profile then – Hinge, Grindr, whatever you fucking want, Buck. Set me up a dating profile, and you pick which random man I need to sleep with to make it so you feel okay about wanting me.” 

in which evan buckley gets dumped, gets drunk with his best friend, realises he's in love with said best friend, and lets his abandonment issues get the best of him. because your first is never your last, right? so buck can't be eddie's first: he needs to be his last.

ao3 link

Buck was driving himself to Eddie’s before he could really even think about it, the autopilot of his brain engaging and getting him behind the wheel, and on the road to his best friend’s house without needing much thought at all. Eddie was who he needed, in that moment – not Maddie, and her sage advice, not Hen, who’d be clever, and logical about it all. No, he needed Eddie. Eddie, who inexplicably opened the front door in his underwear and a pink shirt. Eddie, who let them sit in silence, a playlist churning out eighties rock for a full twenty-three minutes (Buck checked) before Eddie said anything at all. 

“So,” Eddie set his empty drink down, gesturing to Buck for a second. Buck twisted the cap off before he handed it over, adding to the pile on the coffee table. “What happened? You said that you and Tommy were going to the movies tonight.” 

Buck groaned, the sound loud in the quiet of Eddie’s house. “I was supposed to be,” he slumped back onto the couch. “But then he dumped me.” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “He dumped you?”

“He dumped me,” Buck confirmed. “Because I am a deeply unlovable individual who is going to die alone.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I think you might be being dramatic there.”

“I’m not!” Buck protested. “Eddie, everyone I date dumps me – or leaves me. That apparently doesn’t even change when I’m dating a man. It’s not – I thought it would be different, with Tommy.” 

“Because he’s a man?” Eddie’s confusion wasn’t judgemental – no, Eddie never judged him, Buck was sure of that much. It was sincere confusion, his best friend wanting to understand where Buck was coming from.

“Yeah? No? I mean – maybe,” Buck huffed. He wasn’t entirely sure how to articulate himself. “I guess – I guess I just thought that now I know who I am, that I’m like – consciously aware I’m bisexual – it might be different. That maybe it didn’t work out before because there was this part of me that I didn’t know, or understand, and that had affected my relationships because I wasn’t bringing my like, whole self to the table. But if it didn’t work with Tommy, then that’s not why. Right? Then the problem is me.” 

Eddie’s expression softened. “I don’t think the problem is you, Buck.”

“It has to me! I’m the only common denominator here.”

Buck wanted to cry. He wanted to lie down on Eddie’s couch and cry until he had nothing left – and it wasn’t about Tommy, really, because Buck had liked Tommy, but the end of their relationship wasn’t what was making him feel so devastated. It was the idea of Tommy, more than anything else – what Tommy represented. A happily ever after that Buck was falling short of all over again. 

“What did Tommy say, exactly? Maybe – maybe you’re spiralling, and he gave you a good reason that you’re not seeing.” 

“He – I asked him to move in with me.” 

“Buck.”

Eddie sounded long-suffering. Buck had earned that. He knew that much. “I know,” he knew it had been the wrong move. The words were barely out of his mouth, and Buck knew it had been the wrong move – but that was sort of his thing, to cling desperately to relationships that didn’t work because he was so terrified of being alone. “I just – I felt comfortable with him, and the whole Abby thing was weird.”

“Really weird,” Eddie agreed, wincing. 

“But not the kind of weird I couldn’t get past. Right? He came over tonight, and I told him – why be apart when we could be together. Then, he said he couldn’t move in with me, because if he did, I would only break his heart,” Buck sighed. He wouldn’t intend to. That’s what Tommy had said – but who ever planned to break someone’s heart? No one was that cruel. Maybe they were – but Buck wasn’t. He’d never wanted to break anyone’s heart, even if that had been the end result sometimes. 

Eddie was quiet for a second. “Did he say why he thought you’d break his heart?”

Buck’s beer burned his throat as he took another gulp, the sour taste lingering. “He said that he was my first, but he wasn’t my last.” 

read the rest on ao3

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

RED IS THE COLOUR OF

KINKTOBER DAY 1 - BLOOD WITH JACKSON RIPPNER

Pairing - Jackson Rippner x fem!reader

Summary - Jackson returns home covered in other men’s blood. He’s too impatient to shower first.

Warnings - noncon! dead dove do not eat ! forceful, abuse, blood play, blood tasting, p in v, oral! m receiving, drawing blood, biting, bondage, abduction.

Word count - 1.4k

Notes - Starting kinktober off strong with my sweet baby boy Jackson. This is quite dark and mentally disturbing so be warned.

The heavy slam of the front door woke you up. As you jolted up, the short chains locked around your wrists yanked your body back to the bed frame. In the darkness, your senses focus on your hearing. The familiar pacing footsteps crept towards the bedroom. Goosebumps formed on your trembling naked skin as you curled up into a ball waiting for your captor to walk in. 

The door creaked open, you could only draw out his figure as the darkness shadowed over his features. Jackson’s breathing was heavy, likewise to an athlete’s aftermath of a marathon. His hand slid up the wall, his fingertips searched for the switch. 

“You almost got me killed tonight baby doll” Jackson spoke quietly, his tone filled with frustration and disappointment. 

Your eyes narrowed to him, mouth ajar opened as your heart pounded with anticipation. When the light snapped on, you let out a piercing scream. If you could sink into the wall, you would have. The muscles on your back were quickly turning a shade of bright red. 

Jackson smiled at you innocently, the lower half of his mouth painted a crimson red. His expensive grey suit ruined by the repercussions of human blood. As he closed the distance, he easily kicked off his newly polished shoes and slipped his jacket off to the carpet. You whimpered his name as he slowly crawled up to you on the bed, his piercing blue eyes never inching away from you once. He was the wolf and you were the lamb awaiting slaughter. 

“Let’s have a shower, get you all cleaned up” you suggested timidly, your breath hitching, It was motivated by desperation mixed with fear, your eyes darting over every inch of his crimson skin. 

“Shower later, need you now” he declared through a grumble with a gentle nod as his dirty hands wrapped around your ankles, swiftly pulling you down flat on the mattress. 

Jackson didn’t care that he was already permanently staining his sage bed sheets, or that his clothes were ruined, definitely not that he’d have to spend all of tomorrow morning cleaning the interior of his car. Most importantly, Jackson didn’t care how horrified you were right now. 

With your arms unwillingly raised above your head, your teary eyes watched Jackson fearfully. Under his still damp clothing, your bare thigh squirmed around. He rubbed his mouth in thought, slowly his metallic tasting lips brushed over yours like a soft breeze. Jackson pressed his lips up to your ear as he breathed in your sweet scent.

“Your daddy didn’t want to cooperate with me baby, now I’m covered in him” Jackson admitted shamelessly, a dark chuckle quickly followed. 

Impulsively, you thrashed underneath him, your restrained hands tried to claw at him but it was hopeless. The wicked smile on Jackson’s crimson lips was sinister as he pinned your wrists onto the mattress. Those baby blue eyes of his were full of darkness. Immediately your lips were wobbling, you could see the honesty as clear as day. 

“You’re lying!” You gasped out in denial, your fragile body being thrown into a wave of shock. 

“Unfortunately I am not, babydoll” Jackson sighed. 

It was fine, Jackson was never going to let you go anyways. But now he was going to miss out on a hefty paycheck. Oh well, you’d be able to make him feel better. You’ve succeeded at it every time so far, Jackson’s sure you’d be more than willing to keep up your efforts. 

Like a baby, you were blubbering underneath him, pleading him for mercy. It always got him painfully hard when you’d beg for your life. As if Jackson would ever dare to kill his favourite girl, no matter how badly you could act out of line. 

He was comforting you, coaching you to take in deep breaths and to clear your mind. As his red hands massaging your scalp, his needy hips humped against yours. After your cries had mellowed into whimpers, he moved his lips closer to yours. 

“Come on, taste him” he encouraged. The smell of bloodshed made you feel sick as your lips were a mere inch apart. 

“Jackson please!” you pleaded hopelessly, the nozzle to the waterworks twisted to full power. 

Menacefully, Jackson shook his head towards you slowly. With wide eyes and a trembling mouth, you mewled to him pathetically. Gently, his lips pressed against yours. 

“No, no… This is all you have left of him baby doll” he stated before deepening the kiss. 

It was human to react in pure disgust. Without forethought of the consequences, you bit onto his lower lip, with a force that pierced into his skin. The horror was the lack of reaction Jackson had initially. A dark laugh echoed up his chest, his lip still caught between your teeth. 

Suddenly, he smacked the side of your head, your latch snapped. Time slowed down momentarily, the ringing in your ears numbed your thoughts. The blood that spilled from his mouth painted polka dots onto your heated face. 

Blinking hard, you jolted underneath him, but Jackson held you down easily as you swore beneath him. “Don't fight me, you’re all worked up from having no control” Jackson spoke calmly, ending with a sigh. But when you didn’t obey his order, his string of patience snapped. “Are you listening to me!” Jackson roared as he backhanded your already stinging cheek. 

You laid stiff below him, like a ragdoll, his perfect babydoll with glistering doe eyes. 

The stinging in your eyes made you feel like they were on fire. The restraints on your wrists will show fresh bruising and cuts in the morning. The blows to your cheek will certainly leave a mark. Jackson huffed at your broken expression and stood on his knees on the mattress. His fingers fiddled to take off his bloodied shirt and undertop. 

“So fucking ungrateful” He hissed as the belt slipped out of the loops of his pants. 

You turned your head to the side as he hovered over you to wiggle out of his pants. When he was completely free of his clothing, he shuffled his lower body up to your face. Stroking his throbbing length over your lips, you dared to look back to him.  

“Go on then, put your mouth to better use. Fuck, you think I really want to hear you whining after what you got me into? I almost died for you. You know how many men I killed tonight!” he bellowed, roughly pressing his tips to your closed lips. 

Guilt struck over you, as if any of this was ever your fault. It was always so easy for him to break you down. Submitting to him, you shuffled up the bed. Looking up to him, your mouth slowly opened. 

“There’s my good girl” Jackson praised cruelly through a groan whilst your tongue swirled over his tip, a whine ran down his shaft.  

His bloody hand massaged your aching cheek whilst you took him in further and further with each bob. Holding onto the top of the bedframe, he crouched over you as he fucked your face thoughtlessly. The sounds of your gags were always music to his ears. 

Pulling his salvia coated cock out, he moved back down to hover over you. Jackson stroked his wet cock with his bloody hand, the moisture lubricated the dry blood and gradually painted his cock red. His hand wrapped around your throat as he tiled your face up. 

“You’re completely mine now, baby doll… No one will get in our way again” Jackson spoke softly as he pressed himself in your all too eager cunt. 

The smile was sinister, the sensation of how wet you were sent his nerves through the roof. You mewled out and scrunched your expression. But Jackson wasn’t taking it anymore. 

“Shut up before I fuck your ass” he threatened harshly, his eyes rolled back dramatically whilst burying his dick inside of you.

You followed his orders and remained silent. Rapidly, Jackson pounded his cock into your pussy. Accompanying that action by kissing you deeply. The stench and taste of him made your stomach curl over. His fingers circled over your clit, you whined out as you felt your body betray you once more.

“There you go” Jackson murmured, a wicked grin on his face as he observed the pleasure rise on your expression. “Remembering who you belong to” he groaned when he felt your velvet walls squeeze him.

Suddenly, his teeth sunk into your upper lip, drawing just as much blood as you did. You cried out, tugging at your restraints but didn’t dare to fight him. Jackson rubbed his face all over yours, making sure that both of your faces were covered in blood, inch by inch. He smiled at your pretty red face, his cock throbbing inside of your clenching walls. 

“Babydoll, did you know that red is the colour of love?” He asked quietly, smiling like a fool in love.

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Princess

Media - Rings Of Power Character - Elrond Couple - Elrond X Reader Reader - Y/n (Princess of Elves, daughter of Gil-Galad) Rating - 18 + nudity/ virginity/ kissing/ breast play/ fingering/ pinv/ full sex/ raw sex/ Word Count - 3197

Elrond paced his chambers in the city of Lindon. Doing his best to think over this impossible choice. To break his oath to one of his most dear friends and give hope to all his people, or to keep his oath and be complacent in the death of many as well as himself. The king asked so much but it was not without its matter.

Suddenly the door to Elronds chambers knocked rather hurriedly,

"Come in," he said, his attention breaking from his thoughts to look at the door, his eyes looking curious at the hurry of the knock

the door opened and closed as quickly, The young princess Y/n, daughter of high king Gil-galad stood before him. Her hair was put up with a long hairpin, her eyes puffy from tears, wearing a long sage green gown laced down her front,

"Herald Elrond. I pray I am not interrupting but ... I must speak with you. On a matter, I find most urgent'

Elrond's expression softened as he saw the young woman, looking at her with a look of concern and care. "You are not interrupting princess. I am always available to speak. What is the matter that is so urgent?"

"I have heard of what my father asks of you. I find it... A matter of such cruelty. Such ruthless ambition has blinded him to care. That he asks this of you. To place the fate of all our race on your shoulders, those same shoulders he has already burdened with so much... It... It makes me weep why he asks... Nay demands. You break this oath. To your friend of so many decades."

Elrond's expression darkened as she mentioned the demand, sighing as he sat on the edge of his bed, his hand rubbing his temple "It is a... A heavy ask of me. An impossible choice, one I do not think I can make. But what do you want me to do little princess? I cannot defy the king. I owe much of my life to him."

"I owe him my whole life and yet I still would defy him in this moment. Your word is your law and what is any of our immortal lives at the price of breaking such oaths of trust and loyalty." She explained "If you break this oath... You will lose your beloved kin in Durin. Lose the faith of all dwarves for generations to come. Sour the good word of elves and the Valar themselves. Please... I know this weighs on you herald Elrond, but do not bear this alone."

Elrond sat silent as the princess gave her words, his expression conflicted. He knew she spoke the truth, that the price of breaking his honour was great. But to break it he would bring hope to his people. After a moment of silence, he let out a weary sigh, looking up at the princess sadly. "What do you think I should do little one? What would you do in my place if it came to it?"

"... I would slap my father for making such a request," she chuckled, "and then I would set my wisest to the task of the tree. Send elves I trust to every kingdom that holds more than ten souls. And I would beg them for their words and try everything that could be done. There must be another way beyond this... Ore my father lusts for so desperately.”

Elrond chuckled slightly at her comment, his expression showing a hint of amusement at how quickly she answered, her ideas certainly weren't unwise. He crossed his arms as he hummed in thought "That is not a bad idea, my little princess, though I'm not sure the king would take too kindly to you slapping him" he joked

"In this matter he deserves it. When he told me what he asked of you I almost did so myself."

Elrond laughed softly at the idea of his little princess slapping the king, his hand raising to his mouth to contain it secretly, "He would have your hand for that, my princess. But that is not necessary" he said, "I will do what you suggested, I will send word to all of the elven realms and see what I can do"

"it was necessary." She said firmly "he demands you break an oath, sour your name, dirty your hands and not his own." She explained

Elrond's smile faded at her firm and harsh tone, his expression turning slightly sombre as he nodded his head in agreement. "you're right, my princess. It is not right of him to demand this of me, to force me to break my honour. He should not use my loyalty against me like this. You are a lot more insightful than I give you credit for"

she softly smiled "... I wish I could do more. I know my words provide little comfort in this matter." She sighed "but... I do have another comfort I may offer?"

Elrond returned her soft smile, his eyes looking curious at her words. He chuckled slightly and raised a brow "and now you have piqued my curiosity. What is this other comfort you wish to offer me?"

she softly blushed before she stepped back slightly away from him, "My father asks of you an impossible task. To break an oath sworn to your greatest friend. To soil your honour and dirty your hands in a matter he wishes to wash his own off." She explained pulling the long pin from her hair and letting her hair fall loose "And I offer you, a turn of stone. An eye for an eye. A broken oath for a broken oath" she said unlacing the gown, "in comfort for my father's demand for you to break your oath to prince Durin. I shall break in turn an oath to my father." She said letting her dress pool at her feet standing innocently completely naked, "and allow myself to have my own honour broken by you."

Elrond watched her as she stripped down, his eyes widening in surprise at her words and her actions, not having expected this at all. He stared at her in silence for a few moments, his heart racing and all although he did not intend it his body hardening at the meer sight of her like this, he was speechless, before finally gathering his words and speaking "My little princess... You would... You would have me stain your honour? That is most noble... And most foolish" he stood up from the bed, moving towards her. He looked into her eyes, a mix of concern and care in his gaze. He placed a gentle hand on her cheek, gently caressing it with his thumb "My sweet little princess, are you sure this is what you want to do? To throw away your honour at the price of mine own?"

"I am sure." She whispered

he let out a weary sigh, his expression soft, he looked at her for a few moments, the conflict clear within his eyes, his mind in turmoil. He cared for the princess, he had for a long while. She was young, innocent, carefree, and he sought to protect her honour. Yet here she was, willing to throw it away. His heart couldn’t say no. "Very well... If you are sure, my little princess”

she nodded Blushing softly her lips parted and her eyes on his,

he let his eyes roam over her form, taking in the sight of her. An ethereal beauty that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from, his hand gently brushing down from her cheek and down her neck, onto her shoulder, and then along the side of her body "You are certain, my princess? Once this is done, it cannot be undone”

"I am certain." She whispered moving to her tiptoes to press her lips to his

his eyes widened slightly before gently closing as her lips met his, his other hand moving to the small of her back, gently holding her in place against his body as he kissed her back. He could feel his heart speeding up as he enjoyed the feeling of her lips against his, his mind overwhelmed with the sensation. After a moment, his tongue gently moved against her lower lip, gently asking for entrance

she happily parted her lips for him and softly moaned into the kiss

he let out a soft moan of his own as her lips parted for him, his tongue slipping into her mouth and gently exploring the soft, wet cavern. His free hand moved from her back and up to the nape of her neck, gently holding her head in place as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing gently against hers as he felt his self-control waver

he broke the kiss, pulling back slightly to catch his breath, his breathing shallow and eyes darkened. He kept her body flush against his own as he looked down at her, his heart racing and his body heating "Are you still sure of this, little princess?" he asked, his voice low and gruff. He couldn’t deny the need he felt, the desire to take her here and now against the wall. But he would never do anything without her consent.

she giggled and nodded excitedly jumping onto his bed and hooking her index finger to summon him to bed with her.

he laughed slightly at her little command, finding her adorable while also finding her immensely sexy, especially now with her lying on his bed. He approached her, crawling onto the bed and positioning himself over her. He looked down at her with a look of want and need in his eyes, his body pressing gently against hers as he knelt between her legs. "You are far too impatient for one so young, little princess"

"Then surely... You must be even more impatient than I?" She teased

he chuckled and lowered his head down, until his lips were nearly touching her ear, his breath hot against her skin as he spoke in whispers "Oh, you have no idea how impatient you've made me, little one... I'm trying to stay in control, but you've made it rather difficult" his hands moved down her body, gently caressing her curves as he spoke. he left a trail of soft kisses down her neck as he moved down slowly, savoring each one. He left a soft kiss on her collarbone, then her chest, and then her ribs, his tongue leaving a wet trail as it moved over her skin. He gently nipped and sucked at her skin, leaving soft marks in his wake

she gasped and whimpered twisting her fingers in his hair innocently keeping her knees together

he moved his hands down and gently placed them on her knees, gently moving them apart as he continued his kisses further down her body. He glanced up at her from between her legs and smirked, his eyes darkened with desire "No need to keep them together, little one... I'll take care of you" he murmured before gently nipping at her thighs, leaving more little marks on her pale skin

she softly Giggled clearly a little nervous but excited still,

he could feel the nervous energy radiating off her, a mixture of excitement and inexperience. He could only imagine this was the first time she'd done anything like this, making him pause his actions. He looked back up at her, his expression softened to one of care and comfort, his hands moving to pull off his clothes, leaving him bare to her eyes, "If you become uncomfortable at any time, you need only tell me, and I will stop." he said, his voice gentle and soft

"I will, I promise." She cooed "but you need not stop, my darling."

he returned the smile as she spoke, his heart fluttering at the sweet name she called him. He chuckled a bit before his expression darkened with desire again, his eyes looking up at her as he spoke "You are an absolute treasure, my princess, with your little commands and sweet words" he moved his hands up stroking her thighs his eyes watching her expression to gage her comfort level, his mind awash in thought. He wanted her so badly that he could hardly control himself. Yet he wanted to be gentle and caring with her, to make sure he didn't overstep her comfort level. His eyes looked at her bare form, admiring the sight before him her own eyes looking back with the same admiration. his gaze roamed over her body, drinking in every curve and contour, his eyes lingering on the delicate folds of her sex. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he took in the sight before him, his desire for her growing with each passing moment. Reaching out, he gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “You're so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, full of emotion. “I've been wanting to see you like this for what feels like an eternity.” He leaned in close, his lips brushing against hers in a soft kiss, the touch sending sparks flying through her body.

she softly blushed her legs trembling with excitement, "as have I."

His mouth lingered on hers, savouring the taste of her lips, his tongue dipping inside to dance with hers. He felt her tremble beneath him, and a surge of possessiveness ran through him, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the sensations coursing through his own body. As they broke apart for air, he smiled down at her, his eyes burning with desire “My love,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of their hearts. “Let me show you what I've been waiting for.” He reached out his hand closing around the base of his cock, giving it a slow stroke as he gazed at her.

she gasped and whimpered slightly in fear at the sight,

Her reaction sparked something primal within him, and he felt a growl rise up in his throat. But he suppressed it, not wanting to scare her further. Instead, he reached out and gently cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw “It's okay,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “I'm not going to hurt you. I promise.” He leaned in close, his nose brushing against hers as he spoke. His warm breath danced across her skin, “Trust me,” he urged, his eyes locked on hers. “I want to pleasure you, not frighten you.”

"I trust you... I... I fear you are to big for me." She blushed

A low rumble of amusement escaped his chest as he heard her words, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. He gently pulled back from her, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled “Oh, my little princess,” he teased, his voice dripping with affection “You worry too much about size. It's not about being big enough, it's about fitting together.” He leaned in close once more, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered “I'll take care of you,” His hot breath as he continued to whisper in her ear “We'll find a way to fit together perfectly.” His hands moved to her hips, his fingers digging gently into the flesh as he guided her closer. He could feel the tension building between them, the air thick with unspoken desire. Slowly, he began to move against her, his cock sliding along her labia lips, “You're so wet for me already,” he breathed, his voice husky with approval His fingers tightened on her hips, holding her in place as he continued to rub himself against her. The friction was intense, and she felt herself getting hotter by the second.

His grip on her hips tightened, and he lifted her onto the edge of the bed, his mouth descending to claim hers once more. Their lips crashed together in a fierce kiss, tongues tangling as they devoured each other. He could feel her heart racing beneath his fingertips, her pulse pounding in time with his own. As they kissed, his hands began to roam over her body, tracing the curves of her waist, the swell of her breasts. His fingers danced across her nipples, sending shivers down her spine as she arched into his touch. Breaking away from her mouth, he trailed kisses down her neck, nipping at the tender skin with his teeth.

She gasped, her head falling back as he licked a path down to her collarbone.

“I need you now,” he whispered, his voice rough with urgency he couldn't resist it anymore, he reached down and grasped his cock once more, guiding it towards her entrance. With a slow, deliberate movement, he pushed inside, feeling her tight heat envelop him like a vice. Her eyes snapped open, locking onto his as he began to move within her, their bodies moving in perfect syncopation.

The sounds of their lovemaking filled the air the creak of the bedframe, the soft gasps and moans that escaped her lips, the ragged breathing that came from both of them.

As he thrust deeper, she let out a cry of pleasure, her nails digging into his scalp as she arched her back. He could feel her walls contracting around him, milking him for every last drop of pleasure. With a final, savage push, he buried himself to the hilt inside her, and then froze, savoring the moment of pure bliss that had washed over them both. For a long, suspended moment, they hung there, locked together in a tableau of passion and desire.

Then, slowly, he began to move again, his strokes growing slower and more deliberate as he coaxed her towards a second climax. Her eyes were still locked on his, burning with an inner fire that seemed to match the flames that were raging within him. And as he looked into those depths, he saw something there that gave him pause a glimmer of recognition, perhaps, or a hint of understanding that went far beyond mere physical attraction. Whatever it was, it struck a chord deep within him, and suddenly he was moving faster, harder, driven by a newfound sense of purpose and urgency.

She hit her second orgasm screaming his name and her whole body reacting, which in turn gave him his own orgasm,

Elrond quickly pulled out and came across his sheets already missing the feeling of her the moment he left, “...Uhh… ughh I uh… Little princess,”

“Yes My Darling,” she cooed between her own gasps,

“I adore you my little princess, my love… I mean it when I call you that. I love you,” He cooed stroking her cheek,

“I love you more,” she smiled pulling him into a kiss, “Humm my father will be angry with you,” she giggled,

“Humm… he will, but I will happily face the wrath of our father a thousand times over for another night with you.”

“You need not,” she smirked, “You can have every night for all of eternity.”

“Then I shall savour every last one.” He smirked back pulling her into a deep and loving kiss, “Humm…shall we continue my little princess?” He growled moving his hand to rub her clit,

“Yes, my darling.” she happily jumped on him flipping them over so he was under her with her straddling his legs, and pulling him into a hot and heavy kiss,

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

On Crimson Coats

Part Five of this pirate au, there's smut in this one, 18+ MDNI. This applies to ageless and blank blogs.

~4.5k words

His confession is heavy. It makes your throat tighten, your eyes want to well with tears. He can't let you go. He said that, he sounds so convicted and sure of it. But it's almost unbelievable. It had been so simple for him to leave you before.

"I know how difficult it must be to see me now, after everything," Your husband continues, and his gaze softens, a trace of vulnerability seeping through the facade he's trying desperately to maintain. "I may not know the exact thoughts that reside in your mind, treasure, but I can see the shadows that cloud your eyes."

"You know nothing of what I feel or think," You retort, voice strained. You try to pull away, try to create space between you and the man who's been hunting you everyday since you left.

He only holds you steadily, not letting an inch of space grow between you. "I know that a part of you still yearns for me, even after all we've been through. I am still yours, as you are still mine."

You start to protest, lifting your head in defiance. But, Jason sighs out your name, "Darling, you cannot begin to understand how it feels to be so utterly and hopelessly in love with you. Being without you is like ripping apart my own soul. I know you have not forgotten that feeling."

He dips down to kiss the crown of your head, "I will make you happy, treasure. You'll see." Jason then lets go of you and steps back towards your horse.

You stare at him, at a loss for words as he grabs the reins of a large stallion, "Now, come along, my love, the crew is waiting."

"The crew," You echo, almost airily as he leads his horse over to you.

"Aye, love. I've sent them ahead, you'll see them soon," he says, grabbing your waist with both hands and starting to lift you onto his horse.

"Wait," You say quickly, grabbing his arms, "I want to– Can't I ride my own horse?"

His expression visibly tightens at your plea, reluctance flashing in his eyes. But, Jason sets you back down, and bites back his immediate instinct to insist you ride together, "If that is what you prefer."

You swiftly pull away from him and haul yourself up onto your horse, moving before he gets the chance to offer you help.

He hums thoughtfully, and his gaze never leaves you as he mounts his own horse with all the grace befitting a skilled rider.

You gather the reins, and you can't help but laugh softly when you catch his eyes looking between his horse and yours, as if calculating which stead would be faster in a chase.

His focus whips back towards you when you laugh, surprise and weariness crossing his features. Your laugh, though quiet, is a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere that hangs in the air, "Dare I ask what brings you such joy, treasure?"

"It's only that we're doing the same thing," You admit, gently nudging your horse to start walking, "Making plans, considering what the other will do."

He's quick to guide his own horse to match your pace, "So you are planning to leave again."

His questions sobers the laughter in your voice, "I– don't know."

The journey is silent for a long time after that. It makes your skin itch, questions dance at the tip of your tongue. You break when he quietly hands you an apple when your stomach growls, "Back at the tavern, why did you leave me all the coin?"

He nods sagely, like he expected the question, "It was a misguided attempt to sway you into staying. Perhaps I had hoped it would convince you that a life with me still held value, that I could provide for you."

You don't have a way to answer that, your own feelings too tangled and complicated to bring to words. That it was never the money that had value to you.

Your travels are silent again, that is, until Jason asks a question of his own, "Did you keep the ring?"

"I did. I kept the pins too," you say idly, the confession spills out thoughtlessly, but you realize the significance of it when he sucks in a sharp breath.

"The pins," he murmurs, "I remember how the silver glinted in your hair."

The sounds of the horses ring between you for a moment before he speaks again, "Let us rest for the night, love. We can finish our travels to port tomorrow."

"Rest," You question, eyes trailing to the road ahead.

"There's an inn ahead, treasure. I would not make you sleep on the dirt," he drawls, and true to his word, lights of a small town begin to flicker in the distance.

He steers the horses towards the inn, and soon enough, the horses are stabled and Jason's offering you his hand to help you dismount.

You hesitate, but take it. His touch is gentle, but firm as he helps you down, carefully resting a hand on your hip to steady you.

Neither of you move when your feet hit the ground. It's intoxicating to be this close to him again, after hours riding next to him in silence. Your husband still towers over you, is still covered in scars and calluses, yet his touch is still careful when he traces your knuckles with his thumb.

You pull away, and his face shifts with disappointment as he drops your hand. He gestures vaguely towards the entrance, adjusts his hat and telltale coat, "Shall we, love?"

You manage a nod and follow his confident strides into the inn. The warm light of the lanterns spills into the darkness as he opens the door and the chatter of the patrons dies immediately.

Your fearsome husband is a stark contrast to the cozy atmosphere of the inn. You wish you had thrown your hood back on, as guests and staff fix on Jason.

The inn is close enough to the sea that people instinctively know who he is, know what he's capable of, know the title he wears with pride.

His eyes gleam, like he enjoys the way lesser men seem to cower, the way his presence exudes authority. The light catches the sharp angles of his face, the edge of his blade, and tension grows subtly in the air.

Whispers and clanging of mugs pick up as Jason saunters to the innkeeper, you don't miss the way your presence alongside him piques interest.

The innkeeper doesn't say a word, only scurries away, you assume, to grab a key. You linger behind your husband, eyes darting around the room.

He tilts his head at you when you don't stand by his side, and lazily loops at arm around your waist, tugging you against his side. "You're breathtaking in this light, darling," Jason says softly, eyes sharp and watchful.

"Ah, yes, a fact that's made me many a coin," You drawl, settling against his side. It's not that you want to be close to him, really, it's just safer this way. There's too many eyes on you to pull away. You repeat the notion in your mind as he chuckles and your heart skips a beat.

"Aye, I can imagine a beauty such as yours does tend to garner attention and tips," he replies, easy going and relaxed.

The innkeeper returns with a key and places it into Jason's palm. His arm doesn't leave its spot around your waist as he guides you to the stairs.

"There's only one key," You note, somewhat discontented, but not surprised.

"You make it sound as if it's unnatural for married couples to share a room," he says, half-teasing, "there's no need to fret, treasure, this is hardly our first time sharing a bed, is it?"

"I suppose not," You relent, and he smiles at you as you get to your room. Jason unlocks the door, and with a warm hand pressed to the small of your back, sends you into the room first.

It's surprisingly nice, elegant even. As you take in the large bed, the porcelain tub half tucked away behind a partition, and the plush armchairs nestled by a fireplace, you realize how expensive the room must be.

You hesitantly tug off your cloak, caked with mud from the day's ride and drop it to the floor by the door. You kick off your boots, it feels like a crime to bring so much grime and dirt into the fine room.

"You're breathtaking," Jason tells you again, removing his own coat and hat and laying them onto the bed.

You make a face at the dirty leathers on the bed, but don't try to remove them. "You've mentioned," You mumble, "I've only gotten older."

His gaze trails over your figure in admiration, "Age only adds to your elegance and charm, my love, you've always been utterly alluring."

You tut, fighting the heat that threatens to rise to your face, "When did you have time to learn such sweet words?"

Jason's eyebrow raises slightly, mischief gleaming in his eyes, "I must admit I picked up a thing or two in my journeys, but the true source of my speech is you. You, my treasure, inspire poetry."

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, "Then perhaps you should have been a poet."

He grins, eager over you playing along, "Perhaps I should have been a bard. I could weave sonnets of your beauty and the joy you bring. But alas, I find myself more skilled in wielding a sword than a quill." He steps forward, voice lowering, "Unless, it's to write odes upon your skin with my kisses."

You falter, the words unexpected. It seems as if you can never quite keep up with him.

Your husband's eyes lock with yours, and your breath hitches at the unrestrained desire evident in his gaze as he studies your reaction. His voice drops lower, almost husky as he speaks again, "The novels I would commit to your skin with my touch. It would be a symphony, treasure."

Your gaze drops to the floor, suddenly mourning the loss of your cloak around you, a desire to hide from him, from his devoted tone.

He notices, of course he does, your unspoken desire to shield yourself from his intensity, "Forgive me, my love. I will keep my poems to myself, and my touch shall only be a whisper on your skin."

His fingers graze along the nape of your neck, and you almost jolt. When did he get so close? "Don't," You snap, voice sharpening and defenses raising.

He doesn't react to your sudden anger, only lowers his hand from your skin. His voice drops to a whisper, tone going to something pleading and soothing, "Why not, treasure? What disgusts you so much that you cannot bear my touch? Why do you despise the idea of being my partner so desperately?"

"Because you deserve someone who will fuck you in alleys, Jason!" You half-shout, and wince as hurt and realization flashes in his eyes.

"You have no idea what I want to do to you, with you, for you," he starts, voice low and steady. He pauses and lets out a shaky sigh of your name, "You can't tell me all of this is because of what happened in that alley. Please, I can't bear it."

You can't deny it, it is part of the reason you left. You stumble over your words, trying to find a way to explain your heartaches, how to tell him everything that hurts you without hurting him as well, "I– yes. No. I left because of– I left for a lot of reasons, Jason. But I almost stayed because of you."

You exhale shakily, "You were everything I wanted that day. You were perfect. Everything I dreamt of every moment you were gone."

"Ah," he breathes out, like he suddenly understands, you know he doesn't, "My absence was a weight on your heart. One day couldn't erase all those years of pain, could it?"

You swallow thickly and look away. He says your name, as if begging for your attention, "I wish I could turn back time and be the husband you deserved all those years ago. I would do it, treasure, if I only knew how."

"But you can't, Jason," You mumble, unable to bring yourself to look at him, "You can't change anything."

"I can change this– us, now. Give us a chance, my love. You'll be happy with me, with the crew, on the ship. Everything you could want, I could give you," he pleads.

You wrap your arms around yourself. You were happy for those few weeks on his ship, with his crew, with him. But how long could it really last?

"I just want to get cleaned up. Riding all day was exhausting," You tell him flatly, the fight draining out of you. You feel like you're running away. Maybe you are. Maybe it's all you know how to do anymore.

"Then we can bathe," your husband agrees easily, brushing past you to draw the water in the porcelain tub.

Your gaze snaps to him, but he doesn't look back as he kneels over the golden knobs, testing the temperature of the water. "We," You question, voice half pitching as you step towards the bath.

"We," he echos, "there's nothing to be ashamed of, darling. I've washed your body many times."

You make a noise of protest, "I'm not ashamed."

He shoots you a wiry grin and offers you his hand, "I know, treasure. I would have done something if you were."

It's a habit you didn't realize that was still ingrained in you, when you move to take his hand. He pulls your hand to his lips, and kisses every knuckle. You don't even try to hide the way your gaze rakes over him knelt before you.

He watches you carefully, fingers expertly undoing the laces of your clothes, hands slowly, but devotedly guiding you out of the fabric covering your skin. His eyes scour every inch of you, and you're quick to pull away to step into the tub.

You pretend not to notice the way he exhales softly at the distance between you. You close your eyes and melt into the warm water as he stands, shedding his own clothes. You listen as buckles clank and heavy leathers and metal drop to the floor.

"Love," he breathes out, half asking permission to join you, half giving you time to sort out your thoughts. When you don't acknowledge him, don't tell him to join you or to leave, he tentatively sinks into the water across from you, sending ripples through the tub. He sighs, and you imagine he's just as relieved as you are to soak your sore muscles after a day of riding.

You shift, tucking your knees to your chest. The tub isn't small, but it's hardly designed for two people. His legs brush against yours, even as he tries to keep his distance.

Words unsaid dance behind your lips. Arguments you want to make. Accuse him of only ever taking from you. But you can't find the fire to fight him when his steady presence is actually soothing. His soft breathing fills your ears, and you find yourself opening your eyes to study him.

Jason's already memorizing your features when your gaze settles on him. He's relaxed, leaning against the back of the tub like he doesn't have a single stress in his life.

Maybe he doesn't, not when you're inches away from him and bare. The candlelight and clear water don't do much to hide you from his sight.

You find that incredibly unfair. He should be nervous. He should be as uncertain as you are about all this. But he appears so confident, so in control, you wonder if this was his plan all along.

Your train of thought vanishes when he reaches out to run a line over your shoulder with his fingers. The shape inhale you take has him snapping away immediately.

"I'm sorry, treasure," he murmurs, remorse clear in his tone, "I didn't mean to startle you. I've always found my self-control limited in your presence."

"I suppose that's familiar," You say idly, thoughtlessly rubbing the skin where the feeling of his touch still lingers.

"Aye, I've never been skilled at containing my affection for you," he says, almost regretfully, "Yet it only ever serves to drive you away."

"That's not why–" You start, but your words fail.

His gaze sharpness, and suddenly he feels so big sitting across from you, all encompassing with an aura that demands answers from you.

"Then why," he says your name, and it almost makes you flinch to hear it said so starkly. To hear it instead of one of his many terms of endearments for you, "Why do my actions only ever seem to chase you from me?"

His words seem angry, the tension in his body making him rigid and threatening. But you know your husband well enough to recognize the vulnerability in his eyes, to catch the way his voice breaks and falters.

Longing wells in your throat. You miss him. You miss when your marriage was young and new and you knew he loved you just as much as he knew you loved him. You miss when everything didn't feel so broken.

It's cruel, for both of you, what you do next. But you want so badly to pretend. To act as if nothing has changed. To find security in him. You hope beyond the words you have to express that he understands, that he wants that too.

It's callous, to both of you, when you surge forward to kiss him. Jason reacts like he expected it, it almost makes you angry.

He catches you, greedy and eager and desperate, by the waist. He drags you onto his lap, nipping your bottom lip and kissing you like the entire world depends on it, his entire world depends on it.

Nothing matters past his touch. It's better than all the finest wines, the way his touches distracts you from every thought in your head. It's better than all the coin you could carry, when his hand doesn't hesitate to find your chest.

You press closer to him, straddling his hips as water sloshes against the sides of the tub. Wantwantwant clouds your mind of everything else. You want this. Want him. Want a moment that feels right.

You whine when his lips leave yours, and he trails feverish kisses down your throat and to your collarbone. He nips at your skin, eager to leave evidence of his presence behind.

Jason's calloused fingers twist and pinch at your nipple, and it's sinful that he remembers the exact way your body reacts to him. Neither of you speak, too afraid to break whatever this is becoming.

But when you roll your hips, grind down onto his growing erection with a single-minded purpose, he groans, low and husky and needy. He grinds up into you, a silent plea for more, for you not to stop, for you to never stop.

His fingers leave your chest to trail down your stomach, searching and refamiliarizing himself with the feel of your skin. He sucks at your pulse in the same moment his fingers part you folds, expertly finding your clit to draw steady circles.

Your head falls back as you moan, tangling your fingers into his hair for something to ground yourself to, for something to pull when he starts increasing pressure. He grins as you expose more of your neck and his fingers move faster between your thighs with all the skill and experience he has with knowing your body.

He drinks down every expression you make with a drive to see more, and presses a finger to your entrance slowly, carefully testing your reaction. You yank him back into another bruising kiss in return.

He whines into the kiss, and sinks a finger into your wet, aching cunt. He starts a slow rhythm, and it makes your heart stutter at how gentle he is, how loving.

It's not what you want right now. You don't want soft or nice. You want him to fuck every confusing thought from your head until all that matters is how he full he can stuff you with his cock.

Jason seems more preoccupied on curling his finger against the spot that will make you buck into his hand, on nipping the skin over your pulse. You mewl and grab his wrist, pulling him away from your dripping pussy.

He falters, pulling back to look at you with worry, "Treasure," he starts, and you cut him off with another ravenous kiss. You don't want him to talk, you just want to feel him.

Even if it's wrong, even if it'll only hurt you both when the morning comes, none of that matters when you guide his cock to your waiting cunt. You kiss him harder, swallowing any questions he tries to ask.

His fingers dig into your thighs when you finally sink down onto his stiff cock. It's tricky, to maneuver yourself in the tub, but it's worth all the effort when he lets out a near pathetic whine against your mouth, near shaking in the effort to not jerk up into you.

It's a stretch to take him, more so than you remember, but it's so undeniably good to have him fill you inch by seering inch. He lets out a guttural groan as your walls flutter around him, the sound makes you feel greedy.

You pull back from the kiss to watch his eyes flutter shut, to watch him desperately try to contain himself. "Treasure," he breathes out, voice thick with reverence and desire.

You can't bring yourself to care what he's going to say, not when you're adjusting to the way his dick spreads you wide, not when you're still sinking down into his lap so he can press deeper inside you.

"Taking me so well," he murmurs, "So perfect. Look at you. Never letting you go." He's rambling, praises spilling unchecked from his lips.

You chalk it up to the way you've managed to take him to the base of cock. He ducks his head to shower your neck and shoulders with kisses and bites when you do.

You exhale softly, unmoving as you sit in his lap. Maybe you don't need him to fuck you. Maybe just sitting with him stuffed completely inside you while the water cools against your skin is enough.

That thought is quickly overturned when your husband lifts you by your thighs, and carefully guides you back down in a slow, steady rhythm. It makes your breath hitch and your body sing.

How could you have forgotten how easily he can manhandle you? How could you forget how good it feels when he's seeking your pleasure?

His grip tightens when moans start to fall off your tongue in louder, more desperate cries. His breathing grows ragged as he moves you faster, his hips starting to meet yours in urgent thrusts.

Water splashes out of the tub, but you hardly notice it when Jason babbles into your skin, "Everything, you're everything. Been so lost without you. Feels so good. Need you. Need you so much."

You rock along his length, hands braced against him and hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Even when your body starts to feel like it's floating and your head starts to spin, you find it incredibly unfair he seems so in control of the situation you initiated.

The thought makes you bite down into his throat. Bite down hard.

He jolts and curses, burying himself deep inside you as he cums, unloading his spend into your walls. It makes you gasp, makes you find your own climax and clamp down around him as he repeats your name over and over.

He fucks you through both of your releases, or maybe you're still riding him through it. It's difficult to tell when your vision is obscured by stars and your mouth is open in a soundless cry.

What you do know is that he finished inside you and doesn't seem to have any intention of moving as his hips slow to a languid roll. You wrap your arms around him and try to not shake, head empty and nearly drooling as you rest your head against his shoulder.

Jason presses kiss after kiss to every inch of you he can reach without removing his hands from your skin. It's nice. Really nice. It almost reminds you of your wedding night. You fidget mindlessly with the ends of his hair.

You think you could have stayed like this forever, close to him, wrapped around his half-hard cock. But the moment has to end. You have to end it, lest you lead him on more than you already have, "Waters getting cold," You mumble and slowly pull your boneless body off of him.

He looks reluctant to have you go, and keeps his hands firmly on your hips, "I had hardly noticed, my love. But if you're cold..." He smiles at the squeak you make as he lifts you out of the tub with him.

"Jason," You start when he doesn't set you on your feet right away. He hums in acknowledgment, grabbing a towel for each of you all without ever putting you down.

"Jason," You protest again and he relents, gently putting you down onto the plush carpet by the bed. You don't see the need to cover yourself in the moment, as you dry off your tired body, but the way his gaze devours your movements makes you wonder if you should.

He steps closer to you and you freeze. Suddenly this feels dangerous. Not that you're in danger. But that he's going to say something. Do something. Expect something you don't know how to give.

His fingers brush over your jaw and guide your face up. You meet his eyes with a confidence you don't feel.

He stares at you. You don't know what he's searching for, but you think he finds it when he dips down to kiss you, soft and slow and so sweet it nearly makes your knees buckle.

He walks you backwards till the back of your legs hit the bed frame.

He keeps kissing you as he guides you to lay down in the bed, your body landing on his discarded crimson coat. He kisses his way down your jaw, down your throat, down chest, down your stomach, mapping your skin with his fingers and tongue.

He lifts your legs to rest on his shoulders. His eyes never leave yours as he presses kisses to the inside of your thighs, and works his way to your center.

You realize he's still looking for something, as his gaze stays fixed on yours. You'll forget to ask exactly what when he licks a stripe from your twitching hole to your clit.

Part Six

[jesuistrestriste]

“do it for her.” calling puppy art her..oh my brain short circuited sage..

puppy art IS my princess…… like idk how else to put it

i know he’d love being called “babygirl” when you’re actively stroking his cock:/ he’d be squirming and whimpering, grabbing onto your shoulders and letting his tennis-calloused fingers dig in

“am i— ‘m i bein’ good for you? mnn— mngh- i just wanna be good, be a good puppy,” the words would spill from his mouth, the fog of his pleasure causing all of the syllables to blend

and if you would just lean in and tell him “god yeah, pup… you’re such a good girl…”

his back would immediately arch and he’d completely soak your touch with his desperation; sticky, creamy, and tinged with more-than-enough shame

[fanaticsnail]

Hey! Hope you’re doing well this fine day~ I had a cute idea if u just wanna hear me rant about it.

So imagine teaching Killer a new pasta recipe whether that is a new sauce or new way to cook it and making it for him and watching him literally LIGHT UP with pure glee over how good it is. I say this as I’ve made my grandma’s spaghetti sauce which is STRAIGHT UP ADDICTING every time I make it and gobble it all up. Like the reader can be like a straw hat or kid pirate who is like hey I have this really yummy pasta recipe if you wanna try and afterwards she keeps on exchanging recipes with Killer and lowkey he in love with her mwahahaha (cause as they say in Princess and the Frog “the quickest way to a man’s heart, is through his stomach”). And she cooks it for him since he is always cooking 🥹🥹🥹

Also! I do have to add how much IM OBSESSED with the recent Hey Doc Drabble. Idk if you saw my tags but man I was GOING THROUGH IT. All the sweet nicknames and just the pure desperation for doc to be okay like 😭😭😭 and POOR HEAT AND BUBBLEGUM LIKE AWWWW I need a part 2 to that or SOMETHING just to see an aftermath if you will. Wire calling them “honey” had me WEAK.

Alright imma head out now, have a marvelous day/night 🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️

How did I miss this 😭. Thank you for your beautiful compliments on the 'Hey Doc' series. It's been an absolute joy to write. Reading through tags and reblogs are my favourite: especially when it's as enthusiastic as yours has been. You're so much fun, and I very much appreciate the time you take to read and go through my silly things. I can't write a full fic, but I hope this little drabble satiates the need of cooking with Killer 🖤.

Pasta

Masterlist Here

Word Count: mini-fic, just a little one.

Themes: Killer x reader, fluff, cooking, food, Killer is in awe, you are cooking, and I am hungry.

The one thing he hasn't managed to perfect is a pure, unadulterated Marinara. Anything to do with crushed tomato he finds too acidic, and over compensates with far too much salt to cut the tannins. He's tried everything: more onion, less herbs, malted brown sugar, refining his own salt by storing sea water on the oven, everything. He just can't seem to get it right.

Killer and pasta: his one weakness.

He would never admit it, but he has been attempting to perfect each recipe he comes upon. Pesto is all made from scratch: crushed fresh basil, the purest of virgin olive oils, a parmesan wheel with crispy salt crystals, oven toasted pine nuts, cloves of bulbed garlic, everything perfected by his skill in his kitchen. His pesto pasta is better than Sanji's, and the curly-browed chef is both impressed and intimidated by it.

Watching from a safe distance as you bounce gleefully within the dominion of the kitchen, he hunches his back and places his whiskered chin over his laced fingertips. He was unsure as to why you offered to cook for the crew, but your enthusiasm had him step aside to watch you work. It was the initial confession of homesickness that did it for him. Knowing food can aid in emotional regulation and comfort, he was more than happy to watch from his position sitting at the kitchen island.

And then the smell hit him.

The sweetness of roasting tomatoes, onion, garlic, and the herbal aromatics of thyme, rosemary and sage. The soft waft had his heart swell and beat in his chest and eyes twinkle in curiousity. Stirring the rotund vegetables in the pot and expertly crushing them with the blunt tip of the wooden spoon had him sit up attentively in his seat, watching you as you attend to the sauce from muscle memory alone.

He was in awe, perplexed, and intrigued.

Each time you would move on to another element of the dish, Killer would move a little closer. Each time your back was turned, he would perch himself just a little more towards the simmering pot. When you moved to the pantry to decide which shape of pasta to begin to boil, you could barely make out the shape of Killer's mask being partially elevated over his lips and nose by one large hand. Using a fresh spoon, he dips it into the sauce and puckers his purple-tinted lips and extends a breath of cool air to stifle the heat.

As soon as the first drops meet his tongue, he can't help the soft moan that escapes him at the flavor. Upon your return with a bag of penne in hand, you are immediately hoisted into the air with Killer's hands beneath your arms. Gently spinning you before placing you on the ground, he claps his arms over your shoulders and leans down closer. The purple hue of his lips is stretched up in a smile, his joy at your sauce immediately having him taken aback and fullfilled in the knowledge that he now has the answer he desperately seeks.

"Teach me. Please."

And who were you to deny him? It was a family recipe, and this crew aboard the Victoria Punk was your new family. Gently raising one of your hands to cup over his on your shoulder, you crinkle your nose at him and nod with a smile to match his own.

"Yes, chef."

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ I AM THE KNIFE WHICH WILL SLAUGHTER HEAVEN ( part ii. )

IT IS YOUR PART TO KILL ME , MINE TO DIE WITHOUT FLINCHING.

-ˋ ♡ ◞ alhaitham ･ cyno ･ scaramouche. genshin impact. cw : violence ( non-graphic/descriptive ). angst. everyone is fighting, sometimes it's a little sad, sometimes there are 'but we could have been something' vibes ٩(ఠ益ఠ)۶. title cr : heiner müller. quote cr : epictetus. repost. tagging @pixelcafe-network ଓ.°・・・ part i.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ alhaitham

"you've caused more trouble than you're worth. what did you expect would happen?"

a moment's notice : the swift approach of the acting grand sage, a collision of bodies, and the failed escape from his grasp as you both come crashing to the floor, books and documents scattered about as result of havoc. the back of your head makes contact with cold tile and you lose your senses ; it is suddenly hard to breathe, your chest rising and falling with vicious violence, and you are not sure if it is from the fall or the way alhaitham presses his weight on top of you in means of apprehension.

you blink once, twice, eyes wide and veins surging with an adrenaline unfathomable, let out a breathy laugh at his slipping facade of apathy. there's an unfamiliar rage, a quiet anger, one you almost desire to see more of yet despise all the same.

of course he knew all along. who would he be, after all, if he could not detect a spy sent to infiltrate the akademiya and bring turmoil to sumeru itself?

this is not a betrayal, alhaitham thinks, but there is a cruel brutality that makes itself known in the way the knife digs into your flesh. this is not a betrayal, he reminds himself, because betrayals are meant to hurt.

you expect him to rid of you with ease, press the blade just a little bit further. you expect this painful sensation, but you do not expect that strange flicker of reluctance -- of something else that you do not want to deem as grief, because that would mean something you do not wish to consider. but it disappears as quickly as it appeared, gone, replaced with utmost desolation.

"go ahead." the words are hard to speak, but you smile nonetheless, watch his humanity seep through everything he has ever preserved in the act of living. "one of us has to survive this, don't we, alhaitham?"

❀ ﾟ. ༄ cyno

judgement day is never meant to be a beautiful thing, the granting of punishment a harsh and merciless being. cyno wears the role of the general proudly, a gentle heart turned stone when the trials of treachery fall before him. he does not bear the responsibility of deeming another as deceitful, leaving the akademiya to such matters, but this --

there is a ringing in his ears, a desperate beating in his chest, frightened.

he does not know what to make of this.

you stand in front of him, disheveled, crimson smeared across your skin. there is an uncertainty that hides beneath the sanguine as trembling hands rise in sign of surrender, muscles aching in protest from endless battles against cyno.

you do not know if any of this is right. you do not know if you are right or wrong; you do not know if he is right or wrong. you wish it could be that easy, see the world of knowledge in black and white.

you are unsure what to make of this. you are unsure if you're regretful, if you're sorry for your actions, but you know that you are sorry to him. you don't dare to speak of such apologies, know they have no place in the long friendship you have shattered and broken and ripped apart.

you have a job to do and so does he. how you wish you could have done it together, just as you did in the golden days where you were young and naive, oblivious to opposing ideals in a world where the worst was not the breaking of one's heart and soul.

"please tell me, general," and somehow, it stings to hear that and not his name and the tenderness that accompanies it, "what judgement will you pass upon me?"

there is a weariness in your voice, an admittance of defeat, because you do not think you can endure any more of this, and maybe you do not regret this, the surrendering of yourself for the sake of another. no, you will not regret this, you think, so you swallow hard, erase the fear in your heart in preparation for the end.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ scaramouche

"dearest balladeer," the title slips from your tongue, drips with venom and all things hideous, "you've betrayed us, haven't you? run off with your little treasure, gone against tsaritsa and everything you've ever known. wouldn't it be a better fate, granting your loyalties to her rather than falling by my hand?"

you tilt your head, observe the sword you wield with childlike innocence. in the reflection there is your delighted gaze, a semblance of the gnawing insanity the delusion has given as blessing.

"betrayal?" there is a hatred born from the depths of despair that resides in sharp tones, brings forewarning of the suffering you will endure, "what do you know of betrayal?"

you force a smile that doesn't quite meet your eyes and he notices this. how dangerous and daring his words are ; your hand aches, grasp on the weapon so tight that you almost feel it could shatter in all your fury. you do not think about the past or who you once were before you took on the glory of a harbinger.

no, you do not think about the past or who you once were because it matters not, yet there is something so damaging in his response that the memories surface if just for a moment -- just a moment, you think, but already that is too much.

it doesn't matter. you do not come in warning nor to retrieve a harbinger lost in his own greed. your intentions were to kill him from the start, bring forth the finale to one deserving of it all.

"you never fail to impress me, scaramouche." your words are filled with amusement, but there is nothing on your visage, a terrifying blankness : no anger, no lingering madness. "not only are you selfish in your wants, but you are selfish in the desire to be known as the only one who has suffered."

you raise your weapon at him, tilt your head up in gesture that he does the same. you bore of this nonsense.

"come, balladeer. i'll grant you the kindest ending, erase you from an existence you never deserved."

[melrosing]

I actually hadn’t seen that quote and now I know it exists I don’t know how the limits of redemption discourse still goes on ☠️ George has literally given spoilers to get people to understand

I don’t even consider it spoilers tbh lol because I think it is just quite obvious that Jaime’s arc is a redemption arc and GRRM doesn’t have any idea how many people online are trying to argue otherwise for the sake of being contrarian.

Like we understand that one of Sansa’s key arcs is about empowerment, i.e. we see her disempowered and lacking agency, but know from the general trajectory of her story so far that through her trials she will grow into a more active and empowered character. One of Arya’s key themes is identity, so we know that whilst she’s cycling through various different names and faces, this is all building towards her becoming Arya Stark once again.

And we know this because we know how stories work!!! doesn’t mean we can say exactly how these things will happen or that these are the only themes in their story, but knowing how arcs work is just basic media literacy.

So when people come out with these limp takes about Jaime’s arc as one of failed redemption/that his arc isn’t about redemption in the first place and wait for applause….. idk I just have to cringe.

bc it’s always backed with these sad little notions about ‘Jaime saving Brienne from a bear because she reminds him of himself and he’s that self obsessed’ or ‘Jaime saved KL to save his own skin’ or ‘Jaime sent Brienne to look for Sansa bc he couldn’t be bothered’ or ‘Jaime’s actions at Riverrun show that he’s just a Tywin wannabe’.

Sorry but this is just such a sad fucking way to read a book lol. Like. you must KNOW that that’s not what these scenes mean?? you must know that GRRM, who himself hates nihilism and says he believes in redemption, is not someone who would waste his fucking time writing a story about a character who starts out shit, does a handful of accidentally/selfishly good things, then decides he can’t be bothered anymore and dies. like is that really the story you want to see?? be honest lmao

I’ve said before I think that apart from the people who really can’t get their heads around the idea that redemption is even a theme here (and as for them…. what can you even say lol), the rest is just bad faith reading from ppl who are desperate to prove they weren’t taken in by Jaime Lannister and his charms, and want to shit on ‘the fangirls’ whilst they imagine themselves nodding sagely when he, inevitably, capsizes as a character in the next book. like for sure. Jaime, after abandoning his army to follow Brienne into the woods in hopes of saving Sansa, will meet LSH and decide he can’t be arsed w redemption and so will promptly go running back to KL to commit some kind of mutual suicide with Cersei because ofc, that relationship has to be as static as the rest of his character, as they see it.

I mean sorry but how am I meant to take that shit seriously lol it’s just not how stories function. that’s not subversive that’s just bad

[withahappyrefrain]

Summary: The pain medication given to Bob after a training accident has some interesting, albeit endearing, side effects.

As you weave your way through the people, desperate to make it to the front desk, the words kept playing over and over in your mind.

Training accident. Had to eject.

The strong possibility always hung over in your mind, taunting you whenever he went to work. That one day you would receive that dreaded phone call.

And while you didn't get that phone call today the fact you came close was unnerving.

Hurt pretty bad. Needed surgery.

Your throat felt thick, as though you were almost choking on air. It was a surprise you could audibly tell the nurse at the front desk your name.

"He's still in surgery, Mrs. Floyd. You can wait in the lobby and we'll alert you when he's done."

Nodding because of your fear that if you spoke, the tears would spill out, you sat down in the uncomfortable chair.

You tried to people watch, see if you could spot someone you knew, who Bob knew. Tell you what happened.

But did you really want those horrible details?

No. You wanted to know that your husband was okay. That he would recover. That he would be back in your arms, where he belonged.

You could call his mom and sister, let them know what was happening. It could be comforting to hear their voices.

But it would also remind you that your husband was hurt and you didn't know if he was okay.

So instead, your fingers fiddled with his wedding ring that hung on the silver chain around your neck. He always gave it to you when he had missions.

That way you had a piece of him if anything happened.

"Mrs. Floyd?" You looked up to see a nurse standing near you.

"Your husband is all done with his surgery, he's-"

"Is he okay? How did his surgery go? Can I go see him?" The nurse took a step back at your numerous questions.

"His surgery went well. He's currently hopped on a lot of medication to reduce the pain, so he may be out of it. Once the doctor is done, you can go see him."

The next ten minutes were somehow even worse. Knowing Bob was so close, but not able to see him was absolute torture.

You practically ran when the nurse said he was ready for visitors.

The sight of Bob, eyes closed as he laid in the hospital bed, bandages covering his arms, hooked up to an IV bag was heartbreaking. Despite his tall, broad frame, he looked so small in that bed.

Maybe you should sit by the bed and wait for him to wake up. What even are the standard protocols when your husband has to eject from his plane and gets injured in the process?

Your feet had a mind of their own, bringing you to the bed. Then your hands had their own idea, reaching up to card your fingers through his ruffled dark blonde locks.

His shifted towards your touch, those beautiful blue eyes still closed.

"Hey love," you whispered before pressing your lips to his forehead. Seeing the rise of his chest with each breath brought you comfort; he was here, he came back to you, just like he promised.

A confused, drowsy hum left his lips as his eyes slowly opened.

"Robby?" You should take a step break. Should give him space.

But how could you, when those eyes deeper than the ocean looked up at you?

"Robby!" You all but threw yourself at him, burying your head into his neck, the comforting scent of sage filling your nostrils, "I'm so glad you're safe, I was beside myself when they called."

"I-huh?" His voice was drowsy and full of confusion. Makes sense, considering when he was last conscious, he was in a fighter jet, thousands of feet up in the air.

"Doctors say if you keep up your current trajectory, you'll be able to go home tomorrow. Gives me time to get your favorite meal ready."

"Beef Goulash?" Bob mumbled, his eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Of course! Your mom's recipe." You pressed your lips against one of his red cheeks before capturing his lips with yours. You couldn't help it. Your husband had survived, he was right there. How could you not kiss him?

"Am I in heaven?"

You couldn't help but laugh at Bob's question, shaking your head as you kissed him again.

"No Robby, you're at the Miramar Hospital."

Bob pulled away, confusion written all over his face, "But....you're an angel?"

You shook your head again, but without laughing this time, "Robby. You okay?"

"I.....I was in the air and Phoenix, she kept telling me to eject and I think I did? Then I woke up and you're....you're here and wow. You're stunning."

Your stomach fluttered at his compliment, "Of course I'm here," you grabbed the hand that wasn't hooked up to an IV bag, "What kind of wife would I be if I wasn't?"

Bob's nearly widened, "Wife? Did you say wife?"

Oh boy.

"Yes, I'm your wife. We got the rings and everything." You held up your hand, showing the gold wedding band, which matched the one Bob wore.

"We're married?" His eyes were as wide as saucers, hope and confusion dancing along those oceanic irises.

"We are. Have been for five years now."

"Five years?!" Bob put his hand over his heart, as if he were afraid of it jumping out of his chest, "Wow. I bet those five years have been wonderful."

"They have! And I will tell you all about them, after I get the nurse!"

You began moving to get up when a large hand grabbed yours.

"Wait!" You stopped to look at Bob, "Are you.....are you sure you're my wife? Not that I'm complaining it's just you're so beautiful and lovely and I....I'm....just Bob."

So the pain medication could make him temporarily forget you, but not his insecurities? Go figure.

"No, you are not just Bob. You are the smartest, sweetest, kindest, most amazing man I have ever met. You're a wonderful husband and father, and every day I'm thankful I get to wake up next to you."

A small albeit sweet lopsided smile appeared on Bob's face, before his eyes widened once again, "Wait....did you did you say father?"

You couldn't help but giggle, "Yes. You are the father to three cats, two dogs, a rabbit, and three amazing kids."

"I am? With you?" His body was practically buzzing with excitement. His eyes were shining so brightly as he looked at you in pure amazement.

"You are. In fact, we were working on our fourth kid before all this," You smiled slyly as your fingers reached over his forearms.

"We-oh. Oh. We were-we did-um, I'm just wow I'm just going to lie down, oh look there's a bed."

The nurses rushed in upon hearing the heart rate monitor increase.

One even asked, "What did you do?!"

"Told him he was married with children."

************************************

The next day, the nurses alerted you that after the pain medication had worn off, Bob did remember you as his wife.

According to them, he wouldn't stop talking about you.

"My wife! There she is!" You smiled at hearing Bob's cheerful voice, knowing he was there, safe and sound.

"Hey hot stuff, you ready to go home? Mack has been asking when you'll show the Wizard of Oz," you paused, "You know Mack? Our daughter?"

Bob chuckles while shaking his head, "Yes. I remember all my children, as well as my amazing wife."

"Good, though I was looking forward to you recreating our first date. Was hoping you would kiss me this time."

Bob pulled you into his lap, his hands cupping your face, "Guess I'll just have to kiss you for the rest of my life to make up for it."

His lips pressed against yours briefly before moving to your cheeks, then your forehead, then to your nose.

"I think I can deal with that," you giggled as he continued to pepper your face with light kisses.

"Me too darlin. Me too."

[written-with-blue-ink]

Cuddles with alhaitham? I want to be in his arms desperately please and thank you

Thank you for the ask! Not necessarily cuddles but happy wholesome fluff is coming up <3 also, I got a lot of requests and I am going in order from oldest to newest, sorry for the wait y'all. Wish the Furina wanters to be Furina Havers!

At the Dendro Archon's Decree, Alhaitham X Reader

Being the (Acting) Grand Scribe meant long days and multiple pots of coffee just to get work done. How he wondered how much Aazar and so many previous Grand Sages fucked up just due to not listening to the “Lesser Lord”. 

The average day had him leave long before you woke up and come home when you had finished your dinner, curled in the corner with a book. Sure, the few moments he got to spend with you were precious, but you both knew you wanted more time together. Just seemed like it wasn’t in the cards right now.

That’s why when the doors of the elevator opened, he was not expecting the God of Wisdom sitting at his desk, scribbling down notes and her vizier, no kagemusha was the term he used for himself, sitting off to the side with a scowl and crossed arms. “Lord Kusanali,” Alhaitham slowly stated, eyes glancing at the both of them, “I wasn’t aware we had a meeting today.”

Her green eyes fluttered up, her flower-shaped pupils meeting his, and seemed to shine with amusement. “Alhaitham! You’re here,” she smiled, pulling herself up so she was standing on the chair, “you can go home now. Bye!”

The white-haired man narrowed his eyes and cocked a brow as he stepped to the center of the room. “While I don’t mind going home,” he spoke bluntly, “is there a reason for my sudden dismissal?”

“Yeah, you work too much,” the hat-wearing boy said in the corner, a smirk on his face that always seemed to rub Alhaitham slightly the wrong way.

“Exactly,” Nahida smiled, pointing at the boy with indigo hair. “Not in a bad way but you have taken on so much work that was originally split evenly amongst several heads. While we are looking for replacements you have taken on that work but you deserve a break, Grand Sage Alhaitham.”

“Acting Grand Sage,” he corrected but he couldn’t help but feel some of the tension leave his shoulders. “But thank you, Lord Kusanali. I’ll be going now.”

Swiftly turning around and walking back to the elevator, he couldn’t help but smile as Nahida shouted, “Have fun! Tell (Y/N) I said hi!”

Walking out the doors of the Academia’s Library, the edge of the sun started peaking over the horizon. The warmth on his skin seemed to add some speed to his step as he briskly walked home.

---

Waking up in the morning, the smell of fresh bread hit your nose and the light shining through the windows sturred your senses. The thin bronze cat batted at the pillow next to you, her spots seeming darker in the shadow she gave off. “Mornin, Asal… How are you, baby girl?”

She purred as you scratched behind her ear, flopping on her side as you scratched her tummy with a smile. After a minute or two, the smell from outside your bedroom seemed to grow stronger and Asal flipped herself back onto her feet and bounded out the cracked door. You giggle as you hop to your feet, running out the door after her.

Wandering through the hall, you turn the corner just in time to watch Asal crawl up the green fabric before wrapping herself around the neck of a familiar face, his eyes concentrating on the stove as he cooked some eggs. She licked the side of his face, causing him to turn to the left, eyes meeting yours as you both smiled. “What are you doing here, handsome? Shouldn’t you be doing Grand Sage things?”

“Lord Kusanali sent me home and said I needed to spend more time with you,” he said, eyes on you instead of the dish in front of him as he slid the eggs onto a plate. “But you wouldn’t have any idea about that, would you?”

Strutting forward, he places an arm around your waist. “Why, I have no idea what you could be insinuating,” you smirk, placing a kiss on his lips as he pulls you closer to his chest.

Asal crawled down from the man’s neck into your arms, purring as you held her close. Alhaitham rolled his eyes, leading you to a table covered in slices of bread, cheeses, honey, and other spreads. Pulling a chair out for you, he spoke, “Then how did the Dendro Archon know you and I were dating? I don’t necessarily talk about my private life at work.”

“Well,” you coo, placing a hand on his, “I may or may not have run into her while I was bringing you lunch a few weeks ago. Then she would occasionally stop by in my dreams and we would talk… You aren’t mad, are you?”

His eyes melted at the question. Leaning over the chair, his arms wrapped around your shoulders and he placed a kiss in your hair, “How could I ever be upset at you?”

[writingsofwesteros]

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/769242641279926272/hotd

#the true green queen

Lady Alyrie Hightower (née Florent) was no one’s fool, and she knew exactly the sort of man her husband Otto was when she married him and she loved him for it. She loved that even as he was being claimed by his illness he had their sweet little daughter whisper to the Old King that her mother would be such a good Hand, an honor to his Good Queen. All were stunned by the announcement, but Lady Alyrie did not let the whispers cow her.

Prince Viserys and Prince Daemon did her the honor of attending her husband’s funeral, although Daemon it seemed was there to taunt her. “The Tower of the Hand can be lonely, My Lady Hand. Do call on me… at any hour.”

She knew the man well enough to know what he wanted, a sting of the queen bee or the honey she guarded viciously. “I’m so grateful for your thoughtfulness, My Prince.”

She had surprised him, but she saw she had chosen right: he would follow her into the Seven Hells just to believe he had stolen her husband’s sweet wife.

He was not a patient man, too used to whores who spread their legs as soon as coin or status was proffered. It was easy to feign piety, the guilt of a woman conflicted by her soft heart and the weakness of needing comfort. The Prince ever sought to touch her, and ever she turned him away with a pained: “My Prince, I cannot.”

Close to a year of teasing came before she ‘allowed’ herself to be seduced, to have the Prince strip her enough to claim her breasts with sweet kisses, but as his hand slid up her thigh she grew frightened.

“I am sorry, My Prince, I am sorry.” She pulled away, covering herself and trembling with a fear she had never had even as a maiden. “You are married. It is a sin.”

He tried to convince her, but she remained firm. He did not want to take her, he wanted to steal away her husband’s prized wife willingly.

“Would that I could set aside my Lady Wife. She is no beauty and I have never desired to claim her as I do you, My Lady.”

She feigned hesitance again. This would need to be done carefully. “You… have not lain with her?”

“I would not.”

“It… it could be set aside…”

She watched his eyes, filled with triumph, but also hunger for her and a desperate need to have what her husband had.

The annulment was a trivial raven to the Starry Sept, the wedding modest as her year of mourning had barely ended. Poor Alicent was too young to understand, barely ten, sad and hurt, but Alyrie cooed over her and told her this was what ladies did: strengthen their husband’s houses, or their father’s houses.

She played the whore on her wedding night, every touch a revelation, he was so big, he was so deep, it was so good, while she thought of long and lean fingers and a man who actually knew how to use his cock for a woman’s pleasure. She got what she wanted from him: his seed, she was not yet thirty, and she had always quickened easily.

Alyrie suffered him only long enough to bear an heir, a spare, and a daughter. Her second husband sadly passed, stabbed by some back alley whore arranged by the White Worm. The Queen passed tragically as well, and by then her daughter knew how to pleasure herself and fake her ardor, and she knew how to take her moon tea without argument.

When he grew weakened, the King (with her sage guidance) named her boy Gaemon, rider of Vermathor, as his heir, her daughter Daenys, rider of Silverwing, to be his betrothed and future queen.

It was a simple matter to see his hippocras well-sweetened with lead.

After the coronation of her son, she wandered the halls of the Great Sept, going down to the tomb she often visited in secret.

“Mother?” Gaemon was still touch young, he still needed his mother and regent. “Who is this?”

She placed a hand on the grave. “My first Lord Husband, Alicent and Gwayne’s father. He was Hand before me, Otto Hightower. He was quite a wise man. You remember his house words?”

“We Light the Way!” Gaemon answered with clear pride at his good memory.

“I will do the same for you, my darling.”

ADORE THIS SO MUCH!!!!!!!!! No, seriously, we all should have been writing this show !

She is so good at manipulating the rogue Prince, whispering the words he desired to hear so well and acted so good for him.

[orqheuss]

How to ask for help - PART 1

(Ominis/GN!Reader FLUFF)

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Summary:

The five times you helped Ominis, and the one time he helped you.

Word count: 2.9k

AN: This is so stupid, lol

Part 1: 'Water' You Doing?

September, 4th year

“Bollocks!”

You had just been leaving the main greenhouse after asking Professor Garlick a question about your chinese chomping cabbages when a curse came from your left. It was common to find you in that spot as of late, especially with the freshness of the autumn air nipping at the skin of your nose and cheeks. It was a beautiful day by all possible accounts in your book— the sun was softly burning down through the teal painted glass above your head and the leaves were just beginning to twinge the slightest shade of orange. The soft breeze that spun around the tiny outdoor space was a secret comfort to you, and you often spent time there reading under one of the many flowering trees that lined the pavement. As you strolled to your favorite spot under the giant tree at the center of the courtyard, you pondered over what the professor said about your precious foliage— deep in thought about the concerning brown spots decorating the leaves of your tiny, but ferocious, cabbage. You nearly lept out of your skin at the sound of the loud swear coming from the other side of the space, your heart picking up exponentially as you whipped your head in the direction of the voice, trying to see who the person was. By all accounts, it looked like you were alone among the plants, until the ripple of the pond just behind the buildings caught your eye. 

Creeping carefully down the stairs and around the bend of the largest green emporium, you scan your eyes around the circled fish pond under the large weeping willow. You almost didn’t see them at first with how their clothing blended in with the grass, but at the farthest corner from you was a student— a boy, you realized, not much older than you from what you could tell. The green and silver adorning his house robe glittered in the leaf shaped sunbeams, making the silken hem look like scales on a garden snake. He was carefully leaning towards the waters edge, his blond hair catching the reflection from the water below and making it look like the shifting glass of the painted murals in the Defence Against the Dark Arts hallway— your mind brought forth a particular comparison between the large sea serpent tryptic and the way the soft sage green of the water melded with his flaxen locks. You edged closer to the boy, moving around the bend as quietly as you could as to not disturb him. Seeing him more clearly now, you noticed that his fingers were gripping tightly to the edge of the pool, his knuckles turning a, somehow paler, shade of his skin tone with anxious strength— one wrong move and he would be drenched and spitting out algae. He seemed to be mumbling to himself, the hiss of curses spilling from his clenched teeth as he desperately searched for something under the surface, whipping his head to and fro like he couldn’t see through the murky depths. You decided to make yourself known, letting your last few steps ring out in the space as you cleared your throat. 

“Are you alright?” You asked the stressed stranger. “Do you need some help?”

He startled at the sound of your voice, his body jumping slightly and his head tipping precariously closer to the watery surface, before taking a deep breath through his nose and replying. 

“No, thank you. I am quite capable of handling this myself.” His voice was clipped, irritation prevalent in each word. 

You paused in your steps, confused at the hostility of the strange boy. You were just trying to help him, what was his issue? Your brows twitched in curiosity, hesitantly making your way closer again as you reached out a hand. 

“Are you sure? You’ve been out here for some time—”

His icy tone cut you off. “Thank you for the astute observation. Now if you wouldn’t mind leaving me alone, I would greatly appreciate it.” 

Your hand retreated, shoulders straightening at being chastised like a petulant child. Why was he being so rude? You were just trying to help. It wasn’t like you insulted him. 

You cleared your throat again, your words choking against the embarrassment lodged in your throat. “My apologies— I meant no offense. I’ll leave you to it.” 

Your feet swished against the ground as you turned to take your leave, proverbial tail tucked between your legs from the verbal onslaught by the blond Slytherin, when a sigh stopped you. The boy adjusted his stance, leaning up to kneel on the ground and run a hand over his face and through his hair, dislodging the swoop tucking the strands into their neat style. From him came another sigh, heavy and full of regret, before turning his cheek in your direction to speak to you more directly. 

“No, don’t go, it’s me who should apologize. I shouldn’t take my anger out on you— you’re just being nice. A trait that this school seems to be lacking sometimes.” 

His hand was outstretched towards you, like you had originally done to him, his fingers twitching and hesitant like he meant to grab onto yours before you could disappear. You moved closer again as he hung his head, his chin nearly touching his chest. The tiniest bit of color could be caught on his alabaster cheek. 

He let his hand fall again, his fingers curling into a tense fist at his side. “I’m not one to normally accept help from others, but in this instance I could use some assistance if the offer is still available.” 

You stopped next to him, keeping a respectful distance between you both. Seeing your approach, he raised to his feet, turning towards where you were. 

“What do you mean you ‘normally don’t accept help’— oh.” You raised your eyes from the ground, “meeting” his gaze for the first time. That being said, there wasn’t really any gaze to be met. He was blind. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “Oh.” 

You balked, shame pressing heavily against your shoulders. “Oh— oh my. I am so very sorry—“

“It’s fine.” He cut you off again, his sightless eyes shifting to the floor as his hand came up to rub at the back of his neck. “I appreciate your kindness nonetheless.” 

You took a shuddered breath, fighting to calm your heartbeat down to an acceptable tempo as you took in the boy once again. His eyebrows were squared across the tops of his eyelids, eyes still focused on the ground and his jaw clenched. 

He looked quite constipated, actually. 

He probably often had people asking him if he needed assistance around the castle. No wonder he was so snippy, he was embarrassed. Just from the little bit you had gathered from him, it was very apparent that he preferred to be independent. Not that you could blame him, of course. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like trying to navigate the world without your sight. If you were honest with yourself, you were quite impressed with the boy in front of you, even if you didn’t know him all that well. 

It was his turn to clear his throat, dragging you out of your thought spiral. 

You schooled your face into a gentle smile, letting your tone soften naturally. “It’s no trouble. What can I do?” 

He seemed taken aback that you still wanted to help him, his posture relaxing slightly but his shoulders stiff as boards and his face now twisted into an expression of aloofness— pleased with your response but still wary of your intentions. All it would take from you would be a little push against his back and he would be, quite literally, swimming with the fishes. Your heart ached a little thinking about the fact that he had to worry about that from your peers. 

The blond pointed towards the spot he was leaning over a moment ago, his white eyes darting around in his skull as if refusing to meet yours. His other hand fiddled with the end of his robe sleeve. 

“My wand seems to have rolled into the pond. I—” he coughed, “I can’t see without it.” 

Your response was instantaneous, your helpful nature taking over and banishing your previous trepidation. “Oh! I can help you find it, if you’d like?” 

He exhaled the breath you didn’t realize he was holding, letting his guard down a little bit more at the genuine eagerness you had to help him in his time of need. You quickly made your way to where he was pointing, edging around his body to keep a safe distance, before kneeling in a similar manner as he once was. You peered into the swampy surface, eyes scanning for anything out of the ordinary through the thick greenery and streaking colors of the koi fish swimming below. The boy sat with you, peering into the water himself as if trying to sense the location of his wand. After a moment, your shoulders slumped, unable to find his magic instrument. He noticed the change in your posture right away, forcing his own shoulders to shift towards the ground and his eyes to close, the crease in his eyebrow returning as he thought through his other options. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t see anything—” A gasp cut off your sentence, your eyes wide and a smile stretching across your face as your eyes looked under the surface again. The boy flinched at your sound, leaning closer to you and his eyebrows shooting towards his hairline in surprise. 

“What? Do you see it?” 

“Yes!” You cheered, your toothy grin bleeding through the solitary word. 

There, just under a large patch of clover, was a softly glowing red light— a beacon calling for its lost owner. 

You quickly shucked your house robe from your shoulders, throwing it in the direction of a dittany bush before hastily rolling up your sleeves and shoving your hand into the pond, causing tiny ripples to split the top into multiple little waves. The boy jumped back to avoid being splashed, nearly losing his footing against the wet concrete. 

With a sound of triumph, you wrenched the wand free from the algae it was tangled around and back towards its anxious owner. Using the corner of your shirt, you carefully dried it off to the best of your ability before turning back towards your damsel in distress. 

At first you were shocked by how close he had gotten in the mere moments you had been on the ground, but then as your eyes tracked up his face more, your breath stilled in your chest. Your mother had told you once that it was quite rude to stare at people you didn't know, but Merlin, his eyes. You had never seen eyes like that before. Wrapped around his pupils was a deep phthalo turquoise— the color of the north sea after a terrible storm. The hue seemed to bleed into the center, skipping over where his pupil should be and instead leaving a swirling pool of a lightly toned peat-bog, much like the pond you had just been elbow deep in a mere moment ago. Cutting through the oceanic depths were little zigzags of cornflower— like streaks of lightning on a summer night. They had to be some of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. 

“—Hello? Are you alright?” 

It was only when you heard his voice that you realized just how long you had been transfixed by his opalescent eyes. Your cheeks heated to an uncomfortable degree as you hastily looked away, desperately trying to ignore the look of concern turning down the corners of his lips. 

“Yes, I’m alright.” You couldn’t seem to clear the lump that lodged itself just under your jaw. “Here’s your wand.” 

You held out your prize to him, tapping it against his knuckles so he could locate it and not letting go until it was securely in his hand. You both stood from your hunched position, dusting the grass from the knees of your trousers and gathering the things you had discarded in your rush to help. Now facing each other, the air became tense with anxious energy— neither of you knowing who should break the silence first and walk away. You fiddled with your fingers for a moment, your teeth worrying at your bottom lip as you looked around at the plants growing by the waters edge. 

The boy’s voice took on a questioning lilt when he broke through the awkward silence. “Thank you for helping me, I appreciate it immensely. But, I must ask, why didn’t you just use Accio to summon it? Do you not have your wand with you?” 

You didn’t think your cheeks could get any more pink. Shite, why didn’t you think of that? 

A nervous laugh bubbled out of your mouth. “I honestly forgot that spell existed. This is all still a little new to me.” 

The boy balked, his words leaving his mouth before he fully thought them through. “Oh! Are you a muggleborn?” He seemed to instantly regret asking, his eyes squinting shut and his face twisting into that constipated look again. You thought the rosy tint stretching across his cheeks and the tip of his nose was lovely. “My apologies, that was…insensitive of me to ask. I’ll just leave you to—” 

“Wait!” You said, suddenly very intent on keeping this not-so-prickly-anymore boy talking. “It’s alright. No offense taken, I promise.” 

He stopped mid turn, listening to what you have to say.

“I suppose you could say I’m a muggleborn, even though I never knew that was a term until I came here, of course.” You laughed lightly, hoping to clear away the stiffness that seeped into his body once again. “Been here for four years and this all still confuses me to no end.” 

He faced you again, a small smile turning the corners of his mouth. “I would imagine so. I’ve grown up around magic and a lot of it is still a mystery to me.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, a nervous tick he seemed to have. “So, you’re a fourth year as well?” 

You smiled bigger, pleased to see that he was just as awkward as you were when it came to idle chit chat with strangers. 

“Yes! I think I remember seeing you at the sorting. It’s all a bit of a blur, really.” 

A wry smirk tweaked his lips. “I think I remember you as well. You were wearing a ribbon in your hair, correct?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “No, that must have been someone—” You watched as his smile became more wolf-ish as his words registered. You chuckled lightly, your eyes falling shut and missing how his own softened the tiniest amount at the sound of your joy. He thought your laughter was like the twinkle of wind-chimes. 

With your smile never leaving your face, you stepped closer to the friendly Slytherin, extending your hand towards him in a friendly greeting, giving him your name finally. He smiled bigger, a genuine thing that made you feel warm as he took your hand in his. 

“My name is Ominis. Ominis Gaunt. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

A loud voice from your right startled you both out of the happy bubble you had created. “There you are, Ominis! I’ve been looking all over for you! What are you doing— oh, who’s this?” 

The sudden volume of the stranger made you both jump, causing your feet to skid against the wet tile decorating the fish pond, knocking your balance off kilter. Ominis, to his credit, tried to keep you from tumbling into the water, his hand tightening against yours and his feet shuffling for stability. Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain. 

You vaguely registered a head of curly brown hair and freckled cheeks as your head was submerged, your clasped hands taking the blond down with you. 

You breached the surface seconds apart, your clothes now soaked and sticking uncomfortably to your body. Looking to your new friend, you couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your lips at the sight of a sizable lily-pad draped against his dripping hair. Your joy must have been infectious, because it didn’t take long for the blond to begin laughing as well. 

A hand appeared in front of you, the heavily freckled arm connected to the, now very bashful, stranger that sent you tumbling. He reached to pull you out, waiting for you to accept his help before easing you out of the pond and doing the same to his friend. He smiled sheepishly at you once you were back on dry land, grabbing your discarded robe off the ground and draping it around your shoulders. 

“Sorry about that.” He apologized, before holding out his hand to you again. “I’m Sebastian Sallow. I hope I didn’t dampen your opinion of me after startling you like that.” 

You shook your head, still smiling at the ridiculous situation you had found yourself in on what was originally a relatively normal day, and introduced yourself to the blushing brunette, watching as he took off his own robe and pulled it around the shoulders of your newest friend. 

Turning back to Ominis, chuffed that he seemed to be enjoying this as much as you were, you sighed happily. 

“Well Ominis,” you simpered. “This seems like the start to a beautiful friendship.” 

like what you read? here's more!

[ender-cloud]

New Chapter!!!!! AHSHGSYSHSBSHHAHW

Tgs spoilers under cut

JEKYLL LOOKS SO HAPPY AHDHSGAHHDHEHEHEHE MY BOYYYY I HAVENT SEEN HIM HAPPY IN SO LONGGGGG

Things I noticed:

Hyde is in his mind scape fit and it looks like there’s Fire behind him; is he going to burn up in the mind scape?

Or while Jekyll is falling Deeper and Deeper into the mind scape Hyde is going to end up switching places with him, a last desperate messure to avoid the cops, or does he see how much the people in the Society need Jekyll.

I feel like something is going to happen to Hyde; he looks disheveled and there has to be a reason why Sage chose The mind scape outfit instead of his normal one.

Also the string? Is this representative of his connection to Jekyll? If so, why does he have the string but Jekyll doesn’t, is it for a seperation from Jekyll?

Hyde always has to be connected to Jekyll, he can never be separated from him because he stems from Jekyll. Which is why he has the string unwrapping from his wrist as he (possibly) dies

But Jekyll has lived Without Hyde as a separate entity, maybe Hyde has always been apart of him but that Part was always suppressed which is why he may look so happy. He feels finally free from that part of him after all of this time.

I dont think the Picnic is going to be a literal picnic in the story, but I think it represents a bit of peace and connection.

Also the name; Until the Horror goes

Is the Horror Hyde or the situation. I’d argue that its the situation because holy shit Hyde is not a horror right now he is a lost man right now.

I love this picture of Jekyll ANDBAYUDHEHE THIS WILL BE MY PICTURE ON EVERYTHING AT SOME POINT. Jekyll is so amazing 🙏 he’s so me chat, I am literally that man

Edit: I forgot to mention how sll of the Zosi’s are looking at Hyde (thank you Lyn for bringing it up) is it because they know Hyde is passing before it happens?

They all look at him except for one, and I think it can stand for all the eyes of the society on him or that Zosi knows something

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoongi

Snowball Princess 🔞

In which Yoongi is just tired- but also the happiest he's ever been.

Tags/Warnings: Snowball Princess AU, Husky Hybrid!Reader, Idol!Yoongi, mentions of poly!BTS x reader, Fluff, romance, suggestive themes oops, hints at smut whaaaat?, cockwarming

Length: short >1k words

A/N: yes I just did that :)

❄️.━━━━━━━━━━.👑.━━━━━━━━━━━.❄️

Yoongi wakes up slowly, remembering barely that he's got a day off today for once to relax and recharge.

There's another body in the hotel bed, but he's not alarmed by it- you're here because he wanted you to be, after all, and he wouldn't have it any other way. When he moves a little to stretch his limbs, you move as well- snuggling up to his side, cuddly as always, legs entangling with his underneath the covers.

But there's something else he notices more slowly, realization kicking in as to what happened last night.

You're naked, well, almost- bare chest pressed against his arm as your breath fans over his equally bare skin. You're both only wearing the bare minimum, and he's reminded from the faint hickey he can spot on your chest what happened some hours ago.

Groaning a bit annoyed because the mere thought of it has him rise in his underwear yet again.

It had happened naturally, so to say. You'd talked, eaten something for dinner in the hotel room, had played around like always. But this time, when he'd turned in bed to lean over you and kiss you goodnight, something had changed. It had been a little strange at first, how easy and natural it felt to him to get so close, hands calm but also a bit hesitant to undress you at first. But the reassurance from your side and his own in return had created the perfect environment for something so monumental, the entire act a dance between gentle love and desperate lust.

He loves you- so much, and you know that, now more than ever.

Scenes from last night fight its way back into the front of his mind as he thinks about the way you'd looked at him, pure trust as you fell into his hands, giving him all control to love you the way he deemed fit that night. It's not to blame on your heat at all- that had just ended a few weeks ago, so you were completely clear in your head and aware of the step you took.

And from the sight of your red cheeks and wagging tail as you look at him with a tired smile, it's also sage to say that you don't have any regrets, which is the last thing he'd needed to let himself freely love you for sure now.

"Hello there." He greets you with a raspy tone, and you lean in a little closer, kiss the tip of his shoulder before you yawn, stretching. It's a bit embarrassing to admit to himself that the mere sight of your bare body moving next to him, combined with the satisfied exhale that you make after stretching your legs and arms, has him definitely up and ready yet again even though he's barely awake.

But yeah can't bring himself to be ashamed.

"Come here, love." He says, helping you move as you lift your leg and straddle him- the way your eyes widen a little a telltale sign that you noticed the clear election hrs Sporting. "You're so pretty, you know that?" He praises, and you smile to yourself.

"You tell me a lot." You say, voice still laced with sleep. You yawn again before you adjust yourself, forcing his eyes closed at the sensation of your warm body over his sensitive length. "Was it.. good?" You ask, presumably referring to last night. He chuckles, eyes still closed, hands however very much confident in where to go as his palms run over your bare legs, front the tips of your knees up to your very hips.

"Perfect." He almost purrs. You preen yourself at that.

"Do you.." you wonder, before you seem to grow a bit more serious. "Does that mean.. I can't love the others anymore?" You wonder.

Yoongi shrugs. "I'm already sharing you with the others, am I not?" He says. "You kiss Jungkookie too, after all. Don't think I haven't heard about you two making up." He teases sleepily, and you squirm a little.

"But.. what if.. let's say jungkookie.." you mumble down at yourself. ".. wants this too?" You ask with hesitance-

But yoongi shrugs.

"Like I said." He says, lifting his arms above his head for a moment. "I'm already sharing you. Who you love in what way is up to you." He explains.

"So-" you try again, and he chuckles.

"If you and Jungkook want to have sex, I won't mind. Neither will Hoseok, or jiminie, or Jin, or anyone." He clears up bluntly. "We all love you. Though I will make sure everyone knows that I was your first." He mumbles to you, making you a bit shy. "My baby has a lot of love to give-" he softly tells you, eyes watching how you move a bit now. "-and it's only fair she gets a lot of it back in return." He shrugs.

And it feels like you've finally realized.

Your hands move carefully as you take him out of his underwear, your own pulled to the side as you let the head of his cock run over your core, collecting all of your already present arousal. It forces a low purring sound from him, and you really think that he might be an undercover cat hybrid with the way he sounds like.

"God.." he sighs out when you sink down on him, taking him in and keeping him there for a good moment. As a hybrid, you can't get pregnant if not in heat- but Yoongi is still careful. "Baby- condom-" he reminds you sleepily, but you whine.

"Can we.. stay like that?" You ask. "Just for a bit?" You wonder, and he chuckles softly.

"Yeah." He nods, eyes still closed, thumbs drawing circles on your skin. "Yeah, fuck- come here." Here raches out to you, and you lean down at that, upper body flush against his as he holds you.

And you both do indeed stay like that for a while, before Yoongi can't help himself but chase you out to fetch a condom.

You're just too irresistible.