#i will take even crumbs sir please

[fuckinart]

Just wanted to say I absolutely loved your drawing of the Nightshade prison scene where Freddy is praying for Alex. Nightshade is my most favorite book ever and I want Alex and Freddy's relationship to grow into a beautiful bond. If you have more Nightshade-related work I'd love to see it!

anon, i love you. i loved that scene too & needed to draw it so desperately i subjected my poor laptop to 100-ish layers in Hexels. here’s close-ups of the art in question because there’s little details i love that might not be very... viewable in the big version (like, yes, Nightshade being on the desk xD also the guns & escape plan. i wanted the room to look more lived in despite being really empty). i may go back & “finish” it, since the lighting isn’t what i wanted it to be but i was too tired to fix it at the time. this has honestly inspired me to go back to it <3

also, yes, i will be absolutely drawing more Alex Rider (& Nightshade) stuff because i love it a lot as well. full blown hyperfixation level love. working on my own personal character designs for everyone at the moment. may or may not be working on an animatic too who knows ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

[tojirights]

Okay this is going to sound like really bad but I did read your rules and saw that dubcon/noncon could be allowed so

please begging for a dub/noncon (up to u which) crumbs where Alastor is tired of reader's stubbornness and thinks it's time to really let her know her place (al owns her soul) and okay thank u bye pwosjdjeidnsj *runs and hides under a rock in shame*

a/n: HAAA YESSS. no this is amazing 😍😍

tags: 18+ smut nsfw, NONCON‼️, alastor is a demon fr, forced penetration, dacryphilia, choking, slight throat fucking

"good morning, would you be a dear and run this to rosie for me?" alastor pops into your room unannounced, as usual. you're tired, he had you up all night on another shitty errand, and you just want to sleep a little longer. "alastor please, can't anyone else do it?" you sigh, irritation bubbling in your chest. he never lets you rest.

alastor raises an eyebrow. "no one else is available." his tone is harsh, and when you meet his eyes, they're darker than they were a moment before. "this is the part where you're supposed to submit, say 'yes sir' and get out of bed." he leans on his staff, glaring red eyes staring through you. "or did you forget?" your eyes widen when you realize what he's about to do. there's a flash of green, and you feel the clasp of that shitty metal collar around your neck.

your deal with alastor backfired, just as he intended it to, and he ended up not having to do a god damned thing in exchange for your soul.

with a sharp tug of his chain, you're forced to sit up. the pull around your neck makes you cough, and you glare back at him. but when you do, you're quickly filled with a certain level of primal fear. alastor was no joke when he was angry, eyes glowing red and those antlers growing from atop his head.

"you need to learn, my dear, that the word 'no' is not a part of your vocabulary anymore." alastor walks with slow, determined strides towards your bed before his knees hit your mattress. he tugs once more, pulling you up and onto your knees. "alastor don't..." your breath catches in your throat. his hand grips onto your jaw, squeezing you uncomfortably. tears prick in the corners of your eyes, and you let out a shaky sigh. "don't?" alastor repeats, laughing. "have you forgotten the fact that i own you?"

you reach for his wrist in an attempt to remove his hand but he's far stronger than you. "i-i'll go, i'm sorry." you hiccup, but alastor has already made up his mind. "mmh, i don't think so. i don't tolerate insubordination, darling." your heart hammers in your chest when alastor's fingers find his belt. "you’re going to learn one way or another." he growls, freeing his half-hard cock and tugging your restraint.

you clench your teeth, and try to look away but alastor's grasp is too tight. his thumb drags along the bottom of your lip before prying your jaw open. "listen and be my good girl, this won't be so bad." you shut your eyes, the only thing you can think to do to cope with alastor forcing the head of his cock between your lips. there's only a moment of hesitation, a sigh from the demon above you, before his cock is being slid further down your throat.

every groan from alastor earns another tear running down your cheek. his hands hold your face steady as he pumps his cock faster, fucking the back of your throat. "so pretty, darling. look at me." he grunts, pulling your eyes up to his. they're glassy with tears, and its almost enough to make alastor cum down your throat in that very instant.

his cock pulses and he's forced to pull out of your warm mouth in fear of releasing before getting to take your cunt too. he taps your cheek gently, watching you cough and recover your breath after having your airways restricted. "strip, then i want you ass up on the bed." your lip quivers, and your body refuses to move even after you tell it to. alastor sighs, shaking his head. "must i do everything?" his words are somehow gentle and harsh enough to pull a sob from your chest.

before you can stand, alastor reaches for the hem of your sleep shirt and tears it straight down the middle to expose your tits. on instinct, you try to cover yourself but alastor's shadow circles both your wrists and pins them to your side. "please alastor... i promise, i-i will do anything you ask. please just don't do this." you plead, but alastor just clicks his teeth with his tongue. "you should've thought about the consequences before this, my dear. i've found that making an example out of someone typically gives the best results."

he does release his shadows, freeing your wrists and watches carefully as you follow his previous instructions. you kick your shorts off with a muffled cry and turn to shove your face into the mattress. ass up, you prepare for whatever alastor has in mind. his fingers find your slit, delving into the wet heat between your thighs. the laugh he releases sends a chill down your spine. "wet as can be darling!" without giving you another moment to process, his cock is pushing thick and hard into your unprepared pussy.

your scream gets caught in your throat, heat coursing through your body in an overwhelming way. "n-no, too much alastor, please stop." you cry, muffled into the mattress as you try to scramble away from him but you feel alastor's shadow come back to pin your arms. you're trapped at this point, completely under alastor's control. there's no choice but to give in, your body going limp as alastor pumps his hips into you.

"good girl." he coos, raking his clawed hands down your back. angry red marks follow in its trail. "see how easy it is to just obey?" every inch of his cock pushes you to your limit. "such a good cunt..." he sighs, his hips stuttering before he pulls out and you feel each thick rope of cum hit your ass. you finally open your eyes, letting every emotion flow through them as alastor empties his balls all over you.

there's a moment of silence while alastor catches his breath. "now... will you be a dear and run this to rosie for me?" he reiterates, and your whole body tenses. is he not even giving you time to recover? to clean up? fuck...

"y-yes sir..."

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗘𝗬𝗘𝗦 lando norris  x  co-worker! fem! reader (fluff) “. . . your co-worker and former classmate has a public crush on you, and you try to play it off. but who are you kidding? it's lando.”

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests | taglist )

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yn.ln

liked by pieregasly charles_leclerc and 29.7k others yn.ln it's been a minute, lets recap.

landonorris Y/N WHAT ARE THESE??!! ↳ yn.ln my favourite parts of the year, duh

username this is GOLD! Lando's face in the third pic is a whole mood😆 ↳ yn.ln RIGHT?! that's his 'I just lost a bet' expression

landonorris when did you take that one in the hospital?? ↳ yn.ln you said and i quote "im looking very pretty right now. take a picture and hang it on my face." ↳ oscarpiastri i can see it ↳ yn.ln i can hear him saying "oscahh" in the corner ↳ landonorris . . . the block botton looks so good rn ↳ yn.ln do it i dare you. ↳ landonorris .... YOU DONT HAVE TO EMBARESS ME INFRONT OF THE INTERNET ↳ username 💀mom?

username lando pointing at the help me thingy pleas-

maxfewtrel send me the whole camera roll? ↳ yn.ln ya got it boss, that's 50 dollars ↳ landonorris ARE YOU MAKING MONEY OFF ME??

username THE LAST PICTURE!! WHY DIDN'T WE SEE THIS BEFORE??!! ↳ yn.ln sorry, i randomly found it in my camera roll, here it is now tho ↳ username god bless you y/n ↳ landonorris she cant be blessed cause she's a demon ↳ yn.ln 😇yet you're standing at my door holding a board game. ↳ landonorris STOP OUTING ME ↳ username god bless you y/n ↳ username god bless you y/n ↳ username god bless you y/n ↳ username god bless you y/n ↳ maxfewtrel LMAO

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landonorris and yn.ln posted on their stories

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landonorris

liked by pieregasly maxverstapen1 and 29.7k others landonorris got our first date!

yn.ln not a date <3 ↳ landonorris i do not see👍 ↳ username please date him y/n ↳ username pleaseeeeeeeeeee ↳ username please y/nn ↳ yn.ln nahhh

maxfewtrell it's not a date if i was there ↳ landonorris YOU WEREN'T EVEN INVITED MATE ↳ yn.ln i invited him😛 ↳ landonorris traitorrrr ↳ yn.ln you love me ↳ landonorris i do. very much. ↳ yn.ln ew. my eyes are burning ↳ maxfewtrell 🙄some simp ↳ yn.ln lando no-rizz haha ↳ username y/n called lando ew?🥲 ↳ landonorris STOP BULLYING ME, I HAVE FEELINGS ↳ maxfewtrell says you, you destroyed mine flirting with y/n right in front of me ↳ yn.ln should we get him tickets to flirting lesson for Christmas ↳ landonorris 😔💔

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yn.ln

liked by pieregasly maxverstapen1 and 26.9k others yn.ln rain!!

landonorris no photo credits 🤨?? excuse me?? ↳ yn.ln laando

oscarpiastri keep your head inside the car ↳ yn.ln buzz kill 😒 ↳ maxverstappen1 he's right though ↳ yn.ln wont happen again, sir🫡 ↳ landonorris go away max🫠

username waiting for lando's weird ass girl energy comments

landonorris slay queen👑👑💗💗🥰

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landonorris showed them how its done😍😍😍 ↳ username MY EYES? ARE THEY FR?? ↳ username YESS ITS REAL!! ↳ username my heart, hes so cutee

landonorris ate and left no crumbs💅 ↳ yn.ln make me cringe one more time. i dare you. ↳ landonorris ouch, my good vibes sending 🥲 ↳ username woman gave him an ultimatum ↳ username Y/N NO PLEASEEE I BEGG

landonorris ... you're very pretty ...??? ↳ landonorris DONT BLOCK ME IM SORRY ↳ yn.ln that was good for once. i'll take it ↳ landonorris 😁

landonorris very pretty <3↳ username i will seriously stop believing in love if they dont grow old together

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landonorris

liked by pieregasly oscarpistri and 26.9k others landonorris turns out, she really likes compliments!

yn.ln no, i actually like your eyes more ↳ landonorris im dreaming ↳ yn.ln i'll take it back then ↳ landonorris NO!

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yn.ln

liked by pieregasly oscarpistri and 26.9k others yn.ln just the eyes

landonorris i feel appreciated ↳ yn.ln its a mr and ms norris genetics appreciation post ↳ landonorris i'll take it

username its official?

carlossianz55 i taught him the pick up lines ↳ yn.ln he needs more lessons please, im begging ↳ landonorris aw come on! i really tried this time!

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[christinebloodwrittings]

Somebody that I used to know.

Request made by @white-00-7

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!reader Summary: Old friends turned into lovers under very distressing situations. Warning: Blood, Adam, violence.

After the Axe-man terrified the streets of New Orleans, there was the butcher of the bayou. A cannibalistic maniac, known to left no “crumbs” of their victims, so to speak. You knew that by being hunting season, he may be on the woods alongside you, what you didn’t counted on was the creep following you, rifle in hand.

A rustle was heard in between the bushes, you aimed at the bush with confidence, thinking it was probably a deer or a duck at least, the creep making haste to do the same, to your head. “Come out, come out” you whispered to yourself, seeing brown hair and antlers, there you shoot.

But the thud was lighter than a deer’s.

Moving the bush you saw a smiling man, “Holy shit!, no, sir, I’m so sorry, don’t die, help please!” you cried out, but as you turned around the lights were off as well. The sound of the trigger on the creep’s rifle was the last thing you heard.

The free fall was the least of it, but speaking of thousands of meters high, one does not think about the fall but rather the impact. However, it wasn't so hard for you, for the poor bastard under you, it was.

"Get off me!" he managed to throw you off his back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to land on you” he dusted himself off as he regained his composure, clearing his voice when he noticed you were a woman.

“No, I apologize dear, here, let me help” He offered his clawed hand to yours, only by then both realized they didn’t looked like humans no more, “Interesting” he muttered, pulling gently on your arm.

He was looking at his new self when he heard a sudden laugh, “What’s so funny?” he questioned, then you pointed at yours and his little tail, “They’re so fluffy” he wasn’t so enchanted by the cutesy fact.

He was a deer, a white back at that. You on the other hand were a red one. A stag and a doe, how fitting both lifestyles of pride, more than anything.

“Why are you down here, dear?” you thought about it for a second, pride and rebellion was your first thought, then your taxidermy hobbies, “All I can think off is that poor man I killed as of a few minutes now, I mistook him for a…deer” he took a second to think about it, the click that made him stand up was a riffle trigger, your weapon.

He laughed, "You killed me," he continued his laughter, he took your arm to start walking towards the city, "I must say, my dear, that of all the evils in this world, you are the only thing I didn't think would send me to hell" It still made him laugh, "And it's even funnier that they killed you almost at the same time you killed me, life is a great irony" he smiled, one of the sweetest smiles he gifted you.

Now, don’t get him wrong, he was mad out of his mind, also slightly scared, not that he would admit that. Though the warmth of your arm linked with his brought him an anchor like feeling.

 After a few years of living together, Alastor disappeared without warning. "I will become stronger, soon the citizens of hell will know of my power” He used to take his place at your side and daydream about greatness and have everyone's respect, more fear than respect though.

“I will be able to protect you" that sentence lived rent free in your head, his voice a mere echo in your memories, after seven years you almost didn’t remembered his face anymore.

Alastor took care of the most bloodthirsty so that you didn't have to, without him there, you had to take measures into your own hands. The Pride Ring came to know you as one of the best snipers, the Overlord Ghost Shot, your elemental power to control the air could make your bullets fly up to lightspeed, also take away the oxygen off your enemies lungs.

You build up a company off the souls you began to own, you provided the fabrics that boosted businesses like Velvette’s or Rosie’s, known for the good quality and resistance. You didn’t worried yourself with planned obsolescence, there’s always a new design and a new trendy style that makes people keep buying.

And giving the amount of violence, clothes get ruin almost every day, Never in all the years you have been in hell have you been short of money, you managed to get a suite apartment in your own district, near the Morningstar district.

Eighty-four years of having Alastor by your side, and he just disappeared like he didn't care. Not a note, telegram, letter, anything in 7 years.

Until one afternoon when you received an invitation to an emergency meeting, it seems that Adam the first man brought forward the extermination half the time, having six months of preparation. Not one year you’ve lost a soul, but you weren’t going to start now.

“Asano, I need you to begin the preparations of the bunker, the winged rats will come down on us sooner than anticipated” you had souls knocking on your door, practically begging to make deals with you, giving that in exchange of their souls you provided safety, free housing, and a quality of life no other overlord did.

Although at the beginning some sinners wanted to abuse your good will, since you are a deer demon they tend to look down on you. They didn't find it funny anymore when they started to suffocate. Word on the street is that the air gets thicker when you’re in the room.

“I have the technical revision of my company Milla, if your plan is to arm yourself to fend off the attack don’t count on me, I have bigger priorities” Carmilla was one of your dearests friends, you made her gears laced with angelic steal fibers, and in return she updated your riffle, also gave you bullets made of angelic steal.

“I’m not saying we should, all we need is brainstorm a plan to lose as few souls as possible” she heard you made a pensative hum as she watched the overlords take their seats on the table, “You don’t wish to hide like we do, though you’ve lost more souls than I have over the years, so, do whatever you think is best, I’ll help if you want to listen for once” you hung up before Carmilla made herself aware of Alastor’s return.

 You didn’t owned a television, so Vox’s lovers spat never reached your way, and on the streets of your district no one really cared of other overlords, knowing they were under your wing.

"Y/n dear, how about you stop by the tower? They opened a new cafe on the corner, I bought cream cake and the tea that you like, it’s been a while since I saw you" said the letter that you received along with a new cell phone, Vox was more like a stone among the demons that courted you, and even though you sent his electronic junk broken back to his office, he didn't stop insisting.

“I’m so glad you came, how are your preparations for the extermination?” you brought the tea cup up to your lips, “It has been rather sudden; however I have managed to mobilize things on time, how about you?" he cut up a piece of cake, just as big as he knew you liked, “Oh we are fine, we aren’t the target anyway” your ears perked up in interest, his grin grew bigger on his face as he noticed.

“The princess is trying to redeem sinners, have you heard?” you nodded, “The Radio Demon is helping, but as useless as he is-” you began laughing, “The Radio Demon? What kind of pompous prick is named like that?” then sipped on the tea, “You know, Alastor” but as soon as he uttered that name, you choked on your tea and stormed out of his office.

And thank goodness, the air was too thick to breathe, Vox was having issues with it until you left.

“Mimzy, we know you’re in there you lousy bitch!” you heard the loan shark yell towards the  ‘Hazbin Hotel’, trying to knock the door down with a pry bar. “Gentleman, you’re in my way” you spoke, seeing a green glow wrapped the building.

“Not to mess with the Radio Demon!” taking another puff of your cigarette you watched the ten stories tall face of a man you used to know. A smile you didn’t recognized, stitched on the sides, holding his smile up. As soon as he finished eating the sharks he stopped on his tracks, merely centimeters away from your body.

“Y/n?” his distorted voice spoke in utter disbelief, “Good day Alastor, it’s been many moons, don’t you think?” He was frozen, the cute little deer girl he left all those years ago was nowhere to be seen. Replaced by a woman, wearing a dark black attire and tired eyes.

"Y/n, long time no see" he had to shift his voice a little, Charlie and the rest were right behind him inside the hotel. His chirp tone making it seem like he didn't disappeared at all, was a direct stab to your heart.

"You look..." you didn't know anymore, "Different" eyeing him from top to bottom with a disgust grimace in your face hurt him beyond his understanding, "Yes well, I told you I would get stronger" his eyes were different, they were empty.

"I see that, have a good day" you turned around in your heels ready to walk away from the place, "Y/n wait, that's it?" He was hurt? Why did he felt the audacity to pretend to be the victim when you were left behind.

"What else you want me to say?" Since he left, you stopped being joyful, the killing and the merciless torture you went through did that, and it was all his fault.

"A warmer welcome would be nice" you took out your rifle then shoot his shoulder with a dull bullet, "Warmer than that?" It didn't bleed but it hurt, so much it made Alastor take a few steps back.

"Alastor!" The princess cried out for him, "What do you think you're doing?!" Her little horns and red eyes made you snicker a little, "Is this what you've been doing all these years? Help this little girl with her hotel?" Alastor stood up, making seem as it didn't hurt at all, "Now, now Charlie, all is fine, no damage done" she tried to worry about him but it was no use, "Who is Alastor to you?" She asked you, distorted voice and hair flaring.

Alastor had his eyes on you specially when you locked on his dials flashing on and off, "Someone I used to know” the pain was real that time, Alastor didn’t even try to hide it, “Y/n please, let me explain” a small laugh escaped your lips, the first smile he saw from you in a while.

“Not a note, letter, smoke signal, nothing in seven years” he tried to make up an excuse, but you didn’t let him speak, “I had to find out from Vox, and as distasteful as he is, at least is a true friend to be in touch at least three times a week” the fact he told you sent a holy bullet up on his pride, “I can’t explain” he went again.

“I-don’t-FUCKING-care” you accentuated every word, “Woah, what is going on here?” the one and the only Lucifer Morningstar came next to his daughter, wondering wat was taking her so long after she ran out.

“They know each other” Charlie waved her hand in between the two. “Lover’s spat?” he inquired mockingly, which you replied with a straightforward and cold “No” making the devil choke on some saliva, “Makes sense though, with a face like that” when Lucifer turned his eyes from Alastor to you he saw the end of your rifle, “First one is a dull, will hurt, the second a holy one, apologize” internally Lucifer applauded your bravery, so with a smile that reached his ears he uttered “I’m sorry Alastor, I didn’t meant to bring out the obvious”.

He made you smile, “Good enough” you put the rifle strap over your shoulder again, “I’m not going to apologize for that, by the way” he didn’t expected you to.

Alastor watched the scene with jealousy, as in less than two seconds of interaction you received Lucifer in a better way than him, you even smiled at him better than him. If he had a reason to be angry that was one. When you turned your head he noticed a burn on your neck, then he went down and saw the scars on your hands, maybe how many more marks you had on your body, experiences  that took away the innocent friend he used to have.

"You're thin, you don't eat enough or what? What happened to your teeth?" you started making questions that made Alastor sweat, “What is this Radio Demon shit? Who do you think you are, huh?" “Somone that will take you down if you keep at it” “Baby, we’re not at the same level, you are the lowest of the overlords”

“She’s right” “I haven’t lost a single soul in all these years, I can steal air from your lungs by just wanting it” he started feeling at loss of breath, his lungs compressed forcefully searching for oxygen, “I offered you my life, my time, my love” you straightened his bow tie, ignoring Charlie’s pleas for you to stop hurting him, “And you just kissed me, and early in the morning after, you took off, seven years without a single signal you were alive”.

“And now I find out that you’ve been here for five months already, not even once you tried to reach me” your hands palmed his chest slowly, your warmth poring through his clothes, “I have my territory delimited by a black line, if you cross it, I won’t be so nice as I am now” you hovered your lips over his, returning the air down his throat.

Lucifer whistled an impressed tune, “Y/n please, I can explain” he heard Alastor breathing rapidly, getting off Charlie’s support to try to get you, his knees stopping on their tracks due to the lack of strength left, “Y/n right? He looks like he wants to make things right, please give him a chance” she plead, it getting to your head very quickly, damn that puppy face.  

“Y/n please, tea and tea” he dared to say, bringing Lucifer’s attention, “What’s that?” he looked your way for an explanation, “It’s where we drink tea and talk” you thought about it for a second then looked at his eyes once more, “Someday, not today, you seem preoccupied” with that you took your leave, feeling your heart heavy and lonesome as you did.

It wasn’t until Extermination day, that from your balcony you saw the horde of angels drop on the hotel, immediately seeing the flow of Alastor’s dark magic being shattered by Adam. Almost out of instinct you ensembled your long distance sniper rifle, setting it on the edge of the rail, waiting for a perfect angle to make the winged rat fall.

 Suddenly Alastor few against the edge of the building, that’s when you shot, the bullet piercing the base of both of Adam’s wings, making him wince and drop against the ceiling in pain.

“Radio ain’t dead until I say so, asshole” you allowed wind to take your message, prepping another bullet in the chamber, aiming directly at his head, “Freaky face has a girlfriend?” he joked to pass a little of the pain, “Y/n?” Alastor whispered to himself, feeling the air shift around him, his body reappearing beside you after a swirl of air teleported him.

“When I get my hands on you-“ you didn’t let Adam finish, shooting the joint of his shoulder, leaving useless his dominant arm. “Y/n” that’s all Alastor could utter, seeing you so beautifully concentrated in your aim, “You think I’ll spoil it for Lucifer if I shoot him dead?” you gave Adam a warning shot on the leg, the next one being a holy one.

“Good riddance either way, mon coeur” he had carefully stood up, supporting his weight with a hand on the railing and another around your waist, “Oh never mind, six wings is beating the shit out of him now” you said a tad disappointed since your game ended, feeling Alastor hiss at his wound.

“Don’t touch it, let’s go, I’ll help” you sat him on your bed, helping him discard his clothes. “I’m sorry for leaving like that” he sounded so sad and weak, he was deeply angry at himself for how blind he was, for taking you for granted and abandoning you without explanations.

“It doesn’t matter anymore” you made haste to patch up the wound as best as you could, but there was so much blood blocking your way, “Y/n, please forgive me” he pleads as you try your best to stitch the would close, “Why do you care so much whether if I forgive you or not?” he cupped your face, a tenderness unknown for you, uncommon of him.

He wasn’t used to be gentle, not desiring to rip your flesh apart was new to him. Instead there was this fire that warmed him up from the tip of his ears to the tip of his hooves, “Because…I love you” that word felt right, as his hands  brought your hips closer to him, his thighs on each side of your knees, “The moment to say that, was seven years ago” you allowed your powers to wrapped his bandages in a perfect way, “I can make it up to you” he could think of a thousand ways to bring you back to him, unsure if in the way you were now, any of those would work, but he had the rest of eternity to find out.

“And who assures me that you won't disappear again? I felt so alone without you” his hands pulled down your hips, seating you on his leg, “Me, I promise you I’m not leaving you again, I can’t” you laughed, hands on his bare shoulders, feeling the thin layer of fur.

“Is it because now I’m powerful?” he didn’t expected you to think different of him, he couldn’t blame you, “No, because I cannot breathe without you, I missed you very much, mon amour” seven years of you in his mind, haunting him, missing the warm spot in his bed, refusing to sleep at all if it wasn’t with you.

“Please my love, my moon, my sun, my everything, let me rectify my wrongs” a chill it enveloped your entire body, “Or let your gun finish what you started” he reminded you of your set of words of earlier, his smile relaxed and lovely, “If you ever dare to abandon me again, I’ll prove that you in fact can die twice” your hissing at the last word made him sigh happily, then he moved to place a kiss on your cheek, inhaling your scent.

“You’re hurt” you whispered when his kiss traveled down to your neck, “I know, but I can bare it” you plead that he took a small time to rest, but he kept tightening his arm on your waist, then the other on the back of your neck.

When he licked the underside of your neck up to your chin, he suddenly winced, proving your point, “How about we try something else?” you saw him grin, he only did that when he had something on his head, “William found the bath a while ago” you saw the slippery friend crawl up the wall, a proud smile on his face.

“You sent him to draw a bath?” he chuckled, “I remembered it was something you fancied, the morning after us…” he remembered, you told him you wanted to wash his hair in the morning, but he left before even giving you an answer, “You know that means I’ll have to touch you?” his ears pinned down on his head so he could nuzzle against your neck, “Ever since that day, I’ve craved no one’s touch, just yours”.

His grin grew when he felt a certain movement against his forearm, “Damn thing” you cursed, “You’re not the only one” he was wagging his life off, he guided your hand to his lower back so you could feel him, “Sappy old man” you kissed his lips, “You’re not that younger than me” he continued the loving gesture, “The water will get cold” you heard the shadow groan thinking his efforts will go to waste.

“Let’s get to it then” you spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms, Alastor nearly passed out when you were massaging his scalp with the lovely scented shampoo, you told him you were never going to stop bragging about it. Then when it was your turn to get pampered, he couldn’t stop himself from kissing your shoulders, the back of your neck, arms, every piece of skin he could.

His hands just as yours were free to roam around, both delighting in the ministrations, to the point only moans of satisfaction were echoing in the bathroom.

“Just so you know, if you have a significant other, he’s dead, you’re mine now” you giggled at his possessive nature, now both dry but still naked on the bed, “Good thing I ended that relationship months ago” you sassed him, earning a small bite on your clavicle, “As soon as I’m better, I’m claiming you” his eyes shifted to have dials, “Sure thing, you have a lot of pain to make up for, ya’ know?” he knew that.

There were parts of your body that were burnt, others covered by patches made of steel, then there were the cuts, the scars, the lashes, everything he acknowledged it was his fault, “This, are they dead?” you shook your head, “Then my broadcast will have new voices” his voice took a low tone and the growl made you feel butterflies, “Thank you” you whispered, lowering just enough so you could have your head under his chin, legs intertwined, arms holding each other as close as possible.

“This is going to sound weird, but I’m glad I killed you” he let out a breathy laugh, “Me too”.

[keldabekush]

It's Stone's turn at the deskwork tonight and he's a little bit glad about it. His feet hurt and he's sick of the way everything echos in the senate building - the ceilings are so high. He's loosening the fastening clip on his left boot under the desk and marking a file for review with his free hand when Marshal Commander Fox keys open the door.

Stone bashes his shoulder against the desk in his hurry to sit up straight. Fox is already strolling up to the desk and Stone has no time to say anything before he perches himself on the corner and pulls out a crinkly little package.

"Good evening Stone. Do you want a banana chip?"

"I...yeah?"

"Oh i wasn't talking to you. I was talking to her." Fox says, without pausing his careful scrutiny of the bag of dried banana chips

Stone says nothing, because he's confused and he doesn't want Marshal Commander Fox to know that he's confused him. He tries to subtly look behind him in case there is a "her" somehow peering through the window behind him, despite it being hundreds of feet above ground level.

He doesn't manage it before Fox holds out a banana chip to the wad of fabric that's been sitting on the corner of the shared desk since Stone sat down.

Stone is about to turn a devastating raised eyebrow in Commander Fox's direction when the little pile of fabric begins to move, and as he watches on in complete uncomprehension, a teeny tiny little pink hand reaches out and plants itself on the plastic desk top, and then a second, and whatever is in the fabric bag does a luxurious stretch.

Stone is holding his breath for some reason.

A little triangular head with quivering whiskers peeks out, and Commander Fox makes a noise Stone has never heard him make before, like a happy hum or a sort of short laugh.

The thing in the bag slips out into the open to take the banana chip from between his fingers - its a small rodent with four little paws and round ears, with a tidy coat of white and dark brown that makes it looks like it's wearing a little brown jacket with a hood. It eats neatly, holding the banana chip with both of its little pink hands and tucked into a tidy little crouch.

Stone remembers he's not breathed for a minute and does that while Marshal Commander Fox extends the smallest finger on his right hand and brushes the fur behind the thing's ears very gently.

"Sir." He says firmly.

"Stone." He doesnt look at him so Stone can't deploy The Eyebrow, so instead Stone makes his tone as flat as he can.

"Marshal Commander Fox, Sir. What is happening right now. This right here." Stone gestures to encircle the entire tiny scene, "what is this. Explain. Please."

The little creature is leaving tiny banana crumbs beside the Visit Coruscant! keyring Thorn kept on the desk.

"Commander Stone, this is Stone. She's our guest. Would you actually like a banana chip? They're pretty good."

Stone takes one from the bag Fox is holding out to him because its the easiest response. Its crunchy. It is pretty good, actually.

"Hullo, Stone." He says. He's probably asleep at the desk and he'll wake up and tell Thorn about this funny dream.

"She's here because its warmer in the office during the day and she was sounding a bit wheezy. And she likes sleeping when theres company around. Has she been sneezing?"

"No." He answers.

"Ah good. That's better isn't it, little'un?"

He's talking to the animal like it's a first cycle cadet.

"Do you want to hold her?"

What? Oh, that was aimed at him. Stone stares at the thing while Fox picks out another banana chip. It had finished the first treat and was washing its face and whiskers with its tiny paws.

"Sure."

Fox scoops it up like a handful of pudding and drops it into the crook of Stone's arm, and hands it another banana chip. It sits there, vibrating quietly and enjoying its treat while it leaves little banana crumbs on his elbow.

Stone extends the smallest finger of his free hand and smooths the fur between it’s ears. He looks up only after Commander Fox lowers the datapad that had been on the desk and grins at the holo image he's taken. He tucks it under his arm.

"No." Says Stone.

"Yes." Says Fox, plucking the fabric bag off the desk and arranging it into a nest in his palm. He holds out his free hand and makes a "give it here" motion, so Stone carefully transfers the tiny thing to his hand with the same tenderness he would show a live grenade. Fox attempts to tuck it into the nest, but it climbs up his cuirass to nestle up beside his neck instead and he just makes that weird noise again.

"Bye, Stone."

"Goodbye, Commander. Goodbye, Stone."

And like that the door closes behind them and Stone is alone in the office again, one boot unbuckled and the smell of banana in the air.

He wipes the crumbs off the desk and gets back to his forms.

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Four

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

I kinda figured you all would like Joel's visit to the bakery! Handy man Joel with his green plaid flannel shirt and tool belt... 🥰

This week's Pedro boy is actually forcing me to adjust the warning level, things get a bit spicier than usual with this one around and I think you'll understand when you see who it is....

Series Master List

The little bakery is buzzing with customers this warm summer evening, you’re serving everyone as fast as possible, cursing the stomach bug that had put the kid who worked extra out of commission for the week. As you ring up two slices of lemon meringue pie for Mrs Callahan from down the street, you notice the buzz increasing in the shop, almost like a wave of excitement. You glance towards the door to see if you can spot the source of the commotion and see a tall, proud looking, man closing it behind himself. His rich yellow jacket is all you have time to notice before you’re pulled back to Mrs Jones asking about the amount of sugar in the Millionaire’s Shortbread (a lot, you assure her, no, it’s not healthy just because it contains peanuts). 

You lose track of the stranger as you work your way through the long line, finally looking up to realize he’s the only one left in the shop, except for little Mrs Levinson who is just stepping through the door. The man gallantly takes a step back and indicates with his outstretched hand that she should be served before him. 

“Please, my lady, I would be offended if you insisted on waiting behind me.” 

He has an accent that you can’t place, vaguely Mediterranean maybe, and clearly very good manners. Mrs Levinson gives him a pleased smile and steps up to the counter to buy her regular weekend dark rye loaf, six chocolate chip cookies and one whole apple and cinnamon crumb coffee cake. 

“The grandchildren are visiting on Sunday, and they love your cookies, dear,” she informs you, “the mother just doesn’t know how to bake, why my son married a woman who can’t cook or bake I will never understand.”

“I’m sure she has many other good qualities and skills, Mrs Levinson,” you smile, this is a weekly complaint. 

“He should’ve married you, dear, how you are still single is beyond me, such a talented girl in the kitchen,” she pats your hand as she hands over her purse for you to count out what she owes. “But Mrs Pike’s son is single, recently divorced, I’ll make sure she sends him here to buy something, he’s such a lovely boy.” 

“Thank you, Mrs Levinson, but I don’t need to be set up, I barely have time to run this bakery, I don’t have time for dating.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find time, my dear,” she winks at you and gives the dark haired man behind her another wink as she turns to leave. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you say to him as the door closes behind Mrs Levinson. 

“No trouble, my lady, I was more than delighted to enjoy the view of such a talented girl,” he says with a confident smile, sauntering over towards the counter. 

Now that he’s not hidden by the crowd you can see that he is in fact wearing a long robe, reaching down below his knees. But that’s not where your eyes are drawn, instead you find yourself actively trying not to stare at the deep v of bare, tan skin visible where his robe sits open, adorned by an expensive looking necklace. You pull your eyes up to his face, putting on your customer smile, and mentally slapping yourself. 

“What can I help you with today, sir?” 

At your words you see his mouth quirk in a wicked grin and his eyes wander over as much of you as he can see behind the counter. Ordinarily you’d be somewhat offended by such blatant staring but…considering your own struggle to not gawk at him, if feels admissible.

“I’m sure you can help me with a great many things, my lady,” he says, the lilt in his voice fitting his strange clothes, and the double meaning isn’t lost on you. You raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms. 

“Really?” you challenge, “And what else but baked goods do you enter a bakery for?” 

“Depends on the girl, or the woman, working in the bakery,” he smirks, “when the lady of the bakery is as beautiful as you, I’d like to buy a great many other things than her cakes.” 

This line makes you roll your eyes so far back into your head you think they might get stuck there. 

“You really think coming into a bakery and suggesting prostitution to the woman who works there is going to win you any favors?” 

Now it’s the man’s turn to raise his eyebrows and look surprised for a moment, then he bends his head, bowing deeply to you. 

“My lady, I did not wish to offend you at all, I was not suggesting that I would buy any such services from you. Rather I was, badly I’m sure, suggesting that I would like to buy such a beautiful lady gifts, rather than just buying her cakes.” 

He looks up at you, his handsome face giving you an apologetic smile, “Please, truly, I did not mean to offend you.” 

“Alright, I believe you for now,” you reply, accepting his apology with a slight scowl, “So what can I help you with? In the baked goods department,” you emphasize, waving over towards the display cases. 

“I have this,” he says, pulling a bottle of wine from the satchel he has hanging at his side, “it’s cold and delicious on this warm day, but I would like to have something to eat with it. And I saw that you have these,” he points to one of the bags of lemon and almond biscotti in your display case. “They remind me of the small cakes we have back in my city, Sunspear. Will you please let me buy a bag of them?”

“Of course,” you reply, reaching for the biscotti, “Anything else?” 

“An hour of your company?” he says, smoothly, with a smile, “But I won’t offer to pay for it, just beg that you will join me with this wine, and your lovely cakes, as a small apology for offending you.” 

You look at the man standing on the other side of the counter. His confident smirk has been replaced by an apologetic smile, his arms outstretched as if he’s holding himself open for you to review and decide upon. You glance at the clock on the wall, fifteen minutes to closing but the foot traffic outside on the street has trickled down to nothing, everyone is on their way home to enjoy the last of the warm sunshine. It won’t be the end of the world if you close up a few minutes early today. And this man does intrigue you, with his accent and his strange clothes. 

“Ok, fine,” you say, “An hour, but I have no wine glasses.” 

“My sweet lady of the bakery, I’m sure I will survive without glasses, as long as I have your company to keep me distracted,” he winks at you and his demeanor changes back into confidence once again as you wave him behind the counter.

“C’mon then, we can sit out back, but only on the stairs I’m afraid.” 

“I have sat on much worse in my days, I assure you,” he chuckles, “even a prince of Dorne can’t expect to sit only on feather pillows every hour of his life.” 

“You’re a prince?” you ask but it really doesn’t surprise you. He looks every bit like a prince from some exotic country you’ve never heard of. 

“Prince Oberyn Martell, my lady,” he says, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it, “It is my pleasure to meet you.” 

“Likewise, I’m sure,” you smirk, his over the top chivalry is making your inner rebel come out, and you gladly direct him to the somewhat crumbling back stairs, fishing a bottle opener out of a drawer on the way. Drinking wine from the bottle on the back stairs, overlooking the trash cans and patchy grass that lines the dingy alley behind your bakery, is probably not something a prince usually does. 

Oberyn is looking around the area outside the door as you bring the bottle opener and the biscotti. 

“Wait a moment,” he says, holding up his hand to you before he unbuckles the belt that’s holding his robe together, and dropping it on the ground. He shrugs out of the robe and shakes it out, spreading the luxurious looking fabric out over the steps and then holding out his hand for you. 

“Please, my lady,” he says, “it will be a little bit more comfortable for you than sitting on the cold stone.” 

“No, but your robe, it’ll be ruined,” you protest, but he shakes his head, “It’s nothing, just a little dust. Do not think me such a feeble prince that I am above getting a little bit dirty.” With his last word he winks at you with a smile, and you can’t help but smile back, taking his hand. 

“I don’t know what kind of prince you are, I’ve never even heard of Dorne.” 

He lets go of your hand as you settle on the top step and he sits himself on the one below, taking the bottle opener from you. 

“Dorne is a beautiful country, warm, much warmer than here, surrounded by turquoise blue ocean, white beaches and fragrant lemon groves,” he says, “And my home, the city of Sunspear, is the world’s most beautiful city, colorful, richly decorated, cooled from the hot sun by our water gardens and palm trees. It is ruled by my brother, the king. I am my father’s second son, fortunately enough for me, for I would’ve made a terrible king.” 

He smiles as he speaks of his home, a warm smile, as he pulls the cork from the wine bottle. 

“Ladies first,” he says and holds the bottle out to you, you accept it, taking a sip of the cool white wine. It really is delicious; crisp, fresh and an undertone of a rich, buttery flavor. 

“This is very nice wine,” you say, giving the bottle back to him and he smiles. 

“Made all that much better by the company.”

“Cheesy, but I appreciate the effort,” you grin and he looks confused, lowering the bottle that he was just about to drink from.  “Cheesy?” he asks, his eyebrow raised in question. 

“Yeah, you know, ‘cheesy’, when something is lame, or over the top, corny?” 

“I assure you, my lady, I did not intend to be over the top with my compliment, if anything, it was not enough,” he smiles warmly at you, and you feel butterflies in the pit of your belly. Either the wine is working very fast, or this strange man and his flirtatious way is getting to you. 

“I could say so much more about your beauty and the joy it is to spend a warm summer evening in your company with good wine and delicious cakes,” Oberyn’s eyes are glinting as he watches you squirm and he takes a sip from the bottle. 

You feel your cheeks heat up and you drop your eyes to your hands, suddenly feeling very flustered by his flattery, distracting yourself by picking at some dry dough caught on your nail. 

“Oh, the biscuits!” he exclaims suddenly and stands up, “We need just a…” he disappears into the kitchen and you look up as he turns around, scanning the shelves before he finds what he’s looking for, “Ah! Just what we need!” he says and returns to the steps, sinking down next to you again with a small bowl in his hand. “The biscuits are to be dipped in the wine, to soak up its delicious flavor and blend with the sweetness.” 

He demonstrates by pouring some of the wine into the bowl and taking the bag of biscuits from you, opening it up. He takes one of the biscotti and dips the end in the wine, letting it sit for a few seconds before taking a bite. 

His eyes hold yours as he slowly chews the biscotti, humming slightly under his breath.  “My sweet lady, this is exquisite,” he says, awe in his voice once he’s swallowed. “I would hire you as my own personal baker any day, would you wish to leave these premises.” 

“Thank you for the offer, that’s very generous,” you say, taking one of the biscuits and dipping it in the wine, copying Oberyn, “but I like running my own business.” 

As you bite into the biscotti you hold back a moan, you’ve never tried this before but now you understand why he insisted, the crunchy biscotti has softened slightly and been filled with the crips flavors of the wine, the lemon and almond adding to the complexity. 

“This is really good, Oberyn,” you smile, taking the second half, “Thank you for introducing me to it.” 

“It was all my pleasure, my lady,” he replies, leaning back against the stairs and taking a sip of the wine from the bottle. When he tilts his head back, his long neck is exposed, even more now when he’s only wearing his shirt, a smattering of freckles on his tanned skin, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. It occurs to you that the man exudes confidence in everything he does, even the way he brings the bottle back down, handing it to you with a small, crooked smile, the way he’s leaning on one elbow against the step just above him, long legs stretched out comfortably in his soft looking leather boots, utterly relaxed even on the crumbling back stairs. 

You take the bottle from him and take another sip, the cool wine slipping down far too easily. From the corner of your eye you see Oberyn take another biscotti and dip it into the wine, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. With a small smirk he puts the biscuit in his mouth, closing his soft looking lips around it, sucking lightly while he lets his eyes linger on you. You feel heat creep up your throat, there is such promise in his eyes, such a challenge in his flirting. It’s like he’s daring you to flirt back, to push him just a little to see how he reacts. You feel a familiar heat spread through your core, a temptation to entice him. But his confidence, just the way he takes the bottle from your hand, his long fingers caressing yours with intent, almost intimidates you. If you flirt with him, even just a little bit, you think he might challenge you even more, see how far you’re willing to go, and you’re not sure you can trust your body to resist. His easy assertiveness, the way he leans back against the stairs, his hand now resting just an inch from your waist, it both unnerves you and makes arousal thrum under your skin. 

With a slight tremble to your hand, you take the bottle again and take another sip, bigger this time and it goes down the wrong way, your nerves getting the better of you. With a cough you splutter into the crook of your elbow, your eyes watering. The prince shoots up and immediately puts his hand on your back, patting you lightly a few times before he begins to rub circles between your shoulder blades. 

“Careful there, my lady, are you all right?” His eyebrows have pulled together in concern and he leans forward, looking at your face. You feel the tears that formed spill over and roll down your cheeks as you cough a few more times. 

“Y-yes, yes, I-I think so, thank you,” you finally say with a croaky voice, “it just went down the wrong way.” 

Taking a deep breath, you almost choke again when Oberyn gently cups your face with his large hands and wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, softly running them under your eyes. 

“Can I fetch you some water?” he asks, his voice low and concerned, but you shake your head. 

“No, thank you, I’m ok now,” you say, taking a steadying breath. He’s so very close now, looking into your eyes with a soft smile and you notice how one of his eyes is made amber by the evening sunlight, the other dark chocolate brown, half hidden in shadow. You feel like your brain is spinning in place, wheels turning but not moving forward, as you’re unable to tear your eyes away from his intense gaze. His hands are still on your cheeks, warm and soft even though you can feel the rough calluses on his palms. 

His eyes finally leave yours, only to very slowly move down to your lips, holding his gaze there for several seconds before he looks back up again. His face transforms into a more roguish smile and he drops his hands from your face, moving to pick up another biscotti and dipping it into the wine. 

“My lady, please,” he says, holding it up to you, one hand cupped under it to catch any drops of wine, as he offers it to you, holding it by your lips. 

You don’t know why, but you obediently open your mouth, letting him feed you the biscotti, tasting the tang of the wine and the sweetness of the sugar as you break it off in the middle. The tip of Oberyn’s tongue comes out to wet his lips as he watches you swallow it down, and then he dips the second half in the wine again, and places it between his own lips. All the while his eyes never leave yours. 

The corner of his mouth pulls up in a crooked smile, and he leans back against the door frame, crossing his arms over his lap. 

“I would kiss you, if you asked me too,” he says, matter of factly, “if you want me too.” 

You reach for the wine bottle to distract yourself while you calm your beating heart, keeping your eyes on him, that smirk still lingering on his lips as he watches you take a small, controlled sip, this time. 

You pour some more wine into the bowl and place the bottle on the top step, reaching for another biscotti and making up your mind. Dipping the delicate biscuit in the wine you look up at Oberyn, holding his gaze while you bring it up to his mouth, mimicking his gesture of cupping your hand under it. A wicked smile flickers across his face as he obediently opens his mouth and takes the biscotti. But he doesn’t bite it in half, instead he leans forward and closes his lips around your fingertips, his tongue licking at them as he takes the whole thing into his mouth. It’s warm and wet around your fingers and he gently sucks on them as he pulls back, a low hum escaping his throat. The touch of his tongue shoots a jolt of electricity through your body, settling firmly between your legs and your breath hitches. 

Oberyn swallows the biscuit and takes your hand, bringing it to his mouth again, with his eyes locked on yours he takes each finger between his lips and sucks them clean. When your pinky leaves his lips he moves forward, taking your chin between  his thumb and finger, holding you steady, your heart beating its own erratic rhythm in your chest. 

“I would kiss you, if you asked me too,” he repeats, looking from your eyes to your lips and up again. 

You don’t trust your voice, so instead you inhale, his warm scent; oranges, cinnamon, sandalwood, filling your nose, and you lean forward. He doesn’t smile this time, instead he mirrors your movement until your lips brush, your heads tilting ever so slightly to come closer together, mouths angeling as he presses a soft, gentle, explorative kiss to your tingling lips. Warm hands slip up your neck, into your hair, large enough to cup the back of your head as his thumbs stroke your cheeks. 

His next kiss is more insistent, his lips parting to taste with the tip of his soft tongue, licking the seam of your mouth. Your body seems to have lost all will to follow your head, it just moves as he moves you, pulling you closer to his lips, opening up to his tongue, letting him slip inside and explore, tangelling together as he tangles his hands in your hair, making you lean closer into him. Without knowing how you got there, you find yourself sitting on his lap, his hand finding your thigh and pulling your leg over. When he puts his hands on your hips and slides your body closer to his, your mind goes blank and you moan into his mouth. He’s distinctly hard underneath you, the thin fabric of his trousers doing nothing to hide the firm length of his cock, and he groans with delight as you roll your hips over him. 

“Sweet thing,” he whispers, his lips momentarily leaving yours, “sweet, sweet lady, I knew your kisses would be as sweet as your cakes.” His fingers dig into your hips, his mouth pressing firmer against yours as he sucks on the tip of your tongue, pulling back just a fraction and trailing kisses and bites over your jaw, down your throat, pushing back your t-shirt to suck a mark into your collar bone, making you keen and whimper under his warm mouth. 

“I wonder if you’re as sweet everywhere,” he mumbles, fingers digging into your hips and dragging you over his heavy length, straining against his trousers, “I would very much like to find out.” 

You lean your head back, exposing your throat to him as he continues to kiss and lick the soft skin of your neck, heat is building rapidly in your body and for a second you feel as if you’re looking down on yourself from above. Straddling the handsome prince on the stairs, sitting on his golden yellow robe, his face buried against your neck, his hands rolling your hips over his erection as you pant to the darkening sky above. With a groan you put your hands on his shoulders and push away, stumbling back onto your feet. 

“You’re dangerous to be around, Oberyn,” you pant as his hands slip away from your hips. His mouth hangs open as he reaches for you. In the dimming light you can see the prominent bulge of his trousers, it makes your mouth water, the image of sliding down over it coming unbidden to your mind. 

“It’s just pleasure,” he says, his voice dark and mischievous, “no guilt to be had over feeling pleasure.” 

“No, but I’m not about to have sex with a stranger on the back steps of my bakery,” you say, taking a deep breath, running your hands over your head, down your face, to ground yourself again. 

“Well, then the question beckons to be asked,” Oberyn grins, “where would you have sex with a stranger?” 

“I don’t have sex with strangers,” you say, shaking your head and quickly stepping past him, into the kitchen again. Behind you, you hear him get up and pick up the bottle, the remaining biscuits and the bowl. Placing them on the counter inside the door he follows you out to the shop as he slips his robe back on, where you unlock the door and wait for him to approach. A big part of you doesn't want him to leave, but you know that if you let him stay, he’ll have you naked on one of the counters within minutes, your body will betray you and let him do whatever he wants. 

“If you let me, I would like to not be a stranger to you,” Oberyn says as he reaches you by the door, “Would you let me come back and take you out, maybe show you Sunspear, my city?” 

“Show me the life of a prince?” you ask, you doubt you’ll see him again once he leaves, “Sure, come back and show me another side of yourself, and I’ll consider whether or not I want you to be a stranger.” 

“You don’t think I’ll come back,” he replies, a crooked smile on his lips, “have I made such a flighty impression on you, such a poor representation of who I am?” He chuckles, taking your hand and bowing low, pressing a feather light kiss to it. 

“I promise, my sweet lady of the bakery, I will come back and I will show you the true colors of a prince of Dorne. Until then I will keep your honeyed kisses close in my memory.”

He opens the front door and steps through it, before turning and smiling back at you, “And I’ll keep your delicious moans even closer on lonely nights.” 

You feel heat rise in your cheeks again as he winks, a mischievous smirk on his face, before he bow lows again and disappears down the street. 

Part Five

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn

[ddejavvu]

Hi! If you’re ever in the mood, maybe could we get Hangman going into a florist shop (maybe to get his mom flowers or something idk) or a bakery and meeting reader who works there and she is just overall really sweet and he pretty much falls head over heels

The man that he has to shoulder past in the doorway makes Jake assume that his breakfast voyage to the new bakery on the coast will be a disastrous one, but one glance from you has him reconsidering.

Your eyes are trained on him from the moment he lumbers through the door, but Jake chooses to think that's because he's so impossibly handsome rather than because he's the only person there. You smile at him with all of the warmth of the pastry oven beside you, but none of the bite of its flame, and he steps up to the counter feeling like he's been sun-kissed.

"Hello, sir." You offer, and your voice is sweet like the glaze drizzled over the cinnamon rolls in your window, "What can I get for you this morning?"

Perhaps if you were different - harsher, maybe, sharper - he'd have asked for your number. But you seem too sweet for a savory one-liner, and he bites his tongue until his spit bleeds hot to restrain himself.

"Uh, just a blueberry muffin and a black coffee-" It takes every ounce of self-control not to call you sugar, the word ironically sour on his tongue, "-please."

"Warmed?" You pause from tapping his order into your computer, gazing curiously at him. He blinks, once, twice, then realizes you mean his muffin rather than his rapidly beating heart, nodding disjointedly.

"Alright," You smile, movements smooth like dough that's been expertly kneaded- not that Jake needs to be thinking about kneading you right now, "I'll have that ready for you in a moment, sir. Uh- military discount?"

You eye his bulging biceps pointedly, spying a tan neckline beneath the zipper of his jacket. His face melts into a dopey smile like butter over pancakes, and he tries keeping his voice similarly smooth when he nods, "Yeah."

"Thank you for your service," You nod before totaling his order up, and even if it's a phrase that's programmed into you, memorized just as diligently as the recipes you bake by, he finds that it means more from you than it ever has from any passing stranger.

He lingers at the counter while your system loads his payment, and keeps his head ducked towards the pin-pad though his eyes wander to your busy form.

You brew his coffee easily, and place his blueberry muffin into the oven with enough care that not a single crumb of the topping falls off. You give it fifteen seconds, then package it in a plastic box, retrieving his coffee and setting it on top. You hand him his two items, one on top of each other, and it means that your fingers linger on the babse of the container and the lid of his coffee cup longer than they need to, just to be sure he's not going to drop the precariously balanced meal.

"Have a nice day, sir." You beam at him with more of that celestial warmth, and the tinkle of a bell means that Jake has to step aside to let a new customer order. Otherwise he thinks he might linger, feet stuck to the floor and elbows growing achy as he leans them against the counter to talk with you while you work. He files the plan away for later, a recipe for a first date, and takes his leave, though not before throwing one last glance at you as he opens the door with his back.

Maybe it's wishful thinking, but he's fairly certain you're looking at the new customer a little more like a stale croissant than the sugary feast you'd seen in Jake.

[divinehedons]

a madness all-consuming.

Pairing: dark!raider!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: There's a few rules that aid one's survival in a post-apocalyptic hellscape. Stealing from Joel Miller is, of course, the fool's road to hell. But you just couldn't resist it. Now you have to face the consequences.

Warnings: This is a dark fic, minors DO NOT interact! This fic contains explicit non-con, allusions to canon-typical violence, elements of torture (mostly psychological, slightly physical), explicit unprotected sex (wrap it up!), gun kink, hard dom!joel, angry sex, this version of Joel is a real meanie poopie head, biiiig legal age gap.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated; requests welcome!

You figured it would be easy. He wasn't in the prime of life, after all. He couldn't even hear properly out of one ear. If you were going to steal from anyone at the end of the world, you'll take all the advantage you can get. So when you heard the clear sound of a gun's safety clicking off in the dead of night, you swore there was never a time you turned around faster.

That's how he found you, clutching a looted bottle of whisky, eyes wide and trembling. Joel Miller was many things. You heard whispers of that quiet man who spoke with his eyes. You knew people who fled from him, even in their sleep. Never look him in the eye, kiddo.

Was he some modern Titan, you wondered once, with his Medusean gaze and Midas touch? Whatever it was, you had tried so hard not to run in with him. And yet, here you lay, right in the belly of the goddamned beast.

You never should've taken the gig for some crumbs to live off of.

"Put it down, little lady," he mutters gruffly, motioning with the barrel of his gun as your breath hitches, the words escaping your throat as you slowly allowed yourself to place the bottle back on the floor. "Atta girl. Now, we can be civilised, can't we? You'll tell me what you're doin' here, and I won't shoot your pretty little head off."

You had begun to stammer out some semblance of an explanation. I was starving. I hadn't eaten for days. I'm trying to be good-

The cool metal barrel stares you down as the gruff man presses it against your forehead, finally shushing your panicked cries as the free hand cups your cheek, rough hands belonging to the much taller man, somewhat attempting to soothe and relax.

"Use that pretty li'l mouth of yours, sugar, c'mon."

"Th-they told me they'd give me more rations if I g-got something for you," you said between shaky tremors. "I don't have anywhere else to go, sir, please-"

"Are you gonna start being more specific or do i have to get it out of you myself?"

Perhaps it was the sobs that escaped you. Perhaps it was the sheer panic in your eyes. Either way, Joel Miller immediately knew you weren't going to be as easy to talk to as he thought. He sighs, returning the pistol to his holster as his large hand takes you by the scruff of your shirt- a grimy little thing, really, stolen from one body or another- dragging you to the rickety dining table, slamming your rigid frame, face up and floundering just as he tethers each limb to each wooden leg, leaving you spread eagle, the perfect little victim.

You try to peer at him from the darkness, squinting through the warm yellow light overhead. You barely make out his figure, the soft sound of tools clinking as you try, once more, to beg.

Argumentum ad miseracordiam. An appeal of misery. You try to tell him, in broken fragments. "The other raiders said they'd give me food- oh, God, please! I haven't eaten in days and I was desperate!" A cry escapes you as he returns with a knife in hand, looking to you with a gaze that you only understood for what it was: of a man without morals, stumbling upon a mode of release.

He moves closer, and you can feel his breath on your cheek as that cool blade presses against your exposed throat. You cry, you scream, you thrash, even when the rope on your limbs dig deeper into your aching skin.

"Give me a name, sugar. Wouldn't want to hurt your pretty little neck," he threatens, just as you feel that blade cut against your skin when your breath hitches.

"I-" you try and think, try and remember, try to shake off that looming cloud over her brain. The blade again, slicing as warm rivulets of blood stain his fingers. The answer never came faster. "I don't know!"

He stabs the stained knife right beside your left ear, so close you swore you could've heard your own hair tethered to the same table as you cry out from sheer panic. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry- Please, I won't come near you ever again, just... please don't kill me-"

"So fuckin' mouthy," Joel finally says, glaring up at you with those same relentless eyes, retrieving his gun from his holster, pressing it against your lips as you sob harder. "Open your fucking mouth before I shoot your brains out, sugar." You obey, the idea of death so foreign and terrifying that it shocks you to consciousness. Making you all the more aware of the hell that comes next.

Slowly, Joel fucks the barrel of his loaded pistol, in and out for a few times as he watches you struggle against the sheer size of it. Finally, he presses it deep, despite your gagging and whining. "That's it, baby. Keep that pistol warm for me." All at once, you feel the heat in your cheeks, the tears wetting your skin, spread wide open and weak. "The only time you should be talking to me is if you're gonna tell me who sent you, peach. Got it?"

You try your best to nod, horrified of how much further he could go. You whine when he tears your shirt, uses his knife to cut open your pants. Within minutes, he has you how he wants you: bare, trembling, and completely at his mercy. It is then that he takes the gun away, chuckling darkly at the string of spit that clings against the muzzle.

"Ready to give me a name, darlin'?"

You sob, and try again. Like a fool, you think. "I didn't know, I swear!"

You feel his fingers take one pert nipple, pinching so hard you squealed and swore you almost saw stars. You look down, seeing the reddish-purple marks of his fingers. "Such a waste, baby. We could be having fun by now, but you're so fuckin' stubborn."

There's something else. You feel the slightly warm sensation of metal drifting against your stomach, lower and lower until he reaches that sweet cunt of yours. He watches, mesmerized by that strip of flesh that had never looked more delectable. And his beloved pistol is there, finding your needy little clit with ease.

"Tell me, sugar. Or else, you're fuckin' my gun."

You looked to see his expression to see if he was joking. If this was his sick form of pleasure, watching the fear enter your gaze. Only when you look, his gaze only carries burning clarity.

You feel white-hot shame cover you, and you hear yourself saying the words. "There was a blond!"

He pauses, just enough to see if what you were saying had any relevance. "He said he... he said it would be funny if I succeeded-"

"Interesting," interjected your captor, pausing momentary as he positions his gun right at your entrance. "Interesting, but not good enough."

With that, you feel something fucking up into you as you screamed, thrashing against your bindings as he chuckles, first sinking his pistol's entire barrel, only to recede and fuck back into you at a much more brutal pace.

The agony was indescribable. The pistol helped with nothing but your spit, your body, at first resisting, only to keen when the metal brushes against somewhere so deep within you. Wetness secretes from your very essence and makes it easier. You fought again, knowing just how much sickening pleasure it would bring him to know his gun had gotten you wet.

But he knew. Of course he knew.

He knew from the way your body tenses, builds up, locks itself. He knew from the miniscule way your hips chased his motions, the way your lip trembles, your eyes closing, only for your orbs to roll back. Fight as you must, your body told him you wanted this too. And that was enough to make him smirk.

You hear it, despite your whimpers. The distinct click of the safety turning off as he focuses on your needy little cunt. "That's it, baby. That's fucking it-" He smirks up at you as you shake your head, begging him to stop as he continues.

"Fuck no, baby." He leans closer, free hand holding your face and making you look at him. "I want you to look me in the eye as you cum."

That was all you needed. Just as he says it, your hips tense, your cunt clenches, your scream echoing throughout the house as your orgasm takes over you so wholly and completely, your spend making it so much easier to fuck you through your peak.

It was utter humiliation, seeing Joel pull away the pistol for it to be soaking, the evidence of your arousal dripping directly from the end of the muzzle. You whine, shivering where you lay as your eyes water.

"I-it was a raider too," you try again, wracking your brain throughout the darkness in an attempt to remember.

That seemed to peak his interest, looking up to you again, hands reaching down to unbuckle his belt. He smirks again, as if pushing you to say more in the chance that he'd stop. You start panting, squirming, struggling once more as you tried to remember anything else.

"Please, I've given you everything!"

That made him chuckle. Smug, collected, cool. "I don't know 'bout that, darlin'," he says in that significant southern drawl, leaning down to spit directly on your fucked out cunt, climbing up on that same dining room table, taking his cockhead to spread his own spend. His last kindness. Carefully, smilingly, biding his time. Like the monster that plays with his meal, as if the fear would make you taste as sweet.

You will always remember those brief moments. Where everything falls silent and all you can hear is the soft pleads, your wit's end hanging on to the desperation in your voice. You remember those dark eyes glinting in the darkness, as if he's still waiting, eternally watching, just how far you'll be able to beg for your dignity.

Perhaps that was why he bit down on your shoulder when you screamed as his massive girth spread you wide open in one solid thrust. From then on, he doesn't wait anymore. He fucks you through your tears, your screams, your fingernails digging into the hard wood of the table as he takes his pleasure, methodic, repeatedly, without satisfaction in sight. When he fucks you, he does so in a way that seemed to claim, carving a home for himself within your walls. A home for his spend when, some time after, he kisses your mouth needingly as his hips stutter and fuck his orgasm right against the very entrance of your womb.

He stays there, collecting himself as you wince, sniffle, turn your face away out of embarrassment, humiliation, feeling that finally, despite surviving another night in your post-apocalyptic reality, that you lost something anyway. That you weren't human anymore, anyway. Just a ghost inhabiting the body that was once your own.

"Blond, you said?" he asked, brows furrowed as he pulls himself out of you, tucking himself back into his pants. When you nod, you hear him depart into that darkness.

The peace felt jarring, silent, without a threat to the warm evening. But as soon as it started, so soon too, did it break.

All you hear is the clatter a few rooms away from you. Incomprehensible yelling from Joel and someone else, and, soon too, the rhythmic sound of pounding, grunting, the second voice falling silent.

Joel takes you again when he returns, turning you over and gripping you with sticky fingers. You shut your eyes and cry. You do not want to ask. You do not want to know.

But when he forces two fingers past your lips, the heavy taste of blood settle on your tongue. It tells you enough.

Was it madness if you felt relieved?

[desceros]

You & GB are RUINING me with your blurple villain Leo au How dare you sirs?! You've turned me absolutely feral a slobbering bitey mess /pos

Unfortunately for you activating my hyperfixation also means activating my obsessive brain spinning... Questions be upon ye!!!

Did Lamb-chan grow up with Donnie? How did she first meet villain!Leo? What did she do/say that flipped Leo from "you're a pretty dumb innocent little lamb huh" to "you're *mine* I am keeping you forever"? How did Donnie react the first time Lamb-chan came home smelling like Leo? Is that what snapped his control, the moment his instincts drove him to finally (thoroughly) demonstrate just how well he can take care of her? How did Leo react the next time he saw Lamb-chan & she smelled like Donnie?

I humbly submit these questions in the hopes that you may see fit to give me any crumbs nay even specks of delicious brain food that can be spared 🙏 pls & ty 🙏🙏

[after i gush for twenty minutes about how this is all their fault for enabling me] oh man i love questions

EDIT THIS GOT SO LONG. OH MY GOD. IM PUTTING IT UNDER A CUT also hi @gbao3 <3 please add your thoughts to this as well

so it aaaaaaall started with this post, with leo being the wolf and donnie being the sheep dog.

as such, you're childhood friends with donnie, since sheep dogs grow up with their sheep. i imagine he's basically always been a little in love with you, but it hasn't always been... ah... healthy? like. when he was young it was that kind of 'when we grow up let's get married bc we're best friends' love. and then as a teenager it became kind of an obsession. doesn't the world know how important you are to him? can't you see how dangerous it can be without him to protect you?

it's during this stage that he's maybe a bit self-destructive with it, literally at one point putting himself between you and another mutant, ending up with him having the scars on his shell. he mellows out a little as he grows older, to the point where now it's just a fact of his life that he's in love with you and there won't ever be anyone else; it's less of a fire inside of him and more just. yeah. duh? of course i love them and would die for them? zzzzz next question. but he's still very much the kind of person who asks you your itinerary down to the fifteen minute mark when you leave so he can make sure to know exactly when you'll be home.

i suspect that as lamb-chan, as much as you also love donnie, that can get a little, uh. overbearing. to say the least. i think that you have a habit of slipping out from time to time (since you live at the lair where donnie is always always always watching), just to breathe, to get away from it a little. the world looks a little different without donatello at your side, after all, and you're a little curious. so maybe you wander a little too far, sometimes.

and leo. god. leo is a breath of something that feels like air, but you're not sure what it is.

i don't have the exact first meeting pinned down in my head, but i do have this mental image of him sitting on a fire escape, one knee bent up to his chest and the other hanging down the side, a toothy grin on his face as he mockingly asks what a soft little thing like you is doing on this side of town. and you see him and you're just like, oh. he. he looks a lot like donnie. so you're a lot less scared than you probably should be, and that—that fascinates him. what kind of world do you live in where he's all but a perfect picture of the underbelly of the world, and you smile at him?

what would it take for you to look at him like everyone else does?

so he invites you to come back again. and you, well, you're just like. wow!! friend shaped!! so you do. but this time leo's not on the fire escape. he's on the ground, and he circles you a bit like a predator would. he's looking for you to be uncomfortable; to be afraid. but he made one small mistake; the shape of his smirk, now that he's close, is eerily familiar. it looks so much like donnie's, you could swear the two were twins. and it makes it so, so hard to be anything other than curious. mikey and raph don't look so similar to donnie, after all. why does leo?

so it continues like that until one day, leo says something and you laugh. and that—that hits him like a bludgeon to the chest. it's not like any laugh he's ever had directed at him before. and when you open your eyes, wiping away the amused tears, your gaze is so fucking soft. in that moment, leo realizes that he's hungry. and you—you look like you'd taste so. good.

meanwhile donnie is like. no really. where the fuck are you going. and one day he follows you and who the fuck is this guy with his arms around you. (but i think i'm going to leave that one for another day bc i have a nice one-shot in my drafts folder about how that'd play out)

[morozaleks]

Draco Malfoy NSFW Alphabet

I know this has been done for draco so many times but this seemed so fun so I had to. Also, feel free to add to the post if you have other ideas of what draco would be like (this was mostly about mean!draco because he’s my favourite lol)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s not the most affectionate person so he’ll probably do the bare minimum like clean you up, maybe run you a bath.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite part of his body is..uhh…his dick. He’s blessed and he knows it. His favourite part of your body is your mouth. He finds your lips very alluring, when you talk, when you smile…which leads to the next thing

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I really think he’s the type to finish in your mouth and also make sure you swallow. It would be like a test of your obedience/submission (and less cleanup involved lol)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Draco’s dirty secret is that he loves when you both leave marks on each other. Like bruises on your ass after he spanks you, scratches on his back from your nails, hickeys, bite marks, etc. He likes to mark you as a way of owning you and he likes when you mark him because he secretly enjoys the slight pain that’s my explanation and I’m right

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

This might be controversial but hear me out…I think he would seem very experienced because he’s good at pleasing you, but he hasn’t actually had that much experience. He has a lot of other things to focus on and sex/romantic relationships aren’t the biggest priority.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl. He’s literally so arrogant and conceited. He likes when you do all the work and he just gets to lie back and enjoy. Bonus: your tits bouncing in his face Draco Malfoy is a boob man change my mind

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Completely serious. The only time you’d see him laugh/smile during sex is when he’s mocking you. You’d be like whimpering and whining and he’d be like *mean chuckle* ‘am I too much for you to take?’

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Again this is probably controversial but…I think Draco would be one of those clean-shaven guys. He likes to keep everything neat and tidy. On the rare chance that he does forget to shave, it would still barely be noticeable since his hair is light blond and fine.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s definitely not the most romantic person and he mostly just cares about making himself feel good but he gives you some crumbs now and then, letting a few words of praise/affection slip during the act when he’s lost in his own pleasure.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it when you’re around but you’re busy/not really focused on him and he does it to get your attention because he’s a needy boy OR when you’ve really been bratty he’ll make you watch while he does it and not let you touch him even when you beg.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Daddy kink, sir kink, domination, brat-taming are the big ones because he likes the power dynamic and having control/authority over you. Maybe also a bit of praise kink? He likes the ego boost when you tell him how good he is etc.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

I could imagine him having a preference for the shower. When he doesn’t have a lot of time, it’s a good way to multitask. A shower and sex session all in one. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It doesn’t take much. He’s always in the mood, especially when he’s upset or stressed about something. Because he’s not great at dealing with emotions in a healthy way, he’ll uses sex with you for relief/distraction to make himself feel better.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He wouldn’t do anything that would actually be harmful to you or cause excessive pain he might be harsh but he likes to take care of his possessions lol  and I don’t think he would really be into bondage either way because he prefers being able to touch you as much as he wants and to feel your hands all over him, clawing at his back, pulling his hair, etc.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes to receive more (I’m sorry but he’s an arrogant prick and he’s sexy for that). Using your mouth for his pleasure is his favourite thing. However, he does also enjoy giving because he’s good at it and he likes to show off.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough all the way. He prefers it like that and so do you. Although, he might go slow when he’s teasing you and he wants to hear you beg for him to go faster/harder.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

While he usually prefers a long unhurried session so he can show off all his skills, he is also into quickies. He’s a busy man, so he’ll do a quick session whenever he can and he definitely knows how to satisfy you even in a short amount of time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He would be open to experimenting. He would enjoy pushing your limits and maybe also expanding his own too. As for taking risks, yeah, I think he’d fuck you anywhere anytime and not give a damn about who might catch you in the act. Like he’s definitely the type to play with you under the table while having a completely indifferent expression on his face.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He usually does just a couple rounds but he can last surprisingly long. This boy knows all about control and restraint.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

His love language is gift-giving, so of course he’s going to buy you all kinds of exciting toys and have fun trying them out on you to see how you react.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases you all the time. It’s about the power dynamic and having control over you. He loves teasing you and making you beg for him, making sure you know that’s he’s the one in control not you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s typically quiet himself, maybe a little grunting, because he prefers to listen to the noises you make for him. Although, he’s loud when he’s cumming because he can’t help it, like swearing and moaning your name before he can think to stop himself.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves morning sex. It’s the best way to start the day. It immediately puts him in a good mood and he’s thinking about it for the rest of the day.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Above average length, good girth, but also not too big. It’s a stretch to take all of him but it doesn’t cause you pain/discomfort if he takes time to prepare you and ease you into it he doesn’t always

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. He is a spoilt, greedy boy. He wants it all the time and he can never get enough.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He only falls asleep after you do. He has trouble sleeping because he’s got so much on his mind. Also, he seems like the type to stay awake for a while afterwards so he can watch you sleep, either because he’s actually soft for you but doesn’t want you to know or because he’s just admiring how wrecked and exhausted you are because of him.

[flyingcakeee]

Some more Loscar Royal au

“Can you ask Father for an English tutor for me? I believe I will need to understand some English if this marriage is to keep Deutschland safe,” Logan explained, looking at the slightly taller alpha in the eyes.

“I will let your father know of your request,” Jenson said with a nod. “Is there anything else?”

“That was all, I very much appreciate you doing this for me, Knight,” Logan smiled, giving a slight bow in appreciation.

Jenson bowed back, turning around and continuing on his journey to get the supplies his father requested a few minutes earlier. Logan continued to the kitchen, once again, greeting a few maids or servants as he went his way.

Logan was never usually this talkative, a very shy omega. He preferred to have his father speak for him, always hiding behind him when he was much younger. He grew accustomed to his grandfather, King Toto, and his uncle, Prince Sebastian, but he refused to even talk to anyone else. Rarely did he speak to anyone but his father, Sir Jenson, and his waiting maid. Yes, he did speak when required or when he felt it was more necessary for him to do, but he absolutely would rather be reading poetry, or drawing flowers, and painting landscapes, or playing one of the few instruments he knew. However, Logan had been challenged to open up a bit, not going to be able to hide behind his father anymore.

After stealing a roll from the kitchen, Logan hurried himself to the ballroom where he could practice his instruments again, it also being the place he is most usually in case his father wanted to speak with him. He quickly finished the roll, dusting any lingering crumbs off before he slid through the door of the ballroom, shutting it gently behind.

The ballroom was always Logan's favorite place in the estate, finding it nice to relax as it was seldomly used, the candles within the chandelier having not been lit since Logan was 12. Logan sat on the stool for his harp, looking around at the paintings which littered the ceiling. Logan would never have left this place if he were given an option, would rather die a virgin than be married off. That, that was the life Logan desired most of all. A life where Logan could do the things which pleased him most without the eyes of anyone judging him.

Before Logan could begin playing, the door opened slightly and his father appeared, shutting the door once he spotted Logan.

“Hello, my dove,” he greeted, slowly making his way to where Logan sat. “There is something I need to address you on over this marriage, I'm afraid.”

~*~

And some quick little notes:

• I thought it would be interesting to swap the ages because, hey, why tf not?

• Originally was supposed to be a different ship but didn't like it so, oops 😊 (I started with 3 different ships so I just hope this one survives)

• This is merely the prologue as its setting the stage for chapter 1 which will take place when Logan is somewhere in his 20's, haven't decided when

•I will definitely try my best to post it on AO3 🫡

[le-trash-prince]

Pit Babe Ep 8 Thoughts

AHFJFJSJFHFHG EVERY WEEK IM FKSJSHSHDBDB

First of all I’m sorry but Kim looks so good tied up and bloodied

THAT LOOK BETWEEN HIM AND KENTA GOT ME BARKING!!!!

THE ALANJEFF SCENE SBFNGNFNSBDHFJFNF I’ll scream all week about this y’all know this

I THOUGHT I WAS GONNA GET PETEKENTA CRUMBS BUT I COULD EAT FOR A WHOLE MONTH OFF OF THAT SCENE WHAT THE FUK

KENTA MY PROBLEMATIC FAVE GET ON YOUR REDEMPTION ARC SON IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO STOP SELLING KIDS AHDJFNDNSN

The stakes felt SO high this episode, North really hit the nail on the head “what are we, Marvel characters?” Like yeah some of them have powers but at the end of the day they’re a bunch of racecar drivers and engineers—not secret agents, and the rescue attempt really shows that 😭 my dudes y’all left kim’s ass on the pavement

I love Kim throwing himself at that bodyguard tho even when he was barely conscious

Winner my most pathetic man. Smh LMFAO AHFJF

Also I’m so glad they showed Alan wondering about where Jeff was I AM SO WORRIED ABOUT JEFF

Also Way. Way. WAY SIR. WAY!!!!

Some of Tony’s subs were a little confusing so I’m gonna have to go back and take a second look

I’m so stressed about Jeff my child get away from that man PLEASE

[sysakiddo]

I can't stop thinking about Max and his maps. This drabble is completely self-indulgent and a love letter to Håkan's secretary, the baddest bitch.

Max is in the middle of writing an email when his assistant calls. Max doesn't like how the light from the window reflects on his computer screen and thinks about moving his table again. His office is way too big for him to have problems like this. The tall leafy plant in the corner seems to be thriving, even though he has never watered it. His assistant probably deserves a raise. 

“You have the Australian Ambassador on line two, sir.” 

He subconsciously sighs and rubs his right ear, a habit he has never gotten rid of. “Thank you, Kristy. I have a package to send as well; please come pick it up.” He changes the line. 

“Your excellency?” he sneers, picking up the pain au chocolate Kristy left for him on the table this morning. 

“Why don't I have a direct line to your office?” 

Daniel's voice is distorted through the phone. Max can hear cars honking in the background. Kristy opens the door to his office, picking up the green Ladurée bag from the corner of his table. She eyes the post-it note he stuck on the top, Daniel scribbled in his neat handwriting. She doesn't react, just picks it up and closes the door quietly. Definitely deserves a raise. 

“Only the king has one.” 

Daniel snorts, like Max is being funny just by being rude. “Pick up your phone next time, okay? Even though I quite like making small talk with your assistant.” 

Max doesn't react. He can feel a headache growing behind his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see how the number of his emails in the red circle grows on the computer screen.

“What's this I hear about you having lunch with the Hungarians on Thursday?” 

Daniel gets right to the point and Max hums. He doesn't question how Daniel found out about that. On a bad day, he still manages to charm his way to confidential information regarding state security. 

“Take me with youu,” Dan sing-songs. 

“Nee,” he replies. Daniel is well acquainted with the word. Either way, Max opens his diary and flips the pages quietly until he reaches Thursday. He opens the drawer with his stationery and pulls out the small honey badger-shaped sticker. Sticks it to the slot right next to the 'La Rotonde with HU'. It was Daniel who bought him the stickers after noisily going through his diary. He did not like the way +D looked in the time slots. It just looks like you have a dick appointment.

The negotiations begin with Daniel clicking his tongue. He mainly does it because he knows it drives Max insane. 

“Come on, baby. I'll take you to Monaco if you do.” 

Max takes another bite of the pastry, reclining in his chair. “Snorting coke on a yacht was cute back when I was twenty.” 

Daniel doesn't back off, unaffected. “What are you eating?” 

“Pain au choc.” 

“From Mozart?” 

Max looks at the tissue covered by the crumbs, Mozart engraved on it in golden fond. “Yeah, I guess.” 

Daniel makes a silly gasping noise. “How could you?” 

Paris has more bakeries than residents, yet Daniel is weirdly obsessed with the one on the same street as the Dutch embassy. 

Before he can respond, there is a knock on his door. One of the interns come in without waiting for him to invite them in. “Your excellency-” she starts and he holds up his pointer finger to interrupt her, pointing to the phone in his other hand. He subtly looks at his Rolex while doing so, wondering what she could possibly want at 9 am. She nods but doesn't exit the room. 

“I have to hang up now, schatje.” 

“No, no- listen. We can even hold hands at the dinner, watch them have an aneurysm about it.” 

Max chuckles, shaking his head even though Daniel can't see. “Yeah, not good enough. I spent weeks persuading them to meet me.” As I know you did too. Did not really work, huh? he wants to add but doesn't want to look like an asshole in front of the intern who is still watching him with her big green eyes. His and Daniel's diplomatic styles are so different he learned a long time ago it's futile to compare them. 

“I'm having dinner with Amanda in two weeks.”

The number of unread emails reaches two hundred on Max's computer. “Getting warmer but no can do. You know how annoying I find the ENA graduates.” 

Dan himself has done his post-grad at ENA. He hears Daniel swear and he doesn't know if the reason is him or just the general despair of trying to walk down the street in Paris. “'kay, have a nice-” 

“Wait! Drinks with Håkan!” Max is silent for a second, that's how Daniel knows he lucked out. Sweden is hot shit right now.

“Make him bring the assistant, not his wife.” 

Everyone knows that the only opinion that matters to the Swedish ambassador is the one of his secretary. Daniel doesn't answer immediately, but Max knows him well enough to know he's smiling. 

“That goes without saying, Maxy.” 

Max, despite his best efforts, smiles. “Lovely. See you tonight.” 

“Rinaldi's at nine! Don't be late!” Daniel says before hanging up, even though it's usually him who is late for their little rendez-vous. 

He straightens up, raising his chin the intern's way. She has been watching him like a hawk this whole time. “Husband checking in on you?” 

She looks scared of him and not for the first time, he wonders what kind of stories about him are told to the newcomers. He doesn't have the heart to berate her for breaking the protocol.

“Yes. He doesn't want me to forget about him. Of course, I do not want him to worry.” he says. His mother tongue tastes sweet in his mouth. 

Second part!

[whumpsday]

Choice of the Hunter #19

COTH Mastertag / Kane & Jim AUs Masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, captivity, aftermath of torture

-

"Okay," you decide. Your job is to protect the weak. And that's what you're going to do. "I'll make it stop. Just... give me a bit to work it out. And don't tell anyone."

The vampire wipes the tears from its face with the back of its hand. "R-really?" it whispers. "Thank you, sir, thank you! Of course. I won't say a word. Thank you. Please, please, I just- even if the pain's just less. Even if it doesn't stop all the way. I'd be so grateful. Thank you."

"Yeah. I just gotta... figure out how to work this. I'm not gonna let this keep going. It's not right," you assure. "Just give me some time."

"Of course, sir," the vampire agrees readily, eyes sparkling like you hadn't tortured it mere minutes ago. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

It's about time for you to leave for your patrol.

taglist:

@whumpshaped

@befuddled-calico-whump

@whumpzone

@whumpycries

@emcscared-whumps

@melancholy-in-the-morning

@apokolyps

@cupcakes-and-pain

@why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

@whump-queen

@annablogsposts

@painsandconfusion

@a-crumb-of-whump

@nyooom

@100percentevil

@lolrpop

@dead-ofthe-knight

@celestialwhump

@alexkolax

@burningkittypoet

@kitstorm

@a-formless-entity

@some-thrilling-heroics

[dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night]

Fuffy blanket for Jay, please? 🥺

Eden

Whumptember day 24. Muffled screams

TW: nightmares, trauma, mild self harm, biting, bruises, creepy/intimate whumper, carewhumper, pet whumpees, multiple whumpees

Note: This is set a while before Jay's death, obviously.

Christopher woke up to the sound of screaming. This wasn't unusual in the summer, when the woods were full of screech owls who loved to give him a show. But in the middle of winter, when all the birds had flown south, the sound filled him with dread.

He got out of bed, folding his blankets neatly out of habit, and walked to the bedroom where Ezra and Jay's slept. As he knocked lightly on the door, the sound of screaming quickly muffled itself.

The door creaked as it opened, and Christopher saw that Ezra was still fast asleep. And no wonder, with how exhausting of a day he had been through. Jay's sat up next to him, biting down on their own arm to keep from making noise.

Not wanting stress Ezra by waking him, Christopher gently helped Jay stand up from the bed. They followed him back to his own room, guided by his hand around their own. Their trembling nearly caused them to fall at multiple points, so Christopher was careful to walk slowly.

Jay sat down on Christopher's bed, trying to act submissive even as they stifled their sobs by biting down on their arm as hard as they possibly could.

"That's enough of that," Christopher scolded. "You're hurting yourself."

Jay dropped both their hands to their lap, crying harder than ever. The nasty bruises on their arm were dark red, struck through with deep lines of purple.

"I- I'm s- I'm sorry," they wailed. "I'm s- so sorry."

Christopher squeezed Jay in a tight hug. "Breathe. Take deep breaths. You're going to be fine. I am not mad at you."

"I had a stupid nightmare and- and... I don't know." Jay shivered, and rubbed their arms. "I'm sorry I woke you up, sir. I'm so so sorry."

Christopher wrapped his blanket around Jay's shoulders. They clung to it, as though the fluffy material might offer them protection from more than just the cold.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Christopher said. "I only wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Yes sir."

"I love you. I hope you know that."

"I-" Jay choked back their tears. "I love you. I really really do.

"Why don't you sleep in here tonight? I'm a light sleeper, so I'll wake you up if you have another nightmare. And I'll be right here if anything happens."

"Thank you, sir." Jay wiped the tears from their eyes. "Thank you. I'll try to be better."

Christopher knew he had to talk Jay out of their need to be "good", considering that Colt's standards of morality and reasonable conduct had been... questionable, to say the least.

But for the time being, getting them cozy in bed to ward off sleep deprivation was very important. He knew full well that emotional conditioning took a very long time to do or undo.

Taglist: @hugh-lauries-bald-spot @thedarkmongoose @whumpsday @whump-by-robin @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @whumpshaped @seetheothersideofparadise @knittedeyebrowsandcardigans @whatwasmyprevioususername @boonasaurusrex @suspicious-whumping-egg @heavenlyeden @melancholy-in-the-morning @snakebites-and-ink @suck-my-clit-loser @i-eat-worlds @scp-1296 @chiswhumpcorner @skittles-the-whumpee @whumpkin @dokidokisadness @enbygesserit @canislycaon24 @be-gay-do-crime-ahaha @a-crumb-of-whump

[merovingianprincess]

As Fate Would Have It...

Here's the beginning of the mini-series I mentioned I had an interest in writing. Please let me know if y'all want more. : )

Warnings: none

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tolkien-verse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was both uncommon and unusual for my father to not tell me anything regarding business and trade deals. Even if he didn't tell me everything, he would at least give me a crumb of something to keep me satisfied until whatever deal was brokered and completed.

"Why can't you tell me?" I pestered him, following him around his small wooden office in the rebuilt Esgaroth.

He just shook his head, signing the piece of parchment, folding it, and then pouring hot wax, and stamping it with his insignia.

"It's best for you not to know until it's finished and done," he replied, standing up with the letter in hand, heading towards the door and handing it to a waiting messenger.

I followed my father out the door, angrily shutting it behind me. The messenger quickly took off down the wooden pier and off until I no longer had him in my sight. I turned to face my father again who was already walking in the opposite direction a few feet ahead of me.

I groaned picking up the skirt of my pale blue dress and briskly walked after him, trying to catch up with him. He walked quickly, with a purpose. People greeted him as they walked past, offering smiles to me as well. My father was the well-respected mayor of Esgaroth, and I was his curious and headstrong only daughter. My brothers were off on business elsewhere.

He kept ignoring my pleading attempts for information on whatever he was keeping from me. Soon we came to the outermost edge of the town, where we looked down over the edge at the work being done by some brave men. They were diving down to retrieve jewels from the corpse of Smaug the dragon.

The jewels were beautiful and exquisite; Father told me that some were being traded and sold, some were being kept as a reminder of that fateful day, and the rest were being used for something my father wouldn't tell me about.

Two things he wouldn't tell me about and it was irritating me. As I previously explained, I am curious and I like to know things, so I can help out if needed. Father calls me nosey, I disagree.

I saw the divers come to the surface with fistfuls of jewels, putting them in baskets that were then pulled up by ropes by other men and carefully distributed into 3 different piles. I knew from tales that Smaug was a large dragon, but I didn't realize just how many jewels covered the dragon's chest; though the arrow that claimed his life was still embedded in the bone.

Father inspected the jewels, still ignoring my pleas. Huffing, I walked back to our residence and poured myself some honey wine, my father disapproved of me having some wine before dinner but he wasn't here to judge at the moment. I decided to spend the rest of my afternoon reading a romance book that I recently acquired from some traders.

A few hours passed when the cook started making dinner and my father arrived back shortly after.

"Mmm, Alis, whatever you are preparing smells wonderful," my father praised the cook, taking off his coat and draping it over his favorite chair, before looking over at me, "and Eleanor, it appears you haven't stopped sulking," he remarked sitting down. I glared at him over my book from my seat on the couch.

"Ah sir, she hasn't been sulking, she's been good reading her book," said Alis, chopping up an onion.

I smirked, returning my attention back to my book that I was nearly done with. All was quiet for a half hour besides Alis chopping up ingredients, until there was a knock at the door.

My father stood up from his chair, "Ah his response was quicker than I thought it would be." he mumbled walking towards the door, opening it, and receiving a letter from the messenger who once again scurried off.

"And dinner is done," Alis announced placing three plates of food on the table.

I set my book off to the side and got up from my seat, taking my place at the dinner table where Alis sat, pouring herself some honey wine, and my father leisurely made his way over unfolding the letter with an insignia I did not recognize.

I too poured myself a drink and took a sip, watching as my father sat down in his chair reading the letter, a smile appearing on his face before he set the letter folded up, down on the table.

"Good news sir?" Alis asked, raising her fork to her mouth.

"Yes, wonderful news and an excellent new alliance." my father said taking a bite of his potatoes.

I tried to not act interested even though I was DYING to know, I was tempted to snatch the letter and read it, but I stayed collected. We ate in silence for a while until we were almost done eating when my father decided to speak.

"Eleanor, you will be getting married soon." he proclaimed, sitting back in his chair, and bringing his cup to his mouth.

I almost choked as I was taken by surprise, "Married? To whom?"

He was quiet for a while, watching me squirm. I wasn't against the idea of marriage, I actually dreamed of finding true love and a good husband. But I wanted to know my suitor. Was he nice? Was he valiant like in the romance stories?

"The elvenking, King Thranduil," he said, putting his cup down on the table.

I had heard little of King Thranduil, I only knew he was the king of Mirkwood and fought with his army at the Battle of the Five Armies, almost 100 years ago.

Alis reached over and gently squeezed my forearm, "You'll be a queen," she said with a smile, before standing up and clearing the table whilst I stared at my father.

"But he's an elf," was all I could say.

"Yes, that's why he is called the Elvenking." my father said, standing up with a stretch.

I rolled my eyes as I scooted back my chair and stood up as well, "And I'm a human. It's almost unheard of for two different people to marry." I said walking around the table to my father who was making his way back over to his chair.

"Yes, but there are a few instances of it happening and like Alis said, you will be queen," he replied sitting back down.

I sat down on the couch silently, taking it all in. While I had odd feelings about marrying an elf, I understood my father had some sort of new alliance with Mirkwood, I didn't want to negatively affect that if I refused to marry the Elvenking; also I was 18 now, and I needed to marry. So I silently accepted it.

"When do I leave for Mirkwood?" I asked, getting up from my spot on the couch.

"In two days a few elf guards will be here to escort you to Mirkwood," he replied, staring into the empty fireplaces, the room getting darker.

"Two days," I whispered, before heading to my bedroom and closing the door behind me.