#pau cooks

[katewalker]

Back to cooking!!! Tonight is gnocchi with Ossau-Iraty (French cheese from Pays basque) cream and tomatoes 👩‍🍳

[grrrlkisser]

tom overthinker x tord doesn't think at all

[lkluvsu]

https://x.com/guagua_1125/status/1823365385338708247?s=46&t=Y0Md76L8FR9umM1nmCkHnQ

you mentioned pau and pedri yesterday so here’s some more pau and pedri

i get all my content from tl so thank u anon ily

[strawberrysweetdreams]

im uh cooking uh something uh

[protect-daniel-james]

Unai: *hasn't slept in a week, he was weak, he was awake...*

Pau: Allow me to introduce...paella!

[biglisbonnews]

Sporkful and Sfoglini’s New Pasta Shapes, Vesuvio and Quattrotini Reviving and revising rare and forgotten pasta shapes When food podcast Sporkful and Hudson Valley-based pasta brand Sfoglini invented a new pasta shape, the Cascatelli, in 2021, they put forth a higher standard for pasta that improves more than quality but also creativity and functionality. This year, the pair teamed up to create two more shapes that continue Sporkful creator Dan Pashman‘s criteria for excellent pasta: sauceability, … https://coolhunting.com/food-drink/sporkful-and-sfoglinis-new-pasta-shapes-vesuvio-and-quattrotini/

[pedrilcvr]

Hey! Could u write about Pau Cubarsi? Something fluff about him finding that reader is ticklish and taking advantage of that. Thanks !

Warm Glow — Pau Cubarsí

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: While you were cooking, your boyfriend tried to wrap his arms around you, but when you push him away, he pokes your side playfully. With your reaction, he realizes how ticklish you really are and takes full advantage.

Disclaimer/s: Playful threats, but just pure fluff!

A/N: AHHH I LOVE GETTING REQSSS. Sorry if I didn’t follow this through perfectly.. I LOVE U PAU CUBARSÍ MY BABYGIRL😭

The soft warm glow of the early morning sun cascades around your apartment, landing on you. Pau watched from the other side of the kitchen as you cooked his omelet, still in your pajamas. The eggs sizzling on the pan, causing your face to pull into a slight grimace. He knew you hated eggs, the smell, the grease, it sickened you out.

But despite all that, you didn’t hesitate to agree to make them when he asked. He loved that about you, no matter what you would do anything for him. And the feeling was mutual, he’d do anything for you, too.

Overcome with a sudden urge to be near you, Pau takes the few long strides it took to be your side, snaking his arms around you and nuzzling his face into your neck, leaving a few kisses.

“Pau—no. Pau.” You groan, attempting to wiggle out of your boyfriend’s arms. “I’m trying to cook! You wanted breakfast, so let me make it.”

Although you were trying to get away from him, you smile at his actions. Your overly affectionate boyfriend was frowning, his eyebrows slanted upwards giving you his best doe eyed look.

“Nice try, bud.” You tease, successfully releasing yourself from his grasp.

The nickname elicits an amused scoff from the brunette, “Bud? Seriously.” He reaches out, poking your side.

You let out a loud laugh, swatting his hand away at the ticklish feeling. “Hey! No-.”

Your reaction causes a smirk to grow on the teenagers boyish face, both of his arms reaching out to grab your sides. He’s tickling you now, holding you close as laughter erupts from your lips.

Weak pleads for him to stop stumble from your mouth, but you are laughing, a sound Pau loved more than anything else in the world.

Your giggles are broken between your words, “Pau, I will bite you! I-I’m trying to—YOUR EGGS.” You wriggle out of his grasp, bending over to catch your breath.

Eyes snapping up to your boyfriends, you scowl at his proud smile. “I could’ve died!” You gasp dramatically, standing up straight.

“Sure, sure.” He chuckles, patting your head and placing a kiss on your forehead.

With a huff, you turn back to the omelet, flipping it over. “I hope you like nearing burned eggs. It’s your fault.”

“I’ll get over it.” Pau assures you, hopping onto the counter. “Since when are you so ticklish?”

“Since I was birthed, probably?” You reply, sarcastically as you point your spatula at him, “But I swear, if you tickle me again, I will chop a limb off of you.”

“Oh!” The boy feigns being frightened, “i’m so scared.”

DTS , @halfwayhearted ^_^

[romcomxb]

What if Bradley got cancer.

tw- angst? cancer n self esteem issues? swearing

He’d been feeling like shit for a while, sometime after Ice had gone into remission, but had assumed that he was just burnt out. Work had been stressful, and him and Jake had been in a bit of a rough patch.

His left arm had been aching as well, but he mostly ignored that, until he noticed a lump, just above his elbow. And after remembering how quickly his mom, then Ice’s cancers had developed, he decided to get it checked out.

It was in Bradley’s arm, and was spreading, fast. And after multiple attempts at removing it without amputating his arm, the doctors decided that the only possibility was to cut the limb off completely, stop it from spreading to the rest of his body. (idk how cancer works so hush)

Just imagine Bradley not only no longer being able to fly again, but also having to re-learn just about anything. He can barley drive, or cook, piano seems out of the question. He’s frustrated. He’s mad at himself, at his body, at the world, at everyone.

One day Jake walked in on Bradley struggling to button up one of his shirts. He’d been trying for what felt like hours. At first it had seemed simple, but he worked it up in his head and had just spiraled. Jake sees him frustrated, in pain, and on the verge of tears, and his heart breaks. Seeing his partner in stuck distress, he wants nothing more than to hold him close and never let go.

But he also know’s that Bradley needs to figure this out for himself. To teach himself how to function again.

Mav had explained this to Hangman, as he’d had a similar situation with Ice. When he was in the recovery stages of his cancer, Mav just couldn’t leave him alone. He’d been a hoverer, wouldn’t leave his side for a second. And one day Ice had snapped at him to just ‘leave him alone’. Of course they’d figured it out but Mav had needed to take a few steps back for a bit.

But just imagine Bradley spending hours re-learning the simplest things. Slowly sitting down and teaching himself to type with one hand, or read a book. Even to help prepare dinner. But the thing he most misses is piano. Sure he can play the melodies with one hand, but anything beyond that seems out of the question. Bradley feels like he’s lost another part of his dad because of it. Music had felt like one of their strongest connections with Goose and now he’d lost that.

Along with the amputation came an intense loss of self-esteem. Before the cancer Bradley had been extremely capable, both in bed and in day to day life. But without his arm, he was scared shitless that he wasn’t enough for Jake. That Jake would leave him because if Bradley found his own body disgusting and weak, surely Jake must to. Which was total bullshit and Jake spent many long nights trying to tell him this, but the fear stayed nonetheless.

It all came to a head when Jake came home from work early as a surprise for Bradley, and found him curled up in a ball of blankets and pillows on the couch.

‘Bradley?’ Jake threw his stuff by the counter. When he didn’t get a response, he moved forward and gingerly sat on the couch next to Bradley’s head. ‘Hey baby- what’s happened?’ Jake murmured quietly, moving to lift the blankets from the other man’s face.

Bradley just grumbled something and pulled the cocoon tighter.

‘Bradley- cmon, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong’ Jake let out a sigh and watched Bradley closely. He’d been more depressed since the amputation, sure, but not like this.

‘Just go away’ The voice was heavily muffled by the blankets.

‘Honey- what’s happened?’ Jake’s hand reached out to begin massaging his boyfriends head, softly running through his hair. Bradley remained silent, thought the blanket armour did seem to loosen slightly.

‘Are you gonna leave me?’ His quiet voice sounded constricted with emotions.

‘Oh- fuck Bradshaw of course I ain’t gonna leave you- That’s about the stupidest thing i’ve heard all week.’ Jake huffed a laugh and his hands paused in their massage for a moment as he leant down to give the cocoon a kiss.

‘Why?’ Bradley questioned immediately.

Jake frowned, ‘Why what?’

‘Why would you stay with me?’ Bradley sat up, the blankets falling to the side. If his puffy red eyes were any indication, he’d been crying for a few hours before Jake had gotten home. ‘Jake,’ he continued, ‘i’m incapable of chopping a carrot- I can’t do shit. Why would you stay with me?’

Bradley’s arm, well the stump where his arm used to be, was still heavily wrapped in bandages. The cut had been made about halfway between his elbow and his shoulder. Jake still got a shock every time he caught a glimpse of it.

‘Baby-‘ Jake bit his lip as he chose his next words carefully, ‘Frankly, I don’t give a shit if you can’t chop carrots.’ As Bradley opened his mouth to protest, he shushed him. ‘I love you Bradley Bradshaw and the fact that you’re missing an arm isn’t gonna change that.’

Bradley blinked.

‘Jake I’m repulsive.’

The matter of fact way the man said that hit Jake. It was so calm, so collected, as if Bradley fully believed it to be true. Those word would stick with both of them for years to come.

‘The hell are you talking about?’ Jake frowned, he couldn’t imagine what hea was going through, but this? This felt a bit excessive.

‘You heard me.’ Bradley sniffed and began to pull the blankets over himself again. Jake quickly shot out a hand to stop him.

‘You’re not repulsive.’ He held Bradley’s shoulders, tight. ‘Bradley you’re the most handsome, capable man i’ve ever met.’ He said sternly ‘Where’s all this coming from?’

Bradley shrugged and wiped his nose on his sleeve. ��Dunno.’

Jake sighed, he didn’t know what to do, how to help. His boyfriend had been so deep in his own mind, pulling him out of this spiral seemed almost impossible. So he reached out his arms and pulled the man into his chest, careful to avoid the stump of his arm. Bradley almost immediately melted into his grasp, his shoulders shaking as fresh tears formed.

‘Hey- you’re okay, it’s gonna be okay’ Jake hushed slowly, his thumb rubbing curled into his back. The shorter man rested his chin on his boyfriends head and closed his eyes, his arms tight around his body.

After a few minutes, when Bradley’s shoulders stopped heaving and Jake’s shirt was wet with tears, he pulled back and looked his boyfriend dead in the eye. ‘I’m here to stay Bradley Bradshaw. You gotta stop questioning that. We can figure this out together.’

Tadaaaa-

idk how i feel abt this, it felt kinda cheesy n ooc, but yeah. :]

also idk anything about cancer/amputation recovery, so i kinda just made it up as i went along-

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

i offer you: mega cowboy angst when he is having a really hard time feeling like he has a place within the team. it's mostly just self-doubt until he goes for a walk one night and sees the team all laughing at a table in a restaurant together and his sweet little southern heart breaks. Maybe he even goes as far as to ask hotch if he's doing anything wrong or for an impromptu performance review and mentions even considering transferring teams because he really wanted this to be his family, but he just feels like an outsider intruding on what is a family, but not his.

Warnings: accused of lying, insecurities, feeling left out, actually being left out tbh, er yeah (all is sorted by the end tho)

Part 3.

Click for Part 1

Click for Part 2

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118

You have to give him some credit, he at least waited until everyone else was gone before he accused you of lying, that had to count for something. He waited until the rest of the team was debriefing the police - although you had no doubt the rest of the team knew exactly what Hotch was telling you right now.

"We don't lie to people on this team. Unsubs or not." Hotch said sternly.

"Excuse me?"

"We do not lie to people."

"Sir, I did not tell that kid a single lie." You defended, "I told that kid the truth. I ain't one to sugarcoat things to make it easier for everyone else to stomach. If you don't believe me, that's fine. But that is not my responsibility to fix. If you don't believe me, that's on you, not me."

Hotch raises his eyebrows, "Excuse me?" He steps closer to you, as if you're somehow trying to intimidate him or demean his position.

"Sir, I meant no disrespect, but I did not tell that kid a single lie. And I honestly find it mildly offensive that you assumed I did." You answer, "I understand you don't know me, that maybe other agents have lied in the past, but I have never and will never lie in a negotiation."

You stare at each other for a moment, "Is there any point in me comin' in tomorrow, sir?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do I still have a place here or do I need to look for another placement elsewhere?"

"I'll see you tomorrow." Is all Hotch says and with that, you leave the room. You don't say much after that, simply watching the team do their usual pack-up-to-go-home routine.

When you get home, you throw your go-bag onto your couch, making a mental note to repack it in case there was another case tomorrow before you decide to head out for something to eat. Perhaps a takeout - you really did not feel like cooking. And so, you begin your usual walk to the restaurant you always get takeout from. You paus, seeing the team through the window.

They don't see you, but you see them. Laughing around a table, eating, drinking. A sour feeling settles in your stomach as you realise this is a family. Just not yours. As you realise you were just trying to force your way into a family that's already bonded, that's already fully formed. You're an outsider looking in who has little to no chance of every truly being part of it.

With that realisation, you turn around and head home, already planning what you were going to say to Hotch tomorrow at work. You can cook, a homemade (frozen) meal after a case would be good.

The next morning, you arrive with your usual attitude (tired but generally happy to be here and rearing to go).

JJ gives you an apologetic look as she waves the case as she walks, "We've got another case," She says, making her way to the roundtable room. You follow, ensuring that you reach ahead to open the door for her - giving a small smile as she went past.

You listen to the case, not interjecting at all, simply letting the team go about their usual routine. Besides, half of you believed that the team wouldn't even hear you if you did. When Hotch calls wheels up, you stay sat.

You wait until he's the only one left in the round table room before you start asking. "Is there somethin' wrong with my work?" You watch as Hotch shakes his head.

"No."

"Is it somethin' I've done?"

"No, (Y/N) why are you asking me these questions?"

"I get teams are close, sir, I do. And I get this is a family n I just don't wanna be the one that intrudes on that." You say, "I don't wanna be the outsider n I understand that may mean more time, but I'm givin' you the chance to tell me whether or not you want me here - if the team want me here. N I won't hold a grudge or say nothin', I'll just put in a transfer."

"(Y/N), there's no need for a transfer." Hotch said honestly, "I'm sorry we've made you feel this way - particularly myself. I find it hard to trust new members."

"Because I was heavily recommended by Strauss?"

Hotch sighs but nods, "Yes," He answers.

"I didn't do anythin' funny to get here," You answered, "I simply just put in an application and Strauss recommended me after readin' it."

"I know that now. I'm sorry." He said. "I hope we can move past this?"

You nod, "Of course, sir, I would also like to apologise for my behaviour,"

"I think you behaviour was perfectly acceptable given the circumstances." Hotch replied. "Come on, we've lost a vital five minutes before wheels up."

"Why is it called that anyway?" You asked, "Is it because the jet wheels go up?"

"Rossi and Gideon used to say it when I joined, it's a rite of passage now."

"Huh, still slightly cheesy though," Hotch merely chuckled.

[possibilistfanfiction]

More surgeon suffering pls! Maybe bea learning more about Ava’s injury?

[definitely sooo gentle & no present-day suffering lol but here u go]

//

‘you can ask.’

beatrice’s gentle, callused, careful fingers still along your back, their patterns you can’t quite decipher gone quiet. ‘i would never do that.’

her voice is so soft and so relaxed, it’s not at all a reprimand; you can’t say it aloud, not yet, but you love her. you roll over so that you can see the gentle planes of her face through the silvery-blue light from the moon and the night outside her big windows, the blinds not yet drawn. she looks at you openly, patiently, like there’s nothing she wants to take from you; everything she wants to give. you know — in your heart and through your friends and your family and your therapist telling you over and over again — that you have so much to offer: you’re beautiful and funny and very smart, and you love the world more than anyone you know. you also know that beatrice is sometimes less sure of herself than she seems: she clams up every time her parents call, unable to tell them to, unequivocally if it was up to you, fuck off; she loves to be lazy and sleep in and wants no one to know; she still is in the habit of downplaying accomplishments, anything from a surgery she mastered (impressive in that you know how hard it is) to a new route she climbed at the gym (you have no idea but lilith was jealous and you can imagine it’s hot); she’s a horrible cook.

‘i know,’ you say, and you do. you let a finger drift down the bridge of her nose, count her freckles, feel the chapped bow of her lips beneath your thumb. she has a scar, small, through her left brow, and you trace it. ‘what’s this from?’

she smiles, always so quick to understand, always so generous. it makes you feel like you could light up the entire world sometimes. ‘i was five; my brothers were trying to teach me how to rollerblade.’

you think about it: beatrice’s gap-toothed grin and the delightfully terrible bob haircut she had for so much of her early childhood, the photos making you laugh when, unprompted, lilith showed you a few weeks ago when you’d all had dinner at a good oyster place near bea’s house. ‘can you rollerblade now?’

‘no, it frightened me. i never learned.’

‘putting that on the short list of things that scare you. good to know.’

she holds up her right arm so you can see the small scar on her elbow, the skin darker than before. ‘at university, i was drunk and my crush dared me to climb a tree.’

you can’t help the laugh it pulls out of you. ‘oh my.’

she nods. ‘yes, quite. needless to say, amelia and i went our separate ways fairly soon after.’

‘well, her loss. i’d have paid to see you fall out of a tree.’

‘i didn’t fall,’ she says. ‘i scraped my elbow on the way up, but i did continue.’

‘of course you did.’

she shrugs. you trace the scars across her chest, ones you love. 

‘camila told me you tried to go back to classes a week after your surgery. like, the day after you got your drains out.’

bea laughs. ‘yes, and promptly fell fast asleep about three minutes in.’

‘front row?’

‘well, the second.’

‘knew it.’

‘i can keep going, if you like. i have a good story about a scraped knee during field hockey at boarding school.’

‘homoerotic, i hope.’

she rolls her eyes, but based on her silence you know you’re right.

she lets you sit in it, easily, and her house is beautiful and warm and, you’re beginning to think — to hope — it might be full of your things one day, too. it’s easier to be brave here, but your words, the worst of them, still get stuck in your throat. ‘well, what do my scars tell you?’

she weighs it. ‘you know i’m more interested in cardio.’

‘you’re the smartest person i’ve ever met.’

‘well, you favor your left hand when you’re practicing sutures, and i know your left foot gets numb often. you have trouble with temperature regulation and walking long distances, but an easier time standing for the most part; your neck aches, i think all the time.’ she pauses. ‘your handwriting is abysmal, although i suspect that has nothing to do with your injuries.’

you’re about to start crying, but she makes things lighter, even now.

‘all i care about, ava,’ she says, soft and sure, a hand tangled in your hair and then gentle on your cheek, ‘is that you get the care you need, that you tell someone — me or anyone else who can help. and you can tell me whatever you like, if ever you feel ready.’

‘i can’t — i want to.’

she kisses your forehead. ‘like i said. it’ll always be up to you. i’m here.’

you take a deep breath. ‘my mom had a garden,’ you say. ‘she died, uh —‘ you get a little caught, stuck on the way her eyes looked when she wasn’t alive anymore, when you couldn’t move, when you were stuck for so long, screaming and so, so scared — ‘she grew all kinds of vegetables.’ your voice shakes but beatrice only nods. ‘and flowers. we were going to —‘ you sniffle and beatrice just wipes your tears — ‘i think she wanted to keep bees. i don’t even know if that was possible; we had a little yard. but everything grew.’

‘that sounds wonderful.’

‘it was, even though i hated eating my vegetables.’

beatrice laughs softly, admonishing in a way that’s harmless, fond. ‘you’ve grown so much since then.’

‘hey, i’ll have you know just today i ate, like, seven bites of a salad.’

‘very impressive.’

‘can i — not right now, because i think i’ll just cry too much, but — can i tell you more about her? i wish you could’ve met her.’ i wish i could remember her more; i can’t forget.

‘i would love that. and, if she was anything like you, i’m sure she would’ve lit up an entire room. it would’ve been an honor.’

‘bea, i really don’t want to cry again,’ you whine.

‘you should know,’ she tells you, a little firm, so there’s no argument. ‘she would be so proud of you. i know it; who wouldn’t be?’

‘that’s —‘ you bury your face in her neck, just for a moment, soft and warm and safe. 

‘would you like to plant a garden?’

‘in my tiny ass apartment?’

‘no,’ she says, and you can’t see her but you can practically feel her rolling her eyes. ‘here. i have the whole back yard and, frankly, no real interest in a lawn.’

‘i —‘ you back up so you can look at her, and her eyes are clear. ‘really?’

‘of course. i’m actually quite interested in self-sustaining agriculture, and the pacific northwest has great growing conditions for so much wonderful flora and fauna.’

‘wow. okay, but — it’s your house.’

she pauses. ‘ava.’

‘i just — you’re sure?’

‘i would really enjoy it, if you’d like. also, my friend marco, from the climbing gym, runs the community garden in their neighborhood and has been pestering me to meet you.’

‘you talk about me?’

‘of course.’

‘well, if marco will do all the heavy lifting, and preferably both of you not have shirts on, i’m so in.’

‘it’s february.’

you shrug. ‘you’re tough.’

beatrice laughs, and you sink into it, delight in it. you could light up the whole world, ava, she told you after two glasses of wine and half an edible the other night, entirely serious, crammed onto the small couch in your small apartment, your life expanding far beyond, past any walls you knew. 

‘next weekend, when we’re both off,’ she says, ‘we can go to the nursery nearby and get started.’

‘you’re —‘ the love of my life sits right on the tip of your tongue, but you kiss her instead. ‘thank you.’

‘thank you for telling me about your garden, and your mother.’

all you can do is nod, and then hold her after she turns over and falls asleep.

[katewalker]

My chicken soup is going to cure me, I know it.

[marsbar17]

You know what I'm here for >:)

My lovely girlfriend requested some hardcore Bloodhound x reader smut, so here you go! It's the longest thing I've written so far on this blog hshdhsjja

CONTAINS: smut, primal play, bondage, getting hunted in the forest, praise, little bit of degrading, biting, breeding kinks, slight sex ritual stuff, voyeurism if you count the Allfather as a person, proper aftercare for once, AMAB bloodhound, they have a penis because I said so, gender neutral reader

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

Bloodhound wasn't the type of person to ask for much sexually, preferring to go along with what you want and ask for. So it was incredibly surprising when they nervously came to you and brought up the idea of primal play. It was shocking, but you weren't against it.

Obviously, you started off slow to warm up to it. Bloodhound started putting you into mating presses more often, even if it was already their favorite position. You swear you could hear them growling under their breath as they fucked into you, pressing all their weight on top of you and keeping you trapped under them. And the bite marks they would leave along your shoulders and chest were hard to explain to anyone who saw them. But it was so good. They way they claimed you like you were some kind of weak bitch made you cum the hardest you ever had in your whole life.

Safe to say, primal play was one of the most popular things in your sex life. So, when Bloodhound came to you again, more confident this time, you were excited to hear what they would suggest.

"I would like to do something more, in terms of these... primal urges." They said, standing by you as you prepared a meal in your shared kitchen. Bloodhound had just come home carrying some fish from a river nearby and handed them to you to cook. It was just the way things were between the two of you. Obviously, they were the better hunter, so in order to balance chores you cooked whatever they brought home.

"What were you thinking of?" You responded, eyes still honed in on where the knife you held slid through the flesh of the fish.

"I would like to... hunt you."

It took a moment for the words to register in your brain, but when they did, you immediately put the knife down and turned towards them. Bloodhound still wore all their gear, and suddenly it felt intimidating. They moved closer, caging you against the counter with a hand on either side of your waist.

"Litla kanína, I want to chase you. To catch you. To claim you. I want you to run from me, and I want you to hide from me while I hunt you down like the prey that you are."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

So that's how you got here, sharp thorns scratching your ankles and calves as you ran through the trees as fast as you could. You had nothing on you other than your clothes and an alarm keychain as a sort of 'safe word.' Bloodhound said they'd give you a five minute headstart, and you intended to use it to get as far away as possible.

The autumn leaves were crisp under your feet as you ran, not even trying to be quiet. Your body was acting purely on instinct, not knowing what to do in a situation like this. Seeing a small alcove made out of fallen trees, you turned towards it and shuffled under the cover.

Breathing heavy, you sat down on the ground, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Frozen in fear, you zoned out in your small shelter, and before you knew it you could hear footsteps dragging on the forest floor. They weren't trying to be quiet either. They wanted you to know they were close. They wanted to make you feel the fear take over your body as they gradually got closer, and closer, and even closer.

Putting a hand over your mouth, you tried to breathe as shallow as possible to make less noise, but your breaths were shaky and uneven. Your hands shook as you could hear the gentle hum of Bloodhound's respirator working, and as they paused their steps.

"Kanína, I know you're here.~" Bloodhound called out. Their voice scared you, but at the same time you couldn't help the warm feeling in your lower stomach. You pressed your body even further against the tree bark behind you, closing your eyes.

"You must learn to cover your tracks, elskan. Something dangerous could find you.~" Their voice trailed off, and you couldn't hear their footsteps anymore. Did they leave? They must've left. There was no sound at all.

After a few more minutes, just to be sure, you inched your way out of the alcove and looked around. Not seeing anything, you stepped out into the open.

Pretty much the second you took the first step, you heard swift footsteps behind you. Before you could react, a gloved hand reached around to cover your mouth as another wrapped around your waist, pulling you against a body. Eyes wide open, you brought your hands up and gripped at the hand over your mouth, scratching at it lightly as you were dragged with the person.

"Greyið kanína, you have not learned anything, have you?" Bloodhound's voice made you relax slightly, realizing you weren't really in danger. However, their hand still covering your mouth and the way they now spun you around and pressed your back against a tree made you panic again. You looked them over, eyes darting over their frame. They had shed their jacket, leaving them in a compression shirt that showed off their muscles, along with their mask and cargo pants.

"I have caught you, ástin mín. Now, I get to ravage you all I want.~" Bloodhound pressed a leg between yours, keeping it high enough that you couldn't escape without falling. They reached into a pocket in their pants and pulled out a bundle of smooth, red colored rope that was usually stored in your bedside drawer.

"I am going to take my hand away. Will you behave?" They questioned, tilting their head and holding the rope in front of your eyes. You nodded desperately, nostrils flared as you breathed frantically. Slowly, Bloodhound pulled their hand off of your mouth and began unraveling the bundle of rope.

You didn't dare speak. You kept your hands by your sides. You barely moved. You could be bratty some other time, this time, Bloodhound was just so intimidating that the thought of disobedience didn't even cross your mind. With the now unraveled rope, they positioned your hands together in front of you and wove it around your wrists and forearms.

"You are so obedient, even when you are being hunted down to be my meal.~" They leaned in closer as they finished binding your arms and lifted them above your head. Bloodhound's chest was pressed against yours, and their knee pressed further against your crotch as they tied the other end of the rope around a branch above your head.

They left you there for a second, stepping back now that you were stuck in place. A small whine left your throat as the warmth between your legs disappeared. Bloodhound just shushed you before reaching into another pocket of their pants and pulling out a pocket knife. They brought it up to your throat and you closed your eyes, wincing. The pain never came, though. Instead, you heard clothes ripping and the wind against your chest. They had cut your shirt open and discarded the pieces onto the forest floor.

"Hound..." You whispered weakly, looking at Bloodhound's masked face. They tilted their head at you, reaching down to begin undoing your pants.

"Do not speak, kanína. Unless it is the safeword, I do not want to hear anything from you other than your sweet cries of pleasure." They pulled your pants and underwear from your body, exposing you to the air.

You tried to cross your legs and hide yourself, feeling extremely exposed in the open, but Bloodhound simply kicked your legs back apart. They just stared at you, looking up and down your body before reaching behind their head to undo their mask.

"You will be a perfect offering for the Allfather." They said, taking off their mask and laying it gently on the ground. Almost instantly they had their mouth on you, nipping and licking at the skin of your neck. It was so aggressive and desperate it almost hurt. They kissed your skin like they were starving, like they hadn't eaten in days.

Slowly, trailing kisses the whole way, they made their way down to your nipples, biting and sucking at them, making you gasp. Bloodhound made sure to abuse each of your sensitive buds before moving on. They bit as your stomach and hips, hard enough to leave bruises. As you squirmed and whined, they finally made their way to where you needed them most.

Bloodhound licked a slow, long stripe from the bottom to the top of your sex. Smirking at the way you whimpered and shivered. After way too long, they finally took you into their mouth, sucking hard before backing away almost immediately. As you whined in protest, they stood and reached into a pocket of their pants again (look, they have cargo pants on, there are many pockets). Holding a small bottle of lube, they kneeled back down in front of you.

You watched as they poured a generous amount of lube on their fingers, spreading it between their thumb and fingers. Lifting one of your legs over their shoulder, Bloodhound placed their fingers against your hole. Their calloused fingertips were a pleasant sensation as they teased around your sensitive opening, only slipping a finger inside once you were desperately grinding down. They ignored all your whines and whimpers, going slow and making sure you were adequately stretched.

"I want to make sure you are prepared because I will no longer be gentle after this." Bloodhound stated as they stood from the ground, wiping their hand against their pants. They sighed as they undid the button, opening the front of their pants. "Aumingja litla druslan mín... I am going to destroy you.~"

Bloodhound practically growled the end of their sentence, tugging the waistband of their pants and boxers down a couple inches so they could free their length. You stared, wishing nothing more than to drop to your knees and swallow them whole. But unfortunately, you were still tied to a tree. So you just whined and struggled against the rope, begging for any sort of attention from them.

"Hush, ástin mín." Bloodhound once again lifted one of your legs, bringing your knee almost to your chest. You had to stand on your tippy toes to accommodate for the position. They stood between your legs and the head of their hard cock teased against your entrance.

Bloodhound rubbed themself a couple of times along your hole before sliding the first inch of themselves into you. The groan they let out was animalistic, and you winced at the stretch. They were practically panting against your neck, holding themself back from pounding into you. They lifted your other leg, pressing you against the tree trunk so it scratched uncomfortably against your back.

"Kanína, you are so warm and tight.~" They began inserting the rest of their length into you. As Bloodhound's hips met yours, they let out a strangled whine as they nuzzled into your neck even further. "Please forgive me for my lack of self-control."

That was their only warning for you before they pulled out and slammed back into you as hard as they could, making you yelp in surprise. Your eyes flew wide open as they started to plow into you faster and harder than you thought anyone possibly could. The pain of your back against rough bark was completely forgotten as you cried out, hands curled into fists above your head.

You'd never experienced this energy from Bloodhound outside of the games. This wild, animalistic hunger. You'd seem them kill many times, you'd even been the one at the end of their axe a couple of times, and this energy was alarmingly similar. They really did see you as something to claim, something to devour. It made you feel so weak and helpless. It was fucking hot.

You could feel your eyes start to fill with tears from how overwhelming the feeling was. Their girth continually bullying its way into your hole, rubbing against all the right spots and reaching so deep inside you. And the pain. God, the pain of bark scratching against your back, of nails digging into your hips, of teeth biting at your skin. It was no surprise when you could feel your orgasm approaching very quickly.

"Hound-"

"Cum for me, I want to feel you."

Of course, Bloodhound could tell. With the way you were squeezing their cock with your walls, the way your back arched off the tree, the way you were panting like you'd never breath again. So as they hit that one spot that made you see stars, you came hard. Your legs shook with the force of your orgasm, and you leaned your head back against the tree, moaning loudly.

Bloodhound slowed their pace, bringing the pocket knife back out and cutting the rope keeping your hands above your head. The only reason you didn't fall was because they pressed their body against you and held you to the tree. You whimpered as they carried you away from the tree, getting on their knees and laying you on the forest floor. They pulled out of you, grabbing your waist and flipping you over onto your shoulders and knees with your still tied hands underneath you.

"You look so pretty, kanína. Quivering and covered in your own cum." Bloodhound said as they spread you open and inspected your hole. You couldn't turn to look at them with your face pressed against the ground, so when they suddenly pressed their tongue against your entrance, you flinched slightly. Their nails dug into the flesh of your ass as they ate you out like a starved man. "You taste divine.~ I need more of you."

Their tongue left your sensitive hole twitching with overstimulation, and you whined softly. Bloodhound didn't spare you for long though before they thrust back into you. You felt them press one of their boots against your head, pressing down so you couldn't move but not enough to cause pain.

"You. Are. Mine." They growled, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. All you could do was whimper and shake as the overstimulation became painful. Tears ran down your face and onto the leaves. "So perfect.~ Laid out so pretty before the Allfather.~"

The thought of being nothing but an offering in a god-worshipping ritual just made you feel even more overwhelmed, and you could feel yourself getting closer to climax once again. Bloodhound's thrusts became sloppier as they too chased their orgasm.

"I'm going to fill you up, litla kanína. Breed you full of my pups.~" Bloodhound huffed, taking their foot off your head so they could lean down and sink their teeth into your shoulder. The pain made you cry out, but also pushed you over the edge again. Your vision faded as you came, dripping onto the leaves.

Bloodhound's hips stuttered before they pressed as deep into you as they could. They growled and grinded their hips against you as they spilled their cum deep in your hole. For a few moments, they just sat deep inside you, panting.

You must've been fading in and out of consciousness due to the pain because you can't remember when Bloodhound pulled out of you and laid you down on the ground. You looked up into their eyes as they gently unraveled the rope that bound your arms. They smiled down at you, rubbing at the sore skin.

"You did so well, ástin mín." Bloodhound cooed, grabbing some gauze from their seemingly endless stash of items in their pants pockets and placing it on the bite on your shoulder. They brought a hand up to brush the hair from your face and rub soothing circles along your jaw. "Let me take you back home. You deserve to rest."

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

This is the longest fic I've written so far, damn.

Thank you for staying and reading the whole thing! Remember that liking and reblogging my work takes like 10 seconds and helps me grow as a creator. Plus, requesting gives me more inspiration for my work, so request anything on your mind!

Have a good day!

[useless-catalanfacts]

Carme Ruscalleda is the female cook in the world who has been awarded the most Michelin stars: a total of 7.

Born in 1952 in Sant Pol de Mar (a small coastal town in Barcelona Metropolitan Ambit, Catalonia), she came from a family of farmers and started working in her family's shop, which was a butcher's. There, she started preparing ready food for take away, and developed her passion for cooking.

In 1988, she and her husband opened their restaurant Sant Pau in their hometown Sant Pol de Mar. Their mix of traditional Catalan and Mediterranean cuisine with avantguarde and creative cooking brought them great success and recognition. In 2004, she opened a Sant Pau restaurant in Tokyo (Japan). She has also written many recipe books for both professionals and non-professionals.

Nowadays, she is considered one of the most innovative cooks in the world and is the woman who has been awarded the most Michelin stars. Last week, the University of Barcelona made her Doctor honoris causa in recognition of her work.

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

Lotura Week 2023 Day 7 - Cooking Up Chaos

In Which Cats Invite Chaos

Emperor Lotor of the Galra entered his private study and stopped short in surprise, unsheathing his sword to wield against spies and soldiers. But the individual stooped over his desk—with all of its secrets of the empire—was no spy and certainly no decorated soldier that he knew.

Instead, a beautiful woman in an iridescent dress sat atop the wood, frozen, with Lotor’s own cat in her arms.

Lotor lowered his sword in disbelief, as before him sat the living image of the renowned Princess Allura of Altea.

She squeaked, releasing the cat before hopping off the desk in a manner most would have considered un-royal, her skirts lifting in the shuffle to show dainty ankles and a shadow of a slim, toned leg. “Oh,” the princess exclaimed, her elfin ears flicking back. “Oh, I’m so terribly sorry, whoever you are. You see, this darling creature stole my attention and guided me back here.”

Lotor’s split pupils lowered to the sight of the princess’s hands, which trembled as she moved to clasp her skirts.

“I am Princess Allura of Altea,” she babbled, moving to curtsey before him. Her thick, white curls slipped down her shoulder. “Please do not kill me, sir—my father would be very unhappy, as he would have to start a war, and really, no one wants a war anymore.”

The Emperor swallowed hard. He’d barely heard a word she had said, for his attention had swept to the princess’s bare shoulder and the glimmer of the gems in her hair. “I—” He cleared his throat, then straightened his spine. “I thought the planet Altea had not accepted my invitation at all.”

The princess stood up from her curtesy, eyes widening. “Your invitation?”

He tilted his head and swept out his clawed hand. “You are in my private study,” he said, his heart pounding. “And I am Emperor Lotor, the host of this ball.”

Allura’s slipped feet disappeared under her thick skirts, as did Kova, who continued to purr happily against her legs. Her chest heaved with fearful breath. “You’re Emperor Lotor? You?” She awkwardly began to backstep.

Most oddly, the more she stared at him, the more heated her cheeks grew, which Lotor could visibly see by the brightening glow of her Altean marks.

He could hear her heart pound in the same rhythm as his own.

And then he could sense it, even beneath her juniberry perfume.

Out of all the woman who’d come to the ball for his hand, it was the Princess Allura who found him attractive.

Lotor said to Allura, his velvet voice light and unassuming, “My apologies, princess. I did not mean to intimidate you. This is simply an odd spot to meet my most elusive neighbor from Altea.”

She flushed deeper, her marks a bright glimmer of pink. “Oh, I—I feel I’ve made a terrible bungle of things. I was supposed to—” she cleared her throat. “Well, I was quite hoping to represent my planet appropriately, and here I am chasing a pet.”

He smiled, his fangs glimmering in the low light of the study. “Kova is known to enchant all, but he rarely chooses to return the attention. That must make you special, Princess Allura.”

Her elfin ears—so sleek and delicate—flicked with the praise.

The heat off of her radiated to him, along with the maddeningly fast pound of her heart. His eyes began to dilate in response to her pheromones and the tension of the space between them.

Princess Allura swallowed hard visibly. “How, um, should I make up for this social faux paus, Emperor Lotor?”

Lotor hummed, then held out his hand. “I would request a dance with the Princess of Altea, if she is agreeable. And if she can untangle Kova from her skirts.”

The cat’s tail swished lazily from beneath the hem of Allura’s dress. He had lain over her slippered feet, purring loudly in contentment of her warmth and scent.

Allura made a noise, delicately lifting up her skirts to reveal the sleepy cat. “Am I allowed to dance with your owner, little one?”

Lotor’s eyes caught sight of the princess’s dainty ankles once more, along with the glimmering gems of her slippers. He had difficulty looking away.

The cat meowed in a pout before rising up, slinking away with a look at Lotor.

Lotor glanced back at him, quirking a brow.

The next thing he knew, the princess’s fingers gently grabbed for his own, and her scent enveloped him in a delightful haze.

“I do not know Galran dances,” she admitted quietly, raising her eyes to him. “But I am willing to learn if you do not mind to teach me, Emperor Lotor.”

He glanced back at her. The tension between them heightened.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, “you could teach me an Altean one in return.”

Her face lit up with a bright smile, her cheeks glowing once more.

[theunderestimator-2]

Reading stories of betrayal, despair & friendships going south from “Wally …Did You No Wrong” by Ron Evans:

some of you may -or may not- be familiar with the sad & obscure tale of the lost Sex Pistol, Wally Nightingale, Steve Jones & Paul Cook’s schoolmate who actually put the initial pre-Pistols band together as a trio & provided the classy rehearsal space (“Riverside” studios in Hammersmith, London, where the boys could sneak in since Wally’s dad worked there as an electrician) but got the boot because Malcolm McLaren had decided he didn’t fit the image he had envisioned for the band, being the geeky & uncool kid with the ‘old man’s glasses’. He was completely erased from the Pistols history in a heartbeat, as though he had never existed and the rest is known R’n’R history.

Wally’s story remains a fairytale gone bad, one in which the dishonest get all the glory while the good guy is left with bollocks, and Ron’s book is so rich in first-hand feedback and so well written that sometimes it’s hard not to actually see the narrative played in your head as a scene from a movie that hasn’t been filmed yet. Like the heartbreaking part where Wally’s pals come to his parents’ house, after he was ousted from his own band, to get all the gear that he kept in his bedroom: guitars, acoustics, amps, saxophones, foot controls and harmonicas that had been nicked throughout the band’s lifespan. Wally had been gutted but he managed to keep it all in with dignity (he was such a lovely bloke that he even went for a drink with his ‘former’ bandmates that same night after he got the axe) and when they came with a van to move the gear, he dutifully even helped them to unplug and pack everything up, carefully putting everything in their cases, while his mum and dad silently stood in the hallway, till his mum broke into tears and had to be hurried into the living room while shouting that they owed Wally:

“I could hear her crying as I went back upstairs to say goodbye to Wally. His bedroom door was ajar and I looked through the gap. All I could see was that second-hand Les Pau copy he’d bought in order to start the band sitting on its stand, and Wally sitting on his bed crying”, says his schoolmate Steve Hayes.

Needless to say that the late Wally Nightingale is my all-time favorite R’n’R anti-hero, the most underrated figure in the entire history of punk & the undisputed champion of punk rock underdogs, and Ron Evans, his younger schoolmate/neighbor/friend/bandmate in Key West -the band Wally Nightingale played after the Sex Pistols- has done an excellent job in documenting Wally’s tragic path to self-destruction. You can order the book from his site: https://www.ronevans.rocks/, as well as his cool music, which you can also enjoy on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/1z5w6O0737uoAZutq48mrn

[venomizedstar]

Now its Chayanne's time! I tried my best but sadly the egg I know the most its Richas bc I'm Brazilian. If you think something is wrong PLEASE tell me!

Chayanne's Origin is Chef! His Class I choose Combatant, with the Field Commander Path.

Since 1 is the limit for Força (Strength) and Vigor for kids, he has 1 in both. He also have 2 in Agilidade (Agility) and 2 in Intelecto (Intellect).

I kinda changed one of the skills so yeah, its different from the screenshot

His skills are:

Stealth (Furtividade): All the kids are ignored by most paranormal creatures, and also they're small so they can hide easly;

Initiative (Iniciativa): He prefers to face the danger and finish before anything hurts the people he loves;

Perception (Percepção): When he think he needs, he try to pau attention to everything around him;

Profession [Chef] (Profissão [Cozinheiro]): Since he was rescued he demonstrated loving to cook, his adoptive parents from the Order, Missa and Philza, both seems to incentive him;

Intimidation (Intimidação): He can be really scary to some of the agents who don't know him very well, and he likes that;

Fight (Luta) and Reflex (Reflexo): Two skills he trained when taking classes with other agents to become a good Combatant!