anonymous asked:

Tumblr use Puppyinaboxblog said "Self care is blasting Sincerely Me and Two Player Game at the same time". Try that when you don't feel good. If that doesn't work, please remember you're one of the best things to ever walk this planet! I feel very grateful to have you around

aw this is cute haha. thank you :’)

anonymous asked:

Tom/Voldemort seducing Harry with Parseltongue

idk what you mean by Tom/Voldemort so i’m gonna do both lol… 

also, i don’t write this type of stuff but i’m willing to give it a try.. hope it doesn’t end up being absolutely awful and cringe worthy haha.


  Warning: light smut


A familiar voice spoke that Harry was sure he heard somewhere before, but in his unconscious state, could not pin point exactly where, when and from who. 

Harry Potter

The hiss of the words seemed to drowned Harry in what felt like warmth, promises of pleasure - of ecstasy Harry never knew existed. The voice had buried it self deep in between awareness and complete oblivion. 

Harry hadn’t felt this relaxed if what feels like forever, especially since the hunt for the remaining horcrux’s began. In the darkness of his dreamless state, he felt two pairs of hands begin to run fingers through his hair and down his clothed chest. 

Oddly enough, rather than bringing discomfort to Harry, it felt safe. It felt undeniably wonderful. Harry knew, somewhere deep down in his subconscious, that he should resist. But how could Harry simply deny such sweet promises?

Open your eyes, Harry. Look at us.

The two voices so smooth and different but yet so similar. Harry’s eyes opened, only to see nothing but darkness, as he shuddered with pleasure at the sound of the silky voice speaking to him in what he now recognized as parseltongue. Parseltongue

How could he have been so oblivious? Harry tugged his mind for some sort of memory, but the presences in his mind only cooed and coaxed him away from trying to recognize the source with a gentle ease, that in truth, should have worried Harry. Harry’s mind began to think about the lessons he’d learned from watching memory after memory of the young, handsome Tom Riddle. 

Harry immediately froze, the warm, fuzzy pleasure, suddenly turned scalding. It felt as if his flesh was being torn through like nothing but cheap wrapping paper.


He was a complete idiot - how could he have not recognized their voices? After facing Voldemort over and over again, and his lessons with Dumbledore, listening to the young Tom Riddle’s voice charm students and teachers alike, could he have not recognized that voice?

He heard two soft laughs, and a cold, smooth hand caress his cheek. This sensation brought on an unwanted, pleasurable, shudder run down his spine. 

Harry screwed his eyes shut and clutched the sheets of his bunk in his hands, trying to find a sense of grounding. To the the fact that he was so fucking aroused that it was bordering the line of being painful. 

One cold hand dipped down to grip Harry through his trousers, while the other rested just above his left hip. The other set of hands ran up and down his torso, the cold, tingly feeling sending sparks of pleasure through his body. 

Please, Harry hissed, please

The pleasure that he was feeling was too much, he ached and silently pleaded for a way to release. To escape this euphoric trap he seemed to have gotten stuck in. He wanted a release so bad, so he could get away from this humiliation of… fantasizing of his enemy. 

Do you like us touching you, Harry? Do you like us speaking to you like this?

Harry opened his eyes and looked down to see an older looking Tom Riddle straddling his thighs, his mouth pulled back in an attractive smirk. 

Yes, Harry hissed, yes yes yes

The feeling of Tom gripping him harder made Harry buck his hips, thrusting towards Tom, desperate for more more more.

When Harry looked up, he saw the snake like face of Voldemort, before the man brought his cold hand up and tilted Harry’s head to the side to gain access to his neck. Voldemort, at first, place soft, cool kisses to Harry’s hot skin. Harry winced as he felt a sharp nip from Voldemort as he left his mark on Harry’s neck. 

 The harsh sucking on his neck, and Tom’s cold hand slipping into Harry’s trousers, taking a hold of him, made Harry’s eyes roll back slightly at the pleasure. 

Harry groaned as the sensation intensified, and could not help the sounds of pleasure escaping him. Harry felt his cheeks burn with a blush as his slight embarrassment was furthered by the two men chuckling above him.

Doesn’t this feel pleasurable, Harry? Voldemort hissed into his ear, before continuing his assault on Harry’s neck. We could make you feel this way forever if you would stop running and let us.

Harry let out a sob as the pleasure from the sensations of both Tom and Voldemort speaking to him in parseltongue and touching him, were making him feel made him shudder. 

In Harry’s pleasure clouded mind, Voldemort’s offer didn’t seem too bad if Tom and himself could make Harry feel like this all the time. Make Harry feel so good all the time.

You look so pretty like this, love. Withering beneath us like this. Tom hissed, It is truly a magnificent sight to see, isn’t is Voldemort?

Harry’s breath hitched, 

Yessss, Voldemort pulled back from Harry’s neck and pressed his lips to Harry’s as Harry felt himself release. Yes, Tom. This sight is truly something beautiful to see. 

The two men stopped their movements on Harry as he gasped for the air he lost, feeling contempt with the mess they made of the pretty Boy Who Lived. 

Until next time, Harry.

Then, before Harry could say anything, he woke up.

“You alright, mate?” Ron asked, “Got us worried, you were whimpering in your sleep.”

Made with Instagram

im still losing it over the ladies and tary opening a bakery because like

on talks, brian asked if the characters had any hobbies their were pursuing in the year and ashley and laura immediately went “baking! we’re opening a bakery!!!”

but at the time i was just like haha aw cute joke where’s the au where pike and vex actually open a bakery tho

and then thursday comes around and not only did pike and vex actually open a bakery in whitestone, they co-own it with keyleth and tary and they named it the slayers cake

not the lost princess

because somebody said “write it” when i said this.


“I’m not the princess,” Liza told the first man who informed her, shocked, how she had the green eyes of the royal family and hair as dark as the late queen’s. She had been joking, of course, pretending to take him seriously as she counted out his change. No one had accused her of being the princess in the first place. Princess Aliara, the last of the royal line of Adamar, had drowned in the Silver Sea ten summers ago. Everyone knew that.


“I’m not the princess,” Liza told the old woman, the princess’s childhood nurse, who clutched her hands to her chest the moment she fell off her horse in the castle courtyard. She didn’t want any more confusion than there already was.

There were silver streaks in the woman’s hair and tears in her eyes. “It’s you,” she repeated, as if she hadn’t heard.

“No,” Liza explained, already impatient. “It’s not me. I’m not her.” It was what she had told the royal minister who had been fetched by the man in the shop last week at least seven times by now, but he’d insisted that the other royal ministers had to see her, had to see if she was real, and wouldn’t leave the shop.

“I’m real,” she’d said. “Really annoyed.”

The man’s eyes had filled with tears. That seemed to be happening a lot around her recently. “You sounds just like you did when you were little.”

Liza threw up her hands and told anyone who would listen that this man hadn’t known her when she was a little girl growing up in a costal town far away, but finding out she had lived in some proximity to the Silver Sea only sent everyone into more of a frenzy. In the end she agreed to come, if only because the royal minster would take care of the cost, and the capital city had a real library to visit.

“I’m not the princess, though,” she reminded all the minister’s servants when they bobbed curtsies to her. “Just to be clear.”


“I’m not the princess,” Liza told Kara, the girl who had claimed the right to interrogate her first. She was the lost princess’s best friend, or something, and she’d said she was the only one who could possibly tell if this so-called princess was an impostor.

Kara scoffed, hands on her hips and her eyes mistrustful. “Of course you’re not, kid. No one who claims to be Liara is. She’s dead.” But her voice sounded a little more uncertain with each word as she looked Liza over. “So what’s your excuse? What’s your made up story for how you’ve suddenly regained your lost memory and remembered you’re a princess, or whatever?”

Liza glanced around at all the court watching her, still bewildered as to how she was being interrogated as a possible impostor when she’d never claimed to be anyone in the first place, and finally repeated what she’d been saying all day. “My name is Liza. I’m a baker. My parents were bakers before they died. They were not the king and queen. I am not the princess. Can I go to the library now?”

The room filled with deliberating murmurs rather than answers, and Liza leaned back in her seat with a groan.


“I’ll give you credit,” Kara said, sounding as if she’d rather do anything else, “you really do look like her.”

“I’m not her,” Liza said, as if repeating it for the hundredth time would make Kara finally believe she wasn’t trying to pretend she was. As if saying it a thousand more times would make half the royal ministers stop thinking she really was.

She wasn’t allowed to go home, not until they’d come to a consensus on her princess-related status. “I’m a prisoner,” she yelled at Alder, the most annoying of the ministers.

“You’re home,” he’d responded fondly, and she’d screamed in a very un-princesslike manner and gone to find Kara, who at least wouldn’t keep asking her if she remember so-and-so-’s name, or how she had tripped on that step and sprained her ankle when she was six.

“When I was six I was frolicking happily on a beach somewhere on the southern coast,” she told Kara crankily. “Not cooped up in this castle.”

Kara laughed derisively. “Oh, honey. Liara’s ship sank near the eastern coast. You don’t even have your story straight.”

But despite Kara’s firm belief that Liza was a liar and a pretender, Liza sensed that her laughter was becoming warmer, and she directed more snide comments at the ministers than she did at Liza. Perhaps, Liza even dared to think, Kara was starting to like her.

Kara noticed that she was being stared at, and half-smiled back. “Don’t be offended. You’re almost as bad of a liar as she was, too. That’s actually a point in your favor.”

Liza rolled her eyes and tugged at Kara’s sleeve to pull her closer. “Show me the way to the library again. I get lost in the halls every time I try to go without you.”

“They say true royalty isn’t capable of being lost in the royal palace.”

“Tell that to the ministers.”


“I’m not the princess,” she said automatically, before she’d processed the boy standing in front of her. He was supposed to be the princess’s illegitimately-born cousin, or something. One way or another, he was one of those next in line for the throne if the princess did not magically turn up sometime soon (which she wouldn’t, because she was dead).

“He’d do a rotten job,” Kara had said, curling her lip, when they’d seen him march through the front hall from their little alcove in the balcony. “He can’t be king.”

“Why do you care?” Liza asked, trying to sneak a peak at Kara’s cards.

She pulled her cards away and whacked Liza’s arm lightly with them. “I’m engaged to the throne, silly. The real princess would know that.” But that last sentence was an afterthought. She’d almost entirely stopped accusing Liza of pretending, recently. “And I won’t marry Henry. He makes fun of anyone once their back is turned, and he spreads rumors about whatever he likes, and once he kicked Liara’s puppy because it was in his way.”

“That sounds like an exaggeration.”

Kara shook her head, looking almost grim. This clearly wasn’t one of her jokes. “No. Liara was so angry she threw her shoe at him. Hit him in the head, hard. He was bleeding. It was a big scandal that she would hurt her own cousin, everyone rushed to cover it up with a story about how he fell and hit his head.”

“I take it they didn’t get along?” Now she was worried. If Henry wanted to be king, what would he do to Liara? What would he do to her, if he believed she was the princess? “Is he dangerous?”

“Don’t worry, Liza. I’ll protect you.” She was kidding, her brown eyes soft, but Liza felt a little safer anyway.


“I know you’re not,” Henry sneered, and walked past her.

Kara gripped her hand, which was all that kept Liza from running after him to yell about just how many people were pretty sure she was, and how he was a rude, terrible person who would never marry Kara because she wouldn’t allow it, and how someone who kicked puppies was not fit to look at the throne, let alone sit in it, and how, also, he smelled.

He didn’t, but it would have been nice to tell him that. She almost didn’t let Kara pull her away.


“I’m not the princess,” Liza said when Alder asked yet again for another retelling of how she’d come to be a baker in a small town far from the castle. She was too tired to go through it again, too frustrated with all these dithering people too scared of having to work out the convoluted succession of a throne that had no obvious heir to accept that their princess wasn’t there to solve the problem.

She was not, however, too tired to notice Henry’s small victorious smile as he sat in the back of the room and listened. Everyone knew that the one year in which the royal throne could remain empty in the wake of the king and queen’s deaths was drawing to a close. An heir would have to be announced soon.

If it wasn’t Aliara— wasn’t Liza— it was almost certainly Henry.

After the horrible, boring meeting was over, she found Kara in the library and bunched up next to her in the window seat too small for two people. “Tell me about the princess,” she said, and Kara complied, because they were both coming to wish, like the ministers, that she was there.


One year after the queen of Adamar had passed away with her daughter’s name on her lips, the royal ministers met in the throne room. Liza had denied being the princess to the very last. There was nothing else for it but to declare the heir to the kingdom.

Henry hadn’t stopped smirking since he’d received the message asking him to attend that morning. Kara watched him with a blank face but a sick stomach, thinking how she would never sit on a throne next to his— thinking about running away, grabbing Liza’s hand and running with her back to the beach far from where the princess had died.

It wasn’t fantasy. It was a concrete plan. She had the horses waiting. She felt herself calming as Alder called everyone to attention, knowing that even if they could do nothing for Adamar once Henry was king, at least they could do this.

And then Aliara walked into the room.

No, she glided into the room. She swept in so like a ghost that half the company spooked or flinched, but she was very, very real. She had the green eyes of the royal lineage. She had dark hair braided over her shoulder the exact way the queen used to wear it. She had a smile that was almost, almost smug.

“Please,” Liza said, sweeping a curtsey and lifting her eyes to the sunlight falling through the high glass windows as if she could look any more perfectly innocent. “I must beg your forgiveness. I have been a coward to insist for so long that I could not remember my childhood here, when I have never forgotten my true self. I thought I could bear the shame of never coming forward. I even convinced myself it would be better for Adamar to have my dear cousin as king.” She pressed a hand over her heart. “I’m sorry, Henry, for pretending not to know you, and almost letting this burden fall on your shoulders. But I have seen the light in time. I am here, Alder. I am the princess.”

Henry went pale with fury, meeting her halfway across the wide floor of the throne room and catching her arm so she could not approach the throne.

“Don’t you dare,” he snarled. “We both know you’re a liar. Everyone else will soon realize to. Don’t bother trying to pull it off.”

She yanked her arm back so hard that he was almost unbalanced and fixed him with a glare that had no princess in it and all of the fire she used to pump in her huge ovens at the bakery. “Don’t cross me, cousin. Or do you need me to throw another shoe at your head?”

He faltered just long enough for her to walk past, head held high, and up to the dais. “Come here with the crown, Alder. Careful on the steps. I tripped on them when I was six, you know.”

“Y-yes, princess,” Alder said, hastily coming forward.

She raised an eyebrow, indicating with one hand that there was no one else on the dais with her. “I’m not the princess. I’m the queen.”


“I’m sorry,” she told Kara, late that night. It had been a very long day, and her head ached from the weight of the crown, and she only wanted to go to sleep, and she didn’t know if Kara was angry, and didn’t want her to be.

“I’m the one who needs to apologize,” Kara said, stepping closer, reaching out for her hands.


“For my false accusations over the past year, of course,” she said with a straight face. “I don’t know how I didn’t recognize you from the beginning.”

“The princess,” the new queen said, unable to figure out full sentences as Kara pulled them closer together, gently pushing strands of her hair back.

“My princess.”

“Yes,” the baker-princess-queen sighed. “That.”

findmgc  asked:

Can you do the early morning kiss or the distracting kiss for nalu? I nearly died when you reblogged the post, you're such an amazing writer x

Aw thanks haha! I didn’t even reblog for prompts but it somehow happened so I guess I’ll roll with it. :D I’ll do the distraction hehe

9. Distracting Kiss - When you are competing, maybe playing video games or something so you press kisses anywhere available; arms, nose, knees, ears, knuckles, temple, just anywhere to distract them.

“Oh, that looks great!” Lucy eyed the meal in front of Natsu with a look that would have melted most men. Her intent was clear.

…to everyone but Natsu. 

“Yeah,” he agreed enthusiastically, holding his fork like a spear as he brought it down with murderous appetite. “Really good.” 

He grinned at her, chewing happily. Lucy swallowed hard, desperation in her eyes. She wasn’t sure if he was hoarding his food or if he simply was that oblivious. The guy had no manners! 

“Natsu,” she tried again, but her plea was drowned out by his slurping. 

Lucy did the only thing that was left to do. Hard times called for hard measures.

She yanked his head up from his plate, pulling him towards her by his scarf as her free hand snuck along the table. When her fingers touched the plate she kissed him, smack on the saucy mouth. Natsu yelped, but it was far from him to protest. Any kiss was a good kiss. 

It was only when she released him, and he grinned lamely at her, that he suddenly realized the plate had moved across the table. Lucy gave him her sweetest smile as she lifted a forkful to her mouth, and his mouth opened in protest. 


“Thanks for your consideration,” Lucy piped, closing her eyes in delight as she tasted the food. It was even better than it looked. 

“Thief,” Natsu hissed, but then added with a little grin, “Your loss, though.”

“Huh?” Lucy cocked her head. 

Mira came up behind her and set down a fresh, steaming portion on the table – in front of Natsu.

“I already ordered you food,” he said innocently, ”But since you’re already eating my leftovers…” A devious grin split his face as he grabbed the new fork. 

Lucy rolled her eyes and smiled at him. He really was sweet, wasn’t he? He’d thought of her from the start, only in larger ways than she had anticipated.

He could keep his food. And she’d keep his. And him.