so i know how to make knots

“make the princess speak and you will have the crown of kings.”

my knees hurt, as usual, from scrubbing. technically i’m too high of Maid Station to help out with these things, but i like seeing what happens when you clean. the development of things. how a lot of effort can make something. i like learning and trying and working hard to get towards something.

and i’ve seen them, from the back of pillars, from behind cracked doors, from beside her (on the best days) the way they talk to her. oh beautiful won’t you just look at me. oh darling. if you speak i’ll be your prince. if you speak i’ll be your king. 

the princess, i know, finds the lines of suitors boring. it’s in the way her hands are always moving. she hides yawns, leaves early, we make her apologies. once, a man comes and tries to startle her into screaming. she rolls her eyes and looks directly at me. i have to hide my smile behind my sleeve. he is taken away while still screaming.

by accident, i find her once, crying. when we imagine princesses, they always cry daintily. hers is hoarse, angry, and something in it breaks me. in my station i should apologize and bow and leave. instead i am frozen, watching her shoulders heaving.

she looks up and spots me, her cheeks ruddy. i know i should go but instead i make a big show. i act as one of her princes. i make grand gestures and speak in deep voices. i frantically offer her handkerchiefs and trip over my own two feet. a smile crawls up over her, slowly. i dab my sweat away and offer her the used rag. i feign a fluster, turn a terrible cartwheel, make shadow puppets. the sound of her laugh, raw and rusty, sends shivers through me.

for a while, i do not see her after this. but then i am called to her chambers. she is crying again. i offer silly gifts, pebbles and dusting rags and a candlestick from her own kitchen, pretend to steal it, use it as a hat, rock it as a babe. she laughs more easily this time, gladly, and when she laughs i am taken by more important maids, thereby officially Excused.

it goes like this for months. the winter comes. i rarely see her. i spend my week thinking about ways to please her. i knick interesting cookies, show her shiny buttons, learn to cartwheel in a full skirt, and then promptly how to make it look foolish again. i learn how to juggle hot bread and dance as a man would, i learn how to balance on a ball and how to fall down without hurting myself, how to fake a fight with my own body, which colors she likes and which don’t please her.

i show up on a cold eve with a knotted line of scarves hidden down my sleeve, worried and breathless, wondering why she’s been crying. the door opens and she is sitting there, happy. at first i’m confused, but she waves me in. next to her is her small dessert, in two containers. i’m not sure how to respond, so i fake a fall to hear her laugh, and then sit at her feet. she gives me ice cream - so rare a treat. i know what went into making it - the hours of shaking. it’s smooth and tasty. i don’t feign my reaction, but she laughs anyway, kindly. 

it goes like this. i see her more frequently. she likes giving me new things, watching me discover i hate kiwi and love oranges and would die if it made her laugh breathlessly. i’ve made her keel over with cackling and she’s put a fire in me. sometimes we just sit there, quietly, enjoying each other’s company. 

it’s in her hands, always moving. little things i thought were just her, fidgeting. here’s how she says she’s thirsty, this is what her hands do when she needs a second to think, here’s how she shows she’s happy. this is how i learn to speak back to her. around her i spend much of my time smiling. i feel every visit is a gift. a new part to unravel. i find out she doesn’t respond to spoken things, that she needs to be looking in order to know you were speaking. sometimes she has me talk and she holds her hands to the base of my throat, her eyes wide and wondering. sometimes she just looks at me and i forget that i’m her jester in chief. i get caught up in her eyes, in how expressive they are when she’s happy, in how when she’s sad i feel like i’m drowning.

i never see the king or queen, but i know when she’s had a visit with them, because she never comes back happy. two winters i have known her, two winters and now we dine frequently. i am often called to stand beside her, to whisper translations of her desires into the ears of someone more important than i, someone who gets to be the voice of royalty. i can’t decide if i’m her friend or her plaything, but i don’t know i care much of the distinction. every moment i’m near her is a moment free of friction. i take stock of suitors and curtsy to them in daylight only to mock them in the candle’s eye later.

she asks me one night to stay. it has been a bad day. it’s completely not okay. i cannot say no but i cannot, by my station, stay. but she begs with her eyes and her hands and i know i’ll take the punishment. 

we lie beside each other. i make sure to turn to her when i speak. in the dark she can’t see me, so i move my hands in the way i’m learning. she asks if i am ever lonely. i cannot tell her that i am always lonely without her beside me, so instead i say i think all people are very lonely and just are pretending. she laughs a little at that and says she thinks her parents are the two most lonely people that ever met. her mother was like her; broke a fairy curse and talked, just once, although nobody knows what she said. well, excepting her father, who was the only one around, and who won her hand in marriage.

from her mother she learned the art of hands, of speaking without words - from her father she learned that who she was included a curse. that she just wanted someone who would make her open like a rose - someone who could fix her. how she stared out into the royal garden and wished on flowers to be what her kingdom needs.

she fell asleep pressed against me. i couldn’t breathe. i was still awake in the morning. 

the punishment never came. we spent nights like this. the handmaidens had grown to know me. whenever their princess was stubborn, i worked magic and made her lovely.

it was a terrible thing. i did too good a job, i think. the princess glowed too much or shone too brightly - or at least, i saw it that way, so who knows what the truth is. every day it felt like we were being rushed with princes. 

her father’s temper at hosting failed. it was the day before her twenty-first birthday and first time i’d ever seen him. he stormed in at the end of the session. “just speak!” he said, “it’s not that hard! do for others what your mother did!” 

“tomorrow is your last day of this,” he warned her, “either you pick a prince or i pick for you. i’m done with it.”

he stormed off. she was left shellshocked and trembling. that night she didn’t ask me to come, but i waited outside, just in case she changed her mind. i understood why she needed space. either she’d speak and be married tomorrow or she’d be married shortly. i heard her crying and it took everything in my power not to rush in and hold her, cradle her gently. but i cannot come into a room of a royal person without being invited. i stayed there, tears in my own eyes, thinking of treason.

the next day was a huge festival. what had been a birthday celebration was turned into a day about princes. i watched her shake her head. i tried to cheer her up. i tried everything. i frequently came inches from causing public humiliation, toed the line of mocking and failing to acknowledge my station. she wouldn’t smile. not once. not even for anything.

the day was long. the bonfire wore down. i watched her crumple into herself. i was out of ideas. i knelt at her feet. her eyes barely looked at me. just wait, i said to her with my hands, i’ll be right back. i took off running.

the price of stealing is losing my hands. these things that i spoke to her with. these things that mattered so much to me, that helped with my comedy and cleaning. 

i didn’t think of them. i bloodied my fingers when i ripped the royal roses from their stems. and then i ran, as fast as i could, back to her feet. i picked them to show you, i said, as she gasped, looking at my treason, they’re beautiful and nobody told them to open to reveal their secrets to the bees. they are unbroken. as you are. as you always will be. 

she fell off her throne and for a second i was beyond speaking, worried something had happened, or she’d fainted, or i’d said the wrong thing. but then she was on her knees, her arms around me, and i heard it. i heard the soft croak of her speaking. just one word, and it sent shivers down me. my name, in her voice, awkward and unwieldy, but full of love and passion, burning fire through me.

i felt a hand on my shoulder. i was pulled away from her. they already had me in handcuffs while i struggled to get back to her, to tell her i loved her, to beg her to run off with me or maybe just hold me around her, maybe just have her for a moment, because i couldn’t live without her for a moment longer.

they put me in the cells. i rotted in there, for a while or for no time at all, i’m not sure. the thorns scarred my palms. i watched the scabs build up and flake off. every time someone came down, i flinched, wondering if i would be the next to be taken and chopped into bits.

but one day the light was different. not the smoky torch of the jailer, instead a bright light in a lantern. at first when i saw her, my breath caught in my throat, mistaking her for my princess.

but she was my queen. at first we stood in silence. and slowly, i moved my hands to speak. is she married? is what came out, even though i should be more worried about me myself and me.

she is not. she bit her father on the arm when he tried to make her. then she fought him. and then ran away. it took us a bit to find her, i’m afraid. she threatened her own life and the life of everyone in this place. the queen was smiling. i was told there was a young woman who could make the princess speak, whom she would die to save, who brought roses to her feet. someone in a cell, rotting. are you her?

the memory of her voice rang through me. i’m she.

yes, her hands said, for even now, aren’t you speaking to the silent Queen?

she opened the door. come, she said, let’s get you cleaned up for the ceremony.

the crown of kings. when she wraps her arms around my neck and laughs next to me, i am royalty. when she smiles or makes a joke or asks to see my cartwheel again, i’m lost in her. i kiss her whenever i can, which is often. we have roses in a vase at the base of our bed, and for all of the kingdom, i’d give my hands if it would keep her laughing.

the next time she spoke was just once, at our wedding, where she said the two words i do to bind us for eternity. she had learned from me, from holding her hands over my voicebox, the way i learned from her how to use hands to speak. sometimes at night she says my name, just because she likes what it does to me.

i’m more blessed than a king. every day i spend with her is a day i spend happily. 

“i was on bored til u called her hair weird” they said.

i love how on tumblr you can see one word you don’t understand and react only to it 

That’s what i meant, when i said her hair is weird. Her hair doesn’t look perfect 100% of the time, and that’s what makes her hair actually perfect. 
I have a lot of time *cough*thanks to procrastination*cough*, so i brought the examples!

HER HAIR KNOWS HOW GRAVITY WORKS!!!

Her hair doesn’t have the perfect volume all the time, like disney princesses usually have, and that’s so great because after you get into the water you’ll never have that perfect volume! 

And yes! After you go into the water to catch your chicken, your knot will unplait!!!! 

And after the wave hit her she actually had to put them away! 

Annnnd that’s what i call weird hair! Look at her she doesn’t look like a barbie, she looks like a person who went thROUGH THE STORM!

AND AGAIN HELLO GRAVITY!!!!!

A lil bonus: the way she puts her hair away. She doesn’t make the perfect look just by putting it away with one hand, because it’s not how it works.

And yes knots don’t appear on her head from nowhere. She actually has to do her hair!

Bonus: look at this lil strand of her hair that doesn’t go into the bun! 

AND YES SHE HAS TO PUT IT AWAY!


When i call Moana’s hair weird, I’m not saying it’s ugly or something. I’m saying it’s natural. Because people’s hair usually looks weird. And that’s absolutely perfect.

OK, but please consider Trans Spiderman

- That scene in “Civil War” where Peter insists on being called “Spiderman”; not “Spiderling”, or “The Human Spider” (like Tony teased), but “SpiderMAN”

- Tony knows immediately, but doesn’t let Peter know that he knows. Just every once in a while, when Peter finds that he’s low on cash for new binders or hormone treatments, he’ll look in his account and find that a good sum of money has been transferred to him from the Stark account

- Also Tony is more than willing to provide the money needed when or if Peter decides to get top surgery

- Happy is clueless at first. He knows that the new kid is hiding something, but he doesn’t know what exactly. Once Happy confronts Peter about it and Peter tells him Happy is immediately supportive and he instantly sends out a mass email to everyone in Stark industries saying that anyone disrespecting Peter’s gender (or really anyone’s for that matter) will be immediately fired, and he insists on escorting Peter to any Pride marches that he decides to take part in, and he basically vows to go toe-to-toe with anyone who is transphobic towards his spider godson

- Aunt May of course knows (she was one of the first people Peter came out to), and she is more than happy to help her nephew with anything he needs to feel more at home with his gender. Needless to say the night he came home asking her for help with getting ready for homecoming her mind was instantly running a mile a minute with “Oh my god this is it this is the day my little boy is becoming a man oh my god he’s come so far I need to do whatever I can to make sure this night goes perfect I’ll tell him how to slow dance and I’ll get him a corsage for his date and oh shit he’s gonna want to wear a tie with his suit fuck I don’t know how to do a windsor knot Youtube help me”

- Bruh, that scene where Peter is interrogating that one guy and the dude is like “What’s wrong with your voice? I know what a girl sounds like”, and Peter immediately gets upset, yelling “I’M NOT A GIRL I’M A BOY!”


Please feel free to add on with anymore supporting evidence or headcanons

The Package.

Pairing : Sam x Reader
Word count : 2,550
Author : Mel (Now @fictionalabyss )
Warnings : Knotting, Smut, Dom/Sub, A/B/O Roleplay, pinch of praise kink, mention of breeding kink
Square filled : Knotting
Written for @spnkinkbingo

SPN KINK BINGO MASTERLIST



“Hey, Y/N?” Your door opened and you panicked, slamming the laptop shut. “.. What are you up to?”

“Nothing.” You were quick to answer. Maybe too quick.

His eyes moved down to your lap, his eyebrow raising, and a smirk beginning to show. “Your hand says otherwise.” His eyes went back up to meet yours as you quickly pulled your hand out of your pants.

Your cheeks went bright red. “W-what do you need?”

Keep reading

Yarn Magic

Hello everyone! Now I know a lot of spoonies, and a lot of witches who either knit, crochet or sew. These activities suit both groups: for spoonies they offer a creative output without having to spend too much energy, and for witches they’re a really easy way to practise magic daily. So yarn/knot magic is perfect for spoonie witches!

This year (2017) I am crocheting a square each day, and making these into a massive blanket. I am choosing the colours of each square based on each day, how I felt, or magical colour correspondences I want to instil. 

As I crochet, I set my intention for the blanket within each stitch- for me these include protection, comfort and safety. Other ways to add magic include adding strands of your hair or the hair of a loved one into the blanket to add extra protection (this often happens by accident for me as my hair sheds everywhere!), or you can crochet with the colours specific to your intentions.

My colour correspondences are: 

  • white: cleansing and purity
  • black: protection and binding 
  • red: strength and passion
  • pink: love and harmony
  • orange: courage and comfort
  • yellow: communication and self love
  • green: fertility and wellness
  • dark blue: dreams and psychic abilities
  • light blue: joy and new beginnings
  • violet: divination and inspiration 
  • purple: authority and power
  • grey: neutrality and secrets
  • brown: the home and grounding 
  • silver: intuition and reflection
  • gold: prosperity and luck 

Happy Witch Crafting everyone! (see what I did there? good pun)

Emily xo

Rainy’s Wind Charm Tutorial

By Rainy-Day-Witchcraft

Originally posted by words-warsandsymphonies

    In the lore and history of weather witchery, it was common of weather witches to create and sell knotted rope charms to sailors, as it was believed these charms would help enchant the wind in the ship’s favor. These charms were made by venturing to a high-windswept place, and tying certain sailers knots into rope to capture the wind while imbuing them with magick ~ sometimes multiple knots were tied, meant to contain winds of different strengths.

   While reading about these wind charms, I was inspired to write a more modern project tutorial on how to make such a charm, though mine will be a touch more decorated! These wind charms can be hung above a porch or in a window to encourage a wind to blow away storm clouds, to represent wind or air in a spell or ritual, to summon a wind (similar to wind whistling), and for any other wind-related uses you might find you need witchcraft-wise. 


 Materials:

  • Thick twine or medium rope of your choice
  • Dried lemongrass or anise
  • A branch or piece of alder, oak, or scotch broom
  • Beads, bells, small bottles, and decorative elements

 Capturing Wind

   The first step, of course, is to capture the wind using knot magick ~ The knotted rope will serve as the base of the wind charm. You can begin with a plain rope, or make it thicker or more decorative by braiding or macrame-ing multiple smaller ropes together beforehand. This first step is the longest in the tutorial, as it will take some time to find the right conditions. Traditionally, three single knots are made in a rope ~ But for this tutorial, we are going to be knotting the rope three times, each consisting of more smaller knots, to capture and represent different buildups of wind energy - If you wish, you can replace the knots with different sailors knots, if you know how to do so. Here’s how to do this:

  • Near the top of the rope (leaving a section of 5-7 inches for hanging, depending on the length you make it), you will knot it 3 times in the same place during a day or in a place where the wind is gentle, like a breeze. As you do this, recite:

Tied of three, knots capture this breeze

Contained by my hand and quelled upon these skies

The gentle air I seize - For my swift magickal disposition

  • A few inches below the previous knot, near the middle, you will be knotting it 5 times in the same place during a day or in a place where the wind is stronger; not a breeze, yet not a strong wind ~ somewhere in the middle. As you do this, recite:

Tied of five, knots gained of brisk wind

Direct and ardent as I exert its’ energy

With my intent and by my will - Magickally intertwined

  • Near the end of the rope, leaving a few inches hanging off the end, knot the last one 7 times at the same point during a day or in a place where the wind is strong and powerful, such as during a storm or on a high ground frequented by strong winds. As you do this, recite:

Tied of seven, knotted storms of the heavens

Vigorous and powerful,

Energy of formidable wind - Seals my magick of air


(Feel free to replace my chants with your own)


 Decorating and Imbuing 

Step 1. ⌇ Between the first and second knots, and between the second and third knots, we’ll be adding herbs associated specifically with wind magick to keep your charm charged and functional. 

In the first empty length of rope, tie a bundle of dried lemongrass or dried anise - both strongly tied to the element of air. Or instead (how I made mine), get a small-ish corked bottle, and add the herbs to the bottle in smaller pieces ~ Attach the bottle into the charm - which I especially enjoy the look of! 

In the second empty length of rope below the second knot and above the third, tie in a branch or chunk of alder wood, oak wood, or a bundle of scotch broom. Again, you can break the ingredient(s) into smaller pieces and instead put them into a bottle to attach to the charm if you wish. Both alder and oak were traditionally used in making flutes, whistles, and ‘bullroarers’ for whistling up winds, and scotch broom is used in weather brooms, spells, and charms to call up winds. (Tip: scotch broom is the most connected to weather witchery out of the three, so I suggest finding a place to buy or collect some specially for this charm)


Step 2. ⌇ Now that the magickal materials are on the charm, you can decorate it however you like ~ For mine, I attached colorful glass beads and tiny bells; Other items to use connected to wind and the air element include feathers, ribbons, the colors yellow and white, and bits of shining metal or glass, etc. If you worship a deity tied to the weather, skies, or winds, a figure or symbol of them may be added.

Step 3. ⌇ Once your charm is to your liking, hang it up on a porch or in a window or doorway. On days when you don’t wish to call or whistle the wind to you, remove the charm ~ You can hang it on a wall for decoration when not in use, or just put it in a bag or box until you need it again. 

Personal note: The day I finished making mine and went to hang it in the window, I looked out my bedroom window to see a small ‘tornado’ of dust (we get them commonly in the dry seasons out here) quickly form and dispel in the backyard area nearest me!


If you have any questions or comments, you’re welcome to message me. Thank you ♡

Sweet Girl

Shoutout to @permanentcross and @stylesunchained for all the help and listening to me whine.
This is my first piece of writing, so please be nice!

-

You knew this was a bad idea. Going to Harry’s house this evening, when you know full well you’ve been slowly growing feelings for him. Feelings for your friend, one of your best friends, feelings that shouldn’t be there.

You’ve been friends for years, but now he’s around more and you’ve spent more time together, you’ve began to feel that warm tingle inside your belly whenever you see him. You have to suppress a smile whenever anyone mentions his name to you. When you see a text from him you all but scramble to pick your phone up and reply immediately. You’ve fallen for him. And that is why going back to his house, just the two of you, is a bad idea.

You’d been out that evening with a small group of friends for dinner and drinks. Catching up, laughing and sharing bottles of champagne. Time had flown by and you’d all been saying your goodbyes before you went to call a taxi.

“You can’t get a cab all the way back to yours at this time, love. It’s bloody miles away.” Harry mutters, leaning over your shoulder to see the taxi company’s number on your phone.

“Don’t have a lot of choice, do I?” You say, turning round to face him.

“Come back to mine, I’ll drive you home in the morning.” He says so casually, not knowing the feelings you’ve got festering deep inside. You feel your stomach twist into a tight knot that feels as if it could never be undone, no matter how hard you try. You want to say no, because you know spending time together alone in such close proximity would just make matters worse for you, make your feelings grow more, even though right now you don’t think that it’s possible. But you know if you say no that he’d fight it, and right now you’re too tired to fight anything alongside the internal battle you’re fighting with yourself.

“Alright then, cheers.” You politely smile, despite your hesitations, before saying your final goodbyes to your friends and go with Harry to where his driver is parked.

Keep reading

Kidnapped - James March Smut (AHS: Hotel)

Originally posted by hazelevers

part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Requested: yes!

   -Request: “Hey! I was wondering if you could do a Mr March imagine where the reader is staying at the hotel and Ms Evers kidnaps her so James can kill her but when she is laying on the bed ready to die he doesn’t because he finds her beautiful. He ‘thinks’ he loves her and she hates him so when she tries to escape he fucks her roughly and shows that she belongs to him. Please write this imagine you’re my favourite blog and it would be AMAZING as a birthday present (I’m turning 21)” -anon

Type: smut (;

Warnings: extremely dom!james, bondage (sorta)

Summary:You check into the Hotel Cortez only to then be kidnapped. However once Mr. March sees you, he can’t bear to hurt a single hair on your head, but unfortunately for him you don’t want any part of a relationship with him. But when you try to escape, Mr. March shows you that you’re his and only his. And to your surprise, you love it.

Notes: okay so i know this sounds sorta like rape but i mean this is just an imagine and obviously rape isnt okay irl but i really liked this request so i tried to make it more just domrough rather than nonconsenting?????  aNYWAY i tried to make it really hot so i hope you guys like it lol ps i went way overboard with this im sorry its so long

💀 🌼 💀 🌼 💀 🌼 💀 🌼 💀 🌼 💀

“I’d like to book a room, please,” you smiled, as you walked up to the front desk. The woman sitting there startled as you spoke, as if this was the first time in weeks that anyone had come in.

She pushed her large black glasses up the bridge of her nose and spoke. “Oh, uh, alright, for how long?”

“Just one night.”

“And your name?”

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

She scribbled your name down in the guest book and then turned around to get a room key and placed it in the palm of your hand. “You’ll be in room 63.”

“Thank you.” you replied, taking the small silver key and turning down the hallway with your bags. The hall looked eerily empty, except for a maid vigorously scrubbing at a sheet. There was a large patch of blood on it, and you thought it was kind of odd for her to be handwashing blood-stained sheets in the middle of the hallway, but you just laughed to yourself, assuming that someone’s period came early this month.

You found your room and let yourself in, before dropping your suitcase and purse on the floor. For some reason, the room felt really warm, so you pulled your jeans and shirt off before laying back on the bed to relax. Just as you’d gotten settled in, you heard a knocking at the door. “Housekeeping!”

“Shit,” you mumbled, hurriedly digging your bathrobe out of your suitcase before answering the door. As soon as you opened it, you were pushed against a wall and a cloth was pressed over your mouth. You suddenly felt extremely drowsy, and your eyelids got heavier with every blink. You could feel yourself falling, but you were too far gone by then, and didn’t feel anything when your head smacked against the corner of the coffee table.

When you finally awoke, you could feel an intense pounding on the right side of your head. You tried to reach up and touch it, but your hands wouldn’t move. You slowly opened your eyes, and saw that your wrists and ankles were tied to the bedposts. Your bathrobe was nowhere to be seen, leaving you only in your bra and underwear. Your mouth was gagged, but you screamed hoarsely, not knowing what else to do. The maid you’d seen earlier in the hallway quickly came into the room. “Goodness child, keep it down! We must wait for Mr. March!”

Mr. March? Who the hell was that?

But your question as answered soon enough, as a booming voice came from around the corner, along with some footsteps. “Mrs. Evers, did you get the next one?”

A tall man with jet black hair and a small mustache walked around in, straightening his tie.

“Ye-yes sir, she’s right here.” she responded quickly, almost like she was nervous.

He stopped walking the second he saw your face, suddenly intirigued. He slowly set down the gun he was holding and walked around to the right side of the bed and kneeled down on the floor. “Good god, you’ve injured her!”

The maid looked confused, “Oh, I’m very sorry sir, I-I didn’t think that would matter seeing as you’re planning to kill her.”

“You may leave Mrs. Evers, I no longer need your assistance with this one.”

She practically ran out of the room, muttering about how much work she still had to do.

“My sincere apologies about the wound on your head, I don’t intend to hurt you.” he said, stroking your cheek and running his hand down to your collar bone. He touched your head and you winced, still feeling a dull throb. “Did that hurt darling?”

You cautiously nodded, and his expression turned into a hard frown. “I apologize, the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you.”  He gingerly unbound you and took the gag out of your mouth.

As soon as you were released, you jumped off the bed and ran towards the door. The doorknob wouldn’t budge, and you assumed it had soemhow been blocked on the other side of the door. Just as you began to turn around to look for a new way of escape, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind. “Where do you think you’re going?” Mr. March asked, lifting you up and bringing you back to the bed. “I didn’t want you to have to be tied up, but if you’re going to try and leave then I’m afraid that’s what I’ll have to do.”

He grabbed the rope he had just unbound you from and tied your wrsits to the headboard, but left your ankles free. “Let me go you asshole!” you yelled angrily, trying to kick him.

He made a “tsk” sound and pushed your legs down to the bed. “You’re practically begging for me to completely tie you up again, is that what you want?” he mumbled. “You belong to me, you understand? You’re mine, I love you, I would never hurt you my love.”

“Like hell you love me! You don’t even know my name you fucking psycho!”

“Ah, but I do, Y/N.” he retorted, placing a finger against your jawline. He leaned down and pressed small kisses against your neck and collarbones, mumbling things like, “so beautiful,” against your skin. This was wrong, you knew it was, but you couldn’t deny that you liked the way it felt and the way it was effecting you. You let out an almost inaudible moan, and you could feel him smirking. “No.” you said quietly. “I’m not yours, and you don’t love me – you can’t love me because I hate you.”

He stopped, and looked you harshly in the eyes. He angrily stood up and reached down to unbuckle his belt. “Don’t you get it Y/N? You belong to me.”

He finished undressing faster than you would have thought posible, and clambered back onto the bed. He roughly pushed your thighs apart and quite literally ripped off your panties, and then unclipped your bra. Thankfully you’d worn one that clips in front, so it remained in tact, but stayed around your shoulders since your hands were bound above your head.

“Mm, so beautiful,” he smiled slightly, leaning down and taking one of your nipples in his mouth while roughly kneading your other breast. He left a trail of wet kisses down your stomach until he got to your pussy. James pushed your knees up and put his face down to your core. He let out a satisfied humming noise and began eating you out, gently licking your folds. His hands came to rest on your tighs as he began tongue fucking you. As much as you thought you didn’t like him, you had to admit how good it felt– you were completely at his mercy. His tongue moved back up to your clit as he shoved two fingers inside of you. “Oh,” you let out a breathy moan, and felt the restraints’ tug on your wrists when you tried to thread your fingers through his hair. His dark colored eyes flicked up at you and one of them dropped down into a wink as he continued his incredible attack on your pussy.

You could feel your climax nearing, and as you started to get louder, it signalled to him that you were close. He immediately added a third finger, stretching you just a little bit too wide, and sped up the pace of his mouth. You could feel a buzzing in the pit of your stomach, and with one final flick of his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, James had you coming undone underneath him. “Fuck, ohhh, fuck James.

He smirked and sat up, giving you a nice view of his cock, which was so hard that it was flush against his stomach. You unconciously bit your lip at the site and looked up to his face. James was still smirking at you, noticing that you were enjoying the view. “Now darling, you’re going to take my cock like a good girl, Y/N. I know you’ve just come but there’s no rest, there is no fucking rest. You’re going to take my cock and come for me again. You’re mine.”

He grabbed your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist as he slammed into you. You felt a slight discomfort since he gave you no time to adjust to his rather large size, but the pleasure soon overtook that, as the tip of his cock grazed your g-spot. James leaned down to leave his mark on your neck, sucking in various places and then peppering the area with kisses. He leaned his head into the crook of your neck, occasionally letting out things like, “Fuck, you feel so good,” and “Mm, such a good girl for me.”

You tugged at your restraints again by accident, wanting to scratch your nails down James’ back and let him know how good he was making you feel. He noticed your struggle, and looked up to your hands. “Now, if untie you, are you going to keep being my good girl or are you going to attempt to escape again?”

“I’ll - mm, fuck - I’ll be a good girl, I promise,” you whined, throwing your head back into the pillows. He briefly stopped thrusting into you and reached up to pull the knot out of the rope that was binding your wrists together. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, encouraging him to start fucking you again. James gladly obliged, but this time he leaned down and kissed you. He ran his tongue along your bottom lip, and you quickly opened your mouth to allow him entrance. Even though it was just something as simple as a kiss, it sent arousal directly to your core, and you could feel a flutterly feeling appear in your stomach.

You orgasmed fairly quickly, due to how sensitive you still were from your first. You clenched around him, and he moaned, so you did it again, and then felt him spill inside of you. You could feel some of his cum dripping out, but you honestly didn’t care, because all you could think about was how good it felt kissing him, even after he’d pulled out. James had worried that as soon as the sex was finished, you’d just try and run off again, but he figured there was nothing he could do if you did– he didn’t want to hurt you and he was too tired for more sex, so he pulled away from the kiss and rolled over so that he was laying next to you. To his surprise, you shyly cuddled up to his side, and carefully put one around around his stomach. He put his left around around your shoulders so that his hand was resting on your ass, letting you know that he was still in charge. He pulled the blankets up around the two of you so that only your shoulders were poking out the top. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and you heard Mrs. Evers come in. “Mr. March, have you finished with th-” she started, but as soon as she saw the two of you in the bed, realizing what must have happened, she placed on hand over her mouth in shock. “Oh, bother! I’ll never get that stain out!”

i hope this is sorta what you were thinking of and that you liked it, feel free to request again if you want something else lol bye !

-

request anything, requests are ALWAYS open (just tell me who you want it with (anyone from ahs) and if you want smut or fluff and what you want to happen) ! xx -l


EDIT: here are the links to PART 2, PART 3, and PART 4

Winchesterprincessbride Reads-A/B/O Edition

Everyone who knows me knows I am complete, utter A/B/O trash.  Especially Alpha! Sam.  He just does it for me in a big, BIG way. I know I often see people looking for A/B/O fic recs, so I’m gonna make some recommendations since I have read so many of them.

1.  Nice To Meet You- By @ilostmyshoe-79  -  Alpha!Sam yummyness! I have read this one so many times I can probably recite it by memory.  One of my all-time favorites. Kimmy is the bomb!

2. Claimed- By @ilostmyshoe-79 Another Kimmy masterpiece.  This one is Alpha!Dean, and another one of my all-time favorites. So I like Kimmy, so?

3. Moonlight By @cleverdame A/B/O and Daddy!Sam feels in the same story. Hells Yeah!!! This story has a sequel.  Blisteringly hot sexy times in this one! George is a Sam!girl after my own heart!

4. I Lost My Sock By @huntingandwritingthings  Who knew laundry could be so hot? It all starts when Sam’s sock end’s up in the reader’s basket.  I will never look at laundry as boring again!

5. Political Animals By yours truly, @winchesterprincessbride  It’s my list so I can put one of my own stories if I want! Alpha Sam!/Omega Reader (duh!) where they hook up in a bar and reader bails, only to cross paths later at a debate where their parents are opponents.

6. Together- By @kittenofdoomage  This is Alpha!Dean and it is angsty as all get out. But it’s Kitten, so you know it’s DAMN good! Some trigger warnings so check before you read.  

7. Starting Over By my favorite redhead, @oriona75 This is an A/B/O AU featuring Alpha! Tahmoh and Omega Reader and it’s really good! This was one of the first A/B/O’s I read and I remember thinking to myself, What the hell is a knot??? Oh how far I have come LOL!

8. Alpha looks like an Omega By one of my buddies in the A/B/O trash can, @dr-dean  This one is 12 chapters in on AO3, and it has a unique twist.  The reader is the Alpha, and DEAN is the Omega.  SO GOOD, and the spin makes it different.

9. The Arrangement By @helvonasche If you know Hel, you know she writes some damn fine smut! Sam and (OC Charlotte AKA Chuck) make an arrangement to get them through her heats and his ruts.  Dean and Donna are a couple in this also, which is a plus!

10. Of Hyacinths and Cookies By @madamelibrarian - Alpha!Sam/Omega!Jess .Even though I knew what was going to happen, I wanted the ending to be different somehow.  Knowing didn’t make it any easier.  So touching and sweet and sad.

11. Brown-eyed Girl By my pal @jotink78 AKA Sleepy Jean.  This little gem is her first attempt at A/B/O.  SJ doesn’t do smut, and you don’t even notice. It’s Alpha!Sam. (Are you guys sensing a pattern here ?? :) What happens when Sam saves an Omega from an assault and realizes he wants her for himself?

tagging @jotink78 @madamelibrarian @helvonasche @dr-dean @oriona75

@kittenofdoomage @huntingandwritingthings @cleverdame @ilostmyshoe-79

anonymous asked:

So... a/b/o one-shot idea. Y/n is an omega. Her boyfriend (maybe fionn?) Is a beta. She meets harry who is an alpha and there's instantly a lot of chemistry between them (maybe some soulmate thingy??). But y/n can't leave fionn just like that because she loves him. So harry wants to show her what she is missing so he starts "interferig" in their relationship. (At one point there could be a threesome maybe? Y/n loves them both so H as an alpha just wants to please her and ease her into it, ++

++ plus he wants her to know how an alpha can make her feel and fionn knows he cant really say no to an alpha unless he is ready for a fight).But then y/n’s heats start becoming more painful because her body knows harry is there and a beta can’t really satisfy her. So harry can’t see her in pain anymore and when her next heat comes he tells her to leave fionn already and ends up knotting her?(I LOVE KNOTTING SMUT)PLEASE I NEED THIS TO BECOME A REALITY PLEASEE NO ONE OTHER THAN U CAN PULL IT OFF!

And god, Y/N knows that she should be paying further attention to the film, that Fionn’s the bloody lead, after all, but she doesn’t think there’s any harm in putting her hand on Fionn’s thigh underneath the blanket, or for her to stare back at Harry in place of the screen.

They’re on the beach. There’s firing from overhead, and Y/N’s attention only startles back to the screen from the noise of the beach being bombed, like she’s been caught for making eye contact with Harry for too long. Harry, who smirks at Y/N knowingly.

Y/N buries herself further into Fionn’s side, for warmth and comfort, though all she’s thinking about is being fucked by an alpha and it’s gross and wrong — she shouldn’t be thinking this way about her boyfriend’s costar and, more importantly, best mate. It’s not something Y/N can control, not successfully, at least.

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Distracting

Originally posted by chevyimpalafox

Summary: Written for @roxy-davenport ‘s writing challenge based on horror movies and smut (genius idea). Enjoy!

Pairing: Alpha!Demon!Dean x Omega!reader

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: smut

A/N: Fluffy, Alpha Demon!Dean is like a big sexy teddy bear…

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9 | Tomorrow

BTS MAKNAE LINE X READER AU

WORD COUNT: 4,766

WARNINGS: SWEARING, ANGST, FEELS, ETC

masterlist | ask | prev | next


 “-Not guilty.”

Before you had time to react your mother threw her arms around your frozen frame, spinning you round to face her as she pulled you into a tight hug, happy tears flowing down her face. It went without saying that everybody was thrilled, it was exactly the outcome you’d all wanted and hoped for. The jury had ruled off the case as an accidental hit and run, meaning that there was no way you or Jimin would be going to prison. They didn’t have enough evidence against him.

Everything happened so quickly that you couldn’t remember even standing up to leave, you were truly drunk on adrenaline. It wasn’t until your dad grabbed a firm hold of your hand and started walking with you that you realised it was time to leave.
“Come on, let’s get you home.” He said, still keeping his grip tight on your hand.

As you walked down the hallway to the main exit of the building your dad came to a halt, stopping you in your tracks, his face was red with anger and his signature frown was stronger than ever.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” You asked, eyebrows knitted together in worry. But it was only seconds after that you caught a glimpse of the very person you didn’t want to see.

“Y/N… I’m so sorry.” Taehyung sighed, his face weighed with stress and anxiety, his broad shoulders hunched over in defeat as tears pricked at his large feline eyes.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it Taehyung.” Your dad spat as he shifted his weight between his legs in annoyance. “Don’t you ever think about darkening my daughters doorstep again.” He warned as he pulled you outside the building, your mother and friends in tow.
It was heartbreaking to see your father so disgusted in somebody, especially Tae, he had always liked Taehyung and treated him like his own son throughout the years. Even if though he didn’t deserve it.

Without wasting a moment of time several interviewers and cameramen swarmed to your side as you headed to the car.

“Y/N! Y/N! What are your plans now you’ve been rightfully cleared of all charges?” One young man shouted, louder than everybody else. Normally you would tell your clients to keep walking and not spare a moment for the press but there was one thing in particular you wanted to get off your chest.

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Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride [J-Hope]

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader
Genre: Fluffity fluffity fluff it’s all fluff and also bad humor
Word Count: 3320
Description: Who knew blind dates could go so RIGHT?

Author’s Note: wahey somehow all my latest fics have been hobi fics…coincidence? i think not. ANYWAYS it’s my faves birthday and i just love him so much so i avoided all my work and everything to write this i mean iw ould have avoided work anyways but whaTERVER THE POINT IS THAT I LOVE HIMA LOT A LOT A LOT i hope he has the nicest day and he knows that he is amazing and beautiful on the inside and the out and that he eats a lot of cake and gets a lot of compliments and presents..he is just so lovely..i love him sosososo much…,,,, now pls..enjoy my bad humor fic

“It’s not like I’m the bride,” you mutter, wedging your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you pick at a knot in your hair, making a face to yourself in the mirror as you feel how rough and matted your hair is. Your head is killing you, and all you want is to go back to bed, but apparently cake tasting is more important that you feeling like absolute death, and “Jesus, [Name], you knew we were going to choose a cake today, so I don’t give two shits about your stupid hangover and how you brought it on your own incompetent-at-drinking ass, but you are coming unless you want me to scream in your ear” so you’d just need to pop an aspirin (or, like, six) before you left.

“I know you’re not the bride, but I am, and I want all my bridesmaids to have a date.” You sigh, and Jiyeon tuts on the other end of the call. “Also you put yourself down with a plus one, and we’ve already set all the tables,” she whines.

You drop the length of knotted hair, and grab your hair in handfuls instead, shoving it into a messy, drooping knot, and picking up your toothbrush. “That was before my horrible, dreadful, bad breakup with my shitty, cheating, asshat of a boyfriend you, my dear, dear friend, promised to never mention, remember?

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Request 1- Meihem Marriage

She arrived at the spot overlooking Gibraltar’s cliffside, just like the note had asked her to, at the exact time it had listed, as punctual as ever.

Junkrat was waiting for her.

“I bought a tie!” The words blurted out in a sort of bark, and he cleared his throat in a rather shrill manner.

“I…noticed that!” she mused, the sides of her lips clenching in that way she did so often around him, trying not to laugh. “But traditionally you’re supposed to wear a shirt with it.”

He looked down at where the soot-stained red cloth dangled on his bare chest. “Well they didn’t specify, and I don’t like shirts much anyway! I uh…I know how to make lots of knots, but not tie knots, so Roadie did it for me. And it’s red, because I did lots of research, and in China red’s supposed to be real lucky! Then I tried to look up them zodiacs and match our birthdates like it said. But uh…I dunno my birthday, I usually just celebrate that when I feel like it. So I dunno what animal I am, and I just chose Rat, I figure that might be arright. You’re an Ox, right?” He fumbled about in his pockets, pulling out a folded Chinese restaurant placemat the zodiac animals printed in cute doe-eyed clip art, where he had drawn several arrows connecting the Rat and Ox, with both surrounded by hearts and small explosions. “It says you can’t marry Pigs, so I don’t have to worry about you and Roadie running off on me!”

Mei squinted at him, adjusting her glasses with two fingers. “I hadn’t…really planned on that? Are you asking for my help with our zodiac? Honestly, I never paid that much attention to it, but if you need help researching something or translating, of course I’ll help you. Is this for one of your projects?”

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ok more camp camp stuff because i want to be accepted into a fandom with people i actually get along with

Every show needs an apocalypse au, right????

DANIEL:
-kind of a bad person to have on your team
-very unstable, because “oh shit the gods must be displeASED FUCK”
-can use basically anything to start fires
-ritual knife or spears as weapons
-sorry boy but that white is gonna get destroyed

DAVID
-ABSOLUTELY NEEDED
-hes so positive!! thats gonna be so good for moral!!
-also v v v good at surviving
-knows how to make fern coffee
-best pine chef
-all round good kid to have on the team
-refuses to kill stuff and is waaay too trusting

MAX
-kinda shellshocked
-like his whole world is just gone
-really good at knot tying
-kills stuff but feels super guilty afterwards
-poor kid needs constant reassurance that everything’s gonna be ok
-he’s just,, poor kid.

uh i might do more i don’t know how well this is going to be received

The Sedative with A Seducing Side-Affect

Request: “Hello bean! Can I request a Kylo thing where reader is a First Order medic? Maybe Kylo is injured during one of his missions and she has to visit his private living quarters to patch him up. Bonus points if she tries to remain professional with a sedated, out of his mind shirtless Commander Ren flirting with her.”

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: mentions of needles and blood

“Why does it have to be me?” You whined for the third time. Your supervisor only continued to push you out the door, his forehead permanently wrinkled from receiving all your complaints.

“Because,” he huffed as you finally made it to the exit of the med bay, “you’re the only one who isn’t afraid of him.”

“But Kirylla does his checks ups, doesn’t she?” You couldn’t help but be insistent on not being the one to tend to the Commander. The last time you had, it had ended with you accidentally giving him the wrong medication in your flustered state. Having been his usual doctor for an entire year, you decided to hand over the task to a younger nurse who needed more training.

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Is natural hair worth the trouble?

Can I be honest with y’all for a moment? As I rubbed my nappy dry, coarse, disrespectful hair in the back of my head earlier today, I came to a realization that my natural hair has caused me a lot of stress lately AND it’s just not worth it anymore. Now I’m not talking about relapsing and going back to the creamy crack, but something’s gotta give. I spend hours washing, applying, twisting, braiding and lately, I’ve been doing A LOT of cutting. Yes. Cutting my own hair. Why you ask? Because single strand knots have been attacking the back of my frigging head.

 Have you ever just felt like you weren’t making progress with your natural hair? That’s how I’m feeling because of unexplained breakage, single strand knots, and my consistent need to cut. My hair is so uneven that when I wear it out, it feels weird. I know that comparison is the thief of joy, but I can’t help but compare my natural hair journey to that of others. There are people who’ve been natural for two years whose fro is bigger than mine will ever get if my hair keeps this up. 

I know I can’t be the only one going through this… Some people’s natural hair journey is easier than others. I’ve accepted that my hair type is challenging and my routine needs a drastic change if I want my hair to grow past my shoulders.

When I wore my hair pressed, it was healthy and longer than it’s ever been as a natural. Perhaps this is because I got it straightened once every few weeks and left it alone. I wasn’t concerned about a curl pattern or anything of the sort. I’m seriously considering silk pressing for a while to see how my hair responds. Either that or weave/wigs… Have any of you experimented with your natural hair in times of hair trouble? What did you do?

@andromedainwonderland said:

Teen Wolf-Scooby Doo, as in, the Teen Wolf crew driving around in the Jeep solving supernatural mysteries. Just me?

So I don’t know what this is, but this fic turned out to be my ARCH NEMESIS, so, you know, make of that what you will. It’s even alternating POVs, which I haven’t written in years upon years. So please appreciate how much this story wanted to kill me, and how we’re still eyeing each other with open hostility from different corners of the room.


The groundskeeper has gnarled, knotted fingers and rheumy eyes, and it takes five hundred years for him to turn the key in the rusted padlock.  The gate creaks almost as loud as his bones, and Derek flicks an ear in irritation.

“That’s a big dog you’ve got there,” he says, only mildly curious.

Stiles buries one hand in the scruff around Derek’s neck. “Not sure he is one,” Stiles says, and Derek cocks his head up at him.

Scott has the van idling behind them.

Derek takes a deep breath and sneezes. Decay, old blood, and sulfur flood his senses—he whines softly. He doesn’t have a good feeling about this.

The old house looms in front of them, stone and spires, ominous, cloaked in shadows thrown by the nearly full moon. His skin ripples under his fur, uneasy, and he tucks his tail between his legs.

“Relax,” Stiles murmurs to him. “This is easy money, right? A simple salt and burn.”

Derek huffs, knocks into Stiles’ side as he hastily turns around, and then slinks back to the van. He doesn’t like this place. He never likes haunted places, too much lingering despair that stirs up old guilt, but this house feels like it’s made out of skeleton bones, dread sits like a stone in his belly.

Lydia already has the side of the van open. He hops in, slides past Kira, and then digs into Stiles’ open duffle, buries his snout in an old t-shirt that smells a little bit like Scott, too.

“Dude,” Stiles says when he climbs in after him. “Come on.”

Derek growls, low in his throat, and Stiles backs off with a huffy, “Fine, be that way.”

The van grinds into gear and rolls forward slowly, tires bumping over the cobblestone drive, and Derek feels like his chest is caving in.

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