#vision drabble

[softaestluv]

next | mlist ✎ᝰ.ᐟ

Something, something, about the 141 men all being quite obsessed with you, placing bets who could get you first— everyone thinks it’s Kyle, he’s charming, handsome, who wouldn’t swoon at his feet?

Maybe even Johnny, he’s a bit of a dog, but he has a way with women, by some miracle, and he’s smart, maybe it’s his blue eyes.

No one thought it would be Simon, their lieutenant, of all people, anti-social, rough around every edge. A brute, curt, wears a skull.

Then one day, they get a message in the group chat from Simon, a picture attached. Kyle can’t believe it, Price, the dirty old man, saves it to his phone instantly, Johnny has to do a spit-take because there in the photo is you.

But it’s not just you.

It’s you perched on Simon’s lap.

Naked from the head down, back facing the camera, with your face buried in Simon’s neck. Simon gets a low enough angle, gets a perfect view of your pussy, stretched wide over his fat cock. Puffy and swollen, glistening with your sopping arousal.

With a simple sentence:

‘Look who I found’

[bruisedboys]

bucky barnes would absolutely read to you if you asked. like, maybe you’re too tired to read on your own, or your eyes hurt from reading too much, or maybe you just feel like listening to the sound of his voice. so you ask bucky to read aloud to you, and he jumps at the opportunity! “of course I will, doll, c’mere,” he murmurs, pulling you into him, failing to hide how honoured he is that you’ve asked.

he makes you lay down and then gets your head in his lap, holding your book open with one hand while the other plays with your hair absentmindedly. and he reads and reads until his voice gets hoarse, imitating the character’s voices to make you laugh, and pausing for suspense when something interesting is about to happen, to which you beg him to, “hurry up, bucky, you’re killing me.” he just laughs and presses a kiss to your hair before continuing.

he’d keep going forever if you wanted him to, but you drift off to sleep after a while. so he kisses your forehead and bookmarks your page, content to watch you sleep for a bit, mesmerised by the soft rise and fall of your chest <3

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

shouto’s the type to feel too far away from you when you’re not at arms length. so whenever he has homework to do he does it on his tatami floor while holding your hand. he’s unbothered too, arm not cramping or moving while he writes perfectly well (or he tries) with his other hand. when you think about your position you can’t help but laugh from your spot laying on the floor. shouto never gets what you find funny.

[bunnyyyuu]

includes: f! reader, aged up! yuuta, noncon/dubcon, rough sex, mean yuuta, dacryphilia

yuuta is kind of tired of being so sweet. he’s always been so nervous and almost too caring during your intimate nights, but he just craves more. especially when he knows how you get when he’s even a little rough.

so, of course, he’s just gonna test the waters. but, poor boy loses control and now he's in the deep end.

he’s got you folded up in the meanest mating press, his hipbones digging into your ass, but, more importantly, his cock bullying your poor cunt. he might've been a little rash—what kinda guy interrupts a relatively slow makout by practically ripping her clothes off? though, he is so obsessed with you like this that he just doesn't care.

you're sobbing. it's not a few tears of pleasure, it's fat blobs streaming down your cheeks, moans replaced with cries. it hurts. he’s slamming into your cervix relentlessly. he thinks you look absolutely beautiful—how’s he supposed to stop?

it's not his fault your salty tears make your pretty puffy cheeks glimmer in the dimness of his bedroom, that they compliment your skin so nicely. and it's certainly not his fault that, the harder you cry, the harder your pussy squeezes his aching dick.

“you're so pretty,” he mumbles.

“it feels so good, right?” he asks with a shaky smile, “so, so good, sweetie.” he’s talking to you like he’s not absolutely wrecking ur insides with an insane stamina.

you shake your head, sniffling. you’d be pushing him off you (or at least trying to get him to slow the fuck down) if he didn't have one hand digging around both your wrists.

“no?” he tilts his head in a faux innocence—now he’s just being a bitch, “your body says otherwise.”

he lets your legs fall on either side of his hips when he moves the hand he was holding them against you with the rub circles on your swollen clit. a moan, for the first time since he forced himself onto you tonight, slips from your mouth and cuts off a choked sob.

“feels awful, huh?” he almost laughs.

you’d never seen your yuuta like this. a sweet, respectful boy. maybe occasionally perverse, though it always seemed to be rooted in love and attraction to you, but this? he’s barely recognizable. he’s dirty and mean.

your clothes were all discarded sans your underwear. the cotton was rubbing against him uncomfortably. naturally he’s gotta get rid of it.

rrrrrriiiiiiiiiipppppppp! he breaks the dampened fabric with no effort at all.

“be quiet, hm?” he says it so sweetly, like yuuta. he shoves the panties into your open mouth with a grin that has to be evil. your cries and half-moans are muffled now, face scrunched up in discomfort at having to taste yourself.

“good,” he praises.

“yuuta, h-hurts,” you barely make out through the ball of fabric in your mouth.

his hips still for a moment, an expression of genuine pondering crossing his features. he knits his brows together and pinches his chin in thought. he lets his eyes wander over your form. face wet and flushed, body covered in his teeth marks and goosebumps, legs shaking like a leaf—he has his answer.

he starts up his movements again, pounding into you somehow harder. you cry out loudly, the broken sound barely even muffled. he smiles so sweetly, that smile thst you love.

“i don't care, pretty girl.”

[kittykalliarts]

For decades, the blank vision that Iudex Neuvillette wears near his heart has been subject to much discussion in Fontaine. Nobody remembers who it had once belonged to or why the ancient dragon protected it so jealously. It is said that if the Chief Justice would to stare at it for a long while, it would be sure to rain right after. Oh, how beloved that person must've been.

[jayparked]

99 Jungwon

warnings: f2l, inexperienced reader, oral (m.rec.), corruption kink

wc: 519

"you swear you've never sucked cock before?" jungwon pants, chest rising and falling quickly as he attempts to maintain some sort of composure while you deepthroat him almost too casually.

you glance up at him with large doe eyes, shaking your head slightly with the tip of his cock still between your lips. you let out a low grumble in response, making jungwon groan and stumble forward from the vibration. you let yourself gag on him, wanting him to experience the full satisfaction that he's slightly too big for your inexperienced mouth.

"fuck, could've fooled me. this mouth was made for me."

it's hard not to smile at the compliment. instead, you keep bobbing your head up and down his length, making sure to flatten your tongue alongside him as you do so. drool is pooling down the corners of your mouth and your vision is starting to get blurry from the tears, but you don't care. you've been wanting this for so long and seeing jungwon's face contort with twisted pleasure just from your ministrations is enough to have a pool of your own arousal dripping to the floor.

"i can't believe no one has had you like this before. now that i've got you like this i don't think i can let you go."

you pull away from him with a gasp, wiping the drool and precum off your face with the back of your hand. "you can have all of me if that's what you want." you look up at him excitedly, expectingly even. everything leading up to this moment has been only a tinnnyyy bit calculated by you. okay maybe a LOT. but who could blame you? you've had a crush on jungwon for as long as you could remember. but instead of confessing your feelings for your friend like a normal person, you decided to complain to him about being inexperienced. hoping, praying, that he'd take the bait and offer to show you how it's done.

easiest catch of your life. the sentence was barely out of your mouth before jungwon was eagerly offering you his swollen and needy cock.

little did you know he was actually trying to come up with a similar plan of his own.

"y-you can't just...say stuff like that...while looking at me like that," jungwon moans, hands coming forward to cusp your cheeks before moving his hips back and forth at a more steady pace.

"fuck, okay. i wanted to come down your throat but now you're making me think of...other things. has anyone been inside you before?"

he's still rocking his length in and out of your throat so all you can do is attempt to convey your answer with your eyes.

"o-okay. i have so much to teach you then. a-ahhh-," jungwon hisses as you swallow around him, "if your mouth is already this good i can only imagine what your pussy will feel like. lay on your back will you? i want to get you prepped first," he smirks, hovering over you and holding your gaze as you lie down, "it's gonna be a long night."

for part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist

[starcharmed]

phainon seems like the type of person, who once under the realization that he can in fact distract you with a kiss, exploits it to the fullest.

you're really under the image that he's an awkward kisser - stars help him with beating those allegations - but naturally he begins to start being more confident with his 'abilities'. whenever you're there fussing over his reckless habits, he's leaning over and pressing a kiss to your cheek; mumbling petnames and giving you that boyish smile he wears.

he kisses your hands, runs his thumb over your knuckles. it's become a habit he genuinely cannot break. he's been greeted with the taste of sours, spices, and all alike he's fully prepared if he wants to lay a kiss whilst your cooking. you've failed to give him more than five minutes worth of your attention once he's entered home, so now he has to lift your hand up and give the palm of it a kiss.

mission succeeded, now you're both flushing and the food's burnt. which means more quality time?

phainon rarely kisses your pulse points. he would rather not place his lips only to find out he kissed stone. he doesn't fear for the thought of you dying, more for the fear that he's been living in an allusion of life.

"my dear, i can assure you that i do not need to check your pulse since i can hear your heart from here." he's lying, that's his own heartbeat going faster than a lightning bolt. he wonders if it would stop if the coldness of your body ever froze him to his core.

he rests his chin on your shoulder. moving his head enough to kiss it yet not disrupting his position. a cheeky move that often befalls when your head is turned from him.

denying him a kiss always makes him look like a kicked puppy. moving away without having verbal communication. no verbal communication with phainon? so you think you can sing without a voice then?

"not right now, phainon." oh so he did do something wrong. he overstepped? now he has to die. he has to leap from a terrance after proclaiming his apologies in front of the entire city.

"it's not you." he could jump up and click his heels in joy. the thought soon dissipates after he realizes you're, in fact, upset.

maybe you really should let mydei dunk phainon's head in a bath for good measure.

[clairewritesfanfics]

Hello and good morning/afternoon and evening wherever you are. I hope this isn’t too much of a bother, but can we have a water bender reader from the last air bender series?

Author's Note: It’s not a bother! Though since you didn’t give any specifics, I just went and chose a few Marks to write for as I feel like this is one of those requests where grouping the variants together wouldn’t feel right. Also anon, you’re very lucky because I identify as a water bender and yearn for a hydro vision, so it was relatively easy to think of scenarios.

Characters: No Goggles, Prisoner, Shiesty, Sinister

No Goggles Mark

It should come as no surprise that this boy is a freak. He would be the most down with letting you practice your abilities on him.

Water whips and tentacles, encasing him in ice, trapping him in a bubble, and of course, injuring himself so you can heal him. (The last one is something you never asked for but he always does.)

He loves when you puppeteer him with your bloodbending. He can break free whenever he wants, but he is obsessed with your touch, the way you grab his blood and make him do things.

Prisoner Mark

You tried to heal his injuries, but some wounds can’t be healed even with your advanced healing and bloodbending.

You never use your bending against him, not even for practice. Mark hates sparring with you. There is this looming fear in his heart that he’ll freak out and do some serious damage when you use a whip on him, and you just can’t stomach the idea of using your power to hurt him.

Shiesty Mark

He’ll never admit this in a million years, but he is a little jealous of your bending. He can fly, survive extreme temperatures, and bullets bounce off of him, but his main offensive ability is to…to hit things really, really hard.

You can summon waves, create whips, command ice, control the rain, turn living things into puppets, and heal yourself and others. 

You once caught him imitating your movements in the shower, but you decided to spare his feelings and not comment.

Sinister Mark

He isn’t too keen on getting whipped or frozen, but he still enjoys sparring with you, not that you have an actual chance of winning. But it’s fun to pretend, he always tells you.

It’s always a treat seeing you move on the battlefield. The way you wash away opponents with a deluge of ice and rain will never not be breathtaking to him.

He also has a special place in his heart for when you’re healing “comrades” in the medical bay, for when your brows crease and your nose scrunches up as you bark at him “to be useful or get the Hell out of the way.” You’re so hot when you’re bossy.

a/n: are you happy, anon? you got me thinking of my favorite girl again, now i'm going to have to write about the mark variants and a hydro vision holder y/n.

honestly, this request has me thinking up a storm. mark variants as benders, mark variants as vision holders... okay, maybe "storm" is a bit generous HAHAHAHA

also, just a few more requests and I'm finally free (:3」∠)

Disclaimer: The image used in this post does not belong to writerclaire. It was lifted from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-all-alternate-dimension-invincibles-fates/

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

MAIN MASTERLIST

Any questions for the author? Ask here.

[omnitrash]

Ok so no asked for this, but I couldn’t help myself, sO-

Self Aware Dmc!- Nicknames for their little darling!!

“-“ dialogue

‘-‘ thoughts

“Pink dialogue” -when two characters speak at the same time! (Though this only happens like once so yeah-)

Another thing I want to mention, is that the players appearance or gender is up to you! Hence why I keep their looks so vague and keep any works or drabbles I do gender neutral.

Enjoy!!

Dante Sparda- sweetheart or little sweetheart. I feel like it’s a classic, and that it suits his character over all. You cannot convince me otherwise that Dante wouldn’t be the type to say -either as a joke or to flirt- “Hello sweetheart~” or something similar. But also because he sees the player as a sweetheart due to their behavior towards him. He’d never forget the first time he’d felt your guidance in Mallet island. It was weird yet not hostile at all. You weren’t that type of person. It wasn’t until he first killed Phantom that he heard your voice. A simple “Good job Dante! We did it! Or rather you did…a-anyway-“ He almost melted, you sounded so sheepish…how sweet. What a pretty little thing…you always worried so much and always tried to makes sure he didn’t get hurt much. Considering he’s been with them the longest -something that he wastes no opportunity to brag about to everyone else- calling you a sweetheart is fitting. You truly were a sweetheart…his and his alone. It’s a shame he had to share you with everyone though.

“Welcome back, sweetheart! I’m itching to show off my ski- uh, I mean to get my hands on some devils! Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

Vergil Sparda- dearest angel or my dear. Contrary to his little brother, Vergil is much more formal, if that makes sense. Though that doesn’t mean he isn’t just as corny or as lovey dovey, either. He sees the player as an angel, mostly because he himself is a devil. And what better way to see the very person who’s looked after him and given him the kindness befitting a being of purity, then as an angel? That’s what you looked and seemed like when he first heard you after all. As he journeyed through Fortuna, he heard your voice -your sweet and admittedly nervous little voice- while he eventually surrendered full control to you. The enemies seemed stronger than he imagined but under your guidance, it was child’s play. Despite your nervousness and squeamish behavior, you were skilled. He wished you had more confidence in yourself and your ability to play, his dearest angel. As for “my dear”, he thinks it’s rather simple. It’s because you’re very dear to him…and because it sounds formal yet loving. Something he’d like to sound for you. You always seemed to fawn over his -or any- gentlemanly behavior, after all.

“Hello, my dear…now now, don’t be so discouraged. You did wonderfully…let’s try again shall we? I’m sure you’ll do better this time with me as your vessel…that’s right. Guide the way, my dearest angel”

Nero Sparda and Kyrie- angel and snow drop. Now these two are special. They didn’t separate or argue with one another once they realized they’re interest for the player. Rather they agreed to share them between the two, hence why they also share the same nicknames for them! In Nero’s case, like father like son, he sees the player as an angel, but for different reasons. Like Kyrie, he’d been raised with the Order of the Sword and in a world of devils, seeing a pure soul like yours is a breath of fresh air. And besides what better nickname is there for the very person who’s guided him and looked after them for so long with such care and affection, but as an angel? So he started calling you his angel, with Kyrie adopting the nickname shortly after. As for Kyrie, while she agreed with Nero’s idea and reasoning to call you their angel, she had a nickname for you herself! She always saw you as someone delicate -and perhaps even sensitive- considering how emotional you always seemed to be during any cutscenes and your overall personality so she couldn’t help but see you like a flower. You certainly were as beautiful as one. So she came up with Snow drop! The flower itself was white, untouched like an angel and with the meaning of hope behind it…safe to say, Nero catches on to Kyrie’s train of thought too.

“Nero, look! They’re here again!” “Yeah, I can see them Kyrie.” “Do you think they’ll choose you again this time?” “Who knows? It’s good to see them again, though…” “Welcome back, angel…our dearest Snow drop”

Trish- little spark. Now as for Trish, she’s one who unfortunately hasn’t gotten the chance to see you very often. Only getting to see you during her time with Dante in Mallet Island and during the events of Fortuna and the whole scandal with the Order of the Sword, and the whole mess with V and Vergil. Seeing how careful and kind you were with Dante made her curious, wondering who you were and why show them so much concern and love despite not knowing them. But then over time, that curiosity turned into jealousy. Why did she never get much of the spotlight and a chance to be with you like those stupid spawns of Sparda? But when she was in Fortuna with Lady, she finally found her chance. And her jealousy subsided…if not for a moment…you were electrifying. Your control -no that was too harsh for your kind demeanor- your guidance was a shock. Nothing like that thunder she wielded so skillfully. She loved it. Your smile, your concern over her, the way you beamed and laughed in excitement when you got a taste of her fighting style. It was a damn drug. And so she thought the name little spark was fitting for you.

“If it isn’t my little spark…you really enjoy playing with me don’t you? Hm…then I better go all out. I’m sure you’d enjoy seeing me at my true potential, wouldn’t you?”

Lady- doll or little doll/dolly. Like Trish, Lady was jealous that someone like Vergil and Dante -that annoying, sleazy, debt collecting devil hunter him- got so much attention from you. Hell, even that stupid kid from the order got more time with you!! And she’s known you longer! Whatever, in any case, when she finally got her turn with you in Fortuna, she was both exasperated and excited. Y’know, she still remembered when she saw you for the first time. When she rolled up on her motorcycle to Temen ni gru, she heard a voice -your voice to be exact- say something peculiar. “Oh my gosh, it’s Lady!! She looks so cool!!” Lady?? That wasn’t her name…but considering how things were, she didn’t want to go by her real name. But why Lady?? You seemed to know her by that name…maybe you knew who she was but chose to go by Lady instead for…whatever reason. It wasn’t until she saw you again when she and Dante were killing demons together for the first time that she understood why you called her Lady…even though she knew Dante was the one who made the name Lady “cannon”, she likes to think you gave her the name first. It was the first time she fully took you in too. You looked like a little doll sitting on that bed of yours. Those stuffed animals of yours only added to that comparison. You’d always be her little dolly to her.

“Hey, doll! What d’ya say we show these devils who’s boss huh? I’m clearly the best devil hunter for the job anyway…you think so too, don’t you, little dolly?”

Nicoletta Goldstein- Tinker bell. Now, since Nico doesn’t really get a chance to play or experience your control over her like Nero, Dante and V do, she only knows you through them -mostly Nero specifically since he seemed to have the most missions- but you seemed like a cute little thing! You also seemed to like her a lot and really enjoyed seeing her creations too! If she had to say, she’d bet her best weapons that if you’d be with them, you’d offer to help around her lil’ station however you could. Considering how much you helped and saved the boys asses, this little assumption of hers probably wouldn’t be so far off. Hence why she dubbed you Tinker bell! And if you just so happened to share any physical or personality traits like the actual character, that’d only serve to back up her little nickname for ya! She could just imagine having you help around the van clear as day! Handing her any tools she’d need, pass a cigarette or two before getting told off by Nero for being a bad influence on you -and triggering your allergies…sorry Tinker bell- and who knows? Maybe you’d like to learn a thing or two from her! She’d be more than happy to do so!

“Hey Tinker bell! What d’ya need from yours truly?…oh fuck off Nero, I know they can’t hear me, but hey! At least they know to trust my judgment when it comes to getting your stuff, huh? Smart little thing, aren’t they?”

V- my darling and Enitharmon. V, although one who unfortunately couldn’t spend much time with you, enjoyed what little he could. Even if he had to share with his familiars. He had already named his other half after a character from his favorite author so why not do the same for you? Thus he gave you the nickname Epitharmon, a symbol of hope to remind him to keep going with his plan. He’s made it this far despite everything, and now that you were here with him, that only strengthened his resolve. He’d see this through and be whole again. He swore it. As for “my darling”, he simply thought you’d like it. You seemed the hopeless romantic, and you certainly were a darling little thing yourself so the term was appropriate for you.

“Hello, my darling…ah. Cooing over Shadow again, I see. Let’s continue, shall we? My beacon of hope…Epitharmon”

[ovaryacted]

MDNI/18+. NSFW. Walk with me for a second…

Lucien De Leon is the kind of man you met at some club and had a drunken one night stand. He ghosts you in the morning and doesn’t bother leaving his number, but you never really forget his face, his voice, or his touch. You didn’t want it to be this way, but you compare all of your future partners to him, silently wishing they ate your pussy the way he did, fucked you as deeply as you remembered from that one night. Sure, you’ve always had good sex, but it was never the same as whatever you experienced with Lucien. Yet he’s a ghost, a figment of your imagination, and half of the time you don’t even think whatever happened that night with him was real.

It’s not until a few years later at another lavish gathering that you spot him on the opposite side of the banquet hall, all broad shouldered and lackadaisical. You weren’t surprised to catch him flirting with one of the party goers, a cigarette hooked on his ear and a champagne glass cradled in his large hand. He pivots towards your direction a moment later, and you swear you saw his fingers tightening around his drink, his tormented brown eyes gleaming for just a second at the sight of you. The corner of his lip coils upward then, and you reciprocate it with ease, walking past him as you take a sip of your bubbly, heading towards the garden, silently hoping he’d follow your trail.

You’re sure he remembers you too.

[bunny-jpeg]

small military things - 141

"what is the comfort item the men of task force 141 keep close to remind them of the most important thing in their life, you." - starring: john price, simon riley, kyle garrick and john mactavish

a/n: was this inspired? yes. inspired by what? you can probably guess..

captain john price: call him an old romantic, but he keeps a photo of you in his helmet. tucked away in the straps, out of sight but still in his mind. you were always n his mind, while he laid in the uncomfortable cot, he thought about your sugary voice and the sweetness between your legs. he thought of home, how you were probably tucked away in bed. while he wasn't there to protect you, he knew that he was keeping the world safe and therefore you safe. the love of his life! it was of you smiling, that time you went to the zoo and the keeper put a large snake across your shoulders. you were laughing, a reminder to price that he had to do everything he could to keep the laughter coming. seeing that beautiful smile. but it also burned something fierce in the captain, a need for his missus. just make sure to send another printed out picture of you in your next care package because his other one, well, got a ruined.

lieutenant simon riley: he gifted you patches from his military gear. they were old, frayed at the edges. a sign of well worn material. he didn't need to wear "riley" across his chest anymore while on base. but you, you were the mrs. riley! if anyone should have it, it was you. and in return you gifted him a small bear plush. officer bear was the name that you gave it, even though simon explained that officer wasn't a very high rank, but he still took the toy. he never owned stuffed animals, the ones in his home were yours. but officer bear was a nice comfort item on base. he stayed there when simon left for a mission (safer that way). however, simon had to put the stuffed toy in the closet while he masturbated. but he did touch himself to thoughts of you cuddled up with the plush toy once he came home, the brown bear's soft head stuck between your breasts while you cuddled with it. soon simon thought about his big head between your soft breasts. how many more days was it till lt. riley and officer bear got to go home to the missus?

sergeant kyle garrick: he would say his little military thing was that he slept with your old university hoodie as a pillow case when he was on base. the worn fabric, the wear and tear around the cuffs of the sleeves from how well loved it had been. the brick red coloured fabric up against his cheek while he slept - memories of you. however, he had another article of clothing that he kept in his tactical vest. it wasn't from university, but rather your wedding night - thin cotton panties that you wore on your wedding night. pastel blue that held precious memories of the lovely, stunning mrs. garrick. however it was hard to clean when 141 does their laundry, everything is put together, so it was rather up against his face rather than around his cock when he gets a few quiet of moments for stress relief.

sergeant john mactavish: things have moved a long way since the second world war, now john can simply text you, every little thought that comes into his mind. some days he cannot text; trainings, missions, flights, etc. but when he got his phone back, the cracked screen with the flimsy scotland themed case (that you bought him), he was texting you. maybe some of those messages would make the likes of price look away out of modesty, but for the most part john behaved. but you had woken up to hi waxing poetically about how much he wanted to eat you out when he got home - only weeks till he got to have the sweetest fruit of the highlands once more. - he wanted to eat you out. he always tried to egg you on to tease him i situations where he couldn't jerk off. he loved the rush of your dirty talk over text! and he could save it for later, your dirty text continued to be the subject of his sexual fantasies after he retired and got to have your sweet pussy every night.

[meanderingwistera]

Sukuna is used to being pulled into the mortal realm, it was a part of the job as a demon. Most humans ask him for trivial things like wealth or immortality.

He has fun with it because he grants those wishes in the worst ways possible. A man will be wealthy but not be able to access it or if someone asks for immortality he will still let them age.

So when he was summoned he was more then ready to twist whatever wish the person had for him.

What he hadn’t expected was to be summoned to a small kitchen. A pot of something he can’t see simmers on the messy stovetop. He looks around for who summoned him here.

Sukuna’s eyes catch on a human sitting cross legged on the floor, an old tattered book in their hands. They are muttering something about thyme?

“Why have you summoned me here?” Sukuna booms and the human looks up in shock.

“Who are you? How did you get into my apartment?” You ask with confusion and rising concern.

Sukuna reiterates with a sigh, “You summoned me here, what do you want?”

Looking down at the book then back up at him then back to the book you look more and more confused.

“You were supposed to be chilli.” You say slowly to him.

If he wasn’t so miffed at being summoned for nothing he would’ve barked out a laugh. So he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

“How did you fuck up a chilli recipe this bad?” He asks you.

“I have never been that good of a cook- but this is a new low for me.” You admit and Sukuna joins you on the floor.

He doesn’t miss how your eyes trace the tattoos on his exposed torso. Maybe this won’t be so pointless after all.

“Well,” Sukuna gives you a smirk, “it looks like we are stuck together until you decide on what you want from me.”

[vxlenst3in]

timeskip kuroo, nsfw

Tetsurō Kuroo, who swears that he hears you purr his name sometimes. Like he could be talking to his friends and you'd come up behind him - “Tetsurrrrō~" or "Kurrrrroo~” and it drives him mad. He hates how much it turns him on, his dick standing up straight as soon as he hears you rolling the r in his name so smoothly. To him, you sounded like a cat trying to get his attention, and he was more than willing to give it to you.

But once you do it during sex, oh, he will show no mercy. As soon as he hears the whiney moan withdraw from your mouth, in combination with his purred name, he becomes absolutely feral. His dick will be drilling into you even further at a ruthless pace, while his grip on your hips tightens so much, that you're going to wake up to marks on them.

“Yeah kitty? Feelin’ so good it got you purrin' hm?”

 ©vxlenst3in - do not steal, modify, translate or repost my work.

[eustassslut]

Thinking about being childhood friends with Sabo and he's been in love with you since the day he met you, but you have no idea so for most of your friendship you've just been dating around trying to find your soulmate when he's been by your side the whole time. You can never figure out why you date such questionable men and why none of them ever feel right but your belief is so strong in the idea that one day you'll find the one that you just keep pushing through. You let yourself fall in love with the worst of the worst and complain to Sabo through it all. You complain about the bad dates and the weird hookups, how they buy you the wrong flowers all whilst you stay and put up with it until they inevitably break it off. But throughout all of these men and the dating you treat Sabo with such delicate care, you show your love for him so visibly and it's so clear how important you are to him. You make sure he eats, that he's ready for every meeting, that his clothes are mended, you organise birthdays and parties for his achievements. You love him so plainly and he knows everything about you.

However it's not in the way Sabo wants. Poor Sabo spends his life trying to distract himself with work but you infect that like an incurable disease, making sure he rests and that his needs are cared for. Then when he tries to fuck out any of the stress and frustration he has stored up it ends up with hookups with girls who look as close to you as he can get away with before anyone notices. You're so important to him and you exist everywhere in his life, even in his bed as he wishes the girl beneath him was you and that you weren't in someone else's bed after a fun night out. You exist in his head, in his heart and in his soul. You are all he will ever love and care about. He loves you so strongly but he knows it's not his time yet and when he does get it all of the years of waiting will have been worth it.

He loves you but he also knows he can't rush you on realising that you belong with him and you need to realise this on your own. One day you will and you'll confess to him so sincerely it will feel as if he's entered a cliche romantic movie. His whole world will light up and everything will feel a little bit brighter. He'll get you in his bed one day, make you cry with tears of happiness and pleasure and it will be better than anything he could ever spend his nights fantasying about. He just needs to wait and push through the torture as the future he dreams about draws closer and closer.

[league-of-simps]

Sigh. Letting Tomura lay in your lap while you scratch his head for the first time. He's trying so hard to lay still but your fingers feel so nice and so different from his own that he can't help but to squirm.

He wouldn't have even agreed to this if a part of him didn't like seeing you beg him to let you do it.

[forgottenarthur]

aria/arthur "i did this for you. no one else."

ooc: so, as you know, ive been saying for awhile that amira'll poison arthur after the tournament to punish him for showing up edmund (will she tell edmund she did this? did it ~for him? nope!). this is the result i spun for the poison generator (note: amira didn't have to purchase said plant from the black market bc she def grew it herself oops amira: 'i ~am the black market' jk jk):

(don't ask me why it looks like that -- idk either)

also looked up hypothermia symptoms and we get a fun lil cocktail of the following:

Mild Hypothermia (32-35°C / 90-95°F): 

Shivering (unless energy stores are depleted)

Confusion, impaired judgment, and slurred speech

Increased heart rate, blood pressure, and respiration

Shortness of breath

Fatigue

Pale and dry skin

Nausea

Possible memory loss

Loss of fine motor skills

Dizzyness

Moderate Hypothermia (28-32°C / 82-90°F): 

Cognitive decline

Lethargy

CNS depression (reduced reflexes, dilated pupils)

Hyporeflexia (reduced reflexes)

Hypotension (low blood pressure)

Bradycardia (slow heart rate)

Bradypnea (slow breathing)

Shivering may stop

Paradoxical undressing (removing clothes due to confusion)

Susceptibility to dysrhythmias (irregular heartbeats)

Severe Hypothermia (Below 28°C / 82°F): 

Unresponsiveness or coma

Difficulty breathing

Abnormal heart rhythms

Very cold skin

Slow, weak pulse

Low blood pressure

Possible cessation of shivering

Loss of consciousness

In infants, bright red, cold skin and low energy

Other Symptoms: 

Clumsiness or lack of coordination

Sleepiness or drowsiness

Fumbling hands

Slowed or shallow breathing

Weak pulse

Behavioral changes (confusion, unusual aggression)

Apathy

Hallucinations or euphoria (in some cases)

sounds like a great time for arthur thanks amira! #bestmomaward lkadsjfjsd

------

He didn't know how he had come to be here. Or where he was. The corridor was dark here; raging blurry-bright every so often, and he put his hand to his face, groaned. Stumbled. Hissed as his shoulder hit the wall. Cold. So cold, it burned. He recoiled. Stumbled again. He was shaking, sluggish. Nausea rose like a veil over his senses, dizzying and sharp.

"Blah-" he frowned. Stumbled. He hadn't quite meant to say that. Blast. He'd meant to say that. He shook his head. Stopped. Where was he going? God, it was cold, it was so cold. He didn't know when he'd last felt so cold. Had he ever felt so cold?

Aine was screaming. Her fires licked the rafters, her shrieks reverberated there. Kil-kennar was burning. Everywhere they rose in riot, their spears and swords and cries all stabbing at him. Everything burned. "Help us!" they shrieked from the flames, piteous horror-garbled sounds. The air stank with fire and blood. They were all burning. "Help us!"

He staggered forward. He tripped. His hand hit the wall; his knees the stone floor. Burning ice. He recoiled. God, they were everywhere screaming. He struggled to his feet. He had to climb. Their shrieks were in the rafters. He had to make it to the stop of the tower. He had to save them.

Moans and flames and screams wreathed the air, shrieked at his ears. Everywhere they pled with him. Everywhere they scrambled and fought. Riot and fire. Everywhere, they were burning. But the heat was cold, horrifically cold. He hardly had the strength to go on. He couldn't stop. "Help us! Help us!" they sobbed. "Don't do this to us! Don't let us die this way! Don't do this to us!"

But his father bellowed, too. "You're no son of mine!"

His voice tore and tangled with theirs and he was there, too, heedless of the flames, even as they engulfed him, women and children at his feet holding one another as the flames crept closer.

Arthur couldn't get there. He could stop it. They shrieked in his ears. They burned.

"STOP!" Arthur screamed. "Please--please, stop!" He was weeping, gasping, trembling almost too hard to stand but he couldn't stop. He had to get to them. He had to save them.

Aine was screaming, screaming, endlessly screaming. "My fath--" he shook his head sharply. "Put her to the tor--" he stumbled again, overcorrected, stumbled back, rocked forward again. "Nah my son. I--Couldn't--I--God," he begged. "Why? Why this?"

"What's going on? What're you doing here?"

Arthur jumped at the voice. He turned, no, tried to turn. Sluggish feet hardly moved. He shivered violently. He could hardly move for trembling.

"Are--" the voice hesitated. "Are you all right?"

"Wheere--" He put his hand to his brow, again, as if he could steady himself. "Um--"

"Arthur?" Another voice, more familiar. Quick steps and someone was at his side. He knew her voice but he couldn't remember from where. Perhaps the sky was speaking to him, he thought.

Something hot took his arm. Surprised, he stumbled away, hit the wall again. Burning cold. He jerked away with a cry.

"You're scaring me. What's going on?"

"Fir--mm--fires, Kil-ka--fire--" he said the last part very carefully. "I--saw..."

"All right," the voice whispered to herself. "You're not well, Arthur. Please. Please come with me."

He shook his head. "I haff--I haff to--"

"You have to come with me." The voice was authoritative, and the voice was close. He could see her now, moss-dark eyes finding his.

"Can't--"

"I know how to deal with the fire. I know how to save Kil-kennar. But you have to come with me."

He relented. "I feel--"

"Terrible?" She nodded, gently twined her arms around his. He gasped. The heat of her arms was a balm. "I can tell. You're shaking like a reed." She was warm, so blessedly warm. He leaned closer. She put her arm around him. She gasped. "You're so cold!"

"You're--so warm..." He pulled her closer.

He was lying down. He was blinking at the skies, stars wheeling sickeningly overhead. He tugged at his blankets. Pushed them away.

"Arthur, drink this." His mother's voice. A chalice floated before his eyes, silver and shining as if a fire burned within it.

"The stars--" he muttered, and tried to pull the covers over his head. He couldn't look at them. They were laughing at him. Aria was always laughing at him, really. Laughing just behind her eyes. Somehow, though, somehow he didn't really mind when she laughed. He didn't mind...

"That's just the ceiling, Arthur."

"Tell the--tell them--"

"Arthur. Drink this."

The chalice floated again and he reached, missed, his hand shot off towards the heavens. He thought perhaps he could grasp one of the stars, blazing in their fury. He could pull them down and he could place them amongst Aria's ebony locks. Perhaps she'd smile, then, smile at him with stars caught amongst her hair, skin aglow with silver starlight...

Something touched his lips. A warm hand tipped his head back. "Drink." Another voice, this time, demanding.

He smiled, lay back, and closed his eyes. Aria was annoyed with him. Of course she was. He drank.

"Get some rest, Your Majesty. You've been up so long. I'll sit with him."

Quiet. Then his mother's voice: "All right. But you'll let me know if anything changes. Anything at all--"

"I will, Your Majesty. Get some sleep."

He was near a fire, warm and bright. Shivering, he groped towards it.

"Arthur?" Aria's voice, again.

He opened his eyes, turned towards the voice.

"Arthur, what's happening?"

"Were walk--walking in the stars."

She leaned forward, touched his brow. Her hand was warm. He groaned.

"You told me once -- implied -- Arthur, has this, or something like it, happened to you before?"

She floated amongst the stars, a nimbus of silver light radiating from her every edge. She'd never really belonged down here amongst the creatures of earth and mud, had she? She'd always been of the heavens, shining and warm. How had he not seen it before? He reached for her, far away amongst the wind and sky. But he touched her. He blinked with confusion. He thought she'd burn him, but her cheek was soft and gently, gently, he brushed his fingers across her face.

"You have to go. But come back," he whispered, very, very slowly. He had to get the words right, though his voice was thin and reedy even in his own ears. It was his only chance. "Come back to me someday. You belong out there, I know, but..." he pressed his eyes shut, his exhausted arm falling back to his side. "I--I'll miss you here."

He was tired. So tired. He just wanted to sleep.

"You really don't know what's going on, do you?" Her voice was sad, far away. She was silent for a moment, yet something in her tone turned decided when she spoke again. "I can help you."

He wondered if Aria would ever come back, now that she was at home amongst the stars. He wondered if she would ever laugh with him again, or roll her eyes at him, or if he would ever see her smiles again, feel their heat, again, even if just while tilting his head towards the skies, would he ever see the gleam of the morning star shining down upon him, feel its warmth brushing his skin, and know she was looking down on him, again...He felt hollow, now, thinking this way, hollow and heart-weary. He hadn't thought, before, what it might be like with her gone. Hadn't considered how, now that she was close...she might never be, again. Was that why he felt so cold? Was it because she was gone, lost to him amongst the stars?

"I think I love her," whispered Arthur.

Silence. A long silence. Then heat. Up it washed, up and up, a warm blanket that shimmered and shone over him, a blanket of starlight glistening with quicksilver heat, like her hands passing over him. He hissed sweet relief, as if every fibre of him were thawing, waking, the pinprick heat of slumbering limbs coming back to life. He was golden, again, warm and glowing. Strength and health flowed, mingling sunlight and starlight brightened every corner of the room as if dawn, itself, burst through his whole being: joy and color and wholeness mesmerizing every cell. He breathed out, a surprised breath, almost a laugh. He'd never felt so well.

He opened his eyes, found himself staring at the familiar star-painted ceiling of his bedroom. He didn't remember going to bed, but here he was. He sat up, put his head in his hands, laughing. "What a strange dream..."

He heard a sound at his side and turned. He started. Someone sat there. A lady. "Aria?!" He coughed, pulled up his covers, suddenly all-too aware of how much he was or wasn't wearing (he realized he couldn't remember what he'd put on last night, but he could hardly check now). He cleared his throat. "That is...Lady Aria...what are you doing here? This is unseemly, I--"

"How do you feel?"

"I--" he frowned. He felt splendid, really, spectacular. He felt ready to, to fight a lion or run a race or ride into battle or leap a river or--

"Do you feel well?"

"I feel brilliant," he shook his head. "I can't think the last time I felt so grand. I--Listen, my lady, just what is going on?"

Aria smiled, eyes twinkling, and Arthur narrowed his eyes at her. Her smile widened and he knew that she was laughing at him from just behind her eyes.

"Endlessly entertaining as doubtless this is--"

"I'll send for your mother on my way out. She'll want to see you for herself."

"What? Why?"

"It seems that draught we gave you has been most effective."

"What draught?"

"You really don't remember?"

"I--" He remembered starlight. He remembered Aria's face aglow, with stars caught in her shining hair.

"I should go," said Aria. "Will you tell her? Will you tell her how effective that draught was? She'll be pleased."

Arthur smiled, a touch confusedly. "Well...good. Of course I'll tell her. If it'll please her. I like to see her pleased."

Aria stood from where she'd sat at the edge of his bed. She crossed to the door.

"Lady Aria--"

She stopped. She didn't turn around.

"I--I don't know exactly what's going on, I admit, but...I feel I should...thank you."

"It was nothing."

Arthur swallowed. "Was it?"

She turned to face him. Paused. "You talk in your sleep."

"I--what?" he frowned deeply, fists going to his hips, momentarily forgetting the covers.

And there it was, again. That laughing smile.

Arthur felt the corners of his own lips twitch upwards. She was laughing at him, again, and he was glad. He liked to see her pleased, too.

"I'm glad you're feeling better." She paused, looked down. "Tell Lady Eithne I hope she is well when you see her next. Good evening."

"What? Aria--"

Surprise colored her face at his familiarity, and he felt a flush heat his own face.

Sighing, he glanced up. "Look, I--" He shook his head. "I gather I was ill and you--you helped me. I know Her Majesty the Queen and-and, of course, His Majesty the Emperor will be very pleased. It was good of you to do this for them." He swallowed. "For us. It was kind, especially after...everything."

Her eyes did not laugh, now. She simply looked at him. "I did this for you. No one else."

Arthur heaved a deep breath, moved forward to his feet, tugging the covers with him. But the door was already closing. Aria was gone.

Words, strange words, floated through his mind, in his own voice: "You have to go. But come back, come back to me someday. You belong out there, I know, but...I--I'll miss you here." Arthur glanced away. He always missed her when she was gone.