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fraugwinska · 11 months ago

Note

I've seen fanfics about Alastor × deaf reader

But what about.. blind reader? Maybe they lost sight in some battle

How they would be confused meeting Alastor at first: did someone turn the radio on- oh, thats a demon talking!

And how confused would be Alastor as his feelings started to grow towards the reader: he just enjoys their company! What else can he do when they like to listen to him spilling the tea and just rambling about everything because of his soothing voice? His favourite listener

Then.. their relationships get a bit different as in another one relaxing evening together Alastor asks if they want to see him..

And on their confused silence he answers bringing their hands to his face for them to "read" his apperience..

Just thought it would be hella fun to read! Not good enough at english, sorry for mistakes

I love your writtings! 💕Stay hydrated and don't dare to overwork yourself ☝

Hiya lovely Anon! <3 I put my own little spin on your idea! I love fics like those, and this one sat in my drafts for ages - I hope the wait was worth it! Thank you so much for this ask! <3 Warning: Contains depictions of attempted SA, please read with caution - MINORS DNI!

The bookstore was always quiet in the evenings. Well, it was quiet almost always.

Hell wasn't the most... appreciative place for tombs and books that didn't have porn or egregious murder in them, so your shop wasn't really frequented much. Occasionally, a new sinner would find their way in, not yet taken by the unpunished excessiveness Pentagram City had to offer, and would buy a book or two, never to be seen again. The rest of your clientele were loyal regulars, mostly elderly demons and imps getting books for their masters in other rings. It wasn't much, but enough for you to get by, live a simple, modest life. Your shop was mundane enough as to not attract the more dangerous ones the city had to offer, yet held the beauty that only an antique bookstore could, with a reading room like atmosphere, mismatched armchairs scattered in between the high bookshelves and an old radio on the counter playing in the background.

That didn't mean there weren't moments you'd have to get yourself out of some serious situations. On rare occasions, the patrons of your bookstore became too demanding or rough with you, thinking they could intimidate or screw you over because of your... handicap. After all, how would you see the hand reaching in the register, or the little spell book slipping into the inside pocket of a jacket. The blindness you were born with on earth hadn't left you in your death, but the enhanced sensitivity of your other senses made things easier for you. You had learned to take your losses, unwilling to let these moments ruin your confidence in your work or diminish your spirits.

You navigated through the little store with ease, putting laid-out books back into their designated places - feeling the backs of the books like it spelled their names, and motion memory guiding you through the maze of furniture and shelves - your plain, long felt skirt softly brushing this edge and that wood panel. What you wore wasn't fancy, modern or stylish attire, but it was comfortable enough. And who were you kidding? At the end of the day, nobody cared for your less-than-ordinary appearance, but yourself.

Your mind had been drifting around between random topics for a while until, on your last trip back to the front desk, your round ears picked up the bell on your door and the faint sound of staticy talking, coming from the direction of the counter. A customer, at this hour no less! But you were sure you had turned off the radio hours ago... maybe the old thing was finally breaking down, you thought with a little sadness. You hurried to it, still hung back in your thoughts and babbling as you turned the desk to shut the little device off so your customer wasn't disturbed.

"Hello, I'm terribly sorry if you're bothered by the radio, I should have turned it off. Feel free to browse through-" you paused mid-sentence as the air shifted slightly. You had turned the familiar knob but the filtered voice didn't stop talking. Your ears moved around, as if the source was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, trying to determine its source, when the other occupant of the store laughed at the surprise written on your face.

"Apologies aren't necessary my dear, but that wasn't the little device here but me, asking for service. Although I'm quite fond of a little old fashioned tune - comes with the title of the Radio Demon, you see." He talked with amusement, or something in his tone seemed powerful and dangerous. As his words started to make sense to you, you held a sharp breath, struggling not to take a step back. Of course you've heard of Alastor, the Radio Demon, but you've never had the honor (or dread) of meeting him in person. Rumors had spread around in hell a long time before you'd even gotten here, stories of a powerful overlord who'd broadcasted the screams and torments of his victims, spreading fear to everyone, from sinner, to lesser demons, to even other overlords themselves.

"W-welcome to my store, sir! What can I help you with today?" You smiled pleasantly, hoping that showing him respect and going out of your way for a courteous interaction could possibly keep you from being torn to pieces. You heard the ruffling of fabric - a hand reaching into a pocket, wrapping it's fingers around a thick piece of paper, along a low, distorted chuckle. "A good friend of mine recommended your store to me, I am looking for a few... unusual books, hopefully to be found here."

You waited into the silence, one second, two, three. When he said nothing, only static noise slowly increasing in volume, you decided to speak again. "May you tell me the titles, sir?"

"If you'd take the list, little mouse, everything I need is on it." His voice had an edge of annoyance to it now. You didn't know when his presence had approached so close to where you stood, and couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not. You sighed, pulling the darkened glasses off you wore day in, day out, revealing the white irises that gave your blindness away. After a sound like a record scratch, you managed a helpless smile. "I fear if it's not in braille, it won't do much to hand me that."

The other demon was silent again, but the crackling static had dropped, and before you had time to add something that wouldn't get you gutted, he'd barked a laugh, sounding genuinely amused and entertained.

"My, isn't that a bit cliché, my dear? A blind mouse? Any chance you have two siblings?"

That joke was new. You dared to husk out a little laugh, too, your hands gently resting on the counter top. "I hate to disappoint, but no. I even have my tail still, no farmers wife with a knife."

There was a change in his stance, his coat sweeping the air as you heard the list was laid on the wooden surface in front of you, surprisingly not crushed or crumbling under the power of his hand. Coldness swept like waves of fog over the front desk and your hands, you pulled them away with a shudder, confused, but your patron just hummed.

"There, that should've done the trick. I'd rather not want to read my little.... requests aloud, they're a rather curious bunch, I believe. Very useful, though, especially those for more creative types in cooking."

You reached for the paper and thumbed through the braille letters one after the other, feeling a long list of more... taboo tomes you were sure wouldn't have even been mentioned in any respectable catalogue. Luckily, you were a glutton for oddities and curiosities, and with a small smile of pride you found that you had every book on the list on hand. Maybe it was this pride thatgave you the confidence so that you didn't reply and instead swiftly jumped ahead, bustling through the rows and pillars of bookshelves. Every step was calculated, from the short staircase to the tiny nook where you stored spell books and tombs of dark magic, navigating past all the tables and furniture to the particular bookcase containing ritualistic cookbooks. Once you had a feeling where a book would be located, you searched the titles by stroking the backs with the pads of your fingers, tapping quickly and analyzing the material and little bumps and nicks of the spines. Once found, you traced the edges of the piece and drew up a mental image in your mind to check it wasn't bent, dirty, torn or had any parts missing. Your fingers were your eyes, and they were keen.

As you carried the rather heavy stack back, the Radio Demon hadn't moved an inch from where you'd left him, as far as you could tell. It had been hard not to acknowledge him throughout the ordeal while your brain just went on autopilot after realizing he didn't mean to kill you, at least for the moment. On one hand, that was comforting; on the other hand, it was absolutely horrifying.

"Here you go, sir. Please, feel free to check if they are up to your standards." You set the books down carefully, counting the number of thick covers in the stack to be sure and your fingers brushed sharp talons as apparently the Radio Demon reached out to inspect the books as you offered. With a sharp inhale and a heated face you quickly drew back, stammering apologies. He only chuckled faintly, the static surrounding him crackling as if it, too, was amused.

You stood silently behind the counter and listened to him flipping through the pages, turning the books around to read their contents, humming here and there. He seemed content with the lot and you were sure that once he'd paid, he would leave, hopefully sparing your meager existence and not leaving any destruction behind.

"Very well! These will do perfectly, little mouse. And, I have to say, you have a very interesting collection. The quality of your inventory exceeds what Zestial promised. You might expect a few more visits from me in the future, if you don't mind."

The last sentence wasn't a question. It was a statement, underlined with the sound of a heavy stack of bills placed on your counter. Your hands confirmed what your ears already suspected - your patron well overpaid you.

"Not at all, sir, but you gave me too much mon...."

But the air shifted again, and a chime and a thud later you knew he had already walked out, his laughter the last thing you heard before the door clicked shut.

“...ey.”

What a peculiar man, you thought, still processing the entire experience. His voice had been darling, no wonder he chose radio as his medium. You were sure his smile you've heard so many demons whisper about was wide and predatory, but he had been so polite. Even the nickname he'd given you had been charming, compared to the names and remarks you've had thrown at you by lesser demons, and you shook your head at the ridiculousness of your face flushing at the memory.

'Little mouse.'

After a long moment, you finally counted the money and put the amount he tipped you aside in your hidden safe, making a note to yourself that you would give it back to him when he'd return. If he'd return.

Weeks passed and the Radio Demon had kept his promise and visited again. And again. And again.

The first time he came back and you, already flustered, offered to give back the surplus money he'd paid you, he was baffled before he heartily laughed and ignored your attempts to return it to him, instead buying three more books and leaving you with even more undeserved cash in your hands.

Almost once a week he'd return to your store, sometimes he'd have a whole list of books he'd want to buy, and he almost never left your store with empty hands. Sometimes he'd sit down in one of the many chairs to peruse a tomb you set aside for him, predicting he'd find interest in it as you learned his tastes in literature, and he'd hum almost happily when you found a new curiosity or a grimoire that was especially hard to come by. And sometimes he just came in for a quick visit, not even intending to buy a book but just to chat a bit. With every encounter your initial apprehension shifted into appreciation, so much so that you'd grow to eagerly await his return, the sound the bell made when he enthusiastically swung the door open or the slight distortion of your radio when he changed the station to one that suited his mood better.

You were a bit enchanted with him, if you were honest. Not only had every interaction been intriguing and entertaining, he'd been one of the rare visitors who hadn't maliciously mocked or threatened you, or worse. And you found that you enjoyed the small banters you could have with him, the fact that he treated you no differently than anyone else. It was refreshing, and each of his visits put a spring in your step for days, no matter how hard you tried not to think about him.

By the time several months had passed, he became your favorite client and he seemed to have an everlasting interest in your inventory as well as yourself. You learned that he was quite a wealthy demon with a seemingly insatiable appetite for entertainment, and always with an eye for quality, which you vowed yourself to provide in return, if only to keep him coming back. You found you could spend hours with only him at the store over freshly made coffee, discussing various literary concepts and historical events he used as references, and it was a delight to laugh together about some particularly odd rituals in books like 'Old Spells to Cure Thievery' or 'Blood Rituals of the Flaying Kink'.

Sometimes, when you'd hand him a new find or a heavy tomb, his hands would lightly brush yours and his voice would drop and become a bit softer, quieter as he cooed his nickname for you - 'Little Mouse'. With your lack of vision, you didn't know how his face looked nor how his expression would've surely changed - but his voice took on a tone that would be fitting for a date, and the touches made you shiver lightly and tingle and you felt heat spread all over your chest and the pit of your stomach when he did. If your body betrayed those reactions on your face, he wouldn't tease you for them. At least, you never noticed if he did. Maybe he had the grace to simply not remark on them, you thought, for once grateful for your blindness so you wouldn't have to see your own - surely ridiculously dumbstruck - expression reflected in the windows of your storefront. But the physical contact between you became more frequent, more deliberately made, and you'd caught his own quiet sigh every now and again when he lingered for just a moment longer before the doorbell chimed and he'd leave again.

One evening, as you were cleaning up and preparing for tomorrow's customers, a soft knock on the already locked door pulled you out of the haze of your radio's gentle tune. Turning around, you moved slowly towards the sound of the interruption, adjusting your dark glasses.

"My apologies, but we're closed for tonight, please come back tomorrow."

There was no reply, no sound of footsteps and your ears strained to catch a whisper of a sound, to find a new hint as to who was outside. Another knock, harder now, sounded and this time it took all your courage to approach. Your hair stood at its roots as your hands rested at the wooden door, your senses tingling that you better not open - that danger stood in front of your store.

"Please go, we'll be open again tomorrow."

Your reflexes, acting faster than your brain, made you stumble back as the glass of your front doors shattered into a million pieces. In a panic you tumbled to the floor, hands over your face as the pieces broke apart on impact. There were voices, rough and foreign sounding, that accompanied the stomping of boots. You shuffled back on the ground, trying to get out of the way before being stepped or kicked upon, reaching to the walls and bookshelves to find some stability to guide you in getting away from what was coming towards you.

"T-take what you want, please, I won't stop you. Just... just take it and leave."

Your words were shaking in fear and the little hope that a verbal warning and submission would placate the robbers. To your horror the voices - two, if your panicked mind didn't fool you - erupted into raspy laughter and you realized then that money might not be the only thing these demons were after.

"You were right, Hank. This is going to be easier than I thought, look at how helpless the bitch is."

"Told 'ya, Tommy Boy. An' the best part..." supposedly the one called Hank said deviously, and you were yanked up at your wrists and thrown over what must've been your counter, your glasses slipping and breaking at the impact and your eyes dwelling with hot tears. You recognized this voice… just a few days ago this demon had come into the shop, just as Alastor was about to leave, lingering around the shop and leaving quickly mumbling a half-asses excuse without buying anything after you asked if you could help him find something and Alastor's static crackled dangerously. The same smell of sharp sweat and wet tobacco lingered around him, making your stomach turn. "... she can't tell anyone who we are. Hoh, look, her eyes are some freaky shit, 'n you bet her tits 're freaky, too. S'not even our damn birthday but looks like we got ourselves a gift. 'Ya wanna go first?"

"You know me - Don't mind if I do."

With a heart beating out of your chest and shallow breaths, you tried to feel with your only free hand for something, anything, to defend yourself with. You had to defend yourself. Anything would be better than what horrific thing they were about to do. There was only the flat, leather bound accounting book close by, but it was better than nothing, and in a motion of impulse and fear you slashed with it into the general direction you felt the weight of Tommy settle onto the counter top above you. His complice bellowed angrily, making your ears ring, and Tommy snatched the weapon from your hand to throw it away. His breath smelled of filth and cold ash, the skin of your throat burned when he wrapped his calloused hands around it.

"We're gonna show ya your fucking place, worthless blind cum-chunk bitch, an' when we're done with ya..."

There was a sudden, instant sound of feedback, a wet splatter and a horrified scream and hasty, fleeing footsteps before a wave of relief washed over you as your neck fell free from the intruders grasp and you heard a familiar voice.

"Oh, my dear fellow, do go on. I'd love to hear the end of that sentence." A low, distorted chuckle followed. Alastor sounded different - menacing. Bone-chilling. If those words would've been directed at you, you would've been mortified. But it sounded like honey in your ears, knowing who the recipient was. "Ah, how silly of me - surely it's much harder to speak without vocal chords."

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as the sounds of violence became ever more gruesome. A whipping sound, a wail and a choked gasp and two stomach-churning thuds of something hitting the floor.

"Well that's not handy at all - you can't even sign your pathetic pleas now. How unfortunate to be in such a vulnerable position, isn't it?"

A thud, then another - your stomach turned as the room got flooded with a different type of warmth. Your lungs and chest stung from the stench of iron and decay and your throat hurt as you realized one aura had vanished from the store and Tommy was most likely reduced to a fleshy pile on the ground. Suddenly you felt a sharp but warm, strangely long but familar hand cradling the back of your skull, pressing your cheek against a broad, angled shoulder, another wrapped tightly around your shoulders, resting under your ears. It was quiet, now - you could only hear your staggered breathing and Alastors static that had gone down a notch or two. You thought his breathing had become more labored, too, when he slowly, gently, let go and straightened you to bring you to a standing position, his hands shifting into their usual shape as they came to rest lightly on your upper arms.

"Are you alright, dear?" His voice was almost back to the tone you were so fond of - almost. There still was an undertone, a dangerous sharpness. Your fingertips instinctively grasped and searched until they met with the familiar texture of his clothing and you nodded.

"Y-yes... I think so, yes. What - what happened to the other one?"

There was a deep laugh, one you haven't heard yet from him. "Oh, my dear, no need to fret over that. I'll deal with that pest later. I should've dealt with him the moment he stepped into your store. An oversight I intend to shortly redeem."

It should have frightened you - should've made the situation so, so much worse, hearing that Alastor planned more torture for that vile creature, probably even an equally gruesome death like the one his friend got. But his words only calmed you. Made you feel... safer. Your fingers lingered on his suit longer than you expected, tracing the detailed seams of his lapels, smoothing out invisible wrinkles on the fabric, feeling the details of the cool, metallic buttons. And he let you. He stood still, allowing your hands to see what your eyes couldn't.

"I can't decide if it's a blessing or a shame that you can't see the carnage I caused. Although I am pleased that you didn't have to look at the ugly faces of those cretins who tried to defile you." He took your hands from his coat and placed them softly on his face. "But maybe… you can try to envision what your savior looks like, hm?"

His hands left yours again, though you found the sensation and feeling of his touch remained where he placed them. Your heart fluttered as you couldn't keep yourself from running your palms and fingertips over his skin, cautiously tracing his angular jaw, making out the distinct feeling and sharp lines of a toothy grin. Then you pushed further, fingers running along a slight bow and over the indent where his brows arched, his cheekbones prominent enough you felt the warmth of blood flushing under the skin as the mental image of his face got clearer.

You were in awe that you could do this, that he encouraged it even, but he allowed you the tender moment, making a muffled humming sound and exhaling quietly under your soft, curious touch. You realized at last that his eyes were closed for you, the skin there slightly pliant and firm at the same time. With the tips of your fingers, you followed the firm, straight bridge of his nose down the length of it and he inhaled sharply when you brushed his lips. The familiar sound of static increased just enough for you to realize there had been complete silence aside from your soft and his steady breathing. He opened his eyes again, slowly taking your hands away to leave a feathery light, lingering kiss on your knuckles as he hummed thoughtfully.

"Now, let me clean up this mess, we don't want you stumble over any... unpleasant bits." You heard a snap and felt the air whirring around you, filling with a thick, fog-like sensation as you heard your floors creaking, wood mending and cracking and tiny bits of glass swirling around you, piecing itself together and returning into their frame. Not even a minute later the shop felt normal again, the unpleasant smell gone as well, and with it the overall apprehension the threat had caused.

"Thank you, Alastor. Truly, I don't know what would've happened if you weren't..." you started, pausing as his hands wandered gently around your face to put on your miraculously repaired glasses. He laughed softly, tapping a gentle, slender finger on the tip of your nose.

"Luckily we didn't find out, did we? Ah, but, unfortunately, I'd say the night has been spoiled for us, given that there's another vermin to take care of." He walked behind you, carefully setting the accounting book you had used as an attempted weapon into your hands, his taloned fingers curling gently around yours as if to make sure you had a proper hold on it.

"You lock up when I'm gone, little mouse. And who knows - Maybe we'll continue to see each other... tomorrow night."

And then you felt another gentle peck, this time on your flushed cheek, and the door opened with the bell ringing, the faint crackle of a radio fading and his heavy, signature scent of burned wood and bourbon lingering around you as you hurried to bolt the doors shut, heart racing painfully in your chest at the prospect of adding even more parts of the Radio Demon to the image in your mind.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #zestial morde #alastor fluff #blood and gore #TW: depictions of attempted SA

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shutupdickface · 8 months ago

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Bed Of Roses!

Before You Proceed....

Minors DNI!

NSFW! Transfem!Arlecchino x Afab!reader!

Mentions of blood, Few depictions of death, Arle's really rough in this one chat but you don't mind........ 😛 Arle with fangs (js pointy canines), scars, slight dacryphilia or wtv, blah blah blah... name from bed of roses by msi (i love u steven)

A/N: tried 2 write arle in the way i think of her (ruthless, gruesome, and hostile 😛) i also wrote this while playing sims 4...... first time writing too so like YAY!!!!! im french so arles french. i've always hated writing and essays so dont expect much with that

NSFW UTC

Your heart stopped when you heard the sudden click of the door unlocking. Goddamn it.. why now?.... is what you'd usually ask yourself when Arlecchino entered the room.. but now you were wondering how exactly you'd get out of this situation.

You stood there, frozen as you heard the sounds of her heels coming closer and closer.... then stop. you felt her disgustingly cold hands carressing your body, tracing over the surface of the skin you knew she wanted to rip apart. "Hm.. waiting for me, are you?" she'd whisper in your ear, and you could feel your stomach churning as you faught the urge to tell her you were done with her and all of her bullshit.

But.. no matter what, you never did. You knew she'd tear you apart if you dare say that. You hated her touching you, knowing those "loving" touches were by the same hands that slaughtered many. either ripping their throat out or punching their face in, her hands were littered with the lives of many.

"Let's skip to it then.. shall we? i know you missed me.." She said, slowly unbuttoning your shirt with ease. "Say you missed me." She demanded, and you could feel those horrifying eyes burning into you.

"I-.. I missed you, Arlecchino." You told her, your voice shaky as she continued undressing you. "Good.. now lay down." she replied, motioning you over towards your own bed. The bedspread decorated with red roses, the sheets she had personally bought you.

As she walked over to you, she started undressing herself. she seemed eager to get her way. she had no care whatsoever, throwing her clothing wherever throughout the room, as long as it caused you trouble, she could care less.

She crawled onto the bed, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at her in the eye. her nails dug into your skin, burning painfully as your breath hitched in fear. "You love me, don't you? you'd never leave me?" she said, lifting your leg up with her free hand.

"Yes.. I would never leave you." you responded, looking fearful as she aligned her aching dick to your entrance. "I've been waiting for you all day, mon amour.." she grinned, slamming into you. your face lit up in pain, a small tear forming in your eye.

"You take it so well, don't you.. If only i could do this more often." she groaned, smiling down at you with those sharp teeth of hers. she leaned down, digging her nails into your hips, letting them draw blood. she thrusted into you, and you could only barely enjoy it through the pain of her teeth now sinking into you and her nails clawing at your skin.

Her hips slammed against yours, the only sound in the room being the harsh slaps of her skin against yours and your incoherent babbling. "You love this.. admit it." She grunted, pulling away from your shoulder, licking up the blood that poured out. This woman was disgusting.

She reached down, rubbing you clit harshly. her mouth went right to your neck, her teeth sinking into the sensitive skin once more. she pounded her cock into your cunt harshly, rubbing your clit for extra stimulation.

"You're going to enjoy this.. can't wait to see you cum all over my dick." she whispered through her bites. your shoulders were littered with bite marks and blood. tears streaming down you face, and you'd think she'd feel some sort of remorse.. but no. it only made her go harder.

"Please..!" you yelled out, thrashing against her in an attempt to get away from her rough treatment. "Shut up. Shut the fuck up." she grumbled, gritting her teeth in anger at your sudden refusal. her nails dug back into your hips, and she began to pound into you as hard she could.

with a few grunts and harsh words and slaps, she came, emptying herself into your cunt. she pulled out, standing up off the bed. "Come here and clean me up.. I've got places to be." She ordered.

this would be awhile...

in reality, i got lazy at the end and rushed cause i wanted to get back to playing sims 4.

#arlecchino smut #arlecchino #arle #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin fanfic #arlecchino fanfic #VERONICA'S WRITINGS ! bleh 😛

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rozenflamme · 3 months ago

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She had known of his presence long before he reached her. The flame moths, ever loyal, had found their way to her, swirling and spiralling near an extended hand to whisper of his approach: a man, his hair matted from the rain, the poor thing, but he’d been cautious enough to slow his pace upon finding his way into the ruined building’s lower floors, skulking about as though a thief. How amusing, she thought, that he would think himself unseen with just that.

For a moment, she considered leaving.

It would be easy enough. With a mere snap of her fingers, she could dissolve into flame, turn herself into a moth, and vanish into the storm outside. A tempting idea. After all, solitude had been her sole refuge ever since her return. She had yet to fully wrap her mind around how or why she had been pulled from ashes, and the uncertainty of it all still hung heavy in her mind. But ah, to flee now would be to deprive herself of the chance to at last speak with another living soul... And what a waste would it be, if she did not take advantage of this neatly wrapped gift prepared just for her.

No, she will not be leaving, she decided.

Let him come. Let him see what he has stumbled upon.

With a flick of her wrist, the room soon came alive. Candlelight flared, and those that once sat unlit along the long corridor kindled softly, one by one, like a red carpet rolling down for an esteemed guest. Golden heels clicked softly against the stone floor as she languidly made her way to the gramophone in the corner of the room. It was an old, weary thing, its brass body tarnished with age, riddled with scratches no double left behind by what small animals would find their way here. A miracle that it still worked, fingertips running along its edge before lifting the needle and setting it gently onto the record that had been with it since long before she had taken refuge here.

The musical tone’s first notes had been scratchy, distorted by time and neglect, but soon enough the room was filled with the melancholic strains of waltz; a tune that often filled Fontaine’s streets, granting the droll, decrepit ruins a modicum of life.

For some time, the fire moths and this aged melody were Rosalyne’s only companions in this place. And while she was not one to long for company—oh, how her pride would never allow it—the isolation was slowly wearing her thin. Hopefully, this man could offer her a moment’s entertainment, then. A much needed break from the monotony of her seclusion. And if fortune favoured her, he might even possess information worth her while—answers to the questions she had yet to fully form.

Content with the song and the now amply lit room, the Crimson Witch settled herself onto the chair right by it, one leg crossing over the other, chin resting on her knuckles. Half-lidded eyes drifted towards the walls where she knew he lingered, her tone light and teasing as flame moths continued to dance around her as though a crown.

“Shouldn’t it be about time you stop with this game of hide and seek, young man?”

Outside, rain only continued to fall—thunder rolling in the distance, growling lazily as it chased after the lightning’s fleeting brightness. The tone’s needle skipped a beat, the song it hummed stuttering for a moment before, after a moment’s pause, resuming its song, as if the machine itself were catching its breath from fright.

“Come. Sit down. I have no freshly brewed teas to offer, but it’s certainly warmer here than out there.”

Still Smoldering Heart

Wriothesley & La Signora

#dukemeropide #thread: still smoldering heart #(( love the title btw! ))#(( I've made my attempts not to babble too much as well... I think I did... okay )))#(( sorry she's dramatic like this ))

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pttwice · 9 months ago

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hi ! i was wondering if we could get a part two of the caregiver story with little!mina and cg!sana ? maybe of the first time sana takes care of a regressed baby mina or whatever else you’d like to add

hi hi anon! absolutely :) thank you for the request!

baby steps

|| little!mina, cg!sana ||

"Okay. I've got blankets, coloring books, food, diapers, and toys. What am I missing?" As Sana sped through her apartment, she checked every door and every drawer to make sure they were baby-proofed. She put everything away that could have been dangerous and laid out all the supplies she'd need.

Sana was nervous. She wasn't sure why, but she was nervous. She had babysat her friends' kids' thousands of times but for some reason, it felt different doing it for one of her own members.

The couch was soft and it provided a bit of comfort for Sana as she sank into it. She stared at the clock above the TV, counting down every second as she waited for Mina. She was nervous. But she was excited as well. She didn't know what to expect taking care of Mina other than the things that Mina had told her early on Christmas Eve and the few things she managed to research.

Sitting only lasted a minute before Sana got up. She had too many thoughts and too much nervous energy to be sitting. Before she could even make it to the kitchen though, the monitor on the wall rang. Mina was finally here!

Sana dashed to the front door and took a deep breath before she opened it. "Mina!" As her usual excited self, Sana wrapped Mina in a tight hug.

Mina chuckled and hugged Sana back. She dropped her bag behind Sana and made her way to the living room. "Thank you for doing this Sana."

Sana just smiled and shook her head. She pulled two bottles of water out of the fridge and handed one to Mina. She sat down on the opposite end of the couch and pointed to the pile of things she bought for Mina.

"I got a few things. I don't know if everything's there, but if not, then... I'll just have to go out and get whatever else you need." Sana let out a nervous laugh and took a sip of her water before she sat it down on the coffee table. She leaned back into the couch and folded her hands, nervously smiling. "So... how does this all work? Do you regress now, or-?

Mina laughed and shook her head as she sat her water bottle down on the coffee table. "I can't control it, Sana. It just kinda... happens. Until I regress, we can just hang out like we normally do."

Sana took another deep breath and relaxed a little more. For an hour or two, they were able to hang out like usual. Sana did most of the talking as they played a few games and talked about their schedules. It hadn't been too long since they had seen each other, but in that short time, they each had a few individual schedules to do.

Just as Sana was preparing lunch, she heard a soft babbling from the living room. Sana laid the knife down on the cutting board and peeked out from the kitchen. Her eyes widened as she saw Mina laying down on the living room floor with her shirt over her head.

Sana wiped her hands on her apron and slipped it over her head. She hung it up on one of the hooks by the stove and walked into the living room. Squatting down, Sana smiled and pulled Mina's shirt down.

"What's going on here, Minari?"

Mina looked into Sana's eyes with an innocence and love that she'd never seen before. Reaching out, Mina gently tugged on Sana's hair. She pulled it towards her mouth before Sana gently peeled Mina's fingers open.

"Woah there, Minari. I don't think my hair would taste too good." Sana laughed and held Mina's hand. She was still a bit nervous, but taking care of Mina shouldn't be too hard, right?

Sana attempted to stand Mina up, but as soon as she got the little to her knees, Mina flopped back down onto the floor into a fit of giggles. Taking a breath, Sana lifted Mina up. She wasn't exactly heavy, but she wasn't light either.

"Oookay, monkey girl. Let's get you to a seat before you flop over onto the floor again." Sana quickly put her hand on Mina's upper back, adjusting Mina in her arms so she didn't slip to the floor again.

The kitchen was a bit of a mess with all of the lunch supplies out. Sana managed to get Mina seated at the kitchen table and entertained long enough to finish making lunch.

With an excited smile, Sana set down a plate of kimbap, cucumber slices, and a chocolate chip cookie. As any sugar lover would, Mina immediately reached for the chocolate chip cookie. Sana laughed softly to herself, quickly realizing that putting the cookie on Mina's plate might not have been the smartest thing.

Sana ate her kimbap and kept a close eye on Mina. She was surprised how messy the little was compared to her big self. Usually, Mina was very elegant and neat whenever she ate. Big Mina would never leave a mess or crumbs around her plate, let alone on herself. But little Mina... well, little Mina, Sana soon found out, was the complete opposite.

Mina had never explicitly said anything about being a messy eater when she regressed. As Sana sat and watched the melted chocolate chips spreading across Mina's mouth, she thought that maybe her messiness was a sort of decompression and relaxing of the usual elegance that she always held. Or, little Mina just liked to eat and didn't care what she looked like while eating.

Whatever was the case, Sana still had to deal with a messy little who had eventually finished her cookie and demanded more cookies. Sana internally scolded herself and put on a sweet smile. "I'm sorry, Minari. You gotta eat some of your kimbap first before you get any more cookie."

This didn't sit well with Mina one bit. She huffed and crossed her arms, her little chocolate chip covered mouth turning down into a serious frown. Mina's brows drew together as she pouted, trying to get Sana to give in.

"Come on, Minari. I promise it'll be just as yummy as the cookie you had." Sana set her chopsticks down and picked up a piece of kimbap with her fingers. She had a feeling that getting Mina to use any utensils for dinner was going to be impossible. Luckily, all the food on the plate could be finger food.

Sana tried to spin the kimbap around, making airplane and train noises, but nothing seemed to work. Defeated, Sana set the piece of kimbap down and got up.

Mina's furrowed pout turned into a look of curiosity as Sana opened the fridge. She looked through all the containers she had in the hope that she had something she could entice Mina with.

Mina stuck poked her head from behind Sana and zeroed in on the ketchup bottle. Getting very excited, Mina cooed and bounced in her seat, eagerly pointing at the red bottle.

Sana turned around, her eyebrow quirked as she pointed to the bottle. "You want the ketchup?" Mina nodded excitedly and held her hands out.

As unappetizing as it sounded and looked to Sana, Mina happily ate her kimbap once Sana poured plenty of ketchup on it. Sana forced a smile as Mina ate despite the fairly gross look of the ketchup smeared all over the kimbap and cucumber slices.

"Wow, look at you, Minari. You ate it all up. Good job!"

Mina beamed at the praise and only squirmed a little when Sana wiped her messy face with her napkin. She held her hands out and flashed Sana her nicest smile as she glanced between Sana and the bag of cookies on the counter.

Sana just chuckled fondly and grabbed the bag, handing Mina another cookie. Before Mina could even think about another one, Sana put the bag away in one of the cupboards. She watched Mina devour the second cookie and cleaned her face and hands off again.

"Okay. Now that we've got you fed and happy, what next, Minari?"

Mina looked at Sana with those sweet, innocent eyes and just smiled. She babbled a little and waved her hands around. Sana didn't know what Mina was telling her so she just nodded along and picked the little up. "Oh really? Tell me more."

Encouraged by Sana's response, Mina babbled more as they sat back down in the living room. Mina played with Sana's hair before a box of Lego Duplo blocks caught her eye. She stopped babbling and crawled over to the box, impatiently tugging on the lid.

"Hold on there, angel. Let me get it off for you." Sana lifted the lid off with ease and set it on one of the couch cushions. Mina thanked Sana with a messy kiss on the cheek before she dumped the blocks out.

Mina quietly played with the blocks while Sana scrolled through her Instagram feed. Every once in a while Mina would tug on Sana's pants to show her the block towers she'd made, but for the most part, Mina entertained herself.

Sana eventually got bored of her phone. She tossed it beside the lid of the blocks that Mina was playing with and leaned back, keeping herself up with her hands. "Do you want to watch a movie, Minari?"

Mina's head turned up quickly and she nodded. She scooped up some of the blocks and put them back in the tub, only managing to get four or five cleaned up out of the forty that were laying on the floor still.

Sana playfully rolled her eyes and cleaned the rest of the blocks. Mina decided to keep the one shaped like a penguin and grabbed Iggy from her bag before getting up on the couch. Sana sat down beside her and pulled a blanket from the ottoman. She wrapped both of them up and turned the TV on.

Mina pointed to all the movies that caught her eye, but most of them were only appropriate for big Mina. Sana just scrolled past the not-so-PG picks until she got to 'Happy Feet'. Sana had seen the movie once before with Mina when they were on a flight to the States for a concert.

"How about this one, little penguin?"

Mina giggled at the new nickname and nodded. She curled against Sana and tucked the blanket under her chin, holding onto the penguin block and Iggy tightly.

The movie watching only lasted half an hour before Mina was fast asleep. She snored softly, her mouth slightly open as she burrowed further into Sana's side.

Sana wasn't too invested in the movie, so she turned it off and picked something else to watch. She flipped through all the movies and put a random one on for background noise as she looked through social media again.

Sana took a few pictures of Mina while she slept, her hand never leaving the little's hair as she combed through it, gently scratching her scalp in a soothing pattern.

Once Mina's nap was over, Sana was in for quite a ride. Usually when Mina woke up, it took her a few minutes to fully be awake. Little Mina was still a little groggy, but she was also a little grumpy.

"What's wrong, Minari? Why such a big frown?"

Mina looked up at Sana, her eyes still half closed as she pouted up at her. She mumbled something to herself then buried her face in Sana's lap. Sana chuckled and laid her hand on top of Mina's head. "Are you hungry?"

Mina shook her head and grumbled as she kicked her feet a bit.

"Hmmm. Do you want to keep watching your movie?"

Mina shook her head again and whined. She poked one arm out from under the blanket and dropped the penguin block on the floor.

"Do you need to go potty?"

Mina started to shake her head but reconsidered. She looked up at Sana and nodded.

Thankfully, going to the bathroom together wasn't something unusual between any of the members. Sana treated it like any other trip to the bathroom and stood outside of the bathroom. She kept the door cracked just in case Mina needed help, but when Sana heard the flush, she knew her services were only needed to wash hands.

Mina spent the rest of the afternoon playing with the blocks that Sana bought. She colored a few pictures in between and drew on Sana's arms with the markers that she bought.

By the time dinner rolled around, Mina was already yawning. There was one thing that was the same between big Mina and little Mina. They both liked to go to sleep early.

Sana made Mina a small dinner, knowing that she never ate much for dinner, and watched as the little slowly made it through her chicken tenders and the tiny bit of salad on her plate.

Mina pushed her plate away when she was finished, only eating one of the three apple slices on the plate.

"You must really be sleepy, huh? You love the apple slices usually."

Mina just gave Sana a tired nod and yawned. She leaned across her chair and laid her forehead on Sana's forearm. Sana smiled and kissed the back of Mina's head before lifting her up. She had finished her own food a few minutes before Mina so she set the plates on the counter for later and walked Mina to the spare bedroom.

Sana flicked the switch, illuminating the cozily decorated room. It was penguin themed just for Mina. As much as the little loved all the penguins and the penguin themed bed, she clung to Sana. She didn't want to sleep alone.

Mina whined and tucked her face in Sana's neck when she tried to set her down. "We gotta get you ready for bed, angel."

Mina shook her head and curled her fist tighter into the back of Sana's shirt. Weak to her member's cuteness and charm, Sana sighed and took Mina to her bathroom. She managed to brush her teeth and get her to use the bathroom one more time.

Sana tried to get Mina into the pajamas she'd brought, but Mina insisted on sleeping in one of Sana's shirts. Not one to argue, Sana agreed and pulled out one of the many oversized t-shirts she owned. She slipped it over Mina's head and distracted her with Iggy as she put a pull-up on her.

Sana wasn't sure if Mina would have any accidents, but she wanted to be safe. Mina let out a long yawn and leaned against Sana's arm once she had finished getting ready herself.

"Okay, Minari. Time to get you into bed." Sana scooped Mina up one last time and laid her in bed. She tucked Mina in under the covers and kissed the side of her head. "I'll be right back. I just need to clean our plates and then we can cuddle until you fall asleep."

Mina whined in protest but nodded. She held onto Iggy tightly and turned to the side, her face buried in Sana's pillow.

Sana tried to make the dishwashing quick and quiet. She set the plates in the drying rack, opting for cleanliness rather than perfection as she rushed back into her bedroom.

By the time Sana took her makeup off and brushed her teeth, Mina was fast asleep. Sana eased into bed beside Mina and gently pulled the little into her side. Mina instinctively curled into Sana and tucked her head under Sana's chin, cozy and content as could be.

Sana felt all the tension and nervousness leave her body as she closed her eyes. Taking care of Mina had been easier than she thought and it was more fun that she expected. Sana still had a lot left to learn, but she felt good knowing that she was helping Mina.

#twice agere #twice fanfic #twice fic #little!mina #caregiver!sana #sfw #sfw interaction only #sfw agere #sfw fic

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sugurouge · 1 month ago

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i’m here to drag keiwin into the light of day again…. 😌

1. how did you first meet and how did your relationship develop?

2. do you fully stand by his ideology and plans or are there conflicts there? 😇

3. you get one chance to dress up your man, what do you dress him in go go go

okay i shall leave it here FOR NOW…………

oh no, another dead ship of mine. i will hide the looooong rambling under the read more :>

how did we meet? how did the relationship develop?

since i have not spoken about my self insert before, this answer requires a lot of background story. but the TLDR would be that i fled from my european "family" (i was sold into the mafia at a young age) after the new head wanted me dead. made it to japan to "retire" but eventually got dragged into the dirty business again since i saw an ad for a job that paid really well *cough*

i start out as a freelancer, selling information or working as a mercenary. which eventually leads to kei taking notice of my efficiency after i've completed a few tasks. at first i'm nothing much but a disposable outsider.

he finally hires me when i prove my worth by completing a job for someone else that made me encounter his group from the enemy lines and he somehow didn't enjoy watching me outmanoeuvre one of his trusted men.

at first, i'm given tedious, low-level assignments: spying, gathering intel, or cleaning up loose ends. though i don't just follow orders blindly... which he learns soon. i think strategically, anticipating problems before they happen, leading to kei giving me more responsibility, first as a handler for other operatives, then for high-stakes missions.

he quickly realises that i seek / crave his approval and uses it against me. so despite already being very good at what i do, he keeps his validation rare, making me work even harder to earn it. a small “good job” from him is enough to keep me delulu... it's something that was pavloved into me since my childhood

at some point, i realise i am lowkey addicted to his approval, but by then, it’s too late to walk away. until one day i snap at kei after he cares and gives kind words to anyone but me. resulting in our first heated argument for him to understand how much control he actually has over me >.>

and maybe he even regrets his actions

from then on i'm more direct with him and he's trying to be nicer but he also somehow, wickedly enjoys seeing me be bothered by his praise. so suddenly it's a different sort of weapon, suddenly i receive it more often, more direct, more tempting than ever and that's sort of where we start off in a "romantic" sense while still keeping boundaries and barriers, sort of like an unlabelled thing until way later. let me live my toxic relationship dreams for a bit with him mkay

do i stand fully behind his ideology?

not fully. i don't like the idea of just letting things happen and see what the outcome will be. i like to have a plan and prepare for future scenarios. and while i not directly call him out, most often in the evenings/late nights when we are still awake i like to conjure possible realities and their consequences that i babble into the darkness of our bedroom in an attempt to maybe make him subconsciously realise that he can't just destroy the society and not offer an alternative

what outfit would i choose for him?

there are three options and they are somewhat similar to his canon outfit but elevated. i would love to see him shed that awful beige coat for a dark brown one, i really love the first outfit. also, in order to match with me, i picked the other options 🙂‍↕️ two baddies in leather coats is better than one after all and i think these dark colours could look really nice his hair and eyes!! feel like they would pop even more that way :>

#♡ྀི — keiwin #♡⃕﹒ sealed with wax & sin #⊹₊ kindred spirits

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strawberrystepmom · 8 months ago

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Me when I made a typo on my last ask OUGH falling to my knees

Dishonor

BUT that aside, I actually haven't read Manga in a while! I've been meaning to, I really enjoy reading Manga and have been looking for recommendations, actually. I had never heard of the Kaiju one, and by the name alone I'm curious about it (most normal Pacific Rim fan that will consume any content with "kaiju" in its name no matter how unrelated it is, sigh)

Mr. Yapper over here. I yap, you yap, omg we have so much in common hahah (please picture me attempting to lean in an attractive manner on like a Pool table or something, neither of us knows what the table is doing there, but even if we did that doesn't change the fact that I missed, so I tripped and stumbled and my face is red while trying to play it cool)

P.S. for your comfort, I'm letting you know I'm in my 20s ♤ so no surprises here

-✉️

omg don't worry about typos, i make 30000 of them an hour. i can always tell what someone means and that's what matters at the end of the day. context clues baby! thank you for letting me know about your age too !!!! that is very important to me.

im crying, yapping is a lost art i think. people think that just like normal conversation is yapping no like i hold people hostage sometimes. i WILL be listened to (just kidding) but it's fun! babbling and mumbling and all that fun stuff.

i too love pacific rim! i've always been a godzilla lover too since i was a kid so anything vaguely kaiju adjacent cannot be missed and tbh kn8 is really good and well paced and the story is fascinating. the art is gorgeous. it's just a top tier manga for me at this point and a much needed palate cleanser after finishing jjk. it was recently adapted into anime and i have some mixed opinions about the art style vs the manga but ykw it's all good. they told the story.

my reading list is literally 5 miles long though so we'll see what comes next. that's one of my projects for next week! to go through and move stuff up. i'm almost completely caught up to one punch man which is also a great manga with great art if you like battle manga.

anyway...see, there we go with the yapping! i hope today has been good to you <3

#answered #✉️ anon

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bunnygirl678 · 2 months ago

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you very clearly have lots of fun while writing and it makes me kind of jelly ngl, how do you manage to do that? probably a dumb question but i want to start writing but at the same time the idea seems pretty overwhelming

Hi!

I'm so glad you sent me a message!

I absolutely love to write, but for me, it's more than just fun, writing is a lover, a lover that I can admit anything and everything to, I can be completely raw and then come out of the other side with something I see beauty in.

But-

like any relationship, it takes work. When I was younger I would come up with these epics and expect them to be on the same level of prose as the greats... on the first try. And so I'd write a bit, it wouldn't be what I wanted, and I'd say fuck all and kill it.

Then I realized something. Instead of blood, I had ink running through my veins, and I needed to let it out (I was reading poetry earlier, so i'm being extra obnoxious! LOL). I started writing without ever planning to show it.

Let me back up.

Writing is in my blood. I mean that metaphorically, but also genetically, a good portion of my father's family is "artsy" my great x3 grandmother was a published poet, my grandfather wrote sonnets on the backs on Denny's napkins while chain smoking, my cousin sends me his poems and short stories he comes up with while waiting for his coffee to brew. But whats more than that, I love stories, I love to hear people talk, and so writing has been calling to me forever.

When I was a teenager I wrote cringy poems (with a few diamonds in the rough) and attempted short stories that really didn't make any sense. As I got older, I'd dabble in it every once in a while, but it wasn't until when my personal life was imploding that I finally leaned into it.

I'd published a few fanfics through the years for the various (okay let's be honest, marvel 616 was my bread and butter, yes stony is real mkay?) fandoms I enjoyed. I wrote some stories that ended up in discord servers that no longer exist with people i no longer remember their names. So when I started again, I made the decision to write for myself and not force myself to publish. And now, I pretty much plan to publish almost every fanfic I've written.

Now this is a whole lot of babbling and still not answering your question, but alas I like talking about myself, I've also had 2 extremely weak old fashioneds.

Writing feels overwhelming because you want to write like the greats immediately. (or at least that was my problem, hello perfectionism) I read a lot, and I have a lot of specific authors that I am rather taken by, Hemingway, Plath, Bradbury, Storni, Fitzgerald, Angelou, Salinger, Bukowski (I read Ham on Rye wayyyy too young oops), just to name a few, I think a lot of my style has influence from the authors I've read, both published and fic, there are some fics that could stand next to some of the most world renowned writing.

But the way to write well, and to have fun, is to write poorly. You have arm your fears and slay them (All I've ever wanted The Airborne Toxic Event came up with that line not me). You are going to write badly.

And that's okay.

You know how much shit I write?

A ton.

You should see the notebooks sprawled around my house. Filled with the worst writing you've ever laid eyes on. There are fics that are absolutely terrible, horrible pacing, cliche after chiche, and just LAME. But I don't regret them, I created them.

I once heard writing is like a muscle, and as a runner I agree, when I first started running I couldn't go very far, not even 30 seconds of running, at my peak, I was running an hour and a half a day without stopping (okay I did typically have to pee at some point but that's genetics tiny bladder family, we are horrible to road trip with), writing is the same, I wrote horribly and it wasn't that fun, because I couldn't let go and enjoy the journey. Now? I love it. I need it.

I write daily. I can't help it. I have words that are trapped in my veins, and I have to get them out.

I write on my phone, I write on my laptop, I write on my todo list, silly little poems that come to mind while I attend to my daily grind, maybe this is a poem? who knows? who cares? I'm having fun, because in the end, i'm writing for me.

And maybe that's the point of it all?

I write for me.

I write to get the words out.

I write to release the thoughts that keep me up at night.

I write to feel connected to my past and forge some kind of future.

I write for me.

And you should write for you, fuck everyone else, be selfish, do it for you.

Again, I've had a few whiskeys and have been reading Plath again soooooo I sound a bit pretentious even to myself, ignore me, or don't, remember what I said?

I write for me.

#bunny asks

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v3nusxsky · 2 years ago

Note

Hellooo I wanted to ask for a leonora lesso x reader fic that's hurt/comfort, when r has a nightmare of a previous SA she wakes up and accidentally destroys stuff w her telekinesis abilities and leo tries to comfort her but r pushes her away because she doesn't want to hurt her, Leo assures her that she won't get hurt and comforts r through it? It's oddly specific but inspired by that song beuatiful boy by John Lennon and yoko ono specifically that remix that goes [the monsters gone hes on the run and your gfs here] this is something I experience when I dream of it sometimes and you write comfort so well <3

He's gone Darling

*Authors note~ I had to check this song out I've seen it all over my TikTok but never placed the song till now. Y'all really are giving me some amazing songs to add to my playlist <;3*

Trigger warnings~ past sexual assault

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

You hated that they could still hurt you now. It didn't seem fair. You'd suffered at their hands for years, abuse of every kind and you never told a soul due to the fear it would get worse and no one would believe you. Yet you'd managed to escape now and you were safe. You'd found a nice job in the school for good and evil. And hell you'd even healed enough and found a beautiful woman who made you feel like you were the most beautiful person in the world. Your life had started looking up until these stupid nightmares began.

At first you tried to mask them, not really wanting to admit that he still had power over you. But your girlfriend was extremely observant and noticed you were avoiding her. She confronted you about it and you explained everything. Immediately she began thinking of anything that could help get a good nights rest. Together you decided you'd sleep in her chambers tonight and she'd watch over you to ensure your safety. Truthfully you were scared but the idea of curling up in her embrace sounded so much more appealing than the fear you felt.

That night you were all snuggled into her side, head resting in her chest as she held you rubbing soothing circles and humming to you as you fell asleep. Safe. That's all you had to remind yourself. You were safe with her. Her hand never left your back or your hair and for a while you were okay. Your little sleepy breaths were truly adorable and she couldn't understand just how they could've hurt you.

Your breathing sped up, and your limbs began to flail, tossing and turning as you tried to escape the memories and images your mind conjured up. A traumatic onslaught of the worst times of your life. Your own telekinetic abilities responding to the blur of emotions you were experiencing. Your body trying to protect itself from the threat that was no longer real. Lamps, clothing and even a few picture frames were being thrown across the room. Leonora ducking every single one and attempting to rouse you from the torment of your own mind. Your dream state was too strong and as the dream progressed so did the items being thrown as you hit and kicked out desperate to make it stop. Your crys were crushing her heart as she sat helplessly calling for you to wake up reminding you that you are safe with her and they weren't here no more. It's just your Nora.

You awoke with a frightened scream and you immediately pulled your knees to your chest rocking yourself as you cried. You hardly registered your girlfriends presence or her words of reassurance as you continued to babble incoherently about what you'd seen, what they did. Leonora knew it was wrong, that you had no control over the information you were now telling her but the rage that bubbled beneath the surface was a different monster to battle. They weren't important right now, what was important was you.

"Love? Can I touch you? I need you to calm your breathing darling girl" she murmured and you flinched away from her. "No! No touch! Please no" you sobbed absolutely broken. "Okay darling okay no touch can you take some deep breaths?" You nodded and greedily sucked air into your burning lungs. "Good girl pretty, you're doing so good. That's it keep going" she encouraged until you finally felt ready enough to throw yourself into her awaiting arms.

You sat there in silence snuffling quietly into the column of her neck. You'd nuzzle closer every now and then and she would make sure to hold you tighter. "Love? You're getting sleepy shall we try again?" She murmured kissing your head. How on earth did she know you were falling asleep cradled into her body. "Scared" you mumbled, "wrecked room" you whispered guiltily. "Hush love I don't mind about the room. How would you like to try sleeping?"

"Mmm like this?" You mumbled not really wanting to move. Thankfully you didn't have to, Leonora shifted to lay more comfortably for you both and hummed you to sleep once more. They may have hurt you but you had her now and no one would ever do such a thing to you ever again. The last thing you heard was the reassuring words, "The monsters gone he's on the run and your Leo's here my beautiful beautiful beautiful girl"

Word count~ 913

#fanfic #anon answered #lady lesso #sfgae #leonora lesso #lesso x reader #lady lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #leonora lesso x reader #lady lesso x you #dean of evil #anon response #anon requested

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takuyakistall · 3 years ago

Text

indirect | ace trappola

Note: To be honest, I don't remember if I've posted this before but I found this in my drafts so...

One couldn't possibly think of Ace as a high schooler terribly in love given his personality and his tendency to stray away from such matters, especially after how his last relationship came to end due to his lack of commitment.

But, there's nothing quite like the moment someone realizes they're besotted with someone — like the first bite of something terribly sour with the blooming taste of sweetness that coats your tongue right after. Only to realize that you wanted more of that peculiar yet wonderous taste. One bite turns to two, and two turns to three, and so forth.

Ace was a victim of that familiar euphoria, and it struck him again mercilessly when he realized that maybe — just maybe — he liked you a bit more than he last checked. Were you always this eye-catching? How come you're the first thing he looks for when he enters the room? How come he gets embarrassed way easier now? No good, no good!

It must be—

"Hey! Twisted Wonderland to Ace? Are you still listening?" You waved your hand frantically in front of Ace. A cup of milk tea resting in your grasp before giving it a light whirl with your wrist, letting the ingredients spread out before punching the straw in. Ace snapped his head up as if he just woke up from a dream.

"Ahem," Ace cleared his throat. "What were you talking about again?"

A groan escaped your lips, frustrated at the lack of attention the redhead was giving you as you took a sip from your drink. "Since you weren't listening," snarkily, "I'll guess I have to repeat myself again."

"Oh, just shut it and tell me what you're babbling on about." He replied, just as annoyed. But you did well trying to convince yourself to be the bigger person when both of you were obviously childish around one another.

"I asked you if you wanted a sip from my drink." Ace eyed the drink in your hands — it was the weekly special drink from Sam's shop that he named "Love Potion" or something along the lines. Ace thought it was outdated given how February was over and the drink had all sorts of Valentine-esque elements in it. Not that he was too critical over it as long as it tasted good.

"Sure. My throat is parched from all the questions Trein-sensei shot at me." Ace sighed, taking the cup from your hands and felt his stomach conjure up butterflies when he felt your fingers brush against his skin. He calmed himself down quickly, making sure you weren't aware of the slight changes in his movements and—

Wait a second.

"Don't you have another straw?"

"Huh? Why so suddenly? We've always shared drinks like this before." You blinked curiously at his sudden concern.

"Well—I mean, don't you think it's kinda gross now that you think about it?" That wasn't the real reason why Ace was so hesitant drinking from the same straw you used. Maybe it was just him overthinking the little things that seemed huge to him. You furrowed your eyebrows at his response.

"Now's not the time to be picky. Just think of it as creating less trash."

Maybe it was really just him overthinking things because… don't they say this sort of thing counted as an indirect kiss? He always thought they were stupid but, today, he understands a fraction of the emotions swirling in his guts. Was he overthinking because he figured out he liked you? Were you so nonchalant about this because you see him as nothing more than a friend?

The last thought oddly irritated him.

He erased the remaining doubts inside his head and took a huge sip, trying to stop his cheeks from flaring up at any indecent thoughts that arose inside his mind. The cup was nearly empty when he was done as he aggressively handed you the half empty cup.

"You little—!?" You cursed underneath your breath seeing how much Ace emptied your cup.

"You gave me one sip! I just made the most out of it." He walked away with his back facing you to attempt the red painting cheeks. Unaware that you, yourself, felt your heart beating a little faster after your exchange.

"Geez… Why did he suddenly get all self-conscious? That's contagious…"

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst writing #fanfic #twisted wonderland x reader #heartslabyul #twst ace #twisted wonderland ace #ace x reader #ace trappola #i just think writing ace is super fun

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its-short-for-jackalope · 2 years ago

Text

greetings! i have made a thing! ✨️two✨️ things!

✨️ sketchboooooooooooks! ✨️

it took longer than anticipated (I've been trying to get this done since the end of last year, oops) but I finally finished putting these together today. all that's left to do is decorate the covers and start drawing in 'em!

they are slightly–moderately wonky and pretty clearly handmade, but I love them. gives em charm. these are only the second and third books I've made myself so I'm still learning.

if you're interested I'll drop a few more photos and babble a little about the process under the cut! (definitely not a tutorial if that's what you're hoping for lol i was winging it the whole time)

okay so we'll start with the little guy. this is meant to be more of a travel sketchbook.

I wanted something fairly small that I could take on the go without it being too much of a hassle, because I'm also hoping to get out more and like... go for walks to the park or the cemetery or w/e and try doing some studies and life drawing and such. or just get some fresh air and doodle while I make a valiant attempt to get some vitamin D.

THE PROCESS

both sketchbooks are made out of materials I just had lying around, but this one is even more "recycled" lmao

i took the inside pages from an old sketchbook, and about half of them had previously been used, so I went and erased my old sketches as much as I could (they were bad and low effort, so it's no loss I assure you) and that was a boring and frustrating endeavor but it was worth it because, well, I get to use the paper again! I did a very poor job the first time around, I almost never drew on both sides of the page and so many pages were just one shitty sketch and nothing else 🙈

i sorted the pages into signatures (tried to mix up the used and new paper because it'd annoy me if I had just like one big chunk of ghost drawings and then the rest of the book was good and clean lol) and stitched those together and then put just a couple layers of glue on the spine to hold it together.

I made the cover by gluing two pieces of thin cardboard together for each part (front cover, back cover, spine) to make em sturdier, and then I trimmed them down to size and glued the pieces to a paper shopping bag. I didn't have the patience to try flattening the cover under a heavy book or anything, so it's a little warped and will kind of open up on its own so I'm just using the binder clip to hold it closed. plus idk it looks cool!

once the cover was done and dry I just... glued it all together! added the end pages i cut out of construction paper to the.. chunk of book? the book brick? (is there a technical word for it when the signatures are all together....?) and then glued the other sides of the end pages to the inside covers.

now for the second book! the big boy!

this fella was intended to be the grand, improved follow-up to the first sketchbook I put together, and I started working on it right when said first book started running out of paper.

this one is the wonkier of the two but I think it's definitely a few steps up from the original, and I'm pleased with it. this is gonna be my everyday sketchbook, so I wanted it to have a ton of pages so I can use it for a good long while. I think it's at least twice as thick as my first sketchbook. 😂

THE PROCESS

...basically the same as the travel sketchbook, just bigger! the pages are sourced from a different sketchbook, one I started using in high school and promptly forgot about upon graduation.

fun fact: the end pages are covered in countless tiny little hatch lines that i drew by hand while I watched/listened to something on my computer. I don't quite remember what I was watching at this point, but it was almost certainly something from Starkid... probably VHSCC on repeat, since I did this part back in november/december. it might sound tedious but I shit you not I was thrilled to do this part and it was just a blissful neurodivergent turn the brain off and vibe kind of time.

the biggest difference in this process was doing the cover; it's not cardboard, it's some kind of particle board.. thing that was salvaged from the back of a busted picture frame. it is VERY stiff and sturdy and I did not cut the pieces out so much as score the board with my box cutter as deeply as I could, bend it back and forth, and pray it didn't break. 😅 the cover-cover is from the same bag I used on the smaller book!

most of the wonkiness comes from the fact that the cover is sliiiiiiiightly too small for the book brick inside. I had limited material for the cover so I couldn't stretch that at all, I made the cover as big as I possibly could, but I also did not feel like trimming the inside pages so that they would fit better because that would have taken FOREVER and also probably killed me. 😫 soooo the pages stick out a little bit, but that's fine and it doesn't bother me much. 🤷🏻‍♂️

and that's my two sketchbooks! finished em both up over 3 days after procrastinating for at least a month. and now that they exist I can finally draw again!!! been wanting to do that for WEEKS.

if you read all of this I hope you got something out of it, lol. whether you did or didnt, here's a skull for your troubles.

😊🤲🏻💀

enjoy!! <3

#jack jabbers #sketchbook #handmade sketchbook #crafting #crafty #bookmaking #book binding #crafter

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milkteahood · 4 years ago

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Hello! I've been thinking about this for a whole week and I need to get it off my chest or I'll explode. This might be worded strangely because I can't explain it, only imagine it so I'll try my best. 😊

After the whole killing Miranda thing, Karl and his s/o move away from Romania, and after taking some time adjusting to their new life, have a baby. Now, I headcanon that Karl is afraid of going to the doctor because of Miranda's past experiments on him, and is especially deathly afraid of needles. Him using them on other people? That's just fine. But when it's pointed at him? Someone's gonna get hurt and it's not gonna be him.

So when his precious little ray of sunshine has to get their first vaccine shots, he's a nervous wreck, almost as if he was the one getting poked at, but tries to hide it. He knew it was good for his baby's health and he wants nothing more, but why did it have to be through painful shots? How is there not vaccine juice they can drink instead, dammit?! Obviously his s/o can tell he's getting worked up; he's tapping his foot, cooing at their baby to keep himself distracted, snuggling them close to his chest, almost like he's protecting them from the doctor's and their scary needles. His s/o tries to distract and calm him as their baby babbles happily in his arms.

The nurse comes in and Karl immediately goes into full Dad Mode™. Have you ever seen the cute video of the dad who's scared of needles comforting his baby son while he gets his shots? This one -> https://youtu.be/lqAUMsqiFxI (I hope that actually leads to the video), I think that's how he'd act. He's not even thinking about how he looks, he probably looks ridiculous but that's in the very back of his mind. His only thoughts are about protecting his baby from any and all pain, so he doesn't really care, as he cradles them and rambles non-stop encouragement and praise, not leaving their side for a second. When the nurse is done, Karl immediately scoops the baby up, seemingly more relieved than they were, holding them close and cooing about how strong they are.

His s/o would've chuckled a bit in wholehearted amusement at his heartwarming scene in the doctor's office, but the display of their lover and baby was just too cute and they didn't want to break Karl out of whatever protective instincts he was under. During the pregnancy, he was so scared that the persistant thoughts telling him that he will be a horrible father would be true, but, even if Karl himself didn't see it yet, his s/o knew their baby was safe being watched by his loving eyes and cradled in his protective arms.

I couldn’t open the link, but I can still imagine how that would go, so I hope you like this 💕

“My love, it’s just a vaccine” Y/N told Karl

“But it’s gonna hurt! I know it will! People used to scream when I did anything to them!”

“That’s because you used to do experiments on them. This is a vaccine. It’s completely safe”

Karl would not bulge. He knew the vaccine was mandatory, but he couldn’t see his princess go through anything inconvenient. They have been waiting outside the doctor’s office, ready to be called in any minute. His daughter was playing with one of the buttons from his coat, giggling and nibbling on it.

Some children would cry while getting their vaccine, which would freak Karl would even more. No matter how much his wife tried fo reassure him, he still tried to convince her to leave. He tried his best to stay calm, sometimes wishing he’d have his daughter’s chill. She did not care, too focused on ripping off that button. But Karl cared. Flashbacks of Miranda’s experiments came to him.

Him as a child, tied to a table while Miranda stung him with yet another needle. He never knew what was inside them until it was too late. He remembers screaming and crying, begging Miranda to stop. Telling her that it hurts. That he can’t take it anymore. But she never stopped. She always used to call him her brave son. And now, whenever he’d accidentally sting himself while working, he would flip the whole room. There was a particular fear rooted in trauma he couldn’t get over. His wife placed her palm on his knee, when she noticed he was tapping his foot.

She knew about his fears and traumas all too well. Y/N has been the first and only person he has even opened up to. She also knew he loved getting his hair played with when stressed. Looking down she noticed he was holding their daughter very protectively, and deep down, she hoped her child wouldn’t cry, for if she did, Karl would destroy the entire hospital.

The baby was looking up at her father curiosity. She was yet to discover why he wasn’t happy at the moment. When she frowned at him, Karl got stopped in his tracks.

“Why is she doing that?”

“Because she can sense how uneasy you’re feeling” his wife chuckled.

Some relief washed over him at that. He has always been scared of being a terrible father. For a moment there he thought his daughter hated him. Some forehead kisses later, and his daughter was a giggling mess once more. That eased Karl’s stress, and he began playing with her in an attempt to distract himself.

At some point he stood up and started playing airplane with her. The parents around found it endearing. Everyone thought he was being so considerate, not wanting his daughter to get scared, but in truth, he was the one that was scared. His daughter was happy, and that’s all that mattered. But he knew it wouldn’t last long. He knew the nurse could come out any second to call them in. And he was right, for it didn’t take long before he heard her call “Mr and Mrs Heisenberg? Please come inside”.

Karl shot another desperate look to his wife, hoping they would just leave. It was not too late yet. They could just walk out. What would the doctor even do? No one ever dared stand up to Karl. Well, except one particular person that kicked his ass, but that’s another story for another time.

As they walked inside, Karl was holding their daughter and his wife could easily sense he is feeling nervous. The doctor has been nothing but kind, reassuring Karl’s wife that fathers are usually the sensitive ones about this. In an attempt to make them laugh, by cracking a few jokes, the doctor earned a giggle from the little one. Karl, who was ready to throw that person out the window the second they came near with the needle, smiled. He smiled at his daughter smiling, and he smiled at the doctor for getting that out of her.

“You seem nice. Why are children crying?” Karl asked a little skeptical

“Well, the sting does hurt a little. And they’re children, not only it hurts, they also sense their parents’ discomfort. It’s a lot to take it for a baby, but it goes away rather quickly” the doctor explained

Karl did not like the doctor mentioning pain one bit. He was now even more reluctant to give them his daughter. But he had to and his wife was encouraging him to. She has always been supportive of him and she was doing a great job at being the emotional support Karl desperately needed.

When the doctor prepared the shot, and proceeded to approach, Karl froze up in place, and his wife needed to rub his back and reassure him that she’s right there and she’s not going anywhere. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the needle. His entire body was screaming at him to do something. The only constant thing was his wife’s palm on his back. Up and down, then kissing his shoulder.

He was broken away from his trance when he heard his baby girl cry. He was about to rip the doctor in half, before his wife stopped him.

“And that’s all!” the doctor said, cold sweat breaking as they made eye contact with Karl.

“Oh thank you so much” Karl’s wife hurried to say before dragging her husband out. She knew any more minute spent in there and Karl would totally kill the doctor.

Karl easily managed to get his daughter to stop crying, but his wife had to do a lot of convincing for her husband not to resort to murder. In the end she ended up calming him down by holding his hand on their way back home, with the occasional cheek kiss.

#milkteas asks #heisenberg asks #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #karl heisenberg #re8 heisenberg #re8 karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader

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nessaxc · 4 years ago

Text

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Date Night || Gojo Satoru

Gojo takes you out to dinner, but the flirty waitress at the restaurant really gets on your nerves, so Gojo is determined to assure you that he only has eyes for you.

~ Words: 2.5k

~ NSFW 18+

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"I'm glad I got to see you tonight, I've missed my princess," he leaned across the table to nuzzle his nose against yours gently, and you returned the same motion with a soft giggle.

"I've missed you too," you replied, "it's about time you made some time for me," you added.

"Well, you know, Tokyo keeps me busy," he told you with a chuckle, "but I had to take my best girl out, I know how lonely she gets without me around," he teased.

You giggled and propped your elbow up on the dinner table, balancing your chin in your hand as you held his gaze. He was smiling and shaking his head at you, mimicking your pose, only he rested both elbows on the table and cupped his face with his hands as he looked at you from across the table.

"You look beautiful in that dress by the way, but what else is new, huh?" he winked and broke eye contact for a moment to admire the dress that perfectly hugged your figure, "I'm glad you wore it."

You giggled again at that and twirled a small section of hair around your index finger, smiling down at your lap for a moment before you looked back up at him.

"I'm glad you wore that suit and tie. You should wear it more often, because you clean up pretty well," you grinned and leaned forward slightly to whisper, "by the way, you're really pretty too."

"Am I really pretty?" he joked and batted his lashes, letting his jaw hang slack with a smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth over the way you instantly cracked up laughing. He chuckled airily as he continued to look you up and down, and you had to turn away in attempt to hide the deep blossoming of your cheeks.

"Yes, you're very pretty," you said with a soft chuckle when you turned back to him.

"Good evening, can I get you anything?"

A young waitress made her way onto the scene before Gojo could respond to you, and she appeared to be addressing just him rather than both of you. She beamed brightly at him and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, letting out a hint of a giggle that you couldn't help but roll your eyes at.

"Some menus would be nice," he grinned up at her and she flaunted her smile right back at him, making it a mission to maintain eye contact for as long as possible and throw in a bat of the lashes here and there.

"I'll go get those for you right now," she bowed her head and smiled softly, but she didn't leave until she'd make a point of leaning towards him slightly to tell him, "by the way, that tie looks great on you, really compliments your complexion."

She was already flirting with him right in front of you whilst being so brazen about it, and it was really taking everything in you not to totally snap. You didn't want dinner to be spoiled by your temper, though, you could already feel yourself starting to lose your appetite because you were red hot with anger right now. You sat there silently and waited for her to leave, gritting your teeth and casting your gaze downward the entire time.

"Thank you very much," he thanked her before she walked away and when he turned back around to face you, he was greeted by raised brows, pursed lips and your eyes glimmering for the wrong reasons. You half-smirked at him and cleared your throat whilst picking at your nails to avoid looking up at him.

"I think she's expecting a tip from you tonight," you managed to make a joke out of it and mustered a small laugh.

He chuckled lightly and acted completely dismissive about it, waving it off as her following some sort of transcript, "It's just service with a smile, Y/N."

He insisted, but you just forced a smile on your face. You fiddled with the cutlery that rested to your side and toyed with the napkin as well, offering yourself a distraction rather than look up at him for the moment.

"Yeah, too many smiles in your direction, though, if you ask me," you sassed, and he laughed loudly at that.

"Babe, something the matter?" he raised an eyebrow curiously, an amused grin on his face. Before you had the time to open your mouth and retort, she soon returned with the menus.

She carelessly laid yours down in front of you while she actually handed Gojo his, making sure to brush her hand over his as she did so. You glared at her but your look went missed, and you were doing a pretty good job of keeping your mouth shut so far, no matter how badly you wanted to tell this girl to back off.

She started babbling on about something that he should try on the menu, ensuring to flash him her smile and bat her lashes some more. She was giggling like he had told the funniest joke, and you were clutching onto a fork tightly with a hand, thinking about digging it deep into her neck. Gojo was a bad influence on you. She brought her hand closer to his so she could flip through the pages and show him exactly what she was describing. You cleared your throat and decided to speak up, because this girl was getting on your last nerve.

"Could you give us a few moments to decide what we're having? Thank you," you gave her possibly the most painfully forced smile you could muster, somehow managing to keep a level head when she withdrew her hand and acknowledged you for the first time since she'd stop at your table. She simply nodded and smiled meekly before walking away, and Gojo’s bright blue eyes shot towards you to give you a look that was nothing short of sheer surprise at how sharp you'd been in your manner of speech.

"Did I miss something?" he cracked up laughing, "My little kitten's got a sharp set of claws, eh?" he remarked before his laughter starting to die down. "I thought she was a rather nice lady," he said with another chuckle.

He scanned over the menu to find a dish that stood out to him. You squinted at him and leaned into him, lightly bringing the menu down to have him look you in the eyes instead.

"Really, Satoru? I wouldn't class the light touches on the hand, the needless giggling and overall acting like a fucking schoolgirl with a crush as just 'being nice'," you snapped slightly, "she's flirting with you, a lot, and I'm sick of it."

"Oh, I see where this is going," he said with a knowing smirk that stretched its way across his lips a few seconds later. You noticed this and your hand targeted your menu in an instant as some form of shield to hide behind to avoid the stares he was giving you, and he lowered your menu down just like you had done to him.

"I think somebody's jealous when she really doesn't need to be," he sang and kept his eyes trained on your face. "So what if she's flirting a little bit? I'm not interested in the slightest," he told you, and you heaved a sigh before he continued, "you have nothing to worry about, my sweet," he said with a smirk, amused with your envy.

"Seriously? You mean that?" you asked, nibbling on your lower lip.

"Course I do," he said, "she could be on her knees begging for my cock and I would say no if that'd make you feel better about it," he finished, and you laughed at that.

"I'm not even feeling that hungry anymore," you said, "she's just so irritating," you huffed, and he looked at you like he was thinking of something until his brain hatched an idea.

"Forget about dinner, I know what will cheer you up, c'mon," he stretched his arm out for you to grab his hand, and you quickly took it in yours. He walked with you until you both reached the closest bathroom - the women's room.

"Um, Satoru, I don't think you're supposed to be in here," you quipped with a short giggle.

"Oh trust me, I am," he cooed. Once the door was closed, he lifted you up by your thighs and pinned you to the wall, his lips attacking your neck in little bites and harsh kisses, not caring about the purple marks he left in his wake.

"Satoru," you gasped his name out, much to his delight.

You let out a soft moan of approval through your own lips as you lifted your hips up in absolute desperation, wanting more of him, and wanting it now.

"I only have eyes for you, Y/N, you and only you," he told you as he continued to cover your neck in wet kisses, and you couldn't help lean your head back to give him easier access. Realizing that you both were still out in the open, he carried you into the bathroom stall, pressing you up against the nearest and sturdiest wall.

He tugged his pants down from his hips and quickly pushed his boxers down to his knees, just far enough to allow his thick and fully hard member to spring up. He nearly ripped your panties down your thighs and threw them to the floor, holding you up with one hand and using the other to glide up your thigh, one finger slipping up your wet folds. He grinned knowingly before he leaned in to growl in your ear, "Look at how wet for me you already are," he hummed, "mm, how bad do you want me?"

Just the slightest touch drove you absolutely wild, and you seemed to forget everything that took place before he brought you in this stall. You keened in the back of your throat and rocked your hips down against his finger, moaning out, "Fuck me, Satoru. I need you so bad. Please!" you cried.

"Well when you say it like that, I don't see how I could say no," he cooed. He grasped his member firmly until he was lined up to your entrance, exhaling loudly as he crouched down to push in. He took his time entering your body at first, watching the pleasure overcome your features. Once you had adjusted to his girth, he set a rough pace, taking you quickly in broad deep strokes that jarred your body and caused your head to slam back into the wall as you surrendered yourself to his movements, hips grinding forward in an attempt to keep tempo. He doesn't waste time going slow, knowing you both needed relief fast.

Grasping his shoulders tightly, you moaned, the volume increasing with each thrust until you were sure you would both get caught.

"That's it, let the whole goddamn restaurant know who's fucking you," he managed to say between his own moans and grunts. "You're doing so good, baby, so good," he praised.

You answered with an even louder moan, shoving your hips forward in a demand for him to go faster, grinding your clit against his pelvis whenever you could.

"Your cunt feels so fucking perfect, squeezing me like this, fuck," he ground out.

He obliged your command, snapping his hips into yours relentlessly, the sounds spilling from your lips urging him on.

"You look so good baby, you always do," he uttered through a pant, "you fucking drive me crazy." He quickly added, "Do you know how beautiful you look when you're all stretched out on my cock?"

One hand gripped onto your hair and he tugged backwards just enough to show you dominance as he pounded into you with no mercy, the sounds of your high pitched moans bouncing off the walls, mixed with his deep grunts and the sound of hot skin slapping against skin.

"Look at you, you're always so fucking pretty, so fucking perfect like this," he told you. His hips moved in the most sinful way, filling you up just perfectly, and he seemed to find that special spot inside you so skillfully, making you cry out in ecstasy.

"You like that, baby? You like how good I make you feel? Good girl, moaning for me and showing the entire diner who's gonna make you come," he hissed into your ear as his thrusts became more erratic, slamming into you again and again as he kept his wild pace up.

"Mmmm!" you hummed. You threw your head back and arched your torso sharply, screaming out in pleasure when your body started to quake with the sensation of your orgasm barreling towards you. His fingers left little purple prints on your hips at how tight he was squeezing your hips, knowing you were both close to your climax.

"Show me how much you like it, come for me," he rasped.

He maintained the angle of his thrusts, continually hitting a sensitive spot within your body until you were convulsing in his arms, orgasm rocking you to the very core. He wasn't far behind, taken over the edge by the tight clenching or your walls around his member.

Exhaling loudly, he relaxed his body against yours as you both came down from your peaks. The wall was the only thing keeping you both up as you wilt, exhausted from your spontaneous lovemaking. Finding the energy to pull back, he kissed you gently, running his fingers through your hair to fix the disrupted locks. You smiled into the kiss, body buzzing from your orgasm and heart glowing at his gestures.

You both cleaned up as best as you could in the stall, he helped adjust the skirt of your dress before moving to fix his own disarrayed hair.

"You had no reason to be jealous, Y/N, like I said I only have eyes for your pretty little face," he nuzzled his nose against yours, and you did the same in return, laughing with each other.

"Thank you, Satoru," you said with a soft giggle when you stepped out of the bathroom stall with him.

"Anything for you, babe," he told you as he intertwined his fingers with yours, walking out with you, "now let's go eat," he started, "we can even put on a little show for her under the table so she knows not to mess with you," he suggested with a loud laugh.

"I like the sound of that," you replied with a broad smirk on your face. That wasn't a bad idea.

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star--anon · 4 years ago

Text

3 Times Wilbur Was A Lee + No That's It, That's The Post

Heyyyyyyy~! I left Tumblr for a little while, but don't worry! I'm back! And I've finally written the prompt that was sent to me over 2 months ago! Yay!

"Listen, I'm sorry, alright?" Tommy huffed out, resting his head on Wilbur's shoulder. "I didn't mean to! Honest! You're just being a big bitch about it!"

Wilbur didn't say anything back. He simply stared at the front door, waiting for Phil to come home with his fixed sweater.

While watching Tommy parade around the house in Wilbur's favorite orange sweater was, to some degree, amusing, it was not amusing when Tommy ripped the soft fabric. And although Phil had gone to get the sweater fixed, Wilbur was still incredibly upset with the seventeen-year-old idiot. He stuck a Post-It on Tommy's forehead with the words, "I am an idiot and Wilbur Soot does not talk to idiots," scrawled on the yellow paper in messy handwriting. He then resigned himself to the couch and waited for Phil to come home, ignoring Tommy's attempts at getting his attention.

It seemed like Tommy wasn't exactly on board with his idea, judging by the way he plopped himself next to Wilbur and began poking his shoulder, repeating, "...Answer me, answer me, answer me, answer me, answer me, answer me..."

It took every fiber of Wilbur's being to not whack Tommy on the back of his empty little head.

"...Answer me, answer me, answer me, answer me..."

The words, "Shut it", weighed heavily on Wilbur's tongue, and it took a massive effort to not let it slip from his lips. He had told himself that he would not talk to Tommy, and he was going to keep that promise.

"...Answer me, answer me, answer me, not gonna stop until you answer me, answer me, answer me..."

Gradually, as Wilbur remained unresponsive, Tommy's poking became quicker and more aggressive until he missed his mark. Instead of poking Wilbur's shoulder, he ended up poking his ribs. The older started and swallowed a squeak of surprise. He hoped that Tommy hadn't noticed, but that hope quickly sank when he saw him grin widely.

"I saw that jump, don't try and hide," said Tommy, poking his ribs again. As impassively as he could, Wilbur reached out and grabbed Tommy's wrists tightly. He never spoke a word and kept his eyes on the front door. He was trying to ignore the kid, after all. He squeezed Tommy's wrists and let go, hoping that the boy had gotten the message.

Don't poke me, he silently said.

Unfortunately, Tommy was never good at listening. The moment his hands were free, he immediately returned to poking at Wilbur's ribs, this time with renewed energy.

"Ahaha-!"

Wilbur cracked.

He dropped the ignoring act and squirmed away from Tommy. In his desperation, he made the mistake of falling off the couch and onto the ground, allowing Tommy to sit on top of him and poke him more.

"G-Gehehet ahahaway!"

"I knew it! I knew you were just ignoring me!"

"Tohohommy, gehehet ohoff!"

"Nah. I'm having a lot of fun."

"T-Tohohommy, Ihi'm seheherious!" Wilbur tried to flip over to throw Tommy off him, but he quickly abandoned the attempt when Tommy dug between his shoulder blades. "Juhuhust gehehet ohohoff! Plehehease!"

Although Wilbur's thin shirt was doing nothing to protect him from Tommy's poking, the blonde still decided to take it up a notch. He slipped a hand underneath the shirt and rapidly squeezed his ribcage. Wilbur just about shrieked, frantically and jerkily pushing at Tommy's chest. His arms flailed around; Wilbur was stuck between trying to push Tommy off him or covering up his red face to preserve what little dignity he could save. The younger grinned widely, easily grabbing Wilbur's hands and pinning them down high above his head.

"TOHOHOMMY, WAHAHAIT! I-IHI CAHAHAN'T BREHEHEATHE!" Wilbur was bluffing and Tommy knew it.

"Calm down, you're breathing just fine."

"GEHEHET OHOHOFF!"

"Awww, is this a bad spot?" Tommy made an exaggerated sad face. "This is a bad spot for you, huh? Your ribs are ticklish? Is that what this is? Hm?"

Wilbur whined at the teasing, turning a deep shade of red.

"TOHOHOMMY!" he complained. The squeezing and pokes to his ribs made it difficult to think, so he couldn't get out much more. Given the opportunity, he might have been able to formulate a proper and cohesive argument and rationalization to persuade Tommy into halting his petty actions.

He wasn't given the opportunity.

The laughing on his behalf and the tickling on Tommy's seemed to weaken Wilbur because he was finding it incredibly hard to do anything but lie there and take it. Take the digging nails between his ribs, the occasional raspberry on his ribs, the random squeezes and pokes and prods and wiggles and skitters and rubs on the bones and gently scratching...

"TOHOHOMMY! PLEHEHEASE, YOUHU'RE GOHOHOING TO KIHILL ME!"

"Calm down," scoffed Tommy. "I'm not going to kill you."

Still, he relented and stopped his attack, letting Wilbur (finally) take a breather.

"Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeheheah..."

"Cool."

"Cahahan youhu get ohohoff mehe?"

Tommy blinked. This was the first time in memory that Wilbur had asked for something — and politely too.

"Hm..." For a moment, Tommy considered it. Wilbur hadn't flipped him over and taken brutal revenge yet. He had asked nicely to be let up. It looked like he was sorry for ignoring Tommy. Well, then again, it only looked like he was sorry.

"Maybe if you apologize for ignoring," offered Tommy, "I'll let you up."

Wilbur glared at him. It was obvious he was trying to gain authority and control of the situation by activating his Big-Brother mode, but it was less effective when he was at Tommy's mercy.

"Fuhuhuck youhu," Wilbur snapped. "Let me up."

Tommy just shrugged. "Your funeral," he said, scribbling his fingers over Wilbur's ribs. The brunet screeched in laughter and immediately gave in.

"OHOHOKAY! OHOKAY IHI'M SOHOHORRY! SOHOHOHORRY!"

Huh. Well, that had worked out better than expected. Tommy made a mental note about Wilbur's ribs. What? It was valuable potential blackmail for later!

"Very sorry?"

"YEHES! V-VEHEHERY SOHOHORRY!"

"And you promise that you'll never ignore me ever again?"

"YOUHU SUHUHUCK!" Wilbur whined through his laughter.

"I don't hear you saying it~"

"NOHOT SAHAHAYING SHIHIT!"

"Don't think you have a choice here, Wil," Tommy murmured. Once more, he switched tactics, going from dancing his fingers around to digging in between each of Wilbur's ribs. Every once in a while, he'd blow a raspberry and smugly grin when he heard Wil shriek. "I think you better say it."

"IHIHI PROHOHOMISE IHI'LL-" Wilbur broke off with a high-pitched squeal as Tommy blew a raspberry on a particularly ticklish rib. "AHAHA-! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!"

"Go on," coaxed Tommy. "Say "I'll never ignore you again, Tommy", and I'll let you up."

"DA-DAHAHAMN YOUHU!

"Say it!"

"IHIH'LL NEHEVER IGNORE YOUHU AHAHAGAIN, TO-TOHOHOMMY!" Wilbur managed to babble out.

Finally, finally, Tommy stopped. This time, with no intention of starting up again. "Really?"

"Yehes," Wilbur breathily replied. His chest rose and fell as he greedily sucked in some much-needed air. "I forgive you, okay? I'll stop ignoring. I don't think you're an idiot. I don't care about my sweater." At first, Tommy thought he was just saying it so Tommy wouldn't tickle him again. But that thought quickly left when Wilbur reluctantly grumbled out, "I love you. And I'm sorry."

"Awww! Thank you!"

"Now get the fuck off of me."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*

"Y'know, Tommy had a lot of fun telling me about his own tickling story with you," Philza helpfully informed, shifting slightly to better access Wilbur's underarms. He noticed that kneading circles made Wil's laughter go high-pitched, so he made sure to knead as many circles as he could. "But honestly, I think I'm having more fun than he did."

"AHAHAHA! PH-PHIHIHIL! PHIHIL IHIHI CAHAHAN'T! PLEHEHEHEASE! IHI- EEP!"

Phil grinned at Wilbur's reaction. He blew another raspberry on his neck and got the same response: a short, high-pitched shriek.

"You what? What is it, Wilbur?"

Wilbur simply shook his head, laughing too hard to be able to form coherent words. Had he not been sitting in Phil's lap, his arms held up with one hand and his underarms being tortured by a hand and a wing while another wing was running over his ribs, he might have been able to form a proper word. Phil noticed this and decided to give the musician a small break.

"...h-hehehe," Wilbur softly giggled. The tickling had stopped, but he still jerked and flinched and laughed like there were still fingers and feathers on him. "M-Mehehahaha..."

"What?"

"...mehahaha..."

"A-Are you okay?" asked Philza, starting to get worried. He hadn't taken it too far, had he?

Finally, after his breathing calms down and enough air gets into Wilbur's lungs, he whispered, "...m-mehehercy..."

"What's that?"

"H-Hahahave mehercy, Phihil." Wilbur shook his head once more, his giggles beginning to start up again. He tugged at his wrists, which were still held high above his head, and rocked side to side, almost like he was trying to evade poking fingers. The only thing was that Phil wasn't doing anything. "Cahahan't tahake ihit..."

"I'm giving you a break right now," soothed Phil. "I'm not an asshole."

"Yehes you ahahare," Wilbur cheekily said.

"Hey," said Phil. He ran his nails over Wilbur's ribs, earning a loud shriek. "I would be careful if I were you," he warned. "Don't forget, I know two of your spots now, and I fully plan on abusing my knowledge."

Wilbur squirmed in the avian's lap, his light-hearted threat forcing a whine out of him. His cheeks only got redder when he finally processed something that Phil had said earlier.

"Did he really?" he meekly asked.

"Did who really what?"

"Did Tommy really tell you about tickling me?"

Philza barked out a laugh. "You think Tommy's the type of guy to offer help in unloading the groceries?"

Wilbur flushed, his cheeks now a deep crimson. "Guess not," he grumbled. He had thought it was weird that Tommy was suddenly so eager to do a task that nobody liked doing — unloading the groceries — but he had just assumed that Tommy felt awkward around Wilbur after tickling him. He hadn't thought that... Wilbur kicked his legs as best he could and whined loudly.

"I can't believe you just stood there and willingly listened to Tommy talk about how he... how he tortured me to earn my forgiveness," he huffed.

"Torture," Phil snorted. "He didn't torture you. You make it sound like he had a knife and was drawing blood. According to him, all he did was tickle your ribs."

"W-Well, my ribs are very ticklish!"

"I noticed," Phil remarked. He dragged a single finger up Wil's ribs and smirked when Wilbur burst into sweet lil' giggles. Feeling a little evil, he added, "You know, he also told me get flustered easily~"

This, of course, flustered Wilbur. He buried his head in the crook of his arm, trying — and failing miserably — to suppress a goofy smile.

Phil took it as an invitation to continue.

"He also told me your laugh was adorable."

"Did he really-

"He told me you get all giggly when someone lightly rubs your ribs."

"Wh-What-"

"And that you get really red when someone tickle you."

"I don't-"

"You do, actually," Phil noted, eyeing the brunet's red face.

"Look," he said, booping Wilbur on the nose, "even your nose is red."

"I-"

"You look good though," Phil reassured. "Cute and a little messy, but good."

"St-Stop cutting me off!" spluttered Wilbur. The fact that Phil hadn't let him go yet probably meant that he planned on tickling him more, and Phil's constant interrupting wasn't helping Wilbur ease his nerves.

Phil's eyes widened at his outburst. "Well, there's no need to shout at your old man," he murmured. "I was just curious, that's all."

"S-Sorry..."

Phil hummed again, and the two fell into a comfortable silence — although Wilbur's nerves still didn't ease. Just as he was about to be asked if he could be let go, Phil said, "Aight, break's over. Let's start."

"Wait, what're you- AH! PHIHIHIL! NOHOHOT AHAHAGAIN!"

Phil cooed softly, drilling his wings into Wilbur's underarms while silently counting his ribs with his free hand. "I think Tommy was right; your laugh is adorable."

"FUHUHUHUCK YOUHUHU!"

Phil frowned at the vulgar language. He tugged Wilbur's arms to the side a little and began blowing raspberries on his ribs. Just as Tommy had told him, Wilbur immediately shrieked.

"AHAHAHA! WAHAHAIT! SOHOHORRY! PLEHEHEHEASE, IHIHI'M SOHOHORRY!"

Phil noticed that vibrating his fingers deep into Wil's underarms made him laugh louder than when he blew raspberries on his ribs. "Hey, I think your armpits might be more ticklish than your ribs!"

"PHIHIHIL!" Wilbur whined. "YOUHUHU'RE SOHO MEHEHEHEAN!"

"Me? Mean?" Phil gasped in mock offense. He ran the tip of his wing over Wil's left underarm while drilling circles into his right. The harsh contrast between the two sides was driving Wilbur insane! "I'm hurt, Wilbur. I'm genuinely hurt."

"IHIHI'M SOHOHORRY NOHOW STOP TIHIHIHICKLING MEHE!"

"Lemme sleep on it."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*

"No, that wouldn't work either," Wilbur dismissed. He leaned back in his chair (or some stairs, depending on how you wanna look at it) and gazed out the window, a half-amused smile tugging on his lips as he watched Tommy and Tubbo assemble and reassemble a large pyramid puzzle. To Technoblade, he said, "Think of something better."

"I'm trying!" Techno frustratedly snapped. "You've been rejecting every idea I've come up with! Plus, you haven't come up with a single idea yet!"

"Yeah, because good ideas take a long time to think of!"

Techno rolled his eyes. "Yeah? Good ideas take a long time to think of? Seriously? That's your excuse?"

"It's not an excuse! I'm trying to focus, but you're distracting me!"

"I'm helping."

From downstairs, Phil tiredly sighed, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Wilbur and Techno were arguing. Again.

"What else is new," he muttered under his breath before sipping his coffee.

Sometimes, the avian questioned his decision to introduce his adopted family to Technoblade. At times, it was good to have his friend around; he was always happy to have a helping hand in organizing the family. Techno was a good big brother.

There were, however, some problems. Even though Technoblade was over a thousand years old, Nether piglins tended to live for millions of years. By piglin standards, Techno was barely a toddler. His youth — and therefore inexperience — caused some (read: a lot) of chaos and unnecessary bickering around the house.

For example, it was Tommy's birthday, and Techno and Wilbur had been assigned to give him a gift. Phil had initially thought it would be a nice team/brother bonding moment, but it just ended up being another excuse for the two to argue.

"What if we made him a giant cobblestone tower?" suggested Techno. "I have enough. We could build it all the way to the height limit. It'd probably make Tommy happy; he likes cobblestone towers of powers."

"No."

The piglin blinked at Wilbur's bluntness. He waited for an explanation. When none came, he prompted, "...Because...?"

"I just don't like the idea," Wilbur replied.

Techno threw his hands up in wordless fury. "You are impossible to work with," he stated. "Absolutely impossible."

"Think of some good ideas and maybe I'll be easier to work with."

Finally, Technoblade snapped. Wilbur had been rejecting every single one of his ideas with no satisfying explanation. It was honestly starting to get to him.

Making sure Wilbur was still distracted by something outside the window, he slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a book and quill. Flipping to page thirteen, he slowly trailed a finger down the paper, quickly reading all the bullets.

- A video where he's singing incredibly off-key - His secret drawer of photos of Sally - The one page in his diary where he talks about how amazing Tommy is - A video of him strumming an air-guitar like he's at a rock concert - That one time he accidentally encased himself in obsidian and I had to get him out - That time he started talking about how incredibly Tommy was before realizing I wasn't Philza

None of these help, Technoblade thought, slightly crestfallen. Usually, his book had all the blackmailing information necessary for any situation. But none of the bullets were helpful in this certain scenario. Eventually, he reached the final bullet on page thirteen, the page specifically dedicated to potential blackmail on Wilbur Soot.

- Ticklish ribs The words, "+underarms", had been hastily scrawled underneath.

Huh. Technoblade glanced up at Wilbur, who remained oblivious to his growing evil scheme.

"Alrighty then," the piglin sighed, standing up. "Villain arc time."

"Oh yeah?" Wilbur absent-mindedly murmured. "What're you gonna- AH!"

He yelped, caught off-guard, as Techno just about pounced on him and hauled him off his chair. He crashed into the piglin, sending them tumbling to the ground, each fighting for dominance. Though Techno was quite well-known for his strength and cunningness, Wilbur found it incredibly easy to wriggle his way out from his grasp.

Just as Wilbur had thought he had managed to get away, Techno "accidentally" hiked his shirt up and began squeezing at his ribcage. Wil immediately crumbled to the ground, feebly beating Techno's chest with a clenched fist.

"Ack! T-Tehehechno! Youhu cheheheater!"

"I win!" he triumphantly cried, flipping Wilbur onto back and settling down on his legs. Anytime Wil tried to resist, Techno would simply rub his top rib bones and watch (smugly) as Wilbur fell back down, giggling up a storm.

"Youhuhu cheheated!" Wilbur protested. "Thahat's not fahahair!"

"Hush," shushed Techno. Wilbur did not "hush". In fact, when Technoblade delved his fingers into his underarms, his laughter only grew louder. In mock exasperation, Techno snapped, "Pay attention, Wilbur, I'm showing you my really good idea."

"Thihihis ihis youhur idehea?!"

"It's good, isn't it?"

"Ihihit's ahabsolute shit!"

Techno's eyes widened.

"You take that back!" he demanded, not caring how childish he was being. It seemed like laughter truly was contagious, for Wilbur's loud cackling brought out a few chuckles from himself. Techno was glad that Phil had suggested for Tommy and Tubbo to go outside, because it would be very hard to explain why he, Technoblade, a deadly piglin who earned his title "Blood God", was currently sitting on top of a human and tickling him senseless, all the while wearing a large, goofy smirk.

"My ideas are great and you know it. Just admit it already."

"Fuhuhuck ohoff! Ihihi-" Whatever Wilbur was going to say was cut off by his own raucous laughter when Techno pushed his sweater up and blew a raspberry on his ribs (a trick he learned from Phil, who learned it from Tommy). "FUHUHUCK! WAHAHAIT! WAHAHAIT, TEHEHECHNO PLEASE! STOHOHOP!"

Technoblade did not stop. As a matter of fact, Wilbur's pleas only seemed to spur him on. Through slightly teary eyes, Wil weakly batted at Techno's shoulder as the pinkette blew raspberry after raspberry on his ribs. The hits didn't do much — Techno barely noticed — but it did throw him off a little when Wilbur missed his shoulder and whacked him in the face. Luckily, no one was hurt, but it made Techno flinch, and instead of blowing a raspberry on Wil's ribs, he blew one on his navel.

To which Wilbur screeched.

"NOHOHO! NONONONO! NO! PLEHEHEASE! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHERE! ANYWHERE BUHUT THEHERE!"

Technoblade grinned. He gave Wil's underarms a little break and moved to attack his tummy instead, skittering his fingers around the soft skin, occasionally dipping into his navel to lightly scratch around.

"Oh? Is this a new spot?" asked Techno. "Is your tum-tum ticklish? Is it? Is it so tick-tick-ticklish? Hm?"

"STOHOHOHOP!" Wilbur tried to demand. His squeaky cackles weren't really helping him make a point. He pursed his lips together and attempted to put on a mean, stony face. Techno dipped a thumb into his lil' button and vibrated it around, and his facade immediately crumbled. He squirmed underneath him, frantically trying to get free. "PLEHEHEASE! CAHAHAN'T TAHAKE IHIT!"

The piglin caught the strain in Wilbur's laughter and sympathized with him. He hadn't been tickled before, but Wilbur always tried to keep a strong, impassive reputation, and Technoblade doesn't know what he would do if somebody tickles him and reduced him to a red puddle of giggles.

"Alright, alright," he murmured, decided that Wilbur had had enough. "Just wanted to have my revenge for a little while. It gets annoying when someone keeps rejecting my brilliant ideas, y'know."

He slid off of Wilbur and walked back to his chair, where he had originally been sitting before he had gotten the random idea to tickle Wil. Before he could see what Techno was doing, the piglin quickly jotted down "+belly and navel" on page thirteen of his blackmailing book. He said nothing else — no apologies, no consolation, no explanation. Nothing. Zip. Zero. Nada. Goose eggs.

The moment Wilbur got enough air into his lungs and strength in his limbs, he staggered back onto his feet, face bright red and hair a mess. He ran a hand through his ruffled brown curls — like that would help — and sank into his chair, breathless.

"Ihi still thihink your ideas a-are shihit," he mumbled. He hugged himself around the stomach, ghost tickles still dancing on his sensitive skin. Technoblade glared at him. He had forgotten how annoying Wilbur was while he had been tickling him. He grabbed the first thing he could find — a marker — and pointed it at the brunet.

"I'll tickle you again if you're not careful," he threatened.

"I can take it," Wilbur arrogantly responded, eyeing the marker warily. His bluff was called, however, when Technoblade stood up and he squeaked. "AH! Sorry! Didn't mean it! I-I was just joking!"

Techno grinned. "You wanna admit that my ideas are good now?"

"No."

For a split second, Wilbur's stubbornness irritated the piglin. But then, after studying the marker in his hand, Techno's grin only widened, another equally wonderful idea popping into his head.

"Alright, I've got an idea I bet Tommy'll love," he said.

"And I bet it's shit."

Technoblade didn't say anything, simply grabbing Wilbur's wrists and raising them high above his head, which scared him.

"What're you doing?" he squeaked, voice high-pitched in terror. "D-Don't tickle me again! Please! I'm sorry!"

"Calm down," Techno soothed. "I'm not going to tickle you."

Wilbur relaxed a little. That is until Technoblade began pushing his sweater up, to which he shrieked, "What're you doing?!"

"I'm going to use this marker," was the pinkette's simple response.

"T-To do wha- EEP! Tehehechno! Nohohot ahagain!" whined Wil. "Plehease! Ihihi'm seherious, I cahahan't tahake it!"

"What? Seriously? You can't take a marker? Not even a marker?" teased Technoblade, more surprised than anything else.

"Ihihi'm tihihicklish!" the brunet defensively giggled.

"Well, that's good, because I won't tickle you all that much. Just stay still. I need to write something on your stomach. It'll be easier if you don't struggle."

"Ihihit tihihickles!"

"I know, but just stay still."

Wilbur tried — he really did! — but it was incredibly difficult to not laugh while Technoblade was writing something on his stomach with a black Sharpie. The soft tip of the marker was surprisingly good at tickling him, especially when it came close to the rim of his navel.

"Whahat ahahare yohuu even dohohoing?" giggled Wilbur. He couldn't exactly read whatever Techno was writing. It's hard to read upside down.

"I'm writing "TICKLE HERE" all over your stomach. And don't look at me like that," Technoblade added when the other gaped at him. "I know you're ticklish on your stomach, but I'm willing to bet Tommy doesn't~"

"Youhu wouhuhuldn't!"

"I would, actually," Techno replied. "Plus, I bet Tommy would love it. Admit it, Wilbur, it's a good idea."

Although Wilbur would continue to insist that Techno's ideas were shit, Tommy actually found Techno's birthday gift for him incredibly entertaining and enjoyed it immensely.

("Come on Wilbur, it's very rude to not sing me happy birthday~" "Ihihi'm tryhyhyhying!" "Try harder! Try to stop laughing. It might help." "Youhuhu suhuck!" "I wouldn't say that if I were in your position~" "ACK! WAHAHAIT! IHIHI'M SOHOHORRY!" "Don't forget to try his navel too." "FUHUHUCK YOU BOHOTH!")

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*

I don't know why this prompt took me so long to do but I'm so fucking sorry Jesus Christ ᜊࡇᜊ

Also I'd just like to mention brag that the word count is 3,909 words.

-🌟

#Starburst! 🌟#Starburst's fics #lee!Wilbur Soot #ler!Tommyinnit #ler!Philza #ler!Technoblade #mcyt #dsmp #mcyt tickles #tickle fanfic #my fanfic #SFW tickling

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little-ature · 2 years ago

Text

random talks: books

Gue baru sadar bahwa faktor terbesar gue kesulitan menulis akhir-akhir ini adalah karena gue semakin jarang baca buku atau baca bacaan yang cukup lengthy. I've been too comfortable with watching (short) videos which require less and lesser of my attention. Baca buku sekarang membutuhkan kesabaran lebih buat gue.. something I didn't know I would feel towards books.

As an attempt for me to practice writing, I will babble about books this time!

The Pageturner

I must say, I miss the excitement of trying to read pages after pages slowly, mindfully, because the book is too entertaining! The last time I felt that way was when I read Kevin Kwan's Crazy Rich Asians trilogy. I swear, the movie didn't do justice (at all) to how hilarious the book is! Kevin Kwan is such a genius writer, I'm certain nobody would dare say otherwise. There is something the way he writes that just makes the whole plot was much more enthralling. Baca Crazy Rich Asian mengingatkan gue pada novel-novel seri Hanafiahnya Sitta Karina, circa 2010-ish. She also captured the setting (and the specific product/series of the brands! lol) in detail, making the story more lively and easy to imagine. I remember her novels made my sisters and I went crazy about the characters (and the whole Hanafiah clan). Another pageturner book for me is The Help by Kathryn Stockett. Gue nonton filmnya duluan sih, dan gue cinta banget filmnya. It is undoubtledly one of my comfort movies. Gue selalu tertarik dengan premis yang berkaitan historical issue/era seperti racial segregation di US yang diangkat di film ini dan liberation from sex discrimination di film On the Basis of Sex. I bought the book in secondhand condition from e-commerce, in a perfect condition. By perfect, I mean the pages already turned yellow and has the particular dusty scent on it! I'm glad the book was well-loved by its previous owner. The plot in the book was more complicated than in the film (pastinya), dan jauh lebih bagus. Despite the controversies of Stockett's being bashed because writing a (so-called_ white-savior books, I think the book was brilliant. Gue gak melihat plotnya mendiskreditkan perjuangan people in color seperti yang dibilang sebagian orang. It's just a fiction afterall, and people can write anything they want. Speaking of pageturning books, gue juga baru inget kalau Seven Husband of Evelyn Hugo tuh BAGUS BANGET. SEBAGUS ITU, gue sampe sempet ngoceh panjang lebar di instagram story betapa gue bersyukur hidup di era ini karena sempet baca bukunya di hidup gue! Romance novel yang gak shallow at all. I swear if you haven't read it, you are missing a masterpiece in your life.

The First English Book

My first english fiction was Eleanor & Park. Oh boy how the novel changed my world and my youth! As someone who just turn into her adolescent phase, reading a romance novel with a relatable setting like Eleanor & Park offered me a beautiful experience. I felt the butterflies in my stomach as Rowell captured the small acts Park did to Eleanor in the bus and vice versa. I felt my cheek blushed and embarassed as I read the lonely-time-in-the-car scene. I felt hurt by the ending, the same feeling I got when I felt heartbroken in high school. I felt that love offers both comfort and hurt through reading this book while also experiencing it in real life occurs at the same time; and I will never forget that in my life.

The Ones I Don't Like

Gue baru sadar kalau gue gak enjoy baca self-help books. Some read fiction book to be inspired or to be guided. I read them for fun, and forgot about what it taught me quickly. I tried reading 101 Essays That Will Change the Way You Think and felt mesmerized on the first few chapters, but I found it kind of repetitive and boring afterwards. I read the tiktok & instagram famous Conversations of Love, but I don't find it enjoyabl or inspiring. I was captivated by The Intelligents Trap's review and synopsys, and I couldn't even finish the second chapter up until now. Kalo gue inget-inget, kayaknya non-fiction book yang gue pernah baca dan gue inget gue enjoy cuma The Personal MBA yang gue beli waktu punya slight ambition untuk switch career options (wakakaka) pasca lulus kuliah. For a business book, bukunya sangat mudah dimengerti dan easy to read. Why Men Love Bitches juga cukup seru. Tapi ya lagi lagi itu, gue baca bukunya for entertainment purposes only. So far ga ada non-fiction atau self-help books yang life-changing bagi gue atau yang bener-bener gue take notes untuk diimplementasikan di hidup gue.

The Edgy Reads

I saw Breast & Eggs everywhere and the premise seems quite groundbreaking. The cover was majestic and the first few pages were promising. I somehow got the impression that this is the book which cool & edgy people nowadays read, hence I bought it. The plot was quite 'everywhere' to me and very slow-paced. I had a hard time finishing it.. hehe. Untung covernya keren buat jadi pajangan di meja. Another edgy reads of mine are edgy magazines. I collect a few of old Architectural Digests which I found very inspiring and aesthetically pleasing to look at (but don't read), a few The Monocle(s), design anthology, and F magazine i just recently purchased from Kinokuniya in Takashimaya (by the way, it was the biggest Kinokuniya I've ever gone to!). Simple aja, gue suka banget liat foto-foto dan layout majalahnya. I don't exactly read them, but I'd like to keep them forever and keep collecting them.

The Ones I Like, but Not Really (for some reason)

Normal People by Sally Rooney was achingly beautiful! The story was captivating, it caught me hooked from the beginning to end. It brought the class issues, self worth, pure connection between two persons, it felt intimate and raw. It was beautiful and aching at the same time. However, what's the most aching to me is not Marianne's struggles or the ending, but how Rooney purposely write with no speech marks (!!!). I prefer the movie to the book itself. Indah... banget. The whole sequence was picturesque and dreamy, paired with beautiful scoring from Stephen Rennicks. The movie destroyed me. The chemistry between Daisy-Edgar Jones & Paul Mescal was so real, gue suka lupa kalau Marianne dan Connel di filmnya hanyalah build-up characters.. I even forgot that the movie was fictional!

The Push by Ashley Audrain. Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng. A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara. Don't get me wrong, both are well-written dan bagus banget.. I just can't handle that much sadness and depressing vibes in a book. Still recommend you to read them though.

What else?

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xbellaxcarolinax · 5 years ago

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Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 14‐ Propositions

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 2775

Warnings: None.

13- Wessex

...

It was the first time Artemis witnessed the funeral traditions of the northmen. One of Floki's ships was used, and Sigurd's body was carefully placed inside, along with his lute and other items of his that he may take with him in the after life.

He appeared to be sleeping. His hands rested gently on his stomach, his sword placed in his lifeless grip. His flaxen hair was braided beautifully, revealing a face of tranquility. It was as if he hadn't met a tragic end.

It was the second funeral she has witnessed in two days. Two innocent lives taken so easily and brashly.

Ivar had tears in his eyes, real tears of guilt and anguish that he fought to hold back. Surrounded among the others, he looked utterly defeated and lost, two things that Ivar never dared to express. Bjorn, Hvitserk and Ubbe mourned, their features stone cold. The ship Sigurd peacefully rested in was set to sail, engulfed by an arrow of fire as it trailed down the river Thames, away from his family.

There was complete silence after that.

The crowd erupted into low murmurs and slowly departed, leaving Artemis to stand next to her troubled master. He sniffled loudly, turning his red rimmed eyes to look at her before glaring and crawling away hastily into the settlement.

He needed time on his own.

...

"Floki has left."

Ivar crawls into the forge, eyes red lined and watery. He throws himself into a corner like an old sack, his chest rising and falling rapidly from his rage, and perhaps from crying. Artemis was alone, much to his relief. Arvid was nowhere in sight, and Ivar felt more comfortable to drown himself in his self pity in her presence.

She sits on a stool far from the the dying flames of the hearth, working in silence. She quickly acknowledges him with a glance before continuing her work sharpening a mighty sword belonging to King Harald.

"Did you hear me?" Ivar demands, "Floki has left! He has left me!" He chokes, lowering his face into his hands, defeated.

Artemis frowns, pausing her use of the whetstone to take pity on him. Floki was the only other person who regarded him as more than just the boy who couldn't walk.

"I've heard of his departure," She answers softly, "He mourns his wife. I mourn her too." Ivar sniffles, noting her sad eyes. She was indeed mourning.

"Where has he gone?" She asks him.

"Somewhere," He chuckles bitterly, "Anywhere. I dont know." He picks up a random stone beside him, chucking it across the room, successful in knocking down a few tools. She jumps, the noise startling her.

"They are angry with me, all of them." He mutters, keeping his eyes low. He was not wrong. His brothers regarded him with a cold shoulder now. What Ivar viewed as an accident looked deliberate to the rest.

Artemis listens as usual while he prattled on with his excuses. She never really did care for his excuses, but she did sympathize for him.

"I did not mean to do it, surely they know that." Ivar continues, turning his eyes to her again. Her silence bothered him immensely. She too hadn't uttered a word to him since the disastrous feast.

"Have you nothing to say?" He growls, manuvering himself to settle directly in front of her. He springs forward, using a hand to place it atop of hers, stopping her movements. She swallows thickly, and their eyes meet.

Something about her eyes spoke volumes, causing a fluttering feeling to invade his abdomine.

"Last I spoke out of turn, I was beaten." She finally says, her tone bitter. This was the last situation she should give an opinion about.

Ivar huffs, snatching his hand back and crawling away from her in favor of looking out towards the crowded land that once belonged to King Ecbert.

"I did not mean to kill my own brother." Ivar didn't turn to look at her, but his tone said it all. He was pleading for someone to believe him, even if it was his slave, "Surely, you believe me?" Still no response.

"You may speak freely." He says after moment.

"I believe you let the anger get the best of you." Her words were cautious as she continues to run the whetstone down the length of the sword. Ivar grunts, running a hand down his face in frustration.

"Tell me the truth, Artemis, tell me what you really think." He hisses, swatting away a happily chirping bird that dared to land near him.

She sighs. Fine.

"I think you sometimes forget he was your brother. You took his life without thinking. It is shameful."

"Sigurd made me do it! He was always tormenting me, you know this," Ivar let's the words out through gritted teeth, "He hated me."

"You tormented him as well," Artemis points out, placing the whetstone to the side and inspecting the sharpness of the blade with her thumb. It was ready to go back to King Harald's waiting hands, "But he did not hate you." Ivar tears his eyes away from the calming nature of Wessex in favor of glancing at his slave. She sheathed the sword back in its place, focusing fully on her crippled master.

"He liked you, you know." Ivar mutters his eyes glazing over with emotion. Artemis knew what he meant by that. Sigurd made his attempts, but that was all in the dust now, burned alongside his body.

She bites her lip, looking at him with those damn eyes. Ivar still had no idea how she did that.

"He painted you to be very willing." He says, struggling to contain his growing anger. She scrunches her nose in obvious distaste.

"I thought Prince Sigurd kind once," She begins, pushing her hair away from her face "It did not mask his envy well." Ivar snorts, giving his head a shake in disbelief.

"King Harald will be leaving soon. May I take his sword to him?" Ivar makes an odd guttural sound, as if he wanted to say no, but nods his head in approval.

He quickly grabs a fistful of her trousers as she steps out, and she lets out a surprised yelp as she fought to keep her balance.

"I did not believe him," Ivar mutters, his eyes pleading, "About your willingness." Artemis clutches the sword to her chest, giving him a quick nod.

"He...I will miss him." He whispers brokenly.

After a few seconds of fighting an internal battle, Artemis lowers herself to her knees beside the grieving prince, her fingertips gently grazing the skin of his hand.

"May the Prince rest in peace."

...

"Does my brother treat you well?"

Bjorn asks, eyeing the cross that peaked out from her bodice. The gold had a slight shine to it, and reminded him of the cross his late father use to carry around in the days he'd seen him last. Artemis casts him a lazy glance before continuing her work. She places a leg on the ancient well for support, using her strength to pull the ropes to retrieve the bucket of water.

"He is decent." She grunts, hoisting the bucket tightly in both hands. Bjorn moves to help her, snatching the bucket from her small hands with such ease that it made her roll her eyes. She never really cared for this particular Ragnarson. He annoyed her greatly.

"That isn't necessary." She says, knowing perfectly well she was capable on her own. Bjorn didn't listen, continuing down the short path he knew she'd take. Artemis follows behind him, realizing she had forgotten how large he was in stature. She barely made it to the height of his chest.

"I have a proposition for you," He says, stopping to place the bucket near the entrance of the forge.

"Proposition?" Going to grasp the bucket, Bjorn stops her in order to get her full attention. Her brows furrow, but she allows him to stop her, crossing her arms in annoyance.

"As you know," He begins, "I plan on returning to the Mediterranean." He takes caution in speaking low.

"I am aware."

"I think it will be an advantage to bring you along. You speak the languages of the east, you can be a translator while we navigate. Does this interest you?"

It steals her attention immediately. It almost sounded like a dream. She ponders the idea.

"You cannot expect me to aid you in raiding my people." She counters.

"We will just be exploring," Bjorn says with a cheeky smile, "It is merely an adventure, an exploration of your world and of the old gods." She narrows her eyes at him, not too keen on his answer. She doubted Bjorn planned on sailing to the Mediterranean without the intentions of raiding.

"Well? Does this interest you?" He repeats.

"It does," She says after a moment, "But what's in it for me?"

"I will allow you to go back to Crete," Bjorn says with a shrug, "Right my wrongs. It would be as if you never left."

Artemis licks her dry lips, her mind immediately conjuring an image of an angry Ivar.

"Ivar would not allow it."

"No," Bjorn agrees, "You are of value to him, but there is no need for him to know. Think about it." He leaves her with a smile and a pat on the shoulder.

She wonders if she should trust him. Bjorn was a mystery of a man, but he promised her Crete, and that was all she wanted.

She sighs, bending to grasp the bucket of forgotten water. Hoisting it up, she returns to her duties, feeling Arvid's eyes on her. He stood there with a pensive look, as if trying to read her thoughts. She realized he's eavesdropped on the conversation, and that look was enough to know he had opinions.

"Don't." She says, walking past him and into the heat of the hearth.

"You must be daft," He mocks, watching her place the bucket on a stool. She rolled up the sleeves of her shirt before getting to work.

"Do you think you can just leave? Ivar will kill you!" Artemis ignored his prattle, already growing accustomed to the useless babble of men. She doesn't grace him with an answer, moving to work on Ivar's smaller weapons.

"Artemis!"

"What!" She drops the hammer with a loud bang against the anvil, causing Arvid to wince at the noise, "What have you to say?"

"You're thinking about leaving with Bjorn."

"I've been far from home for long enough." Arvid crosses his arms over his chest like an angry child.

"And you trust Bjorn?" He hisses, slowly approaching her.

"He is the of a man you and your people came to fight for. Should I not trust him?" She hisses back, "He offers me an opportunity." Artemis glares up at him, gripping the hammer tightly.

"You risk your life!"

"Then it is a risk I must take. I've no purpose here."

"You do not realize how lucky you are," Arvid scoffs, "You are treated well. Most slaves cannot say the same."

"So you wish for me to stay with the Prince then? Is that it?" Artemis feigns confusion, "I think you say these things for yourself. You do not realize how selfish you sound." Arvid sputters, mouth going slack and brows arched high. He turns away from her when he had no retaliation.

"This does not concern you." There was a finality in her tone, enough to express that she's had enough of the conversation.

Arvid had never witnessed her anger before. Her demeanor was strong willed, and he knew there would be no way to sway her thoughts. He didn't want her to leave. It was quite selfish of him, really.

Looking at her angry eyes reminded him of Ivar's.

...

The brothers bickered until they decided their next destination.

York.

A prominent city not far from Wessex, York would be their next conquest. Ivar was dead set on invading more land, while Ubbe was against the idea, wanting to settle down and work the land given to them. In the end, Ivar's charisma won everyone over, and plans to attack York were set into motion.

There was so much talk of the grand city, that Artemis was almost sad she wouldn't be seeing the splendor for herself. But the last thing she wanted to witness was another city destroyed and covered in blood, just as the monestary has been desecrated months ago. There were more important things to worry about.

It hadn't been an easy decision for her, surprisingly, as the obvious choice would be to leave with Bjorn if she wanted the slightest chance of seeing home again. But something was terribly off. It was a nagging feeling that tortured her to no end, like the discomfort of pins and needles over her skin. The nagging told her it was a mistake, that leaving would cause her more strife than peace.

Artemis just wanted it to stop.

She thought she hated him. She wanted to hate him.

The stupid cripple bastard.

He was dangerous, and he was everything she was taught to stand against, yet she realizes she slowly pined for him like a lovesick girl.

Everything about Ivar was wrong, and yet her little heart told her otherwise. When was she to realize she harbored warmth for a hostile pagan? So what, he showed her a bit of kindness and that was enough to have her swooning? It was an embarrassment! Even now as she sat alone thinking to herself, her cheeks were dusted pink and she covered her face with her hands at the realization.

Prince Ivar.

She liked him.

"Shit." She mutters to herself, tugging at the roots of her hair in disbelief. Perhaps Ivar was right, she was weak as a baby bird.

Veikr.

It didn't matter. She has made her decision, and she chose Crete. If Bjorn was a man of his word, then she will reach her home and be reunited with her father in no time. In a perfect world, everything would be as it was.

The army was to leave to York in the early hours of the morning and Bjorn was set to leave the night before. Artemis had taken everything she thought she would need, though she struggled to leave Ivar's cloak behind. After debating with herself a hundred times, she leaves it, folding it neatly over her work station

She peeks out from the empty forge, eyeing all of Bjorn's men gathering around their ships for departure.

She takes in an even breath. The nagging feeling returned, telling her Ivar would be furious. Ivar would be enraged, but she doubted he'd search for her across the seas, not when he and his army has been successful in England. Besides, she was sure he'd forget about her in time, she wasn't worth the trouble.

Tossing her satchel over her shoulder, she mutters a prayer and kisses her cross before taking quick steps toward the docks. She immediately spots Bjorn and Halfdan, chatting away while men around them placed items into the ships.

She could almost taste the salt in the air, and she breathed in the winds of the mighty sea, her heart thumping erratically in nervousness.

But she didn't get close enough.

She stops, a blunt blow over the head knocking her to her knees. For a mere moment pain bloomed over the afflicted area before her eyes rolled back.

...

The throbbing pain brought her back into conscience.

Noise attacked her sensitive ears, the chatter of men, the sound of boots scuffing up the dirt, the laughter. It was too much.

She groans, feeling her body tumbling in the tight corner she was in. Once her head slammed against something, she forces her eyes open. Her vision was blurred, seeing the smallest hints of sunlight and shadows before blinking into focus.

Immediately she recognizes Ivar's buckled legs. This was no ship bound to the Mediterranean. She was stuffed into his chariot like cargo. Bringing her hands to the base of the chariot, she shifts her body just enough to peer above her.

Ivar was livid.

His jaw was clenched tight and his nose flarred. A hand held onto the reigns, the leather slapping loudly against the mare's back. His other hand was tightly gripping a familiar lump of fabric over his lap.

He brings his glaring eyes down to look at her, his lips set in a sneer.

"You forgot something." He spits, roughly tossing the fabric onto her face.

His cloak somehow still smelled of fresh pine.

...

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