#(you really caught me unawares anon... I was wanting to talk about this on a post of its own. Oh well! I'll just repeat myself probably

[lovegasmic]

⋆ DEGRADATION

ft. real form Sukuna Ryomen

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 cw. f!reader ( there were no specifics so I took the liberty of choosing the reader ) be aware that he is really really mean, manhandling, choking, face n pussy slapping, big dick Kuna, unprepared unprotected sx, full nelson.

request from anon.

can't find your match request? click here.

NAVI ⁞ EVENT MASTERLIST

“filty slut” is the first thing your ears register upon blinking to dissolve the darkness surrounding you. it only took a minute from standing in front of Sukuna’s temple to finding yourself laying flat in some sort of way too stiff surface, with Sukuna’s one hand gripping your jaw painfully enough for you to wince and your lips to purse together, while the lower pair held your hips and waist tightly pinned down.

how you even managed to enter his domain was beyond Sukuna’s understanding, but one thing was for sure, you were ridiculously wet, “i can smell your cunt all the way up here” it’s a snarl coming from Sukuna’s lips, the mixture of pure lust, the wish to complete wreck and ravage you fought with the urge of punishment for defying him, “i’ve been watching you lurk outside like a disgusting thief, when in reality you just wanted to get that pussy fucked, didn’t you?”

“that’s not—” you attempt to talk through squished cheeks, only to be silenced by a sharp slap left on your cheek, making you wince.

“don’t talk back to me, brat”

noticing your lack of response or a will to fight back Sukuna smirks, unaware of the burn on your face due to being caught; he releases his grip on your sore face, “that’s better” he murmurs sadistically, letting his eyes trail down the form of your splayed body, although he wished to open your brain and find what secrets you held, there was something so addictive about the way your soft body trembled underneath him, in both lust and fear, after all it was you who wished for this outcome, often staring at the large man with dreamy sighs and heart eyes.

much like the first movement you arrived, your world spins again, this time by Sukuna’s rough hands turning you around, now noticing you were laying on some sort of wooden floor with bones scattered around, yet you barely get a minute to think before a hand is shoving you down, forehead against the ground, his other hand on your shoulder and the left pair ripping open the ankle length skirt you wore.

“fight back, bitch” Sukuna whispers, yet his words make the walls tremble, his breathing so close to your neck while his nose slides down the softness of your jawline, “flee before I claim your wet cunt, after all...” a hint of a smirk plasters on his face, “who am I to refuse a fertile, female body when presented so willingly in front of me, like a tribute to your king”

of course you won’t, embarrassed of Sukuna so quickly discovering your ruined underwear by the sharp nail ripping your clothes apart, but pretending you didn’t want him to absolutely ruin you was a whole lie, “that’s what I thought” he rumbles, sliding his knuckle quite roughly across your drenched slit though soaked panties, pushing against your clit multiple times until you were reduced to nothing but a moaning, squirming mess, “stupid bitch” his words die by the sound of your squeal, quickly followed by a loud, wet slap right where Sukuna’s palm connects with your cunt, repeatedly until your juices splattered around, “so fucking wet like a desperate whore”

tsk, “you don’t even need preparation with how much you’re dripping” he mutters, roughly squeezing your asscheeks and spreading them wide enough for you to mewl, eying at your pulsing, fluttering hole.

the upper set of arms reach up to press your clothed shoulders against the ground, forcing you to bend while one of the hands that weren’t on your ass, reached down to grasp his cock, repeating the slapping from his hand but now with his length, and just like that he’s shoving the fat, mushroom shaped head into your begging pussy, “S-sukuna!, it’s— oh god, s-so big, ugh!” you whimper, almost in a scream with your body pinned down and struggling to take cock.

“you asked for it, bitch” he groans, both turned on by the sight of your tiny pussy stretching to accommodate his whole size and utterly annoyed by your constant squirming, even under the strength of his four arms. and Sukuna is not patient, in merely a second you’re lifted off the ground, two hands cupping your thighs, the other wrapped around your neck and the remaining one guiding his impossibly big cock deep into your warmth again, completely impaling you with a swift movement.

“f-fuuck, n-no, it’s too much!” you scream brokenly, voice coming in gasps from the way Sukuna knocks the air out of your lungs by continuously fucking you in the air like a rag doll, your whole body tingling and on the brink of passing out with how much you’re cumming, unaware that you’ve been orgasming for a while now, coating the curse’s cock with your creamy substance and dripping onto the floor.

the sound is too lewd your moans are the only thing covering it, but Sukuna is not having it, “shut the fuck up” he groans, squeezing your throat a bit rougher until your eyes widen and pussy clenches, “let me hear your nasty cunt swallowing my cock” is what he says, and you wonder how he sounds so casual when you’re a mess of tears and drool, constantly squeezing his cock that’s only rewarded by a tighter squeeze on your neck, a slap on your thigh or clit and the tongue on his abdomen lapping on your lower back, no signals of stopping any time soon, but remember, it was you who wished for it.

[theoceansluvr]

Percy Jackson x Marine Biologist! Reader pt. 2

warnings; none ! author's notes; this is technically a part 2 so i just named it the same thing ! thank you to the lovely anon that asked me to make this it truly made my day <99 sorry if this lowkey sucks im not too good at build up !

so you were minding your own business

walking to class, blasting music in your headphones because New Rome is LOUD.

so many demigods so little space

suddenly you're knocked over on the ground, your books everywhere. . .

and there's blue mountain dew all over your shirt.

"Oh my gods I'm so sorry ! I wasn't looking where I was going and-"

Percy was frantically trying to explain himself and you were just trying to pick up your books

his skateboard is somewhere flipped over in the grass(sk8r percy has my whole heart !!!)

of course you don't really care about whatever he's saying because you just want to get to class-

he insistantly tries to give you his number so he can at least clean the shirt for you

you, trying to make this boy leave you alone, take the number and tell him to meet you after class

as expected, he does meant you after class !

he brings you to his dorm(it's an absolute mess but he wasn't expecting to have guests so..)

let's say you happened to have a hoodie on you so you throw that on and give him your shirt to wash

while he's scrubbing the life out of it in the sink you guys start talking

once you tell him your major he's ECSTATIC !!

like giggling, kicking his feet kinda happy !

he normally doesn't brag about his godly parentage but oh boy

"Oh your gonna be a marine biologist ? My dad's basically the original marine biologist so like.."

you think it's cute that he's borderline trying to impress you so you guys kept talking even after he cleaned your shirt

days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months and you realize you actually really like percy..

like REALLY. like Percy

and who wouldn't ? his fish like charm is captivating is it not ???

and percy, ever oblivious to his own feeling, didn't even realize he liked you until you took him to the beach for some research one day

you're rambling about whatever animal it is your project is about

and he's staring at you like you put the corals in the sea(couldn't pass up a sea reference i fear)

which you are completely unaware of-

until he starts talking of course

"It's sweet when you talk about stuff like this.. cute even."

You're completely caught off guard because ⁉️

you brush it off as him just being nice

but he insists that he's being genuine, spilling out all his feelings in a kinda dorky way

and of course, you tell him you feel the same way

you both kind of sit in silence, the ocean crashing against the shore

"So.. what now ?"

SUPER BAD ENDING BUT I DIDN'T FEEL LIKE WRITING A KISS SCENE AND THAT'S ALL THAT CAME TO MIND AT THE END OF THIS. . . hope this was as good as the dear that requested it wanted it to be and thank you so much again ! <9

[luvyeni]

a new anon here! I AM IN LOVE W UR WRITING, like idk how to explain it.

Is it okay if I can i request an enhypen (legal line ofc) reaction to seeing your bra on accident while you're taking off their (enha) sweatshirt.

Suggestive or smut, however you prefer and are comfortable with writing.

ALSO can I be added on anon list as, 🪐

ty have a great rest of your week and take ur time, I am patient.

—｛🎂｝SEEING YOUR BRA; W/ EN- HYUNG LINE

pairings. enha!hyungline x fem!reader

wc. 0.7k

warnings. language, nipple play , little bit of dirty talk

synopsis. enhypen's reaction to you accidentally flashing them.

—｛🍰｝... HEESEUNG ⋮ !

thinks you're teasing him , but doesn't want to assume anything.

"baby." he giggled , watching you struggle to take his sweatshirt off , your baby blue bra on display. "your bra is showing." he stood up , helping you get it over your head. he reached for your shirt , but you stopped him , pulling it over your head. "i knew it." he voice deepened. "i knew you were teasing me." he pulled at your bra , your boobs spilling out the bra. "m'really?" he nodded , grabbing your boob , kneading it in your hand , you moaned softly. "that feels nice baby?" you nodded , he smiled , taking your boob into his mouth , sucking on your nipple , pulling away , leaving little marks.

"i fucking love your tits baby."

—｛🍰｝... JAY ⋮ !

100% sure you're teasing him , and he isn't going for it , even though it was a accident.

he watched you take his sweatshirt off , your shirt lifting, revealing your black lace bra that he bought. "baby." you heard his tone. "if you want something , ask for it , teasing me won't get you anything." you looked down , looking at him. "i didn't know." you said , but he wasn't going for it. "yeah, okay." he walked over to you , unhooking your bra with one hand , letting it hit the floor. "jay!" you covered your boobs , only for him to move them.

"don't be shy now baby , show me those pretty tits."

—｛🍰｝... JAKE ⋮ !

doesn't really care if it was intentional or not , he's horny now and he wants you.

"why are you taking it off , does it not smell like me anymore?" jake eyes followed you. "that's not it baby." you reached down grabbing the ends of the sweatshirt. "it's too hot outside , i don't need it." you lifting it over your head , revealing your pink bra. "baby , you're bra." he bit his lip. "oh , im sorry." you wear about to pull it down , when he stopped. "take it off." he said , you smirked , taking it off , walking over to straddle his lap. "such a pretty bra baby." he toyed with the strap , letting it fall down your arm , doing the same with the other.

"even prettier tits underneath."

—｛🍰｝... SUNGHOON ⋮ !

thinks you're trying to tease him , why else would you show him your bra that's conveniently his favorite color.

"take it off , it's warm in here , you're gonna pass out." you reached down , pulling the sweatshirt over your head , unaware that your shirt got caught , lifting up revealing your red bra — sunghoons favorite color. "tsk... what games are you playing at princess?" you were confused. "what are you talking about?" he scoffed , before he grabbed the ends of your shirt , pulling it over your head. "don't stop now , keep going , now your pants." his eyes were sharp. "go on." you complied unbuttoning your pants , they feel pooling at your ankles. "come here." he beckoned you over.

"you're such a tease , showing me your bra , too bad im about to ruin it , it was pretty to."

©️LUVYENI

[corn-fanfiction]

Mark Hoffman fluff?

Ask and ye shall receive, dear Anon.

Rating: M

Tags: language, drugs n alcohol, Eric Matthews being himself, fluff (I tried anyway), some descriptions of facial wounds

Not an Asshole (Mark Hoffman x GN!Reader)

-·=»◆‡«=·-♡·=»◆‡«=·-

"Ah!"

You suck air through your teeth and cradle an ice pack against one side of your head while thick yet curiously nimble fingers work at the laceration on the other side. Mark has removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Things would be different if your vision wasn't still skewed from the tussle. For one, you'd be fixing your wound yourself. Also... you'd be able to better glimpse at Mark's face while he focuses on his work. His brow furrows differently than normal when he focuses, like the usual scowl is a front and this is him in his element.

"Am I gonna have to report this?" he grumbles, setting aside a bloodied alcohol wipe and readying a suture.

"I'm probably the last person you wanna ask."

"Why?"

He's mumbling, clearly looking to fill the silent space. You indulge him.

"Because you know what I'm gonna say."

"That I shouldn't report it?"

"Yep."

"You broke a pretty strict code of conduct," he murmurs so quietly it almost registers as a hum.

You had, in fact, broken quite a few codes of conduct, and in public no less. There's a reason you're in your apartment and not the hospital.

"He had it coming."

Mark 'tsked'. "Still."

You smirk. He agrees with you.

"Get that smile off your face. He's gonna run straight to the chief and tell. I give you a day, if that. Hold still; this is gonna hurt."

You clench your teeth and grip your whiskey glass so hard you're afraid it might shatter in your hand, and then Mark will have even more to clean up. He begins your sitches and you take a shaky sip.

"Still," he scolds you like you're a disobedient animal. You roll your eyes.

"Just take me out back and shoot me."

"You're so dramatic. They're stitches."

"Yeah, and they fucking hurt."

"Well, you fucking earned em, didn't you, Ace?"

Ace. Your nickname, or rather, his nickname for you. Because no one else called you Ace. It started out mean, critical. You were, after all, a rookie, and he your mentor. He was allowed to say basically whatever he wanted to you, and in the beginning, he did. He said things that had you crying in your car as soon as you were out of sight. Any stress, he took out on you. Even the shit that probably wasn't even related to work- it ended up on your shoulders.

It was like that for a while. Then, something changed.

To put it simply, you had saved his life. He was caught unawares, him, and you managed to talk the perpetrator down. More than that, you'd been stupid, deliberately putting yourself in harm's way just to save Hoffman from a beating or maybe a bullet.

So you're Ace. Hotshot, hotheaded. Everything Mark was before you entered the picture. Now, he finds himself taking on some kind of new role to balance you out, though he's not exactly sure what it is or how much he likes it.

"Not my proudest moment, admittedly," you say with a pained groan as Mark pulls the sitches through.

"I'd really hope a bar fight with Eric Matthews was not your proudest moment, no."

"It wasn't a bar fight."

"Ace-"

"It was outside the bar and he threw the first punch."

"He missed."

"Yeah, the first swing."

"I don't feel like arguing about this- hold still unless you wanna lose an eye."

Begrudgingly, you seal your mouth as he manages the last stitch. He pulls a particularly sensitive piece of skin, or maybe sends the needle a little too deep because you hiss and shoot a hand out to clutch his leg.

"Sorry," he mutters. You can't see him, but you feel his eyes hot on your hand and you pull it away, trying and failing to mumble an apology of your own. Even though he's literally sewing your skin closed, the hand to thigh contact is somehow the most intimate thing that's ever happened.

And you have to admit: you maybe had the occasional fantasy about Mark. It couldn't be helped. He's a man in a position of power and you have enough childhood whatever that it has a certain draw. But in any of those fantasies, it's you playing doctor to him. He's the more notorious hothead, after all.

"You're probably mad I'm stealing your title," you half joke. He snips the suture and dabs at it lightly with a fresh alcohol wipe.

"Oh yeah? You think you're gonna make head detective?"

The first part of your response is a gut reaction. "God no. I meant as the biggest asshole in the precinct."

His hands slow, and for a moment, though you're still coming down from your near blackout-level of drunkenness, you're scared you offended him.

"You're not an asshole, Ace. Well, maybe sometimes. But your heart's in the right place."

You're never one for serious or genuine conversations. You always want to leave a conversation with a joke or snarky remark. But here, now...

"And yours isn't?"

After a moment, he sighs and turns himself away. You're sitting on your kitchen counter and he's on a barstool. Even with these levels, he's as tall as you. You kick your legs as he stands.

"This isn't about me."

You hop down from the counter. "I think it is about you as much as it is about me."

He shoots you a grim look. "How do you figure that?"

"Come on. Matthews is pissed that you're good at your job, and by extension, I'm occasionally good at my job."

"That's vanity," he quips.

"But am I wrong?"

He struggles for a moment, caught between lying versus telling you that you're right. He says neither.

"Not the point."

He removes his gloves and tosses them in the trash, along with the wipes and leftover sutures. There's a moment of silence, of him watching you as you retrieve the whiskey and refilling your glass.

"Want one?" You ask.

"Sure."

You get another glass and pour. Like it's a strange instinct, you touch glasses before drinking.

"To being the two biggest assholes in the precinct," he says. You half expect the phrase to be some sort of sad, but he says it with a small smile, as if to say 'yes, we are, and that's just the way it'll have to be.'

You don't mind the idea.

You down your whiskey and pour another glass.

"Slow down there, Ace. How many painkillers have you taken?"

Honestly? You don't remember.

"...some. I'm fine."

To prove just how fine you are, you push yourself from the counter and immediately stumble.

"Alright," Mark sighs and sets his glass on the counter. "Where you trying to go?"

"Couch," you point. It would seem that yes, most of the substances you've ingested in the past two hours are combining at once.

Mark comes and hovers a guiding hand at your lower back to move you to the couch. You make it, plopping down and grabbing the remote.

"Whaddya wanna watch?" You ask, not quite slurring your words but definitely not enunciating them.

"I really oughta get home, let you rest."

"Noooo!" You groan. "At least not right now. What if I have a concussion? I can't sleep, right?"

Panic starts to creep in. You have been a little irresponsible tonight.

"And the drinking, and the meds- holy shit..."

You get woozy, start to fall on your bad side and Mark catches you and sits you up.

"Okay, where's the bathroom?"

You wave your hand to the hallways behind you and he leaves. Distantly, through your haze you hear Judge Judy on the tv. Mark returns with a cold wash cloth and the small trashcan from the bathroom.

"Here," he hands you the cloth and you set it on the back of your neck. Mark sets the bin by your feet. He straightens up and gets a good look at the state of you.

"Well, now I'm worried about you passing out."

And now you feel guilty about keeping him here.

"You're fine," you mumble. "Don't wanna keep you here."

Mark sighs, looks around the room, then looses his collar, undoes the first two buttons of his shirt.

"Scoot," he instructs, and you move yourself to one side of the couch. Mark kicks off his shoes and sits beside you.

"I'm staying until we're certain you won't overdose in the middle of the night. Deal?"

You would verbally respond but you're getting sleepy. You nod.

"Hey, wake up. Can't sleep yet."

"Whynot."

"Concussion."

You turn so your body is facing inwards, towards Mark. You toss the remote onto his lap.

"Pick something."

"This is fine."

"No, you hate reality TV."

"How do you know?"

"You told me once," you mumble with your eyes closed. You roll your head back and forth to keep awake.

"Oh," he says. "Well, I don't mind this one."

You crack an eye open. "You like Judy?"

He doesn't respond, just purses his lips.

You're not in your right mind. That's what you tell yourself every day since this night because it's the most dignified way you can justify your next move.

You've pulled your socked feet up on the couch and start nudging Mark's leg with your toes. His head swivels towards you.

"What?"

You clear your throat and squeeze your eyes shut to let a stab of pain pass.

"Lap."

When he realizes what you want, Mark sighs and moves his arm so you can swing your feet onto his thigh, snuggling even closer. He tenses, but doesn't move.

"You're not an asshole," you mumble. Your forehead gets closer to his shoulder.

"Yeah, I am."

"Not to me."

"I used to be."

"I know," you yawn. "I forgive you."

As you fall asleep, you think you might hear an apology slip through his lips.

-

When you wake up the next morning, Mark's gone. But you wake up on your side, covered in a blanket, the trash can placed strategically by your head. On your coffee table is a glass of water and two painkillers. And next to them is a sticky note.

Ace,

eat first. Don't take on an empty stomach.

-Mark

You smile and chug the water, then take the pills anyway. Your stitches ache, and your brain pulses against your skull, but you grip the note tightly in your hand, content to slip it into a drawer somewhere and 'forget' to throw it away.

Yep. Maybe an asshole. But not last night. Not today.

-·=»◆‡«=·-♡·=»◆‡«=·-

Sorry if it's OOC but Mark's not a super fluffy guy. This seemed like a natural-ish way to play it. Thanks for the req, anon!!

[venusandsaturnsrings]

same anon as the one that sent the teasing ask omh i didn't think you'd respond aAA!!

please he sounds so pathetic i love him ;__; i'm too weak for him in general and as much as i want to tease the living shit out of this man, i don't think i'd have the heart to do it for too long after seeing this man whine for too long fghGFDFHB LOVE WHAT YOU WROTE.. BIG KISS

okay, but have another thought; so he lives in an apartment, right? imagine being his neighbour. even better if you know about him online and you later realize your neighbour is this nasty loser… or you talked to him about your neighbour online or whatever without either of you realizing you're talking about him. normal people would move out at the speed of light if they really had to but i know the minority that (unfortunately) loves this nasty man (affectionate) would stay <3

hehe my ask box is egregiously full rn but yours struck me right in the coochie!! i had to respond immediately!! sorry to my other 120+ asks, i was overwhelmed by my own lust… i’m givin u a BIG KISS right back!! mwah mwah mwah!! ^u^

correct!! inceltaru lives in an apartment, one that’s fairly nice though he could afford one that’s way nicer or a whole mansion if he wanted to but… he prefers only having as much space as he needs. i think he’s a bit uncomfortable with having too much space; he feels safer in smaller places. something something cozy something something he needs to feel a bit trapped at all times since he has a need for control. he’s a frequent browser of many online forums so the odds that you’ve seen at least one of his posts before is close to a hundred percent. consider this: you post a mini rant somewhere about how much you can’t stand your neighbour and his habit of having noisy gaming/jerk off sessions when you’re trying to sleep. he stumbles across it and quickly links the post back to you, his very next door adorable crush!! he’s immediately shooting you a message sympathizing with your issue and offering an ear to vent it all out to while grinning to himself all about how you have no clue it’s him. is he a bit peeved you’re talking so much shit about him?? yes, but he finds it far too hot that you know about him to be truly upset. the degradation only increases the frequency of his nasty actions to enjoy your equally increased annoyance. it’s a bit of a waiting game for you to find out it’s him but you’ll get it soon with all of the slight reflections of his ginger hair and glasses in the occasional photo he sends you!! inceltaru loves that your unaware and, to a degree, at his mercy <3 it takes a nearly clear photo of his face for you to put two and two together since you’ve only caught glimpses of him on the rare occasion he’s left his own apartment but when you do you’re halfway between cussing him out and breaking your lease. unfortunately, you’ve got a killer deal on rent so in your anger you storm over to his door to confront him on the verge of tears. you feel humiliated knowing he was fully aware and enjoying playing with you like some toy!! he answers the door with a lazy grin, wet hair, no shirt, and only clad in boxers. it would be wise to make fun of him for having what you assume is his monthly shower but you’re rendered speechless at the way he’s eyeing you and opening the door further to let you in. he leers at you upon entry and asks what’s up as if he isn’t fully aware like the asshole he is. suddenly you’re stuck between verbally beating him up or sucking the obvious boner you can see through his grey boxers…

[themonotonysyndrome]

hello my lady!

how are you? i hope you are well.

i hope you know i adore your writing 🫶🏻

do you happen to have a part 2 to that oneshot? maybe another scenario of castin and the baroness when things were still icy? i’d love to hear things from castin’s pov as well.

unrelated, but i love the idea of the baroness being an absolute badass at combat. like being able to take down his men. and castin just being in awe.

anyways!! hope you’re well

thank you for all you do, you are so appreciated

Good evening, Anon! As I'm writing this, it's raining heavily at 10:12 PM, and my Bluetooth speaker is blasting Hit 'em up style by Blu Cantrell while sipping on some orange juice, cold and munching on sweets.

It makes me really happy.

Hmm... I wasn't thinking of continuing that oneshot, tbh, but you caught me in a good mood, Anon. We can explore that scenario a bit more!

do you happen to have a part 2 to that oneshot? maybe another scenario of castin and the baroness when things were still icy? i’d love to hear things from castin’s pov as well.

I'll be focusing on this since I've explained in an ask that while Celica can fight, it's mostly for self-defence and only when she's desperate. She wasn't trained to be a warrior; she's trained to fight dirty like an assassin.

So let's get to it!

-

"Rhett."

"Beloved."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw your bro into the lake for making my girl upset."

"Castin does not make for a good fish food. Do you really want innocence to die from indigestion?"

"Can... can fish even get indigestion?"

The King of Intacia promptly snapped his mouth shut. A look of genuine contemplation is clear as day on his face. Normally, Isolde would've laughed and kissed him silly. It's just like her husband to be affronted over a piece of knowledge he lacks. Now? In this instance? On this day? On this beautiful day blessed by the Divine Couple themselves?

She's mad. Like, real mad. Mad enough to personally confront Castin, no bullshit. No King, no husband, no servants, no guards, no entourage and no pretence that it would be an amicable meeting.

If Isolde could see her reflection right now, she would've flinched in shock, but since there's none - only Rhett - the world remains blissfully unaware of how terrifying the Queen Ascendant truly is.

Rhett reaches out to her with a tentative hand. "Beloved..."

"No! No, Rhett! Don't you fucking dare try to pacify me," Isolde hisses, emerald-like eyes glowing with magic untamed as the ocean. "I gave not only Castin a chance but you as well. Forget about support from House Anesidora; if Castin made Celica cry? I'm finna be on a ship back to the Empire with her! 'Cause what the fuck, Rhett?"

"Anything that I say now regarding Castin will only sound like excuses - "

"Damn straight!"

" - and even though the Baroness has agreed to marry Castin - "

"Say sike right now. Rhett, I swear to the Conqueror, that better be a fucking joke."

"..."

Somewhere in the Palace, a fountain suddenly exploded. The unfortunate servants and nearby foreign dignitaries screamed and scatter like headless chickens. It's chaos.

"I'mma talk to your bro real quick."

Isolde forcefully yanked her hand free, her shoulders taunt with tension. Rhett scrambles after her, just barely able to stop her march. "Ok, look, I know this is not what you want to hear, but may I make a suggestion?"

"You're right - I don't."

"That is fine! Completely fine, Isolde. Then, I will speak to the air; don't mind me. Ahem. Sometimes, good intentions can go awry. It happens, right? Can we agree on that, please?"

The Queen Ascendant growls. Right. If Rhett wants to save Castin, he needs to watch whatever he says next carefully; every word counts. So he centres himself and has clear his thoughts. He ponders the bigger picture. What is truly important here? Uniting Intacia and the Coastal Empire. That has always been and will forever be Rhett's goal in life. His wife, friends and family deserve to grow old without war looming. But has he fallen into a tunnel vision? Did he nearly sacrifice the goodwill of his loved ones to accomplish that?

The answer had him pale, eyes widening in realisation. Suddenly, weariness seeps into his bones.

Seeing how defeated her husband looks broke Isolde's heart. She sighs, feeling just as defeated and so lost. She steadies him, and together, they sit on the ground. She couldn't care less how their clothes are dirtied.

"Rhett, I need you to listen to me very carefully here, ok? I know that your heart is in the right place; I do! It's one of the things that I love about you, sans kidnapping and all that. But the point is, in theory? Hooking our friends up and watching them ride off into the sunset in their wedding fit is awesome, great, a fairytale come to life. But we're not living in a fairytale, babe. Castin and Celica are just too different. They exist on opposite extremes, and you can't force them to change their nature."

The King is silent. His beloved's words are heavy and true. And then, he finally speaks, "We shouldn't interfere with them anymore. If the Baroness decides to revoke her agreement to marry Castin and withdraw her support, then... then that is her right and I will no longer darken her doorsteps. I will ensure her passage back home is safe. It's the least I could do. Could you please deliver my most sincere apologies to her? For the moment she steps foot on Intacian shores?"

Isolde pats his shoulder comfortingly. "There, there, Rhett. Don't be so sad. We're not gonna interfere with them anymore but let me talk to Celly first; check how pissed off she is because we might need to up our security."

"What on Earth for?"

"So you better let him know that if he mess up, you gotta hit 'em up."

-

Castin messed up big time. Major.

He lashed out at a woman who is not only the Queen Ascendant's bestie, but also the love of his life. Not that she knows that and at this rate, never will.

Ever since their telephone game turned into a trainwreck, flame and all, Baroness Anesidora never once left her assigned bedroom in the Palace. Her food is delivered when everyone knows King Rhett invites her to sup with the royal couple daily. She turns all but the Queen away when her friends come by for a visit. The maids in charge of cleaning the suite and attending her whisper that she's practically monosyllabic. No one but Castin, Isolde and Rhett knew the reason why.

Speaking of Isolde...

The Queen had chosen to have dinner with the Baroness this evening instead of her husband. Castin wanted to keep his brother company since things were still tense between him and the Baroness. Much to his dismay, however, Rhett wanted to be alone and ate his own meal in the office. This sucks - everything sucks!

And there's no one to blame but Castin.

He hates this. He hates himself for pushing the Baroness to a corner where she's forced to unsheath her claws. Again! He hates the chasm he created between Rhett and his wife. He hates how that little boy is still crying because he just can't fit in with the other Intacian boys.

Insecurity is a bitch.

He needs to make things right, and for that reason, he's been stealth-camping on the Baroness' balcony, patiently waiting for the Queen and the maids to bid her good night. When it's finally quiet inside, Castin continues to wait. A Noblewoman like Celica has a whole routine before she gets ready to turn in for the night and he didn't want to catch her mid-undressing. He doesn't want to create another international incident.

When he notices that only a single flicker of a candle is still lit, Castin finally takes his chance and slips into the room. He had already broken the lock when he heard the water running in the bathroom.

What he sees, however, made him feel shittier.

Baroness Anesidora is fast asleep at a table. Her head is cushioned by her arms, and books, journals, and documents are everywhere. She must've been working. It's a humbling experience for Castin since he only sees her in the morning, dressed to the nine with an arrogant smile. Seeing her now makes him want to grovel at her feet for refusing to believe that someone as strong and prideful as Celica Anesidora could ever get hurt by someone like him. A warrior with a mountain of baggage.

It takes considerable willpower for Castin to force himself to move, to do something. And so he snatches the duvet, and when he so gently covers the Baroness to ensure she stays warm, he sees what she has been working hard on:

New Intacian-Coastal Empire trade tariff proposal with rates that favours Intacia underneath carefully written lines of negotiations. A protection treaty for foreign investors regarding their assets ensures non-interference from the local aristocracy, including House Anesidora and covers disaster contingencies. On top of a stack of paper beside the Baroness' head is a financial incentive document designed to attract international entrepreneurs specialising in all sorts of industry; notes scribbled below outline tax breaks, subsidies and funding for foreign innovators, especially those from Steelgate. Lastly, a legislative document to be proposed to the King and Queen outlined Intacia's commitment to protecting foreign merchant fleets and caravans from threats like pirates, rogue Ascendants, and political rebellions while traversing to and from the country.

A wave of shame rolls over Castin. While he's too busy antagonising the Baroness, she's busy fleshing out a detailed economic framework for Intacia to stand strong once more.

"I'm so sorry..." Castin whispers. He wants to hold her, to kiss and tells her to not neglect her health; fuck, Goddess, help him, he's caught under this woman's spell, and he doesn't want to break free. "Don't hate me too much, yeah?"

Before he slips outside and stands guard (because of the broken lock on the balcony's door), he leaves his favourite book with a pressed Hibiscus - his favourite flower - inside. His first step in earning the Baroness' forgiveness.

[cbrownjc]

Could you explain why you are ok with ep 5? I hated seeing, yet again, the battered body of a black character beaten to a pulp by his white partner, especially since such violence never happened between Louis and Lestat in the books. While I know white people can't understand and probably couldn't care less, I'm genuinely curious about your take on this.

Hi Anon!

Okay, first I'm sorry this reply back took the long time it did for me to answer it but, aside from wanting to think on it, RL things got in the way too. And then I also got caught up with some other writing I'm doing. And, as I said, I wanted to think this out before I wrote on it.

Now, first of all, it's actually not true wrt the books that Lestat and Louis never fought before. Someone other than myself has taken screenshots of passages in the book ITWV where such fights have happened. So I do not believe that it was out of character at all for them to have even had a fight in such a way, as such things did happen in the books. (And honestly, I didn't think it was OOC for Lestat at the time it happened before people started posting screenshots of the passages in the book that showed them fighting).

What has upset people is how visceral and beaten Louis looked by the end of that fight. (And no one is wrong for feeling that way if they do/did). It is disturbing to see a black man beaten in such a way by his white partner. And I actually don't think the writers were completely unaware of that imagery when they did this either. Not when you take into account the other pointed underlying racial dynamics the show did and highlighted throughout the season, before and after that episode. (From basically all of EP3, to Claudia mocking Louis telepathically with the "massa" talk in EP6.) So no, I do not think they were at all ignorant of the loaded racial imagery in EP5 after that fight.

And whether some views can forgive Lestat for it will be an individual thing, at the end of it all IMO. Some views may never forgive it, and I think that is completely okay. However, for me - and why I not only wasn't that shocked by the fight itself but feel I understand what is going on with it is - is 1.) as said, they did have knock-down fights in the first book, 2.) knowing Lestat does have that level of violence-ability in him as I noted when the episode first aired and 3.) and this is the main point - that there, strategically, some clear missing context going on here wrt that fight.

Because the entirety of that fight never once was told from Louis' POV. Until that moment when Lestat took Louis out into the courtyard and then up into the air, the actual fight itself was all told from Claudia's POV.

And that was clearly a deliberate choice. Not just to highlight what it must have been like for Claudia to witness this but because there is clearly something about that fight that Louis is holding back about. And no, not because he's lying about the fight having happened at all, and him being beaten in such a way. The fight did happen, and Louis did get beaten in the way we saw at the end. Because, again, what we saw of the actual fight was all from Claudia's POV, and Claudia would have no reason to lie about such a thing in her diary, where the account of the fight was clearly taken from.

No, it's because I strongly feel that something was going on during it that I don't think Louis can - even now - really process. And I have a huge suspicion about what it is.

We're now headed into book spoiler territory and I don't know how much you might want those, so I'm going to stop with that here. All I will say is that the pauses in the fight when we heard Lestat's voice talking are very, very important, particularly when it comes to what he's saying.

Part of this, and that fight, has to do with the very nature of what Lestat and Louis, and Claudia all are as vampires. Again, I'm really trying not to spoil anything here, because I suspect the show might reveal some of this in Season 2, particularly wrt Paris and the Theater Coven.

Though I don't think the majority of it will be talked about until Season 3 when we finally get Lestat's POV. And it might even be something that carries on over into multiple seasons.

I understand the POV of people who will never be okay with the fight and the imagery it left wrt Louis. But I really do feel the writers didn't do it without one, knowing how it would look, and two, that there is a larger, overall, story arc point going on here which ties into the fact that we are not dealing with human beings here.

This isn't a story about vampires seeking redemption or a way back to humanity. With Rice's vampires, the longer they live, the more apart from humanity they become. That is, overall, one of the things the VC explores here. And they are all going to continue to do some really inhuman things, at least during these earlier parts of the story, towards people they love.

Over time, even as many of them, especially Lestat, learn better how to deal with that nature, particularly towards those they care about and love, those inhuman things about their nature will still be there.

So I think also having that view, understanding that about these characters, as well as everything else I talked about, (including something I strongly feel they are setting up as to why Lestat acted the way he did), goes into my few of that fight and why, when it happened, I honestly wasn't either surprised by it and am okay and want to see where they go from here with it. This is just all, personally, where I'm coming from it with it of course.

[sonicfanthenightfury5099]

I’m so obsessed with your werewolf AU, it’s so good and I really enjoy your writing! This may be a weird request but how about a oneshot where Michael is finally caught and locked up again, but years after he breaks out again and returns to his s/o?

You can write it whenever you want, don’t feel rushed uvu have a really nice day! ❤️

That is an interesting one-shot request. I had to get a little break from the writing cause the last thing I need is a burnout halfway in the process. And another note, I'm not a huge fan of the other Halloween movies that has the whole Michael and Laurie siblings' plot point, so I'll try my best with this and try not to have a burnout.

And finally, Thanks Anon hope your day is going well.

===Return to me===

18+ Minors DNI

He went off on his usual routine when you left for work that day. When you returned from work, he was still away. He left a note saying he'll be back around 4 in the morning, so you didn't have to wait for him to have supper cause he usually fills up on his hunts. The night started to get late, and you decided to get to bed. You think to yourself you'll wake up tomorrow with Michael cuddling up as usual with him sleeping and arms wrapped around your waist close to his chest. You drifted off, hopefully to see him in the morning.

You awaken around 7 am. Noticing the lack of Michael in your shared bed, he left a note, and he said he would be home around 4. Where was he? You got up and checked your phone, a message from your friends saying they finally caught The Beast. Your heart dropped in your chest. No, it can't be. It was by the time you turned on the TV as the morning news talked about the capture of Michael Myers, The Beast of Haddonfield. Footage from last night played seeing your man being held with rope and muzzle with him snarling, barking and whining before he was tranqed to load him up in the Armored Car.

Your heart broke. He was now gone, captured after you've been together for 3 years now. You couldn't help but cry. You thought you'll never seen him again. You remember the first time you met him, he was about it eat you but spared you and later coming to your back door with a flower in his blood covered hands. Remember the first time you saw his face, your first kiss, the many times you and him went out in the woods on his back, the first time having a night of passion, all the cuddling and him always saying about the day of having pups. But it will never happen, Michael was caught during his hunt. He'll probably be back in Smith's Grove. You cried through the whole day in your house, the place you and Michael lived in.

His stuff was still here from the past 3 years. His various clothing, hair brush, a squeaky toy you gotten him as a gag gift for him, but he fell in love with it, and all the Polaroid pictures you take of the both of you. "He's gone, taken away from me..." You said as tears stand your cheeks and eyes reddened. "I hope one day, he'll return back to me." You said as you placed his things in a boxes till the day he comes back home.

6 Years Later

You were walking home from a friend's place late in the night and was thinking to yourself as you watch the twilight sky. You opened your door to your house. You couldn't bear to move out from the house it had too many memories of Michael in it. Locking the door behind and putting your coat on the rack, you noticed something off. The back door was opened. "Someone broken in?..." You thought. "The Key under the rock! Shit!" You yelled in your thoughts. Arming yourself in case the robber was still here, you heard heavy footsteps from the upstairs. Their in the bedroom. Slowly moving up the stairs, trying your best to not alarm them.

The door was ajar when you got there. You'll catch them off guard and knock them out and call the police. Taking a deep breath you charged into your room to see no one. "Huh?" You said. Unaware, the figure behind wrapped one around your waist and one hand coving your screams. You struggled under the grip until you felt the familiar lips on your cheek and low growls. "Hello Y/n, you missed me?" The voice, was it?

The grip loosened for you to look at the figure. It was Michael.

"Mr. Wolf?" You said as tears started to form in your eyes. "Hi little lamb." He said, stroking your hair. You started to cry and hug him. It's been so long. "Thought I wouldn't see you ever again." You said in tears muffled by Michael's shirt. "I cried for so long when I heard you were caught 6 years ago. I thought you were dead." You looked at him with watery eyes. "I thought so too, but I'm here now. I managed to escape and hicked hike under a tarp on a truck." Michael replied, wipping the tears from your eyes. "I remember your scent. You never left here." Michael said. "I couldn't. I have too many memories, our time together." You replied with a teary smile. "I kept your things." You told him as you made your way to the closest.

Boxes marked "Michael's things" were taken out of your closet to show Michael. 3 boxes worth of it, one for his clothes and the others his favorite things. "You kept them all." Michael replied, seeing his old things before he was caught. He picked up his hair brush he really liked. "I would fall asleep with one of your shirts to remind me of you, holding me in your arms at night." You said as you guided his arms around you once more. "I never forgot about you." You said hugging him tight. "I found love with you." He said as he lifted your chin up and kissed you deeply.

Michael's passionate kisses never did change over the 6 years. Kissing the special spot in the crook of your neck. "I wanted to do this for so long after getting out." He said in his low growl and lifted you up and on to the shared bed.

The night was filled with passionate pleasure. You moaned from the amount of it. He rolled his hips into yours as he took his time. He was waiting to do this after being captured, kissing your lips and your body throughout. "Do you remember when I said that one day you'll bear my pups?" Michael asked with low grunts. "I do." You replied with gasps, you close to your orgasm as Michael started to pick up the pace. He was close behind. "Well." Michael said as he grunt with teeth sharpening, claws forming, and fur starting to sprout. "Do you still want to bear them?" He asked. You both were getting closer to your climax as Michael started to change into his Wolf forme. "I. I. I. I. I Do." You were on the edge till Michael folded you into the Mating Press as he huffed and puffed till you both orgasmed. You screamed Michael's name as he howled driving his Knott deep into you pussy.

Holding you as you came down from your high. You never felt so good in so long. He knows where to hit your sweet spot, feeling his breath on your sweat drenched body as he pants with his clawed hands, holding you in place to finish filling your womb with his hot seed. You kissed that wet nose of his, smiling at him. He changed back as he pulled out and laid right beside you, kissing your lips and rubbing his hand over your tummy. "Will it happen, you, me, and sounds of little paws on the floor?" You asked Michael as he kissed your forehead. "Someday, Y/N. Someday." Michael replied as he wrapped you up in the sheets over your body to get some sleep after the cool down. Placing your cheek on his chest, hearing his heart beat and feeling his rising and falling chest.

"Welcome Home, Michael." You said as you close your eyes for some sleep.

[thesherrinfordfacility]

how in the world do you do it? i sent that ask yesterday and i'm still making my way through your masterpost kind of reeling- almost every moment i paused the show (s2 especially) and thought, that's weird, but couldn't put my finger on why, you've talked about, and expanded on, and it's all so well put. you're slowly curing the countless little ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ bouncing around in my head. it's so satisfying, too, to see all those asks with LWA disagreeing with popular fanon. i'd been thinking it was only me.

i'm curious about your interpretation of the bullet catch, specifically aziraphale's motives. i scrolled through a few of your tags and didn't find much about it, but i might have missed something.

i've seen people say it was retaliation for the holy water request (ooc?), or some deliberate test of crowley's willingness to go through with it (and so go through with their relationship, in spite of the danger, or something). then, of course, there's the generally accepted afaik "elaborate trust fall, general aziraphalean ridiculousness" version, but convincing somebody to nearly shoot you seems like a lot (understatement), even then.

it comes across to me as a bit cruel, if that makes sense. this isn't reliant on crowley not wanting to shoot him, or just doing well under pressure. if he's never even shot a gun before, this is almost entirely luck, and i don't buy that the only thing at stake is paperwork, however much they repeat it to themselves. crowley's hands wouldn't have been shaking so badly. if he messes up, he's gonna hurt aziraphale, or have to watch his human body die. it's so fucked.

maybe it could be said that, without their miracles working, they knew they were being watched, and had to continue, but i don't buy that either. aziraphale didn't act like he felt threatened afterwards until furfur showed up- was doing the complete opposite.

that's all i've got for now, but yeah. this blog is awesome and i'm so here for your sideburn theories. have a nice day pls

oh anon✨ you're so sweet!!! i really dk about all that, i just like chatting shit and trying to spot patterns/contradictory stuff/things that don't make sense beyond the script (if that makes sense), so whilst you all might not get Smart out of me you will at least get Passionate🤌

(also YES for LWA appreciation, they deserve it 💕 - still dont know why they do it but im just happy to be involved)

ooooh okay bullet catch. couple of thoughts from me:

aziraphale was happy to go on stage and try to ameliorate the situation between crowley and mrs h (my beloved), but reticent to scope out any Showy-Offy tricks from goldstones shop

crowley hyped aziraphale up enough to go into the shop and find a new trick to perform; hes the angel who fooled nefertiti and is performing on the West End Stage, after all!!!

aziraphale is taken in by the bullet catch trick upon seeing it, but was previously happy to consider another trick. he also, presumably, wasnt aware of the element of trusting a stooge until it was told to him

aziraphale persuades crowley to perform it, even when crowley is obviously uncomfortable, and crowley isn't truthful with him re: firearms experience

crowley agreed, providing that they make use of their miracles if it goes tits up

aziraphale doesnt inform crowley on any of the plan; crowley is notably caught unawares when called out in the audience

miracles don't work, neither of them stop the performance. crowley once again still very uncomfortable, literally shaking on stage, and yet seems to calm at aziraphale ploughing on ahead.

so okay, yeah, ive basically just recited the scene - but a few conclusions:

aziraphale doesn't want to let crowley down or embarrass him by backing out of the act, or indeed by messing it up

i think there's probably some element of aziraphale doing it for himself (self-esteem), but in a way that, post-Realisation, he is showing off a bit... it strikes me that crowley wasn't fully cognizant of this little hobby of his, and aziraphale is taking a moment to do something that (bless him, he thinks) he's good at, and wow crowley as a result

i don't think the holy water request came into his motivations at all, for the same reasons you said. however, it is an appropriate mirror to the holy water request narratively; i think it will come back up in s3, and i think the bullet catch will at least emotionally inform aziraphale on whether to give crowley the water or not

as for crowley's motivations in going along with it; i think to some extent he's paying back the favour, but mainly that it's truly just to make aziraphale happy. a step beyond that; to him, aziraphale is in need of something, and that is something aziraphale is only trusting crowley to deliver. crowley of course assumes miracles will be their safety net, so agrees to be aziraphale's knight in shining armour (*cough* playing hero)

when the miracles fail, aziraphale still has trust in crowley to do it properly. crowley however is left to trust in aziraphale's trust in kind. he still wants to do this for him, but the stakes are a bit higher in that he could shoot his best friend (?) in the face and not see him again on earth for any number of years (imo, it's never, ever been about the paperwork). but aziraphale isn't backing down; is crowley about to disappoint him? of course not.

tl;dr: they're both arseholes for their respective lacks of transparency with each other, deliberately put themselves in harm's way, and it was by sheer luck that they pulled it off. but it is a huge seismic shift in how they see each other, and i don't think we've been shown/suggested the full implications of the whole thing just yet.

thank you so much for your kind words, they honestly make my day!!! hope you have a lovely day too!!!✨💕

[donutsupremacy]

Toothache

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Summary

"Everyone has their own fears, whether they choose to acknowledge it or not. Dentophobia, a fear of dentists, is no uncommon fear. But you never realized that Albedo, who had said phobia, would much rather endure the pain than to conquer the fear. Good thing you're here to help him face it!"

Warnings

Fluffy, so fluffy you'd touch Gorou's tail—

Reader does not have a vision

Reader is not traveller

Reader is Albedo's assistant (Not Sucrose)

GN!Reader

Cursing

Dentistry

Very long, as usual

A/N: For the anon that requested this, I do hope you don't mind if I edit a few things here and there. Idk anything about dentistry stuff but I have once gotten my wisdom tooth pulled out once, a very traumatic experience :3

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Your romance begins here

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Another groan.

You looked up from your clipboard, furrowing your brows at the alchemist who was standing across from you and unaware of your staring. His gloved hand reached up to cup his cheek, his teal eyes tense and showing annoyance at the touch.

After rubbing his cheek for a few seconds, Albedo returned to mixing a beaker full of liquid substance as if nothing happened, most likely choosing to ignore it instead.

You gripped the pen in between your fingers, nearly breaking it with the amount of pressure you were applying. Does he really think you're that stupid and inattentive? You may not be the smartest in all of Teyvat, of course, but you're not a brainless moron either. There's a reason why you're his assistant after all.

And as his assistant, you're tasked with to not only follow his orders, but to also take care of his needs.

"Albedo, you've been saying nothing but 'ugh's and 'ah's for the past few hours now. Your humming doesn't count. Tell me, what's going on." It was more of a demand than a question judging by your tone, it even caught the blonde slightly off guard when you were being serious with that glare you're giving.

The alchemist opened his mouth to awnser but soon closed it, glancing away with hesitation in his eyes. But you were having none of it, not when he hasn't said a single word to you all day.

"Tell me, Kreideprinz!" You demanded, though you weren't normally strict, it's times like these where you're forced to do so just to help your superior. You even felt bad when you saw him flinch a little at your tone, it was like a mother reprimanding her child.

"C-Can-t..." The alchemis muttered out, it almost sounded like he was choking on air. You rolled your eyes at his lie, placing your clipboard down and walking over to his side.

Albedo's eyes widened, wanting to step away but deciding against it. "You better speak now, Kreideprinz. I can clearly tell something is wrong with you and I won't be dropping this until you awnser!"

One would need a lot of courage just to raise their voice at the Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius.

Your stern facade nearly cracked seeing the eyes Albedo was giving you, it was like a lost puppy who got kicked. But you were only being strict for his own good, whether he liked it or not.

"...Y-You'll laugh." The alchemist muttered, his voice low as though he was afraid you would blow up in his face.

"No, I won't, Albedo. All I want to know is why you've said nothing but a bunch of groans all day." You let out a sigh of disappointment, speaking in a softer tone. Albedo gave you a wary looked before slowly raising his hand to point at his cheek. "...Yes, I know. You've been holding your cheek all day, what is it?"

It was the blonde's turn to let out a sigh, you're quite oblivious to the most obvious hints and signs. "...My t-teeth hur—t..." Even saying words containing certain letters felt agonizing, wincing when he finally explained his situation.

Your eyes widened in surprise, your hands instinctively reaching out to him. "It seems like even talking is a pain for you... I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have forced you to talk." You apologised, now feeling guilty thinking you could've just asked him to write instead.

Albedo waved his hand, giving you a charming soft smile as a way of reassurance. "If your teeth hurt so much that it hurts to talk, we should really get you to a dentist." His eyes widened at your statement, frantically shaking his head.

You rose a confused brow at his rejection, your puzzlement only growing at his expression. "What's wrong, Albedo?" His cheeks grew red, looking away from your curious eyes.

"I... N-No." Was all Albedo could say, you figured it was because of the toothache. You grabbed your clipboard and took out an empty sheet of paper, handing it over to him with your pen.

"Albedo, just tell me why. The more you try to stall, the worse you it'll get." You stated with a huff, your hands on your hips while giving him yet another stern stare. "And don't try lying to me! This is for your own good."

His brows knitted together, looking down at the sheet of paper with the same reluctance as before. After what felt like an eternity, the male began writing, the sound of the pen's lid scratching against the flimsy paper making you feel more and more anxious by the second.

Finally, he lowers his head, averting his gaze away as he hands you the clipboard. You take the clipboard, briefly admiring his incredibly neat hand writing before read 'Please refrain from laughing, but I have a phobia about dentists.'

You looked at Albedo was still not making eye contact with you, was he seriously thinking you'd laugh at something like that? "Albedo, why would I laugh?" You sighed, partially in amusement as you placed the clipboard back on the desk.

"Albedo, it's natural to have fears for something, it's not like I expected you to be a stone cold fearless person all the time. Having a fear for dentists is completely normal, a lot of people have that kind of phobia!" You gently patted his shoulder, looking into his tense eyes with your soft gaze, it could make anyone's knees buckle at a single glance.

If only you knew about what you do to him.

"T-Tha...nk you." Albedo smiled while leaning down a little closer to you, your cheeks suddenly growing warm at the close proximity between the two of you.

"S-Still, you can't just ignore your toothache forever. You need to see the dentist." Your heart stung when Albedo's smile dropped, now showing you those teal puppy eyes that you'd always fall for. Curse his charming appearance! "I'll be there for you, don't worry. I promise, nothing bad will happen."

<Timeskip>

Perhaps it was a little too soon to say that.

You watched as the dentist gently prod Albedo's light pink gums, his gloved fingers twitching at every touch from the cold metal of the tool being used.

However, upon finding the root of the problem and touching it for a ckoser inspection, Albedo's arms flinched.

Purely out of instinct to make him feel more at ease, you reached out and held his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. Although you didn't think much of this action, the alchemist's bright red face said so otherwise.

It was as if your touch was magic, instantly melting away all the anxiety and pain in his system. If only his glove was off...

"This is a simple case of an impacted wisdom tooth, Mr Kreideprinz, and it seems like it has been stuck in your gum for quite some time now. You should've contacted me earlier to schedule an appointment, lest you'd like to suffer any health problems." At the dentists statement, you glared at the Alchemist who shrunk under your gaze.

"But... you can still help him, right?" You asked, nothing hurts more than seeing someone you love dearly suffer in pain.

"Of course. If you'd like, I can proceed with the procedure." You opened your mouth to agree, but stopped when you felt Albedo squeeze your hand. You could tell he wasn't trying to use a lot of strength, but he was failing to conceal the pure terror in his eyes.

You bit the inside of your cheek, you knew you had to say yes regardless for the sake of his health, but why are you finding it so hard just to say one singular word everytime you looked into his fearful teal eyes.

"...Yes."

Albedo gave you a betrayed look, to which you gently squeezed his hand in an attempt to comfort him. "This is for the better, Albedo. I promise you, i'll be here for you." Oddly enough, knowing that you'd be here by his side was almost enough to calm his nerves down.

"You do needn't fret, Mr Kreideprinz." The dentist picked up a face mask and placed it over the lower part of Albedo's face. "I will administer laughing gas for you, it'll help to calm your nerves and leave you in a dazed state. You will feel little to no pain."

"Are you sure this would work?" You rose a brow, subtly squeezing Albedo's hand with worry.

The dentist only chuckled, admiring how your love for him is pure and strong. "Of course, Mx [Surname], your beloved will be completely safe."

Your face burned bright red, much more visible compared to the blushing alchemist who thankfully had the face mask to cover up most of his blush. "I-!! H-He's not—"

"Are you ready, Mr Kreideprinz?" The dentist asked, his hand over the handle in preparation to release the laughing gas. You could feel his hand suddenly squeezing yours tightly, causing you to wince a little at his strength, but helping him was far more important than worrying about your hand.

With a stiff nod, a hissing sound was heard from the machine.

You watched with worry as Albedl's eyes grew wide, but suddenly looked calm, his eyelids lowering. "Alright. This will be quick." The dentist reassured as he briefly got up to put the machine back in it's original spot while you felt the blonde's hand slowly growing limp in your hold.

"Albedo, are you alright?"

"Ahaha... why whouldn't I bhe?... You make eeeehverything moar than alright..." He giggled in his usual raspy tone, but his slurring was mostly coming from the laughing gas and the fact that his mouth was forced to stretch widely.

"Uh... great—"

"Waaaay moar than ghreaaaat! You're so greaaaaat! Like, ghreat ghreeeaaaat! I alwaysh wondered why you wheren't blesshed with a vihsion... you're sho amahsiiiiing..." You could hear the dentist chuckling, causing you to cover the lower part of your face and sending them a glare.

Your attention went back to Albedo who was trying to lazily raise his other arm at you. "Dhon't... dohn't look at hiiiim! Look at meeee! Loooove meeee!"

"!!!" You stiffened, was the laughing gas supposed to make him behave like this? "Wh-What did you do to him?"

"Nothing. Laughing gas tends to make an individual fall into a dazed state, but it usually also causes them to enter a drunken state too. It seems your boyfriend has a lot of lovely things to say to you, you're quite a lucky person." You averted your gaze away, trying to ignore Albedo's loud whining.

"Nooooh! Don't look awauy from meee... do... do yoh not like meh? B-Buh... I love youuuu! I love you so maaaahch!..." You bit your bottom lip, trying to ignore everything he's saying.

'Albedo's just... saying a bunch of nonsense haha... why would an ordinary plain person like me have a place in his heart?' Though, deep down, a part of you hoped everything he was blabbering on about was true.

"Wh-When you hahve the thime, c-come ovur to my phlace and we can cuhddle and...and talhk about how your soh pretty~..."

"Why do yoh never look aht me when I drahw youuu?... I wahnnah see your prettey face a-and drawh it!..."

"Do yoh like this guy moar than meeee? Noooo! Love meh moooooar!"

<Timeskip>

Archons, it felt like an eternity in that office.

You thanked the dentist and apologised profusely for your almost unconsious superior's behaviour, to which the dentist only chuckled as they had an entertaining show while working.

Who knew Albedo could be so talkative and flirty when it comes to you?

After paying for the appointment, you proceed to pry a still dazed Albedo off the chair and used up all of your strength to drag him out of the building, his arm slung over your shoulder while you kept his balance by holding his waist.

It was already night and barely anyone was walking around in the streets, save for the few guards on patrol duty.

You're extremely lucky that he lives closeby, or else you would have to contact Kaeya for help. You'd rather eat a live Cryo Slime than to have Kaeya assist Albedo back home as you knew the alchemist despised the flirtatious calvary captain. Especially when it comes to you.

Although you nearly fell several times, you had eventially made it to his home, the entire walk there was about Albedo continuously giggled like a drunk person and blabber on about how gorgeous you looked under the moonlight.

Beyond flustered, you quickly unlocked his home and placed him down on his couch as fast as you could while being gentle at the same time. "A-Alright, Albedo. I'm going to head back now... don't do anything stupid."

As you turned to leave, you felt something weakly grip onto your arm. "...Stay..."

"...Albedo...?" You spoke softly, turning back to see the pure desperation in his glossy teal eyes. "A-Albedo!?"

"Y-You were gonna leave me?..." Albedo slowly got up from his lying position, attempting to cling onto you, his wobbly movements are similar to a drunkard trying to walk in a straight line.

You quickly placed your hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him back down on the couch. "A-Albedo, don't move!... Archons christ, I won't leave." You chuckled while kneeling down close to his head, gazing into his teary eyes.

"You won't?..." It felt strange knowing the blonde wanted you to stay.

"I won't... I promise." You were technically lying in a way, you were planning to return home and leave Albedo to rest alone, but you can't say no to those puppy eyes of his.

You couldn't make out what the alchemist was saying under his breath before his eyelids grew heavy. "Good night, Albedo." You whispered softly, brushing a strand of his fluffy light blonde hair away from his sleeping face.

'Even asleep, he still looks attractive.'

You blushed at that random thought of yours, combined with all the things Albedo had said today under the influence of the laughing gas. A scoff left your lips at those words of his, you weren't taking any of it seriously even though you wanted to. "Didn't know you had a way with... words."

Hearing the faint breathing from your unconsious superior, you stood back up and looked around the living room. It was clean and tidy, though that might be because he rarely returns home, usually pulling all-nighters to finish his experiments.

As you glanced at his table for a second, you did a double take upon noticing a [colour] hardcover notebook on top. At the bottom left corner was a golden [favorite animal] symbol with a white capital [First letter of Name] in the middle of the animal.

You tilted your head a little, walking over to pick it up without a second thought. Albedo was very fond of drawing and writing, very talented too. He rarely shows you any of his work, saying 'It's for his own eyes'.

Of course, you resoected his decision and privacy... but it wouldn't hurt to take a peak, right?

"Just the first three pages..." You muttered, cocking a small grin for your nosy behaviour. It's only art, nothing else, regardless if it was some nude drawing for practise or a bloody one. You're not gonna get disturbed by it whatsoever.

But instead, you felt flustered upon seeing a beautifully drawn portrait of yourself smiling, coloured and shaded beyond perfection. And right above it was written in cursive letters 'To my dearest [Name]'

You flipped to the next page, it was a long message and it was directed to you.

"To my dearest [Name];

Happy Birthday, my love.

Is is appropriate to call you that when we are not in a relationship? I apologise, I cannot help but think about how my life would be without you, to the point where I found my true desire— to be with you for the rest of my life.

When Sucrose first introduced me to you, I thought you were nothing more but simple scientist that I would be working with. I apologise once more if that statement had hurt you, as I now regret to even think so lowly of you.

Your strict yet caring attitude has allowed me to experience things I have never felt. You made me crave for your touch every day, to wish that I could get lost in your eyes forever. I wish to listen to your voice as you ramble on and on adorably, to hope that I could one day place my lips onto yours.

You were like a rose in a sea of wilted flowers, the shooting stars in the empty dark blue sky, the sun that brighten those around you and the moon that brings tranquility to others. Truly nothing could taint your beauty, inside and out.

Therefore, I dedicate this book especially for you, as a token of my undying love for you."

So, all the things he said was true.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

A/N: these get longer and longer the more I write. and it's not that thing you sick pervs—

That happy bday message was mostly an excuse to write that message, also because this was supposed to take place before your birthday. But if your bday happens to be the day I post this, then Happy Birthday! Or Happy late/early Birthday!

I also wasn't sure if laughing gas existed— and even if it did, how does it work?? I originally wanted to use some chemistry stuff involving liquids but I have a fear of syringes and weird as it sounds but writing anything about syringes make me extremely squeamish. (I'll get over it eventually haha)

Bonus:

Albedo's teal eyes fluttered open as the sunlight from the nearby window poured over his face, his jaw slightly numb from the procedure yesterday.

His nose caught whiff of a delicious aroma nearby, looking over to see a stack of pancakes freshly made for him with [3 Toppings]. And a little note that has caused his face to erupt into a bright shade of red.

"Good morning to you, my love. Make sure to finish this before coming in to work today, if you do, a kiss will be rewarded! Remember, I can tell if you're lying or not!

~[Name]

P.s. I love you too ♡"

[thecoleopterawithana]

What does your tag "Paul is a concept why which we measure our pain" mean?

Hello, Anon dear!

I applaud your sharp eye! You know, I actually thought twice about adding the tag to that particular post; even going as far as deleting it and then putting it in again. My reticence came from the fact that the reference was quite oblique (even for my standards). Nevertheless, this is a subject that I’ve been mulling over lately, so I thought, “Whatever, these tags are mostly for me, anyway!” 

But you caught me! (Though I appreciate that you did.)

I first came across this brilliant phrase in a tag by none other than the ever-insightful @amoralto. I’ve since found out that Rob Sheffield has a chapter of the same title in his Dreaming the Beatles (2017), though he doesn’t go exactly where I thought he would with it; I don’t think we give it the same meaning. 

It is, of course, a variation of John’s “God is a concept by which we measure our pain”, whose meaning didn’t hit me fully until I read his 1971 interview with Robin Blackburn and Tariq Ali (the post in which @amoralto used the tag). Here he describes how Janov’s Primal Scream Therapy had been for him until that point about acknowledging and facing his own pain, going to the root of it, instead of seeking refuge in the usual distractions and God-like figures absolution. I can not recommend this quote enough. It is, in my opinion, essential to understanding John Lennon. 

In fact, the deeper understanding about this side of John was so important to me that I made a whole post about his patterns of disillusionment immediately after. There, I try to express, among other things, what the phrase "Paul is a concept by which we measure our pain" means to me.

In short, what all this God/Idol/Parental-figure talk boils down to is Agency and the existence or absence of a conscious exercising of it. It’s about the perception of control and how that translates to notions of power.

To reach the absurdity of quoting myself:

“I can’t say that I’m familiar with theology or the exploration of the purpose of faith, but I see John as addressing how people use God - and all the other things he claims he doesn’t believe in anymore - as coping mechanisms for the pain in their lives. The greater the pain, the more you cling to these “distractions” from reality.

Though, this is not simply about distractions, like drugs, sex and success, as a means of escapism. When the despair is overwhelming, you want someone or something you can hand it all over to, and an all-powerful entity to whom you can just turn everything in and absolve yourself of the responsibility. And this Father figure will either make it better and make the pain go away, or it will tell you that there is a grander purpose to the pain, life works in mysterious ways, and it is as it is destined to be.

But the main point here is John’s need to hand over responsibility.” 

My hypothesis is that John was made to feel so unloved, his self-esteem was destroyed in such a way as a child, that he doesn’t believe himself to have agency over his life, to have the power to actually chose. Or if he does, he’d rather hand-over that power to someone else and be simply taken care of, instead of having to face the world alone and vulnerable, a possible victim of his own mistakes.  

But if John’s strategy in the face of pain and fear was to give up control, Paul’s response was to seize it.

I have explored the possible origins of this coping mechanism in a post about Paul’s childhood. There I propose that the pain of suddenly losing his mother and then feeling he couldn’t count on his father in the aftermath convinced him that he couldn’t really rely on anyone but himself.  

To quote myself again:

“Not only had the only reality he’d ever known been destroyed by his mother’s sudden death, his own father – who was supposed to be this strong, unshakable pillar in his life – couldn’t be relied on to hold it together.

Paul had been let down. He was on his own.

Fear steems from a feeling of powerlessness. You feel painfully vulnerable to whatever life might throw at you, at constant risk of being hurt again, and the only solution is to be on the lookout. Be prepared.

Paul was caught unawares because the people he’d counted on to always be there suddenly weren’t. And with his compassionate and reasonable nature, he probably didn’t even blame them at all. But the facts were that Paul had been left hanging, not once but twice, when he needed them the most. So he kind of lost his faith in everything.

Life is chaotic and unpredictable; and people, through no fault of their own, are just as inconstant.

And so, in order not to risk being let down again, Paul took matters into his own hands. He tried to escape the pain and dread of being powerless by seizing control of whatever he could. And that was mostly himself.

And so begins Paul McCartney’s saga of isolating independence and other control-issues.”

It’s that last bit about the “isolating independence” that I haven’t explored fully yet, though it’s something I hope to put out soon. 

The thing is, Paul got really good at being self-sufficient. He was confident and had his hands firmly placed on the steering wheel of his own life. He felt he had agency; he had control; he had power. 

In a world where people mostly feel afraid, lonely, and powerless, someone who presents such strength is magnetic. You can’t help but admire and love them; you want to be watched over by them and be loved in return. 

And there were those who felt rejected from the start, and so grew hateful of their Idol (Yoko Ono, Allen Klein, Phil Spector, Jann Wenner). 

But then there were those who felt the Grace of God shining upon them, but by then, they didn’t want to feel such an imbalance in the relationship. Anyone can be a god, after all. 

So now Paul’s self-reliance didn’t just mean strength; it meant detachment. As John put it in that Blackburn interview:

“The worst pain is that of not being wanted, of realising your parents do not need you in the way you need them.”

John’s biggest fear and hurt was that of feeling like he needed Paul a lot more than Paul needed him. 

That’s why we reach a point where Paul’s way of showing love (especially by trying to help and “ease the pain”) is no longer welcome because it only served to increase the perceived imbalance in the relationship. Paul was seen as always fine and unbothered, so much so that he could afford to be “charitable” with his bandmates. It made them feel inept and redundant. 

And this is not just in John’s “head”. This was exactly George’s main complaint during the breakup: that even though Paul always helped him with his songs, he never took George’s own suggestions, which made George feel infantilized, unappreciated and no more than a “backing band”.

Of course, things get infinitely more interesting once we also look at them from inside Paul himself! But I’ll leave that to its own post; I feel I’ve given enough spoilers as it is. 

In summary, that tag is used when I feel there is an instance of people treating Paul like God: an unknowable, generally-benevolent, omnipotent being, whose grace you seek so he may deliver you from pain and fear. 

And you both adore his steadfastness, his unconditionality, and resent him for being invulnerable, unaffected by your behaviour. 

And when you suddenly feel abandoned by this God, if you no longer feel his love or as if he didn’t do his job of saving you from harm, you may as well cast him and his “religion” away; accuse him of being a false idol and everyone who still loves him to be ignorant mislead fools.

(Of course, needless to say that Paul was no unshakable god. But like I said, more on that later.)

[wolken-himmel]

In which Epel tries to matchmake Rook with (Y/n) in an attempt to get rid of him.

(Y/n) is a little bit angry upon finding out.

Request by anon.

"—and then he dragged me back to the dorm building! That was the third time he did that today..."

An exasperated sigh escaping the lavender-haired boy's lips, his shoulders slouched forward in an exhausted manner. The fight in his eyes had faded away as he crashed onto the seat right next to you. The noise echoed through the otherwise quiet library, but he didn't seem to care.

You lowered your book and shot him a pitiful look. "I'm sorry to hear that, Epel," you said playfully. "It sounds like Rook could use a new hobby. You know, aside from constantly hunting you down."

The fellow first-year's eyes seemed to light up at your suggestion. His adorable face morphed into a grin of mischief, one that you didn't notice due to the way you had your face buried in your book again. A low chuckle escaped his lips as he murmured, "That's a really good idea..." While a thousand ideas flew through his mind, he clasped his hands together like a movie-villain.

An absent-minded hum escaped your lips. "It doesn't have to be a hobby. Maybe he would appreciate a new friend? A pet?"

"Or a significant other!"

At once, you slammed your book onto the table, not caring that you had lost your page. You couldn't help but simply stare at your friend in silence, wondering if you had misheard him. But when he made no attempt to correct himself, you broke out into uncontrollable laughter. "Pff, you want to matchmake the chasseur l'amour with some unfortunate soul?" you cried out while holding your stomach in pain. "No thanks, Vil will have my head if he finds out..." Still laughing as if you had been hexed, you rose to your feet and walked away.

Epel watched you disappear behind the tall bookshelves, even intently listening until the last remnants of your laughter died down. And once that was the case, his mischievous grin turned comically evil. "And that unfortunate soul is you, (Y/n)!"

°°°

The next few days passed by uneventfully, and you remained very much unaware of Epel's plan to get rid of Rook, Vil's right-hand man — by matchmaking you with him. It was only when, after exactly seven days had passed, a strange note had crossed your path, guiding you to a shadowy tree in the courtyard. You knew that spot, having watched Rook polish his bow beneath the tree more than a dozen times.

This was the first time you had approached him, and the thought of it caused your stomach to churn in discomfort. You practically waddled over to him like a graceless penguin.

"Uhm..." You awkwardly coughed into your fist once you stood in front of him. "Rook, you wished to talk to me?"

The hunter took his sweet time finishing the last touches before he raised his gaze, a giddy smile on his lips. After having carefully put his bow aside, he said, "Although I do appreciate the opportunity of glancing upon your beautiful visage again, I don't recall ever having asked you to meet me here at my favourite spot." Yet, he waved you off when you were about to open your mouth again, and instead grabbed your unexpecting hand to pull you to the grassy ground beside him. The yelp escaping your lips did nothing to diminish his excitement. "You have caught me at a wonderful time! I'm in a great mood to chat, especially with you, mon ange."

"But... an apple fell on my head earlier in the courtyard... and there was this note attached to it," you muttered in confusion and held said purple-coloured slip of paper out to him. "You asked to meet me here, and even signed it."

His green eyes studied the content of the note intently before he returned it to you. A large grin decorated his face, and he began to explain, "That is not my signature." A confident aura surrounded him as he spoke, and you merely nodded along in surprise. "The first 'o' is way too small, and I always make sure that both are the same width and height! But fret not, I have my suspicions on whose crude handwriting this could be."

"Oi!" it suddenly came from behind a nearby bush. "My handwriting ain't crude!"

A triumphant chuckle escaped Rook's lips as he jumped to his feet and pointed right at the shrubbery. "And there we have the culrpit, aha!" he exclaimed while you stumbled to your feet, as well.

The newcomer hesitantly exited his hiding place.

"Epel, you wanted Rook and me to meet up?" you breathed out in confusion. "But why..."

Before Epel could explain himself, Rook had already chimed in, "To distract me with your beauty, of course! By doing so, he hopes that I will not bother him anymore." A low chuckle escaping his lips, he had closed his eyes in an unsettling manner. "And it's working, Monsieur Pomette."

"You sly little idiot," you hissed out angrily.

"If you wish to hunt Monsieur Pomette down, I shall accompany you!" Rook offered immediately, extending his gloved hand for you take. "I hear hunting together is quite a bonding activity."

"Yes, Rook. Gladly." You grasped his hand and pulled him forward vigorously.

A frightened yowl escaping Epel's lips, he took several steps backwards. "H-Hey! You should be cuddling beneath that tree right now! Leave me alone—"

"Oh, this is so exciting! I've never hunted with anyone else before, mon ange."

You gave his hand a squeeze. "It's my pleasure, Rook."

"Well, at least you're getting along," Epel mocked, and stuck his tongue out at the two of you. Then, at the speed of light, he whipped around and took off into the distance.

What an amazing tale of how Rook and you had first met that you would tell your future children.

[epiclamer]

hey!! your writing is awesome <3 i pretty much reread all of your stories for at least 7 times (yea i counted them some time ago, but could be more tbh). if you don’t mind may i please request? a touch-starved villain and a hero who finds this out, maybe with some teasing them about it, and overall kinda fluff. if it’s not too much to ask <3 have an awesome day/night! lol i’m nervous cuz i decided not to go anon lol

Eyyyyy don’t be nervous! I always love meeting you guys! And of course, this is a great trope.

(No reposts but reblogs appreciated <3)

Needing and Getting

Villain stifled a gasp as Hero’s hands clasped around their wrists, sure, maybe they were handcuffing them but it didn’t really matter, Hero’s hands were on Villains body. That’s what mattered. And it was invoking some very unwanted reactions from the criminal themselves.

Once the handcuffs were secure Hero’s hands moved to the villains hips, guiding them as they turned Villain to face front and meet Hero’s eyes. The warmth left a burning imprint along Villains sides, attracting their full attention and raising a blush to their cheeks.

“Finally.” Hero sounded exasperated and exhausted. After all, they had been playing this cat and mouse game for several months now, and just by pure chance Hero had caught Villain tonight.

Villains back was pressed up against the hood of the squad car Hero had been driving when they noticed their nemesis trapped in a sticky situation and took advantage of it. If only Villain hadn’t been so clumsy their heart wouldn’t be beating out of their chest and Hero’s touchy hands wouldn’t be mindlessly caressing their sides.

Hero took a deep breath of the fresh, city night air. Letting it out through their mouth after a moments time, completely unaware that their hands were tracing shapes into Villains hips and driving the other insane.

It wasn’t that Villain didn’t love the touch, and it definitely wasn’t that they didn’t crave it, it was just that it’s kind of embarrassing to break down into a touch-starved and needy mess in front of your mortal enemy. But right now, that seemed to be exactly what was happening.

“Okay, I need to pat you down now so just stand up against the car and spread your legs.” It was definitely a normal thing to say to a criminal you were arresting, especially if you were a hero. However, it was exactly what Villain didn’t want.

After the lack of obeying to Hero’s command, the crime-stopper sighed and moved one of their hands from Villains hip to their shoulder and slowly peeled them off the car. Turning them around gently and tapping their legs apart with the toe of their boot. Then, leaning gently in so that their lips just barely ghosted Villains ear, Hero said, “if you feel uncomfortable at any time, don’t be afraid to let me know, okay? I’ll try to adjust to a more appropriate search.”.

With that, Hero pulled back and began to let their hands work diligently down Villains body. Starting at their hips, going around their sides, moving down to their left leg, hands touching their thigh, working down to their knee and then calf, before Hero’s delicate hands fished a small pocket knife out of Villains boot and propped it on the ground. Hands now moving to the other side.

A couple more miscellaneous weapons dropped to the ground before finally Hero let out a small chuckle that filled the dead silence between the two. “Yknow, you’re usually much more talkative when it comes to our banters, everything okay?”

Villain didn’t respond. They couldn’t. They couldn’t bring themselves to respond because of the overwhelming presence of someone touching them. Someone touching them in careful, kind and soft gestures. It felt like they were going to faint. Every place Hero’s hands touched seemed to burn afterwards. Every moment there was a connection it sent a rush of blood to Villains face. Every time Hero’s hands were removed it was icily cold and dreadful besides the dull burning of imprints.

Villain was sure that if they opened their mouth to say even a word back to their enemy everything would spill out. Every plea, every whine, every beg, every gasp, every shudder, every moan, every groan, every sound that Villain had been withholding while Hero’s hands moved skillfully across their body as if they had done this a thousand times.

They wanted to beg and cry and plead, whether for Hero to stop or for Hero to continue, Villain didn’t know. The only thing they were aware of was how close their breaking point was and how quickly they were approaching it.

“Villain?” Hero’s voice was laced with concern and it was a punch in the gut that brought Villain back to reality. They were facing Hero again, their entire body on fire as they choked on words. Spluttering and blabbering and gasping for breath like they had just been water boarded. Sadly, there was no water here that could cool them off and take their face down a few shades from “tomato red”.

Hero cocked their head to the side, trying to make sense of the villains gibberish until enough word fragments had assembled in their head and they broke out in a knowing smile.

“You’re touch-starved.” It was stated like a fact because that was exactly what it was. A fact. Villain was touch-starved and from the smirk that adorned their enemy’s face, another fact was that they were going to hate the drive ahead.

[sukirichi]

black magic [01]

REQUEST. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife)

CONTENT/WARNINGS. some suggestive scenes, but overall fluff and romance! slight crack fic, I guess? I was laughing when I wrote this lol

NOTES. I NEED A HUSBAND! SUKUNA I’M GOING TO CRY GOODBYE THIS HAS ME SOFT. also anon i’m not sure if you wanted something with more ~sexual tension~ since this is kind of just comedic, but I hope you like it anyway!

part one | part two (nsfw)

“This is new,” you comment with a glare, your ankle propped on Sukuna’s knee.

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pushing your skirt aside to clean the wounds you attained through exorcising curses. You’ve taken a particularly strong curse today and you’re caught off guard, barely finishing the mission unscathed. Limping all the way back home isn’t easy especially since you live on top of the darned mountain, but if Sukuna’s going to kneel in front of you like this...maybe it wasn’t too tough a journey. “You should stop going to missions you’re not ready for. Look at you, all wounded and bloody.”

“You sound like you care.”

“You’re my wife,” he huffs while dropping the bloody towel on the floor. Sukuna wraps the bandage around your ankle and carries you bridal style even though you’re perfectly capable of walking, but he shoots you a silencing glare. You’d have knocked him in the face any other day, but he’s particularly warm and smells nice today – plus you’re beat – that you bury your face in his chest, ignoring that stupid fluttering in your stomach. “Of course I do.”

You snicker, mind tracing back to your earlier years of this dreaded marriage.

It definitely wasn’t the best – the memories blurring between strangling each other to making out as if breathing was never a thing – and it felt like forever ago when you first met him.

You’d never say it out loud, but... you don’t regret this arranged marriage. Not when Sukuna is tucking himself beside you on the bed, your head above his muscular chest a place similar to home. He covers both your bodies over with a blanket, pulling your body closer to him with a strong arm, his lips pressing onto the crown of your head.

Ugh, you think to yourself, giving in to the need to cuddle your husband after a long day of work. You still refuse to say it out loud, though, and you irk him further by muttering, “That’s not what you said two years ago.”

“I wasn’t in love with you then.”

 “I refuse to be married to you!”

Sukuna fights back the urge to cover his ears. Ever since your clan decided to visit his land and started exorcising curses one by one, his life has been nothing but hell. Not only are your relatives the most arrogant people ever with a consistent god complex, they just had to let their little mortal child be in charge of taking on the stronger curses. Seriously, what were they thinking, sending you – who’s barely even out of their training bra years – to deal with curses like him?

Everyone knows Sukuna is a no bullshit man. He won’t hesitate to cut your head off the moment you came raging at him, but then he sees how young you are and decides to send you back to your family.

Expecting that everyone would just call it a day and he’d get offerings for his unexpected mercy, Sukuna is beyond stupefied when they send you back to his temple, all dressed pretty with a basket of fruits and flowers braided in your hair. He remembers growling because you look adorable, but that’s easily wiped away when you open your mouth, your voice scratchy against his ears as you stomp your feet like the young mortal you are.

Sukuna pushes a thumb to his forehead to ease the impending headache, and that’s just from your presence. Something inside him tells that you’re going to be a bigger pain than you look.

“You don’t have much of a choice. You should’ve thought of that before deciding to run rampage over my land,” he reminds, turning boredly to his lone servant from above his throne. Sukuna isn’t impressed, to say the least, especially with your clan’s audacious proposition to gain his favour just this once. “Is this really the woman you bring me – the one they insist to be my wife?”

“She is their best fighter, my Lord.”

Well, he can’t disagree to that. You did, after all, single-handedly give him a cut on the cheek. “She’s feisty indeed.”

“Don’t talk as if I’m not here!”

“Mouthy too,” he mumbles to himself, but your sorcerer senses are sharp and easily picks up on it. He sees you flush angry again, looking immensely adorable with your tiny fists clenched like that and he snorts, waving a hand in the air. “Whatever. Get the wedding over with,” he nods to his servant, his sigh loud and tired as he makes his way to you.

You don’t stiffen at each haunting step, his eyes only glimmering harder with entertainment. It’s rare to find a mortal that doesn’t quiver at the sight of him, the urge to break you only growing stronger.

Even as he cups your face, making sure to not let his claws dig into your precious skin, Sukuna smirks. You’ll be entertaining indeed.

So Sukuna makes a promise, four eyes surveying the way your body is starting to fill in curves at the right places, the swell of your flesh just perfect in his hands... He chuckles to himself, daunting you further as he leans down to your ear, taking pleasure in the slight way your breath hitches. “Maybe then I’ll get to teach you a lesson or two.”

You’re definitely something else, taking advantage of each presented opportunity and not wasting any time before you make your move. Right after the wedding and everyone’s left, leaving you alone with your new husband behind closed doors; you push him until he’s on the ground, legs straddling each side of his hips while you growl above him – the sound similar to a battle cry.

Sukuna merely smirks, barely moving a muscle as his large hands come up to rest on your hips to steady you. “I’ve imagined countless ways you’d be on top of me like this,” his eyes light up with humour upon feeling the cold blade on his skin, “None of them included a knife on my neck though.”

“Shut your mouth. I will kill you myself,” you warn, pressing your knife harder until it draws a slight tinge of blood.

You hardly look threatening above him like this, dolled up to look the best in your wedding with this cursed being. If anything, you look more divine than deadly, and Sukuna thinks that perhaps your beauty could be your best weapon. You are bewitching, after all.

“I refuse to be your Queen and sit next to your throne.”

“Then why didn’t you stop the wedding?”

“I—”

Sukuna’s teasing grin grows wider when you pull back, trying so hard to not trip over your words. It takes all of his self-restraint to not take you right then and there, but he does a good job of holding back, enjoying this view above him instead. “Could it be you’re attracted to me after all, hm, little one?”

“Do not test me, Curse. I’m more than capable of exorcising you myself.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. You’re the strongest in the Gojo clan, are you not?” he prompts to appease you, “I don’t even want to see what you’re capable of, but maybe, just maybe...” just as his eyes darken, the edges of his lips turning up into a smirk, Sukuna digs his claws into your thigh in a possessive show of ownership, a painful reminder that you’re his now. “...You could put on a little show for me?”

“I hate you!”

Experienced and strong as you are, you’re nothing compared to a thousand year old curse who’s killed a lot more people faster than you could blink. Sukuna immediately notices the animalistic way you draw your blade, arm swung back with rage written all over your face. Before you could so much as bat an eye, he easily switches the positions until you’re under him, using only one hand to pin your arms above your head, your blade effortlessly thrown to the other side of the room.

“As I thought, you’re a lot prettier under me like this,” he observes, roaming his eyes shamelessly over the fabric clinging prettily to your body. You’ve fallen silent at his unconcealed attention, your compliance enticing him to lean closer just to inhale your intoxicating scent.

“Not so feisty now, little one? Where’d all your hatred for me go?” Sukuna pulls back with widened eyes, “Oh? Am I hearing it wrong or is your pathetic human heart beating so loud right now?” You refuse to look at him, wriggling your hips in an attempt to leave, completely unaware that the mere movement is hypnotizing the curse above you. Sukuna grips your hips in warning, not wanting to destroy you – not now, anyway. “You know all you need to do is say it. I’d gladly take you right here and then.” His words spoken with that deep, throaty voice immediately sends a wave of heat down your core, but you turn away from him, breathing hard and nervously; something Sukuna picks up on in an instant. “Little one...have you never had a man hold you like this before?”

“N-no...”

“I see. Pure and innocent behind that ferocity, huh?” He surprises you by pulling away, smoothening his white robes down as he leaves you panting still on the floor. “Fine. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”

“I’d rather die before that ever comes out from my mouth.”

“We’ll see about that,” he smirks, winking at you before he shuts the door. “Little one.”

There’s a lot of weird – and utterly inconvenient things – about being Sukuna’s wife. The man eats everything, absolutely everything, and it doesn’t help that he sucks at hunting too. For a man so huge and burly, he sure is lazy, preferring to do the laundry in the riverside instead while you go out every day to prepare your meals.

You actually don’t mind, but it’s very fun to complain around him.

You’re on your way back to the temple when Sukuna grabs at you, making you drop the freshly caught birds onto the ground. Your brows furrow, about to scold him for being too eager again when Sukuna stares at your arm, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Following his line of sight, your lips form an ‘o’ shape. There’s blood trickling down your forearm from his claws accidentally cutting you, guilt written all over his face. Another weird thing about Sukuna is that he babbles a lot when he’s emotional, and you’re too tired to hear him beat himself over it that you just drag him inside your room, sitting his ass down before taking a clipper.

Sukuna scoffs when you start cutting his nails. It irks him that you don’t even bother wiping the blood off first and he tsks, eyes narrowed at you. “You should have thicker skin.”

You roll your eyes as you file his nails; you’ve been married to him long enough to know it’s his way of saying sorry. Not wanting to let him wallow in guilt any louder, you pad kisses over his knuckles before swiping the black ink off your desk, using a pen brush to colour your nails instead. Sukuna hovers behind you, head tilted to the side as he watched you. “Are you painting your nails black?” he utters in disbelief, trying to ignore the fact he feels...proud and even a little smug. “Not so fitting for the angelic sorcerer now, isn’t it?”

“I’m only doing this so you don’t feel left out.”

“Maybe I’ll add markings to your pretty face too,” he cups your jaw to make you turn to him, landing a solid kiss flat to your lips which makes you sigh, pretending to be annoyed but leaning over for another peck anyway. Sukuna laughs and pulls you onto his lap, kissing your neck this time around, a little annoyed that you don’t stop in brandishing your nails. “Wife, what do you think?”

“I have work, Sukuna. You flirting with me doesn’t change the fact I need to go.”

“Come home safe for me, at least?” he breathes down your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You’ve definitely changed since the first time he’s met you, starting from a mean (although he stands strong that you are still mean to him sometimes) temperamental little one to a mature, stronger sorcerer who’s secretly weak for his wife.

Unable to resist him as always, you turn around once you’ve finished painting your nails, rubbing your nose over his until your strong, scary husband is turning into putty at your hands. “Of course I will,” you peck his lips one last time, Sukuna’s eyes closing as he dives in for a deeper kiss. “I’ll always come back home to my handsome husband.”

If anyone were to ask how it’s possible that the King of Curses is actually very soft for his sorcerer wife, everyone would claim it’s impossible and a heresy – but if you ask Sukuna, it’s probably just black magic doing its wonders.

[swanimagines]

Disney: Imagine being a fan of medieval history and fantasy like your boyfriend Barley, and attending a Viking convention as your first date as a couple.

requested by anon

When you met Barley a year ago, you were ecstatic to learn he likes medieval history and fantasy just as much as you did. You had always loved the genre but had no one to share your passion with in high school because everyone else was more interested in sports or other things that didn't interest you at all. So Barley stepping into your life immediately made you to click, and it didn't take long for you two to become friends.

Friendship evolved to mutual crush, and it, in turn, evolved into something much more. You began to date him not too long after discovering how well you fit together: both of you are so obsessed with exact same things, and you fit like puzzle pieces stuck together.

When an annual Viking convention was coming to town, he asked you if you would like to go there with him this time around.

"You know, as a date? I- I mean I know we're already dating, but... as the first date after we started dating for real?" He smiled awkwardly before you gave him an enthusiastic nod.

"Yes! Definitely!" You squealed happily. You had always wanted to go there, but never had as you had no one to go with.

So there you were now, dressed in your best Viking costumes, walking hand in hand through the convention while listening to Barley talk about what events should be attended and when. You caught people looking at your costumes with admiration and even asking you to take pictures with them. You had used weeks on making them, so people showing so much love felt amazing.

The convention area was decorated beautifully, filled with food stands, games booths, artists showcasing their work, and so much more. You really felt like you had stepped through time and were now living in a world where Vikings ruled. You stopped to admire some jewelry and other handwork, and Barley caught your eyes being glued to this little wooden figure which was beautifully engraved, and had a price worthy of all the work the carver had put into it. You sighed and turned to the next booth, unaware that Barley already dug up his pockets to buy the figure for you.

And as soon as you sat down to stretch out your legs from all that walking, Barley ran up and carefully placed a little box onto your lap. "This is yours," he told you proudly before kissing your cheek sweetly. You picked up the small wooden box with runes and arched an eyebrow.

You opened the lid slowly, revealing the beautiful little wooden figure inside. Your hand flew in front of your mouth as you looked up to Barley.

"But this cost—!"

"Not enough for me I'd pass the opportunity to make you happy." He grinned at you as your eyes sparkled upon inspecting the figure.

"Barley, you shouldn't have! I don't know how I could ever thank you enough..." you murmured shyly. He smiled softly at you again as you kissed him gently.

This was by far the best date you had ever been on, you couldn’t wait what life would have in store for you and your marvelous, kind and sweet boyfriend.

---

Tags: @captainshazamerica​ @dancingwith-sunflowers @retvenkos @musicallisto @simsrecs @randomfandomimagine @mirroredpaladin @winterxisxcomingx @bookfrog242 @katherinepetrovawife // send in an ask to be added, and specify which of my fandoms you want to be tagged on! Don’t just say “can you add me to your taglist” as I can’t know what taglists do you mean by that!! ALSO IF YOU WON’T INTERACT BEYOND LIKING, I’LL EVENTUALLY TAKE YOU OFF THE LIST!!

[goaskbarnes]

Grumpy Sergeant

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Peter x Reader (platonic)

Summary/Request: Ooo we can request???? Maybe reader being best friends with Peter and Bucky getting super jealous because he wants to date reader but thinks Peter is her boyfriend 🤷🏻‍♀️ via anonymous

Warnings: jealous!Bucky, language, fluffy ending

Words: 1399

Authors Notes: Thank you so much for this request! Really hope I did justice and you like it anon! ☺️ the dumb side of me didn’t know if you meant Peter Parker or Peter Quill 🙈

If only that phrase Sam used often ‘if looks could kill they would be dead by now’ was true, then Bucky wouldn’t be here worrying about Peter.

Bucky has been watching the two of you hang out almost everyday for the past couple of days. You’re one of his best friends and knew if something was going on you might have said something, but since you haven’t, Bucky can’t ignore the annoying nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

You look far too comfortable in each other’s presence for anything to be platonic. Peter was constantly touching your arm or you would laugh at his really ridiculous jokes that weren’t even close to funny. Bucky didn’t understand it, and as the days went on, he thought more about it. The more he thought about it, the more moody he became.

Bucky’s had a thing for you for some time now, you’re his ray of sunshine on a rainy day. And since Peter has been in the picture, you’ve kind of disappeared from his routine and he doesn’t like that, he doesn’t like that at all.

“Do you want a drink?” You ask Peter, standing up from the couch and stretching your arms above your head. Your shirt rises up, and Bucky notices Peter’s eyes on your exposed skin.

“Oh! Yes, can I have some ice water?” He licks his dry lips and focuses on something else. You nod and practically skip into the kitchen area.

“Hi Bucky!” You cheerfully say, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing his cheek, something you do all too often. Bucky smirks when he sees Peter looking at your interaction.

“Hi Y/N. It feels like it’s been a long, long time since I saw you.” He says, tapping his metal fingers against the marble counter. His eyes follow you around the kitchen, and watches you prepare two glasses of ice water. You’re taken aback by him using your name, usually he would give you one of his infamous pet names - your favourite being ‘sugar’ or ‘sweetheart’.

“We should hang out soon.” You say, dunking some ice into the glasses.

Bucky grunts in response, knowing full well that’s not going to happen any time soon. You don’t think to question the grunt, it wasn’t unusual for Bucky to have off days.

A couple more days pass and Bucky’s moods just deteriorate even further to the point he’s snapping at Steve almost constantly. The recent snap was in the gym, Bucky was getting pissed off with Steve’s orders on what to do.

“I know what to fucking do! Do you think I’m some kind of idiot?” Bucky rages, throwing the dumbbell down on the ground that it echoed off an horrific hang against the four grey walls.

Steve shakes his head, he’s used to his friend’s outbursts by now. But this was something else.

“What is wrong with you? Are you having nightmares again?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and is about to give it to Steve when the sound of your laughter fills his ear as you step into the gym with… surprise… Peter on your tail.

“And that’s what I said!” Peter finishes his story with a laugh. Your hand is on your chest from laughing too much.

Steve quickly connects the door and pats his friend on the shoulder.

“You know, it’s not what it looks like, right?” Steve asks in a hushed voice.

“And how would you know that?” Bucky frowns, his body language suggesting he’s about to implode with rage.

“I just do.” Steve shrugs and Bucky wants to punch the smug grin off his face. You catch his eye as you skip past the super soldiers. The tension is thick in the air that it’s almost suffocating you.

“Everything okay?” You ask, wrapping your earphones around your neck and shifting your focus from one soldier to the other. Steve shrugs while Bucky seems uninterested in your presence. Since that day in the kitchen, he’s been more and more distant with you.

“What’s it to you?” Bucky asks with a grunt. Again, you’re taken aback by his tone, making you step away and downcast your eyes to the floor. “And besides, your boyfriend over there is waiting for you.” He adds with a huff, your eyes widen in surprise but he’s already out of the door before you can correct him. You look back to Steve who offers an apologetic smile for Bucky’s mood, one you don’t accept because he couldn’t have gotten the information more wrong if he had tried.

Peter was your best friend and he was like a brother to you. It was strictly platonic, and you weren't about to lose Bucky because of some misinformation he may have heard.

You look back at Peter who is waiting for you by the treadmills, you smile and throw him your unopened bottle of water. “I’ll be back soon, I’ve got to go and talk to him.” You smile sadly and Steve offers words of encouragement.

Turning on your heels, you sprint after Bucky, unaware of where he could have gone, you grab the attention of Friday.

“Friday, where is Sergeant Barnes?” You head is turning in every direction, peeping through the glass windows of the doors on your way through the hallway.

“Sergeant Barnes is in his room.” Of course he would be. He spends most of his time there hiding away from other people, especially during one of Tony’s extravagant events.

You head straight to his room, not bothering to talk and find him with his head in his hands, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I need to talk to you.” You say breathlessly from the running you just did to get here. Bucky looks up slowly and clasps his hands together before scoffing.

“I’m not the one you need relationship advice from. How come you never told me about him anyway?” You don’t appreciate the tone he’s using, treating you almost like a teenager who kept a relationship secret from their parents.

“Bucky… I’m not sure where you heard or who told you but it’s not what you think. Peter and I are just friends, that’s all we’ve ever been and that’s all we'll ever be. Peter is like my brother, and you’re- you-”

“I’m what?” Bucky asks standing from the bed and in front of you. His blue eyes seeping into yours and for a moment you forget where you are.

“You’re- you’re-.” It suddenly all clicked into place: his moods, his distancing, accusations that you were dating without asking you first. “You’re jealous.” A smile tugs at your lips and Bucky averts his gaze, something he regularly does when he’s been caught or is nervous.

“No I wasn’t.” He argues

“Yess you were. That’s why you were acting like a grumpy old man.” You tease, jabbing his chest and giggling. Your fingers squeeze his cheeks and laugh.

“Stop! Leave my cheeks alone. Anyway, why does it matter if I was jealous which by the way - I wasn’t.” He shifts on the balls of his feet and folds his arm.

“The real question is James, why were you jealous to begin with? Why did it matter to you if I was dating Peter which by the way - I’m not.” You mimic his words and grin.

He sighs in defeat and shakes his head. “Fine, I was jealous okay? But only because I’ve had a crush on you for a real long time and the thought of you in a relationship with someone else made me crazy because he wasn’t me. And it’s really selfish of me to act like that but-”

You cut his rambling off by pressing your lips to his and wrapping your arms around his neck, his folded arms digging into your chest and you smile against his lips when you pull away.

“Then you should have asked me out on a date instead of being so grumpy.”

“I’m not grum-” and each time an excuse flew from his lips, you would cut him off by kissing him until he finally sighed and rested his forehead against yours.

“Fine, will you go on a date with me then?” He rolls his eyes playfully, prompting you to do the same.

“Fine,” you mock with a smile. “Okay yes. If you stop being so jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous.”

“Yes you were.”

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