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#It will either fail on this or eternals
puppetmaster13u · 5 months
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Prompt 89
 The young justice team is in a bit of a pickle. It had been a usual mission, Klarion causing mischief again, before someone had mentioned the date. 
 The literal chaos lord had shrieked, stopping his attack, and asked for clarification. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea because one moment they were in Happy Harbour, and the next they’re somewhere else with green everywhere and floating islands. 
 And Klarion doesn’t explain- not that they were expecting him to- and just bolts into a… wow that is a very big and scary looking castle. Keep? Honestly it’s if someone combined a gothic citadel with a clocktower of some sort. 
 Not important, because they had chased after Klarion who uh… Oh no, that is a Very big entity, that is two Very Big entities that could crush them in their fingers. And they are now stuck in this place seeing as the portal closed behind them. 
 Honestly Klarion is happy he made it home before curfew! Even if he had to bring his sort-of-friends with him to make it in time. It’s not his fault, he’s not used to having a guardian, nevermind two! Not to mention siblings, which he’s now the oldest of too, so he has to be a positive influence. Like teaching them how to properly do chaos without destroying a world. 
 Oh, but this is perfect anyway, one of his dads has been wanting to talk to the speedsters anyway, and his other dad is still under house arrest for the whole, trying to take over the living realm thing. But that’s not important, he has little siblings to introduce! 
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cowboy-robooty · 6 months
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dude can you please do a face reveal i need to see what you look like. or draw yourself. im so curious im sorry ok bye have a good day
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yes i do look like the most sterotypical asian man imaginable. yes i am a biology major. yes i use reddit. yes im an incel. yes my favorite subjects are math and biology. yes i wore polo shirts through all of middle school. yes i am blind without my glasses. yes the lenses are so fucking thick they stick out of the frames. yes i have racist huge front buck-teeth. yes i am abnormally short. yes im a shitty driver. dont ask me about my penis.
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for once I
don't rush
the sight of you
off my mind -
this mute love's
infatuation
a crumpled picture
tucked away
in my purse
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The Always-Rushing Passenger
My words are busy. They burst out of me Much like I do. I am Always running after Something; The bus, The train, the next day. I'm always asking What's next. I can't Seem to live with uncertainty. I've got to know, or it hurts. "Be still, be still, my friend," "You won't be hurt by tarrying." No! But I— Am not sure how to live without hurtling.
All I do is tangled up; I'd prefer To live as simply as a bird. Only where to fly, what to eat, Where's the sun, how to breathe. Let it be enough, then To live as well as I can To eat and sleep regularly For me, it's no mean feat Let me not spend my precious Life hurrying; Let me be careful With my attention. The street's Not emptying. It's narrowing. But even if I am no heroine, There'll be enough to love in it. I'm learning to take my time, I'm finding my way of taking it in stride. I'm learning to sorrow, to rejoice, And taking it all in my arms regardless.
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indecisivemuch · 2 months
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Scandalous
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Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader
Summary: The reveal of a scandalous detail about yours and Luke's relationship left you both flustered and everybody else gaping. Inspired by one line from So It Goes - Taylor Swift (fluff, established relationship).
Warning: allusions to sex, but no explicit details.
Word count: 2k
You and Luke have been going out for well over a year now. Yet, he never failed to make you feel like it would be an eternal honeymoon phase: whispers of sweet words about a lifetime’s worth of promises, delicate and sacred touches, looks filling in for unspoken words.
Loving Luke was as easy as having a daily routine - so natural and almost like a grounding thing from the life of a Demigod.
Currently, Luke was training with Percy. You were not too far away either, sparring with Clarisse. Despite the area being occupied by many other Demigods engaging in similar activities, Luke could not help but frequently glance over at you.
Luke has always been mesmerized by the way you combat, which he metaphorically compared to a ballerina. So precise, yet deadly. Every move was with intention and purpose. 
The way sweat glided down the side of your face, your cheeks flushed from fighting, eyes darting with strategy, heavy pants in between dodging and attacking your opponent, the smirk hinted on your face - all of it made Luke’s mind grow flustered. Somehow, he found everything you do attractive.
If he was honest, his mind seemed to be doing nothing lately but think of you, especially when you’re not beside him. The memories he has harvested over your time together only transformed his brain into a cinema, which constantly played montages of you. Every morning, he’d wake up from a dream about you to the sight of you in his arms - that is before he had to sneak out of your cabin back to his. You constantly occupy every cell in his mind, like an uncontainable virus spreading. Yet, for some reason, he was not scared. He welcomed this feeling with his whole arms wide open.
You broke eye contact with Clarisse to look at Luke. Almost instantly, your eyes melted into ones filled with adoration and his own eyes mirrored the same emotions - if not tenfold. 
You were absolutely enamored with how Luke looked at you. Even before dating each other, people have mentioned the eyes he was giving you. But being oblivious, you did not see what they were talking about. However, it all became clear when you started dating. You started noticing how he would look at you like you were a rare artwork he would most likely never see again or a shooting star - a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence kind of thing that left him in awe all the time. He would do it so endearingly as if it would help to absorb every detail of you and imprint them into his memory. His looks have always made you feel loved - like you were the only thing that mattered to him, as if he has not told you this verbally and through actions already. Usually, you’d feel slightly insecure if somebody was staring so intensely at you, but he did it in a way that made you feel like your flaws were created to be loved for. 
However, a gasp escaped your lips as Luke was showered by a wave of the ocean. Everybody else also drew their attention to the head of Hermes’ cabin and the newly claimed Poseidon kid.
When Luke looked back at Percy, he was faced with a sheepish grin.
“I had to get your attention somehow. I tried calling your name like ten times already,” Percy shrugged his shoulder with feigned innocence, but the glint of mischief told Luke that the kid was anything but feeling guilty about soaking him from head to toe. 
“Percy,” Luke groaned as he could feel the fabric of his clothes cling to his body. Percy bashfully chuckled and offered another sheepish look to the counselor who was meant to train him. 
The cool water did offer a temporary fix to the boiling summer heat. But mixing that with sweat, combat, and Luke's long-sleeved shirt underneath was disastrous. The Hermes boy sighed as he slowly took off the bright orange camp shirt. After struggling slightly, he managed to pull the shirt off from over his head. However, the gray shirt he was wearing underneath got pulled up more than slightly from the extra friction between wet fabrics, revealing the majority of his back to Percy and others. 
He did not think much of it until gasps - including yours - could be heard as this happened. Chris even whistled as he and everybody else spotted what Luke did not notice.
“What?” Luke asked as he pulled down his gray shirt and started wringing his camp t-shirt, trying to rid it from being as wet as possible. 
“Damn, did you get mauled by a minotaur or something?” Percy asked. 
Almost immediately, Luke paled at Percy’s words as he realized what the kid was talking about.
Indeed, as Luke’s gray shirt underneath got pulled up, which revealed the majority of his back, this had also put on display the scratches down his back left from nights that he spent with you. Some were evidently old and healing, as seen by how Luke’s skin was patching itself up and matching closer to his skin tone. Others were somewhat freshly red, while a few were like wounds being reopened. To make matters worse, they could spot the occasional crescent shape bruises that were indentations of your nails. 
Considering your guys’ relationship was not a secret, there was no room to deny it if somebody pointed fingers at you. You blushed as people now averted their eyes to you as if this was the most scandalous thing all year. Clarisse and Chris, on the other hand, were both smirking. 
The whole camp knew you were the one who left those scratches there, and you sincerely wish you could dig a hole to hide yourself from all the attention right now.
Luke’s eyes darted to you, and you offered him an awkward smile as your face grew a darker shade of red.
“No, seriously, dude, you gotta get it checked out at the infirmary. How did that even happen?” Percy only continued, somehow actually clueless about the cause of those marks. You could see Annabeth sending Percy a somewhat side-eye from nearby at his words while Grover let out a deep sigh. 
You started approaching the two, hoping you could intervene and save the both of you from this situation.
“Uhm…well,” Luke started, unsure how to even answer the kid or divert the attention elsewhere as his cheeks flushed and ears tinted pink from trying to ignore memories of what you two had done the night before.
The Hermes boy has jokingly sweet-talked you before on how he might walk out shirtless after one of your rendezvous to show off the marks you left on him. Never would you two think that that idea would ever happen like this.
“Yeah, I reckon you should get that checked out,” you decided to say as you reached Luke, settling your hand on Luke’s lower back and greeting Percy. “Thank you for worrying about him.”
“Yeah, no problem. I mean, it must have been quite a minotaur to land that much of a number on him,” Percy somehow carried on and was utterly oblivious to Clarisse and Chris, who almost bursted out laughing at his latest comment. You, on the other hand, squinted your eyes at the kid. You turned to Luke and you could see it in his eyes that the boy was on the verge of laughing as well. You were sure he would have done so if it were not for your glare.
“Well, we best go heal those wounds now, right Luke?” you gave your boyfriend a look, hoping he would get the message to play along.
“Right,” he agreed almost instantly. 
“Alright, bye, Percy,” you hastily spoke, before dragging Luke by his hand away from everybody's eyes.
“Bye guys,” you could hear the kid’s voice as the both of you retreated. It felt like a walk of shame as the semi-crowd parted ways for you two to leave the scene. You immediately let out a deep breath as soon as nobody was near anymore.
“Gods, that was so embarrassing. The kid basically repeatedly called me a minotaur.”
“I mean…you can be my minotaur?” Luke cheekily jested, trying to tease you a bit more over the situation.
“Oh, no, no, no, we’re not making that a thing. No, absolutely not are you ever gonna make that a nickname,” Luke only laughed at your reaction before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you into a hug. As he did so, you wrapped both your arms around his waist, face colliding with his chest the way it would usually do when you guys cuddle. He gave you a few peppered kisses on your forehead, close to your hairline. 
“They’re never gonna let us live that down, will they?” You asked after letting out a muffled groan against his chest.
“Nope,” Luke admitted. Despite the Hermes boy usually easing away your worries, even he knew this would be the talk around camp for a while. Nevertheless, he unwrapped his arms around you and cupped your face with both hands. Using his callus-filled hands, yet gentle touch, he soothed your furrowed eyebrows by rubbing over them to urge you from scowling.
“But…you know what? I’m kind of glad this happened. Sure, it might be awkward and a tad bit embarrassing. But now, they finally get to see how lucky I am to have been given a chance by such a gorgeous and sweet Demigod. And…” he paused, giving you a quick kiss. “This way, any guy potentially still after you know to keep their hands off.” He cheekily winked at you after saying so. 
Gods, you remember how jealous Luke would get before you were together. It was lowkey hot to see him so riled up. Though, after the both of you got together, you have always reassured him that you had eyes on him and only him. 
“I guess that also means any girls still thinking they could steal you from me would know they have no chance?” you questioned, smiling ear to ear when he nodded eagerly at your words.
“Exactly. That’s a win-win in my book. I’m not embarrassed they saw what you left on me. They could talk for all I care. So stop worrying, or else you’ll start getting wrinkles,” he lightly flicked the area between your furrowed eyebrows. As you were about to complain, he quickly kissed you right where he previously flicked you, and that immediately melted away any bit of feigned irritation you had with him. He chuckled at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows untangling itself.
“Thank you,” you muttered, showing your gratitude towards Luke. 
If Luke had a superpower, it would probably be calming you down. He has always managed to tame your emotions whenever they were drowning you. He was like an anchor to you, always grounded you during chaotic times. Sometimes, you wonder how you got so lucky. 
You peered up at him sweetly, and the look alone made him lean down to capture your lips with his again. You chuckled at his action and kissed him back with just as much passion as he was leaving on your lips. Your hands started playing with the hair close to the nape of his neck. He let out a content sigh while still showing your lips just how much he loved them and you. However, he abruptly pulled away before dropping a question. 
“Are we really going to the infirmary?” Luke hesitantly asked, bringing up your words from earlier. He watched as you gave him an amused look.
“What did you think?” As soon as his eyes met yours, he knew exactly what you wanted. He gave you a sheepish grin before the two of you quietly giggled to each other before walking further away from the training grounds.
Let's just say you two did not follow through with your words of going to the infirmary, and neither were you tending to his “wounds”.
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intermundia · 7 months
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my favorite thing about anakin as a character is the inherent nuance lucas wrote into his story, like he's neither an innocent victim nor an inherently evil monster, he's just some guy put in a series of Situations and ultimately failing the test of his humility and self-control. he was certainly flattered and shaped by the devil, spiraling into something unrecognizable, but he chose to take every step down the pathway to hell. lucas knew he would lose a certain demographic by making him basically a greedy pawn in the larger story, not a righteous betrayed macho badass, but he did it anyway. he made him an awkward romantic and a loyal friend, a generous boy and a brilliant teen. he made sure he had all the positive qualities that meant that he had potential to be so much more than vader, but it was clearly his choice to lie, murder, and fully squander that potential. there are no excuses for what he became, no acceptable reasons to commit mass slaughter. he became an unbelievably selfish and impatient man, reckless and wantonly violent. hayden captured that nuance so well, nobody can match the sweetness of his smile and the absolute horror of his scowl on mustafar. to view him through a single lens as either pure victim of manipulation and (canonically unsupported) emotional neglect, or a creepy evil villain, denies the heart of his story and the weight of his tragedy. he's neither an angel nor a demon, he's both and neither, he's deeply human, a classical tragic hero with a flaw of greed. lucas made a choice with the prequels to tell a story that not everyone wanted to hear, and the result was a character that i think is one of the best of modern pop culture, mostly because he feels to me so very, very ancient and eternal.
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feathered-serpents · 8 months
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I cannot wait for Aziraphale and Crowley’s season 3 blowout
Crowley screaming at Aziraphale that he gets it. He gets that they couldn’t be forever. Aziraphale could never truly want him while he’s still demonic and dirty. Hereditary enemies. So be it. He understands, he just wishes he figured it out earlier
Aziraphale screaming back at Crowley that he’s made it clear he could never love anything more than he hates Heaven. And Aziraphale is Heaven so how could he ever stand to be with him? He understands, Crowley is what he is and Aziraphale can’t ask for more. He just didn’t think he was
And that declaration strikes them with agonized horror, and at first it’s just more anger. How dare you believe that? How dare you think so low of me? If you think that then you never knew me.
But they can’t keep it up. That anger, slowly starts to give way to reveal the heartbreak underneath. No less painful then the day they separated. They can’t keep the walls up anymore, they don’t have the strength
You are the best of us, Aziraphale begins. Yet heaven failed you and hell hunted you and the thought that either might hurt you. I couldn’t stand it. I still can’t stand it. I thought I could make Heaven the place that saw you for what you are. I wanted you to be safe.
Me? Says Crowley. Ten million angels up there and if god took them and mashed them all together what ever paragon it made still wouldn’t be worth you. Heaven couldn’t deserve you. And you certainly deserved better than their cage for eternity. I thought that could be me. I wanted you to be free.
They look at the other as the reality of what they both failed to understand settles in.
I wanted to build you a world
I wanted to give you the world
I never needed that, they tell the other. I had you.
You are my world.
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chisatowo · 1 year
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Thinking abt Aris and Tali's family again and it fucking kills me anytime I think abt them even a lil bit just everyone involved deserved so much fucking better. Except for Aris' mom she deserves to burn.
#rat rambles#oc posting#their dad and tali's mom just get me so hard just like. their dad was 26 when he died. tali's mom was 21 when she died.#I know that for aris and tali currently wont fully register as as young as it is but that wont stop me from having feelings over it#also in regards to their grandparents. their grandpa doesnt even know hes the only adult in the family left#but he does know abt his son ofc and just. I cant even begin to express the emotions this man makes me feel#hes so scared of losing aris. hes so scared of failing her the same way he failed her dad#and in his mind hes already failed tali. and it kills him that he might never see her again#he is a good grandpa to aris tho and one of the most important people to her#that bond in itself is one of the few things that tali actually does unwillingly resent aris for#shes been alone for years at this point and even when her grandma was alive they werent exactly close#she loved her grandma but after they left the rest of the family she just seemed to. drift away. and tali never knew why#she was 11 when her grandma died. she didnt get any warning either.#tali has gone through some fucked up shit over the past like 7 years and shes gonna fight tooth and nail to hide that to the grave#she cant imagine a world where she isnt suffering so the idea of someone else acknowleging thats fucked up terrifies her#the thread shes hanging on is her telling herself that its not that bad but if anyone affirmed that it is indeed That Bad. well she refuses#to think abt it. its fine. they dont need to know. (its not fine. she cant keep everything locked up forever.)#anyways I need to eat and stuff theb finish a drawing I started last night can you tell Ive been thinking abt eternal gales again fndjdg#eternal gales
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shooting-love-arrows · 5 months
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Hi! Can I request more on the Yandere! Barabarian? I dont of anything specif besides that but, maybe about his and darlings' life now after marriage?
Hello to you too @misfortunateleprechaun,
Here it is! Hope to hear from you again and have a nice day (even if it's not a daytime)!
𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 and marriage headcanons
PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 x reader (gender not mentioned/specified/implied) Tw. kidnapping, implied murder, blood, possessive tendencies, raids, marking, (at the end) horny yandere, grinding, mention of sex but nothing specific. A/N: There's a mention of a random name and celebration so don't fret that you don't know about something. Everything here is made up!
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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When you are officially married to 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧, you not only become his lifelong partner and a soul connected to his own for all of eternity but you also become one of his people. This means everything related to your past should end up just like your village – turned to ashes. Forgotten and left behind. The only good things your parents did were creating you. The village? Don’t make him laugh! He never saw a more pathetic excuse of one before in his life. So stop wasting your tears on them and embrace your new family and him!
“Shh…my treasure…shhh…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 tried to console you. Even when you continue to trash in his hold, hit him in the chest repeatedly or scratch at him, he only brought you closer and tightened his hold on you. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 didn’t understand why you were acting like that, hysterically sobbing and pushing him away. Nor ever was he forced to comfort the person who was acting like that. “Why are you shedding tears for them? Shhh... Let’s celebrate Night Of Miracles (made up celebration) with your new husband and family, hm?”
𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 teaches you about his culture and language. In those quiet moments shared between you, sitting by fire, he tries his best to be a teacher (and he fails miserably). Although he’s a scholar by no means, he truly wants to make you feel like you belong. To make you understand that what he did and was doing was good. And he finds it amusing when he has to point things out to you like to a toddler. What he can’t teach you about, he requests for someone in his tribe to take his place (of course not without marking you beforehand just to be sure everyone will know who you belong to).
“...and that’s why Trinus I (made up character) brought his beloved the head of his first wife.” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 finished the old tale and sighed in content. The story leaves you more traumatized than you already are. There were a few seconds of silence, before he smirked cheekily. “Now, let me tell you about their wedding night.”
𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 marks you a lot and daily. Either by leaving big and deep hickeys in the most visible places or by braiding your hair in a similar way, making you wear his family crest/sigli, offering his clothes to wear and so on. One thing for certain, everyone must know (if they don’t already) that you’re his.
𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 could only admire you when you walked out of your shared tent, wearing his shirt, hair braided with similar braids to his and hickeys displayed on your neck. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 didn’t know whether to be more aroused or start trotting like a peacock. 
Just like any good husband, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 brings you all sorts of gifts from his raids. It doesn’t matter if you want something or not. Either way, he’s going to bring all sorts of objects to choose from. 
“W-what is it?” Your voice cracked after 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 pulled away from a searing ‘welcome back’ kiss. He was still covered in blood, sweaty, smelling like smoke and panting heavily. But what caught your attention was a big woolen bag thrown over his shoulder, material stretched to the max.  𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 only smirked and you watched, horrified, as he carelessly let the items from the bag spill on the floor. You saw clothes, silver dinnerware, money, jewelry (is that a finger with a ring still on?) and many other knick knacks. You gulped thickly. “For you!” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 proudly announced and puffed out his chest.
(NSFW-ish) A lot of sex. This man has high libido and – just like all barbarians – are led by their carnal desires. It’s guaranteed he’s going to bed you on a daily basis. It doesn’t matter where or when. If he wants to have sex with you, then he’s going to do so. It’s especially rough when he returns from raids or hunting trips, covered in sweat and oozing with adrenaline and need of you. Those are wild nights ~
“I need you…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 growled in your ear and aggressively nuzzled his nose in your neck. Since the moment his body touched yours, he started grinding into you. He just loved your scent. It was working on him like an aphrodisiac, turning him into an untamable beast ready to devour you. His chapped lips continue to aggressively leave a trail of wet kisses from your earlobe, down your neck and – after tearing open your loose shirt – your shoulder. “I fucking want you. Now.”
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alilarew23 · 6 months
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stop assuming failure
you have not failed at manifesting. not once. i don’t care if it’s has been months or years of you “trying” and “not seeing results.” you have gotten exactly what you’ve persisted in. every single second. maybe you’ve persisted in being aware of circumstances you do not want. maybe you’ve persisted in things “not changing.” maybe you’ve persisted in “the opposite manifesting.” whatever it is, you did it. you succeeded. so, with love, cut the bullshit RIGHT THIS SECOND, and harness your power for good. for your sake, for the sake of the people you love, for the sake of your world. this takes zero work. decide either 1) you have what you want, or 2) you are absolutely getting it. and (implied) you already are who you want to “become.” in this instant, no change necessary. and do not stray from this. to stray is to sin, to waste another moment in regret is to sin, and, if you’re on my team, and you are, because i said so, we do not sin. you know what we do? we win. if you’re prone to overthinking or you’re just absolutely exhausted and don’t want to think about your specific desires anymore, that’s fine. stop thinking. decide you always get exactly what you want in the quickest and easiest way possible. decide you’re eternally fucking blessed. decide your life is one miracle after the next and has been since the day you were born. decide everything is changing in your favor every second. and then go be buoyant and light and goofy and present and awake and in love with yourself and in love with your imagination and in love with the world and let the law do its work. 🛼
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faerievampling · 3 months
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The Life of Astarion's Dark Consort
Summary: These are my random head canons about Ascended Astarion and his vampiric bride, Tav/Durge. What would it be like to actually spend eternity with him?
Warning: 18+, mention of sex.
After the ascension, Astarion is so overwhelmed with all his new abilities that he is a bit distant. (Think Lazslo Cravensworth in that one episode of WWDITS where he barely speaks for two weeks all because he’s trying to make a decision about how he is going to reorganize the library) This lasts for nearly a decade, but once Astarion adjusts to his new body, he is able to come back to himself.
Once you are Astarion’s spawn (bride), he no longer needs to mask when lovemaking. He knows you will never leave him. Your lovemaking goes through many 'phases', from being loving and tender to beastly and rough. But either way, he is raw with you, and only you.
Every night, without fail, your vampire curls up in your arms, holding you tightly as he drifts off into a dreamless sleep or reverie. He can’t fall asleep without being in your arms, or vice versa. 
You, his most prized treasure, are far too vulnerable during your rest, and he insists on being as close to you as possible, with a dagger close by, of course. Over the years, he never relents. If you two are ever apart, which happens so rarely, maybe once a millenia, he spends the night sleepless and aching for you.
One of the first things he does once the tadpole is gone is hunt down Haarlep, if you made a deal with him. He wouldn’t allow his treasure to be violated and used any longer.
Astarion’s possessive love for you only grows as the years creep on. 
Sometime during your third century of marriage, Astarion stabs the eyes out of (and allegedly kills) dozens of men and women who he deigned to have violated you (and thus, disrespected him) by looking at you lustfully. It takes two decades of you begging him to stop before he finally relents.
Ask me anything, and it will be yours. On his own time, of course, which you have so much of. You become a very patient vampire.
Astarion certainly values your life and his, but not others. You have to remind him, lest he lose his humanity completely. And you, as well, have to make sure you have a tight hold on your own humanity. You are a vampire, after all.
Watching your friends pass one by one is difficult, and Astarion supports you through it all, despite him not particularly caring about them himself. He cares about his consort, and he does everything to make you comfortable while you grieve. This is where your humanity starts to slip, when your friends are gone from your life for many years.
If you are able to reverie, you aren’t able to actually look through your memories because of your undeath. The years stretch on so long, you nearly forget how the story began at all. But you always have Astarion, and he does his best to help you both remember.
Astarion never takes another consort or another independent lover. The two of you enjoy threesomes and orgies occasionally, but Astarion prefers it to be just you and him. Astarion did particularly like to watch you get fucked by other men and women. But this changes sometime during your first century of marriage. Astarion demands to have his consort and only his consort in the bedroom. He ultimately doesn’t trust anyone else to be intimate with him. He doesn't want anyone else to touch him. You don’t protest the decision.
Astarion creates regular vampire spawn, more for utility than anything else.  He always asks your permission.
After a thousand years, you and your Lord are inseparable. You are not to leave his sight. 
He is very powerful, and has become a threat and a target. The two of you rarely speak aloud anymore as your mind connection is so strong that your minds are melded together. Your relationship is beyond spoken word. As Bride and Master, you are unsure where you begin and he ends. 
Eternity is a very long time. Astarion agrees, but he never wants to die, and he certainly will never let you go.
In your old vampiric age, the two of you strike fear into every mortal you come across. You can't help it. You are both so hauntingly beautiful and pale, and your intense mind connection makes most mortals believe you to be...absent. Oh, how the sheep forget themselves.
Yet your need for blood is so small now. They needn't fear you, not really. You now only drink from Astarion, which gives you what you need. He loves it, being your life essence. 
He doesn't let you drink too much, of course. During your fifth century of marriage, Astarion wants you to feed on him and only on him, as his contempt for others grows and his possessive love for you begins to cause him his own bout of madness.
This causes you to go mad, and Astarion is entirely distraught until you are healed. He spends an extravagant amount of money and a long time healing you.
With the last of your friends dead, you forget to view the mortals as anything but the puppets of your Master. The ways of the world as you knew it slip by you. There is a war, Astarion tells you, but you have no fear. You know he will protect you.
You often go into a vampiric hibernation as you sit on your throne during court. Astarion is still able to put on the mask, but you cannot. Astarion wishes you would try harder, but he also understands.
Even after so many years, Astarion’s body craves you. You are certain you are addicted to each other. You wonder if it is a result of your vampiric marriage. 
He pleasures you every night, and you pleasure him; you cannot remember what sex was like before your undeath, but you know that nothing feels as good as when Astarion makes you come. 
Halsin is the last of your old friends that you can remember, as he lives to be nearly a thousand. You do your best to remember his face, but it slowly starts to slip away from you. 
You feel sad about these things, at times. Astarion cradles you, both your body and your mind, and tries to assure you of your gift. Eternity.
Part 2!!
Masterlist
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aurorawritestoescape · 2 months
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PERFECT STRANGERS
Pairing: no outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: you’re celebrating Valentine’s Day at a restaurant with your boyfriend and have eyes only for one man. The other man.
Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, semi-public, f!oral, implied age gap, unprotected piv (wrap it up), double infidelity, pet names ‘little girl’, ‘baby’, a bit of degradation, smoking, alcohol consumption, swearing
Word count: 2,8k
A/n: Happy Valentine’s Day, lovely people! here’s some filth for you💖 hope you’ll enjoy!
Huge thank you to @milla-frenchy for the title 😘
MASTERLIST || PART 2
You noticed him as soon as he entered the restaurant. He was not alone. No one usually goes alone to a restaurant on Valentine’s Day. A waiter led him and a woman he accompanied to their table, and they joined the other couples celebrating their eternal love.
You were not alone, either. Your boyfriend of one year was sitting in front of you. He was complaining about his work like he often did, and being a supportive girlfriend, you offered him a listening ear and all the comforting words. While talking to him, you noticed that if you shifted your gaze a little to the left, you could see the man facing you at his table.
He was handsome, and at first your eyes found him again and again out of simple curiosity and because of your love for looking at beautiful things and people.
You were subtle, stealing glances at the stranger on a rare occasion. Your eyes would take in his hands, lips, and curly locks. You noticed a gold band on his finger, the fullness of his lips, the way he shifted his jaw from time to time while listening to the woman. You were pretty sure it was his wife.
The moment that made it more complicated, and impactful was when your eyes locked. The room wasn’t that big, your tables weren’t that far away, and you two were facing each other, so it was absolutely normal for your gazes to meet at some point. So they met once. Then again. And again. And a few more times. Many more times.
Talking and eating, you sometimes felt his eyes on you, intent yet warm. His gaze would slide over the woman and land on your face, your chest, your partner.
When your eyes locked, your breath would hitch, and you would look at each other for too long. At one point, you got lost in his eyes, drawn to him by a magnetic pull, and when you dropped your head and looked at the pasta on your plate, you felt like something had been said between you two. A greeting. A secret. A wish.
At one point in the evening, the woman left him for the bathroom, and your stomach churned with excitement as you anticipated seeing more of him. You could finally get a full image of his torso, so you were shamelessly ogling his broad chest and
strong shoulders under the confines of his shirt. Then you looked up at his face and saw his gaze on you. He gave you a lopsided smile and took a sip of his wine without breaking eye contact.
“Are you ok?” Your boyfriend asked, having noticed your changed expression—lips parted, eyes blown and widened.
“Ah...yeah,” you replied, quickly averting your eyes from the stranger.
But you weren’t ok. You were tingling, and your stomach was burning with something bright and overwhelming. Something you’d never felt with the man sitting at your table.
You took a deep breath, and the night went on. Stolen glances were still exchanged between the handsome stranger and you, but you tried to stop yourself from looking at him.
It got too much for you when the woman laughed loudly at something the man said, and his devastatingly beautiful smile made your heart beat faster. A surge of jealousy burned your insides, so you cursed under your breath and took your purse, looking for a pack of cigarettes. You had quit a long time ago, but when you felt overwhelmed or anxious, it was a great way to flee from a place, a conversation, or a person. Which you wanted to do at that moment. So you got up and walked to the entrance, trying not to look at him. You failed miserably, as your eyes immediately darted to his face, and you saw him watching you. He ran his hand through his hair, and his expression was pensive and serious.
***
You stepped outside and took a deep breath of night air. You felt your nerves calm down and walked to the corner of the restaurant. It was quiet, as the street was almost deserted that late at night. It was windy, and the skin on your naked legs erupted in goosebumps, so you walked behind the corner of the building and into the alley next to it to hide from the chilling blows.
You cursed when you realised you forgot your lighter in the purse and were contemplating going back, but decided to spend a few minutes there before returning.
You leaned against the wall while the image of the stranger still occupied your mind.
You were standing with an unlit cigarette between your fingers when you heard a voice.
“Hey.”
You snapped your head in that direction and saw him standing at the corner, smoking. The stranger didn’t walk into the alley, didn’t walk closer, apparently not to scare you in that dark, empty street. A myriad of emotions began swarming in your stomach, but fear was not one of them.
“Need a lighter?” He asked, glancing your way from the corner of his eye.
“Yeah, thank you,” you replied, clearing your throat. His voice was deep and gruff and so hot that your heart fluttered, and you felt tingling between your legs again.
He slowly walked to you and stopped at arm’s length, not barging into your personal space. When he took a lighter out of the pocket of his blazer, you stepped up to him, raising your cigarette and placing the tip between your lips. You could have lit it yourself, but you wanted him to get closer. He leaned towards you and covered the flame from the wind with his big hand. Your eyes locked again, like many times before that night, but in that moment, it hit you like a freight train. His beautiful, dark eyes with little reflections of the flame pierced your soul and made you stop breathing for a moment. Your gaze lowered to his plush lips, which were slightly pouted, and when you looked up again, you saw him looking at your lips circled around the cigarette.
You took a first drag and stepped back just a little, wanting to stay close to him. He didn’t step away, and you two smoked together in silence until he talked,
“Is it your husband there?”
“No, boyfriend. And you're with your wife.” It wasn’t a question, you were sure of your words by then.
He hummed with a little nod and added with a glint in his eye,
“Does your boyfriend know you love staring at other men?”
Your eyes widened in surprise, but you quickly collected yourself.
“Does your wife know you hang out with other women in dark alleys?” You quipped, looking up at him with defiance.
He laughed and gave you his gorgeous smile.
“Not any women. Only with the most beautiful one.” Your stomach made a flip when those words left his lips. The way he looked at you was different now. There was dominance, a desire, a need.
“You can’t just keep looking at me that way, little girl,”
He said, throwing away the bud and taking a step towards you. Your cigarette fell out of your hand as you stepped back, feeling the rush of a prey cornered after a chase. But there had been no chase. You were not a prey.
So you stood your ground, and he stepped up to you, so broad and strong, and you bit your lip, feeling the heat of his body warming you up.
“You were staring at me all night as well,” you asserted, looking up at him with your eyebrows raised.
Your heart was booming in your ears. The man smiled, before his hand grasped your hip, and he gently pushed you back.
He wasn't rough, you felt a slight pressure on your side, nudging you towards the wall behind. You complied breathing fast and not breaking eye contact.
In a moment, you felt a cold brick wall against your back, and the man stopped inches from you. The electricity between you two was almost tangible, and the darkness of the night was hiding you from the eye of a rare passerby. Only one streetlight at the corner of the restaurant let you see his handsome features.
“You’re right. I was watching you,” he murmured, bracing his hand on the wall next to your head as his other hand found your waist. “Couldn’t stop staring… pretty little thing.”
It seemed that you forgot how to breathe. Time stopped, and your mind was empty. The only thing that remained in the world was him, the man caging you against the wall in that dark alley.
He was looking down at you, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips and back up. He was waiting for you to take a leap.
And you took it easily.
You stepped up to him, your bodies flush against each other, and pressed your lips to his.
It seemed like that was all he’d been waiting for. His arms enveloped your torso before he pinned you to the wall.
The kiss was overwhelming and hot. There was nothing sweet about it. He growled into your mouth while his hands began roaming your body. It was like he knew how little time you two had and wanted to touch you everywhere, feel you everywhere.
“Please,” you mewled into his mouth, and he parted from you.
“What is it, baby? Tell me what you need..”
“I want you.”
“Fuck, you’re a dirty girl,” he said with a shaky voice, feverishly unbuckling his belt. “Gonna let some stranger fuck you in an alley?”
“Yes,” you moaned, pulling your skirt up with shaky hands.
“Little slut. Let me see you,” he mumbled crouching in front of you and helping you pull your skirt up to your waist. He quickly tugged down your lacy panties, took them off, and looked at your pussy.
He cursed under his breath and opened your folds with his thumbs.
“Did watching me all night make you so wet, naughty girl?”
He wasn’t wrong. Cold air hit your soaked pussy and you shivered. Your clit was pulsating and when he put his mouth on it and began licking and sucking you felt like you were about to come.
“Fuckin’ delicious,” he mumbled against your flesh as you placed your feet apart so his tongue had better access. You were clutching his curls while his fingers were digging into your hips and kneading your ass cheeks. He seemed insatiable, making the flat of his tongue rub your clit, then caressing it with his soft lips.
“I’m…gonna come,” you moaned as he was sucking on your sensitive bud filling the alley with the lewdest slurping noises.
After a few moments, you came, shaking against the wall, your hand gripping his shoulder. He was lapping at your juices until you felt overstimulated, and slightly pushed him away.
He stood up, his scruff glistening with your slick.
“Come here, baby,” he growled, unzipping his jeans. He pulled out his cock, which was hard and throbbing. His warm hands grabbed your thighs, and he lifted you up.
You gasped, wrapped your legs around his waist, and put your arms around his neck. You felt his cock nudge your hole, and he started sinking his tip into you. His member was big, but your pussy was ready to take him after your orgasm so he bottomed out easily and started bouncing you on his cock.
The head was hitting your cervix rhythmically, and you wanted to scream, but the need to be quiet allowed only soft whimpers to leave your lips.
Suddenly, you heard buzzing.
His phone.
To your astonishment, he took it out of his pocket, holding you up with one arm, and, after a deep breath, answered the call.
“Honey, I’m helping this guy out. His car broke down,” he said while his cock was buried deep in your pussy, “No, don’t worry, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
While he was talking to his wife, you slid down the wall a bit, and he pushed you up, making his tip hit your cervix hard. You put your palm over your mouth just before a cry escaped your lips. He winked at you with gratitude and added, “Enjoy your dessert, honey.”
He hung up and mumbled, “I’m definitely enjoying mine.”
His lips immediately crushed into yours, and his hands grasped your ass cheeks as he continued to lift you up and down, using you like a fuck doll.
After a particularly hard thrust, you couldn’t help but moan loudly, and he placed his warm hand over your mouth and continued fucking up into your dripping hole.
“You’re so tight, baby,” he whispered into your ear between panting, “so wet and warm, fuck.. “ His scruffy beard was chafing your cheek, but you didn’t care. You were enjoying yourself too much, being fucked by a complete stranger while your boyfriend was waiting for you. On fucking Valentine’s Day. Despite or because of it, your second climax was building fast in your core.
“Can you come on my cock, little girl?” as if reading your thoughts, he asked you.
“Yeah..,” you murmured, “make me come, please."
“Fuck, I like you, so polite.” His hand left your ass and slithered between your bodies. His thumb quickly found your throbbing clit and he started rubbing it. His cock massaging your soft spot, his expert finger stimulating your clit quickly pushed you over the precipice.
You cried out, and he hastily placed his palm over your mouth, quieting you.
“Shhh, baby, you don’t wanna get caught full of stranger’s cock, do ya?” he chuckled, but you heard in his voice that he was close too.
“Fuck, not gonna last with you chokin’ my dick like that.”
The man hastily pulled out and put you down on your feet. He stepped to the side, pointing the tip of his cock at the wall, and started jerking his shaft while his other hand cupped your pussy. He was spreading your slick over your wet folds and watching them glisten.
Soon he moaned and started shooting the spurts of his cum on the wall. With hazy eyes and parted lips, you were taking in the image of him milking his cock.
When the last drop slid down his tip, he took out a handkerchief and wiped it off.
“Hell, baby, you’re something,” he said with a warm smile, panting heavily.
You two started fixing your clothes, glancing at each other from time to time. After you pulled down your skirt, he picked up your panties off the ground.
“Sorry,” he mumbled with an apologetic smile, and you shrugged, stuffing them into your pocket.
“We should go back,” you said with a touch of sadness in your voice. You wished you could spend the rest of the night with him, but reality was not made out of your dreams.
“You go first, and I’ll follow. Don’t want you to have problems with your guy.”
You nodded, shifting on your feet, and added,
“Hope your wife believed the car story.”
He chuckled and came up to you before taking your face in his hands. Your breath hitched again, and you marvelled at his beautiful features for the hundredth time that night.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” he murmured, and planted a soft kiss on your lips.
It was short and sweet, and when he parted from you, your eyes locked again, and you whispered back,
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
***
The both of you continued the dinner with your partners. He left before you, and on his way out, he turned his head and gave you a playful wink. You smiled into your wine glass as butterflies were swarming in your stomach. Suddenly you thought that you would probably never see him again, and tears welled up in your eyes.
***
In a cab on your way home, you remembered that your panties were still stuffed in your pocket and wanted to push them deeper when you felt something else there. You took it out and saw a card. You grinned widely, biting your lip with excitement.
There was a name on the card - Joel Miller, and a phone number underneath it.
*****
Thank you for reading!��
Kisses and hugs for your comments and reblogs!😘🫂
PART 2
Tag list: @missannwinchester @morallyinept @bbyanarchist @harriedandharassed @nervousmumbling
If you’d like to join the tag list, let me know!❤️
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yandere-daydreams · 2 months
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Title: Azure Haze.
Pairing: Yandere!Dottore x Reader (Genshin).
Word Count: 0.9k.
TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Controlling Behavior, Manipulation, and Psychological Abuse.
[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]
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You’d never taken Dottore for the marrying type.
Not to imply that he was more of a rouge romantic, either, or dedicated enough to the Tsaritsa and her grand machinations to be married to his work, although he did clearly have a passion for experimentation. As a foot soldier, little more than a glorified errand-runner for the higher-ranking officers, you used to think of him (and the other Harbingers, by association) as almost god-like – gifted by your archon with eternal life and distorted by the weight of his many centuries, made too divine to ever feel tethered to something so intrinsically human. When you’d worked more closely to his side, you’d seen him as more demonic than anything; emotive but malicious by nature, uninterested in those beyond the part they played in the progression of his studies.
You wondered, sometimes, if his treatment of you was all a part of some elaborate, prolonged experiment. You wouldn’t put it beyond him, even if it did seem a little less gory than his usual whims. The heartlessness of it fit, though.
If Dottore could be relied on to be anything, it was cruel.
The ring, itself, is surprisingly unoffensive. You turn it over once, then twice in your hand, running the pad of your index finger over the sleek, silver metal. A pinpoint of sapphire glints up at you from where it’s nestled into the unornamental base, and a part of you is thankful that it’s not something more ostentatious, that he hadn’t committed to his musings on palm-sized diamonds and gold so pure and so polished, the archons would be able to see it from their thrones in Celestia. Another, disparate faction can only be devastated that it would take so little for him to claim you so completely.
“Is it not to your taste, love?” Dottore, your soon-to-be betrothed, asks. He’s positioned himself strategically, in spite of the limited space; on the other side of the exhibition table, allowing you just enough distance to breathe, but remaining between you and the door to the jewelry shop’s only private consultation room, ensuring you wouldn’t be able to run, not without passing him. The jeweler is mysteriously absent, but you can’t be surprised. Dottore has never been especially possessive, but he seems to prefer it when your attention remains undivided. “There are several more options, if you find my preferences lacking.”
Your eyes fall to the neat line of ring boxes on display in front you. Some are more gaudy than others, but they’re all silver, all studded with the same vibrant sapphires. Your gaze catches on one with curved, pointed teeth locking a roughly cut gem into place, then fall back to your lap. “Are you going to pick one out?”
His response comes in the form of a quick shake of his head, a coy smile. “Jewelry tends to get in the way of lab work. I’ll have to find another way to show my affection – a breastpin, perhaps, or a scale replica of your heart mounted on the wall of my office.”
You try to summon the revulsion you once had for his grisly humor, but fail to feel anything at all. At least he only claimed to want a replica, this time. “I won’t have to wear mine, then, will I?”
“You will.” His tone leaves no room for debate, but he continues regardless. “Unless you want me to remove your ring fingers and ensure it remains on a part of you myself, that is.”
You swallow dryly. “Both ring fingers?”
“One can never be too thorough.”
You purse your lips. Your fingers twitch once, then twice before dropping the ring in your hand and taking up another from its bed of velvet. The base on your newest selection is unique – crafted in disparate, thorned bands to make it seem as if it’d been made from braided vines, a pair of softly curling leaves encircling the jewel bed. It’s the gem that holds you, though; a shade lighter than the others when it catches the light, closer to a ruddy aquamarine than pure, never-ending blue. You slide it in front of Dottore before you can think better of it. “This one.”
To his credit, his smile doesn’t waver. “Are you sure? The gem is—”
“I’m sure,” you cut him off, almost breathlessly. “I… I like the color. I think it’s charming.”
He takes another moment to evaluate the ring, and then, to evaluate you – fighting not to shake in your seat. Finally, with an airy sigh, he shakes his head, his grin taking on a softened note. “Of course, love. Whatever makes you happiest.”
Measurements are jotted, the ring taken in for resizing with promises of swift craftsmanship. Days later, one of Dottore’s foot soldiers (and your former colleague) delivers a small, gold-foil wrapped box to you – a note from your dearly betrothed attached. You throw away the note without reading it and tear the box open. On a bed of cerulean velvet sat a silver ring of braided thorns, adorned with a single—
You let out a shallow, shuddering breath, tears already welling in the corners of your eyes.
A silver ring, adorned with a single, glimmering stud of the purest, darkest sapphire you’d ever seen.
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papiliotao · 10 months
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꒰ 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 ✩࿐
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pairings: kazuha, scaramouche, and xiao x gn!reader (separate)
content: fluff, kissing, mutual pining, pocky game
summary: in which you convince your best friend to play the pocky game with you.
a/n: i don't know why i've suddenly developed an obsession with kissing. either way, please enjoy reading!
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“I’m sorry. I must have heard you incorrectly,” KAZUHA says with a smile. A slight dusting of rose pink tints his cheeks a hue reminiscent of bygone sunsets as he shyly glances away from you. “But if I wasn’t mistaken, then I wouldn’t be opposed to your idea,” he whispers.
Your heart skips a beat.
Kazuha is charming beyond measure. His words flow like the autumn breeze, and the way he acts around you never fails to make your heart flutter.
“Let’s play the Pocky game,” you repeat yourself.
Kazuha’s grin widens. “So my ears weren’t deceiving me,” he says, trailing off towards the end. He meets your gaze, and as you look into his eyes, you swear you can see molten ruby glints of adoration glittering in their depths. However, you don’t want to get your hopes up, so you brush it off as nothing more than your imagination playing tricks on you.
Kazuha gently reaches out for the pack of Pocky you’re holding and opens it. He takes one stick out and sets the rest of the pack down on a nearby table.
“Shall we?” he asks.
He lifts the Pocky up to your lips, and you bite down. You immediately notice that he ended up giving you the side that you prefer. It shocks you how well he remembers the little things. Even though you’re best friends, you didn’t expect Kazuha to recall such an obscure intricacy. It was just something you had offhandedly mentioned once, yet in Kazuha’s mind, it was a statement that remained vivid and bright, akin to the most picturesque of memories.
He must really care about you.
Kazuha bites the other end, and as he does, you feel your skin heating up. He’s so close. It feels like your brain is short-circuiting. Why does your best friend have to be so undeniably handsome? Up close, it is impossible for you to miss his snowy hair, reminiscent of dazzling glacial glimmers of winter, as well as eyes filled with flurries of autumn maple leaves dancing about, mingling with flecks of stardust.
The two of you nibble at your respective ends of the Pocky stick. To your slight dismay, Kazuha takes his time, savouring the moment instead of trying to rush things. You feel yourself getting more flustered by the second. While he had initially appeared slightly shy, he’s now completely calm and composed, and in stark contrast to him, you’re an absolute mess on the inside.
Before you know it, your lips are practically touching Kazuha’s. He’s so close. You can feel his breath fanning your face, and soft strands of platinum hair tickle your skin.
You freeze up. Now your brain has really stopped functioning. You can’t do anything while Kazuha is this close to you, and you doubt you’ll be able to make another move before Kazuha does something. Why did you think this was a good idea again?
Luckily for you, Kazuha takes the initiative of snapping you out of your trance by taking the last bite. Your lips meet for just a split second before both of you pull away, looking anywhere but each other as you immerse yourselves in the afterglow of your actions.
A silence hangs in the atmosphere for what feels like an eternity before Kazuha speaks.
“I’m sorry if I was a bit too bold with my advances,” Kazuha says apologetically. He manages to muster the courage to look at you, and as you scan his face, you notice a whole plethora of emotions swimming through his expression. Your best friend smiles at you sheepishly.
Your heart melts upon seeing his grin.
You shake your head. “No, don’t worry. I actually kind of enjoyed it, even the part where we kissed…” you admit shyly.
Kazuha breathes out a sigh of relief. He seems strangely happy.
“Then in that case, please allow me to request a favour,” Kazuha says. He waits for you to nod before continuing. “This may be a bit presumptuous of me, but please kiss me again — properly, this time.”
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“You can’t be serious,” your best friend says without a hint of hesitation lacing his words. SCARAMOUCHE’s eyes narrow as he reciprocates your stare.
“But I am,” you reiterate.
He shakes his head and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Strands of hair spun of the midnight sky fall in front of his eyes as he moves, and his breath hitches for just a moment when he realizes you’re not kidding.
“This is ridiculous,” he mumbles before he takes a packet of Pocky off his bedside table. With a few tugs, the silvery wrapping tears apart. He takes out a singular stick of the sweet treat.
“Will you shut up if I do this for you?” he asks.
“I will,” you promise, although you have no intention of adhering to your agreement.
Scaramouche always acts as if he’s irritated by you, but you know he enjoys your company. On occasions as rare as an appearance of the northern lights, he admits that he cares for you, making your heart glow up with all the colours of the brilliant Aurora Borealis.
You know him better than anyone, but what you’re not sure of is how he’ll react to playing the Pocky game with you. Most of the time, he’s quite stoic — apathetic despite the sentiments and colours of the world that flow on the wind.
But no one would be able to maintain a calm demeanour when they’re practically kissing their best friend, right?
It’s time to find out.
“You can have the side dipped in chocolate,” Scaramouche says. “And don’t you dare think I’m doing this for you. I just happen to hate sweets.”
You giggle. “Sure,” you say playfully. You know that Scaramouche is telling the truth, but it’s always fun to tease him because it elicits the best reactions.
However this time, Scaramouche just groans and holds up a stick of Pocky.
“Get to it before I change my mind,” he tells you.
Scaramouche lifts the treat up to his lips and sinks his teeth into the plain end. He stares at you expectantly, waiting for you to make a move. You bite down on your end, and you feel your face heat up. You’re too flustered by your proximity to your best friend to notice the sweet taste of chocolate bursting in your mouth.
Gradually, you nibble at the chocolate-coated snack while Scaramouche does the same. It seems like neither of you are feeling too bold at the moment; however, you still inch closer and closer with every passing second.
It’s painfully slow, and as time drags on, the rate of your heartbeat only starts increasing. Each excruciating second undergoes a metamorphosis into a century as your best friend’s blush-tinted face draws closer to your own.
And finally, when only a few centimetres remain between the two of you, he stops. You’re frozen in place too, and as you gaze into his eyes, everything around you becomes irrelevant — mere specks of fading supernovas in a galaxy of wonders.
Your breath hitches.
In all your years of knowing Scaramouche, he has never appeared this shy before. It’s endearing, heart-warming. Who knew that this adorable side to him existed?
One second…
Two seconds…
And three seconds pass.
Before Scaramouche finally decides to make a move. He leans in. Closer and closer.
You tense up, but at the same time, you feel yourself melt into an amalgamation of giddiness. You’re ready for whatever will happen next.
You feel the urge to squeeze your eyes shut, almost anticipating a kiss, but thankfully, your hopes aren’t too high. Because just when Scaramouche’s lips barely ghost yours, causing your heart to flutter like maple leaves in autumn wind, he pulls back, snapping off the last bit of Pocky.
“I win,” Scaramouche says after swallowing the final piece. His face is adorned with a smirk and a proud expression that you just know you’ll be seeing for the next few days.
“I guess so,” you sigh, admitting defeat. “But don’t act like you weren’t blushing like crazy a few seconds ago!”
Scaramouche freezes for a second before crossing his arms. “I did no such thing.”
“Oh, really?” you question.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groans. He narrows his eyes at you, refusing to admit that he had allowed you to glimpse into his heart and learn the true nature of his feelings.
However, as your conversation continues, shades of sunset begin to dust his cheeks once more, dawning on his pale complexion like the most serene instances of carefree days bleeding into vivid nightfalls.
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“This is foolish,” XIAO says bluntly, staring at you intently with eyes full of honeyed sunlight as you open a pack of Pocky.
He’s not impressed, and you can tell. However, you know that even though Xiao acts as though he’s unwilling to partake in the little game you proposed, he’s not actually against it. After all, you know him. He’s your best friend, and after years of growing up together, you’re sure that he’ll do anything to make you happy, especially if it’s something as trivial as this.
“I know,” you respond nonchalantly. You’ve learned how to deal with Xiao’s tough-on-the-outside attitude by now. Deep down, you know that first of all, as a more reserved person, he doesn’t have the most profound understanding of others, so he might find some of their games rather absurd. Secondly, he’s not great at expressing his emotions, so even though he sounds angry or irritated at times, you understand him well enough to read him like a book.
Xiao merely sighs quietly in response. “Let’s get this over with.” He looks down at the ground, and for a second, you swear you can see the beginnings of a blush coming to life on his face.
You nod and take out a stick of Pocky. You put one end in your mouth and soon enough, Xiao follows your lead.
At first, he stares at you with uncertainty swimming within the daffodil hues of his irises. He’s a little confused, and you don’t blame him. Xiao isn’t someone who usually spends a lot of time with others, so he’s not familiar with things like the latest trends and popular games.
However, he quickly picks up on what he’s supposed to do when you take a bite of the chocolate-coated treat. Xiao follows in your lead, and although each nibble he takes seems slightly hesitant, you note that he’s still trying his best for you. It nearly makes your heart melt into an amalgamation of butterflies.
Xiao seems to be getting more and more flustered by the second. As you inch closer to him, you almost feel as though you can sense the rapid beating of his heart sending reverberations through the air, creating echoes that tell tales of unspoken emotions and unexplored sentiments.
And before you know it, his face is barely an inch away from yours. You can feel his breath tickling your skin and the heat radiating off his face.
The sight of Xiao acting endearingly shy is something you barely ever see. Sure he’s proven to you that he cares for you multiple times, but he’s never been this flustered before. Most of the time, you’re the one who ends up like that around him. Whether it’s a situation where Xiao walks by the side of the road, keeping you as far away from danger as possible whenever you go out for strolls or a scenario where he awkwardly hugs you after a bad day, you can’t help but blush in his presence.
This time, things are the same yet so, so, different. As always, your heart feels as though it’s reeling and on the verge of exploding due to your proximity to Xiao. The only thing that’s changed is the look on Xiao’s face — eyes shining with affection and cheeks tinted with a hue reminiscent of cherry blossoms in the spring divulge feelings that you have long been waiting to see.
The world around you freezes, and for a paradoxical second in a universe where time is infinite, Xiao is the only one in your thoughts, and you’re sure that it’s the same on his end. Everything is nonsensical for a moment, and you don’t know who makes the first move, but soon enough, your lips meet, shattering the perfect dimension you and Xiao have crafted.
For a brief flash of time, you feel yourself kissing Xiao. It’s everything you had imagined and more. Your heart skips a beat, and stars seem to illuminate your world as you relish in the soft feelings that spring from the contact. But to your dismay, the whole experience is over just as quickly as it had begun.
Both you and Xiao pull away when you realize what you’ve done. You both avoid eye contact, shyly averting your gazes so that you can’t see the other. For a few awkward moments, silence hangs in the air.
“Let’s never talk about this again,” you say, mustering up the courage to take a peek at Xiao.
He nods in agreement, looking back at you.
But deep down, the two of you know that there’s nothing you long for more than another kiss.
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thank you for reading! i'm sorry if this wasn’t that good. i’ve been really busy with finals and assignments, so i don’t have quite as much time to write. please consider commenting/reblogging if you enjoyed this!
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metanarrates · 2 months
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ugh anthy is so good. nearly every single other story I've seen about a Mysterious and Tragic teenage girl has failed in some way either because the writer forgot to give the character complexity and an internal life, or because the tragic things in her life were far too aestheticized to have real teeth. anthy succeeds as a character largely because the whole story is dedicated to deconstructing an aestheticized view of her & her suffering, and also showing how that aestheticized view dehumanizes her and denies her agency. she is not a harmless victim or a beautifully agonized one - she is a teenage girl who is reacting in realistic, complex ways to a lifetime of crushing systemic abuses. and similarly, every teenage girl around her is also reacting in complex ways to their own suffering under patriarchy.
depiction of sad teenage girls often posit their pain as a natural phenomenon, something that is just intrinsic to girlhood. adding a layer of mystique onto them just further serves to obfuscate the sources of teen girl suffering. instead, teenage girl pain becomes palatable. consumable, even. #aesthetic. these depictions are unthreatening because, by their nature, they cannot depict societal issues in a way that would demand a restructuring of society. we can posit a familial tragedy but not a tragedy of the family structure. we can lament a beautifully mentally ill sufferer but not the systems of wellness and community that failed her. et cetera. nothing can ever hold up an uncomfortable mirror, only a flattering one.
revolutionary girl utena directly says that that idea is bullshit and that its teenage girls are suffering as a direct result of entrenched systematic oppression. and in that uncomfortable honesty, it's able to be WAY more authentically hopeful with its sad teenage girls. anthy is able to finally walk out of the society that trapped her and live freely of the image that was constructed around her! she can be a flawed human girl who is still going to be happy with her girlfriend! her victimhood is not eternal and does not mean she can never find happiness! A TEEN GIRL DOES NOT HAVE TO STAY IN A COFFIN IN ORDER TO DESERVE COMPASSION!!!!
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hitomisuzuya · 3 months
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Can you write a enemies to lovers where Y/N is at a college party and so is Scara and then everyone plays 7 minutes in heaven and they end up being picked together and they don't want to but it's the rulse so, in the closet they go!
(bonus points if they are slightly tipsy from drinking.)
Scaramouche x fem!reader. Kissing. Heavy petting. 7 minutes of heaven. Alcohol. College AU
I wasn't sure if you wanted smut for this so I just made it light with kissing and some touching. 7 minutes in a closet with Scara😳😌 Heaven indeed.
You sat in a circle with everyone, wondering how exactly you got roped into this. Although, you may have agreed as easily as you did because the alcohol you'd indulged in when you saw Scaramouche was at the party was making you feel relaxed and fuzzy headed.
What you did not expect was Scaramouche to join the game as well. You immediately finished your drink in one gulp, wondering if you had time to grab another one to get you through this game.
You narrowed your eyes at Scaramouche for a moment as the rules were explained. He was arrogant, rude, selfish, egotistical, self centered.
He was everything you normally hated in a person, and yet, you were hopelessly in love with him. You had way too much pride to admit it. In fact, you were trying and failing to convince yourself that it was alcohol making you think he looked gorgeous.
Scaramouche shared the same feelings of discontent seeing you join the game. He also was trying and failing to convince himself that he hadn't joined the game because of you. And you looked way too beautiful for your own good. He hated you right back for making him feel vulnerable feelings he didn't want to feel. He'd been drinking all night to fight his own feelings of attraction.
"What?"
"Huh?"
Both your responses came a few seconds from each other. You both were chosen to go in the closet.
"God no, seriously?!" You sputtered, feeling your heart immediately pound in your chest. Being in the closet with him was what you wanted and didn't want the most. You were drunk, your inhibitions lowered. Scaramouche would sense that like a rabid dog.
Judging from the way he smirked, he already did. "Ha, rules are rules," Like he ever gave a shit about rules to begin with. This was just a way for him to dance on your already frayed nerves, "I always took you for a goody two shoes. It must be hard to try and please everyone all the time."
Your hand tightened on the empty bottle of alcohol in your hand. It sounded like he was mocking you. You grit your teeth and stood up. Scaramouche could practically hear your last nerve snap. "You never stop, do you? You just poke, poke, poke," You snapped.
"I love it, you are so easy. You think I want to do this either?" He replied, holding his hands out in mock defense.
"Fine, whatever, let's go," You sighed and made your way over to the closet. 7 minutes wasn't a long time. Right? With Scaramouche it would feel an eternity no doubt.
In you went with the door locked behind the both of you. You stood as far away as possible from Scaramouche, peering at him suspiciously through the dark. There was a long silence between you.
"You can come closer," He coaxed, sounding softer than you thought he would for a moment.
"I thought you hated breathing the same air as me," You said, cursing yourself mentally for moving closer to him. Scaramouche had told you this on multiple occasions.
"I do," He replied. You could feel his shit eating smirk through the dark. "Fuck it, rules are rules," He grabbed your shoulders so fast it stunned you, pressing his lips against yours.
Your eyes widened, feeling yourself instantly get weak. Your breathed hitched in your throat as you melted into the kiss. He let out a shaky sigh as he pulled away, his lips hovering over yours.
"Your lips are so soft," You murmured, closing the distance between his lips and yours. His hands gripped your shoulders tighter when you moaned softly into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him.
An arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush with his as he pushed you up against the wall. The kiss was electric, passionate and open mouthed. The way you obediently opened your mouth when he pushed his tongue into your mouth sent him reeling and weak in the knees.
Scaramouche leaned his weight into you, one of his hands dipping up your shirt to trace along the line of your figure, making goosebumps dot your skin as you shivered.
His hand folded over one of your breasts, squeezing and kneading his fingers into the soft flesh outside of your bra, brushing his fingertips over your nipple. That sent a tingling sensation to curl up your spine. You let out a shaky sigh, leaning eagerly into his touches.
Scaramouche's teeth but at your lips, his hand wandering more greedily over your body as he grinded his steadily aching cock between your legs. He pulled away long enough to relish in your soft whine of protest, "Fuck you feel so good," His lips were immediately back on yours, more aggressive this time.
His fingers brushed down your stomach between your legs. He groaned into your mouth as he cupped his hand on your cunt. You were starting to move your hips needily into his fingers when you both were startled by a knock at the door.
Scaramouche growled against your mouth, pulling away to look at the door with a glare. 7 minutes wasn't long enough for him, and he hated being interrupted, just when you were starting to submit to him.
He swiped his thumb over your lower lip. "You are coming back to my dorm with me, understood?" The domineering way with which he said this, his voice thick with desire made you shiver as you nodded.
Time had passed way too fast for you to.
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