#This feels like cruel and unusual punishment…but deserved.

[iwasalmostagod]

Ah, come on. You try to destroy the city one time and then you’re stuck cleaning up spilled soda and who knows what else for eternity at an adventuring academy? This blows.

[obito-in-disguise]

| Arranged marriage! Itachi x reader |

-The other side of Itachi.

Part 2 to this

What was that incessant pain? Y/N groans as she awakes from her slumber groggily. Her hands fly to the aching spot, her neck, which was strained from sleeping in such an odd position. Why exactly am I sleeping on the floor? she wanders but grimaces soon after, as she remembers what happened. She had fallen asleep crying, all thanks to Itachi.

She scowls as she remembers his cruel words and the awful sensation of the genjustsu he had trapped her in, she didn't deserve that. All that just because she tried to make their relationship civil. She hisses in pain, her sore limbs cracking and groaning in protest as she gets up from the floor. She could feel the stinging sensation of dried tears on her cheeks and the inevitable puffiness of her face. Above all she felt this immense sadness, she thought he would at least come in to check on her or apologise but he didn't, what a jerk indeed.

The shuffling in the bedroom alerts Itachi that she's awake. He planned to go in earlier but decided against it after hearing how hard she she was crying, the last thing she needed was to see his face. Now however, he had no more excuses to not apologise. He slowly approaches the bedroom, his heart thumping in his chest. What if she tells her grandfather about this? What if Hiruzen decides to cancel their deal and go ahead with the execution of the Uchiha because of this? He couldn't believe he let his emotions get the best of him like that, the Uchiha could be dead by tonight thanks to him.

Knock knock. He knows twice on the door, his mind still racing with thoughts. He needed to make her forget about this whole thing one way or the other, the future of the clan, of his little brother depended on it.

Knock knock. Perhaps he should just be friendly with her, that was what she wanted after all. Maybe if he gave her what she wanted then she wouldn't tell on him. Itachi cringed at his internal monologue, he really let things spin out of control. He felt like he was eight years old again, trying to convince Sasuke not to tell on him to their parents by bribing him with attention and piggyback rides. Humiliating.

Knock kno- The door swings open revealing an angry Y/N, her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks stained with dry tears. Itachi's heart sinks at the sight and he doesn't even know why. He absolutely did not want to take it this far, he hadn't meant to hurt her like this. "Y/N..."

She stares at him, as if trying to convey her emotions with her eyes, her eyes that were filled with pain and resentment, towards him. He slowly walks into the room, shutting the door behind them. Sitting on the bed, he waits for her to join him, sighing in relief when she does. He can sense the hesitation in her, it's almost as if she's scared of him now, he sighs, he really messed up.

"I am sorry Y/N. My actions were....unbecoming of someone of my status, much less as your husband". She keeps her head turned away from him petutantly, he was joking if he thought that was all it was going to take to obtain her forgiveness. She fake sniffles, deciding to punish him, hoping to give him 1/10th of the torment he put her through.

Itachi panicks as he hears her sniffle, before he can stop himself his hands are moving to turn her face towards his. They both stare at each other in shock at itachi's very unusual display of affection, he quickly withdraws his hands, clearing his throat as he tries to dispel the now akward atmosphere. "I understand the severity of what I did and I don't expect your forgiveness but I am truly sorry" he has to force the words out of his throat, reminding himself he was doing this for his clan's sake.

She looks at him in skepticism, not believing a damn word he's saying. She wasn't stupid, she knew he was only apologising because he didn't want her to tell on him. Her chest twisted as she took in the fact that he didn't even value her emotions, she sighs turning further away from him, she wished he would just get out.

The next few moments were like slow motion, one minute she was getting ready to tell him to leave, the next minute she felt him wrap his arms around her. What. The. Heck. She blinked rapidly in surprise before doing a double take, Itachi was indeed hugging her! And....she couldn't say it felt bad. Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe it was the emotional trauma but she let herself relax into him. He was warm and smelt like a rainy day.

Itachi lets out a breath when he feels her relax into his touch, he knew he had to show her he was sorry not just say it. It felt strange, all his instincts were screaming at him not to do this, he knew he had started to fall down a bottomless hole, surely he could not be letting himself enjoy this. But would that be so wrong? His whole life he had trained himself like a machine, deliberately preventing himself from getting attached to anyone because the truth was, he couldn't. His health put a ticking time bomb on his life and he knew it was only a matter of time before he would succumb to sickness. He couldn't do this to her, he couldn't let her fall in love with him and then leave her but despite the storm raging in his mind, he felt himself pulling her closer. He held her tight as he breathed in the scent of her hair, he felt his defenses crumbling and for once, he decided to let it happen. He would let himself this one selfish thing before he eventually met his demise, he would let himself love.

Months go by and true to his resolution, Itachi let himself grow closer to Y/N. They grew accustomed to each other's company, slept in the same bed and even called eachother pet names, Itachi's favourite for her being 'flower'.

Yet deep in his heart, he knew this was wrong. He knew he was doing a terrible thing, letting her love him knowing he could die at any moment, he shook his head trying to clear his thoughts as he waited on the living room couch. The sky outside was painted beautifully with hues of orange and pink as the sun set. It was 6:28pm, much longer than when she was supposed to be home from work.

On a normal day, Itachi wouldn't even be home by this time but since he had no missions today, he decided to relax. His relaxation was cut short however, when he realized his wife wasn't back home the time she was supposed to be. Y/N was never really late on the days he was home, she was always home by 5 or a few minutes after. He was starting to get worried, was she ok? Did something happen?.

His thoughts were cut short as she pushed through the living room door "Hi tachi, sorry I'm home late" she greets with a tight smile. Itachi was up on his feet immediately, something was wrong, her hair was disheveled and she looked shaken, not to mention that fake smile she just tried to fool him with. "Y/N... what happened?"

Her eyes widen as she hears his question, she shakes her head before trying to push past him "nothing I'm fine" Itachi blocks her path as he observes her with worry, he squints noticing her hiding her left arm behind her back. "What are you doing? What happend to your hand" he asks trying to grab her hand, his eyes widening in shock as she jerks it back almost immediately, stumbling away from him. "N-nothing! I already told you" He frowns as he watches her lie and move away from him "No more games Y/N let me see your hand" "It's fine tachi, really!".

He scoffs as he approaches her slowly, determined to find out what's wrong with her. "I said I'm fine" she argues bringing her right hand to his chest to shove him back but Itachi uses the opening to grab the hand on his chest and yank her forward. She yelps as she stumbles into him, instinctively bringing out her left hand to balance herself. Itachi sees this and finally grabs the hand she had been hiding, bringing it up to his face to inspect it.

His eyes widen as he takes in the sight, her knuckles are busted, blood caking the skin. Her usually smooth skin is littered with cut and bruises. "What the hell Y/N! What is this?" "I-I fell" "Cut the bullshit! Tell me what happened right now!" Itachi pleads, his chest tightening as he takes in her injured fist "please...."

She sighs as she taking in the distraught look on his face, she hated when he worried about her. "My boss came in to work drunk today..." she starts, Itachi nods listening intently, cradling her bruised fist in his larger one, gently caressing the flesh. "He started making a scene and yelling at eveyone, we had no idea what to do and we couldn't exactly call the police on him. Then he approached me.....he started telling me I was the worst worker there and that I was only in my position because of ji-chan. He called me names too, then he...." she stops, her face contorting in discomfort.

"Then he what?" Itachi urges, moving his hand to rub her shoulder comfortingly. She takes a deep breath "...Then he touched me".

"..."

"..."

"...he did what?"

Part 3

Ya'll this was supposed to be fluff but then the spirit of angst possessed me and I started writing about Itachi's illness 😭 guess this story's not gonna have a happy ending. Also just so you know, Itachi's gonna beat a bitch up in part 3.

Enjoyed the story? check out more of my other Naruto fics and more stories! Requests are open! and don't forget to leave a like, comment or reblog pookie♡

[hibiscuswrites]

Not sure if you allow this but I love your Crybaby series on your other blog and was wondering if you could do a Ghost and Price HC for how they react to crybaby!reader trying to make them sleep in the guest room because she's mad at them for missing another date

**As an overly sensitive cry baby Pisces I love doing these so it's absolutely allowed 💕 Also be gentle I've only written for them twice now 🥺**

He's not happy

He already feels like shit

Seeing the puffiness of your eyes when he walks through the door 4 hours late and finds you sitting on the couch watching TV all by yourself

He'll sigh and come up to you, reaching down to grab your chin

And feel a pang when you shift your face just out of his reach

"Don't touch me, please."

The raspiness of your voice that comes with a long cry plus those words hurt just the same as any blade or bullet he's taken

He'll stand there silently for a beat, trying to figure out what to do next

Because all he wants is to gather you into his arms and apologize

But not touching you?

It's cruel and unusual punishment, that he unfortunately deserves

He'll keep his hands to himself per your request, but that doesn't mean that they don't itch at his sides as he keeps them balled into fists to refrain from ignoring your wishes

He'll apologize, telling you that he's sorry

That he tried so hard to get home on time

That Price even tried to speed things up

But that time got away from him

And he'll make it up to you

But you've grown tired of what feels like another empty promise

And with a sniffle you wipe away another tear, getting up from the couch and making your way to the bedroom

"I'm going to bed."

He'd be hot on your heels, ready to get undressed and shower quickly to then hop in beside you and cuddle you close once you fall asleep

But your hand on his chest stops him

"Alone. I set the guest room up for you already."

His brain would short-circuit

Alone??

Half of him would want to give you the privacy you're asking for

But the other half says no chance in hell is he letting you sleep alone so you can cry yourself to sleep over him

"Come on, love. Don't be like that. I'll stay on my side, yeah? Won't even know I'm there."

And against his better judgment, he'd reach out and place his hand on your side, thumb rubbing soothing circles

He'd see your resolve crumbling and wiggle his way in, both hands on you now as he tugs you into him

"Let me put you to bed. Show ya how sorry I am."

He'd wince as he walked in the front door to find everything off

TV, lights, everything

You'd even turned off the little light above the stove that you usually left on for him to get around without tripping

Not even that was on

And he knew he was in for it

You'd planned this date out for weeks

Even sent him a selfie once you were all done getting ready

And he'd never even gotten the chance to see it until he got in the car, hours after the fact

He knew he would have to do some serious groveling once he got in bed with you, and he was fine with that

Nothing his mouth couldn't fix

So his surprise was endless when he grabbed the door handle to the bedroom and found it locked

"Sweetheart?"

Your lack of a response would make him knock gently as he rested his forehead against the door

Surely you locked it because you were afraid to be home alone with an unlocked door

So your sharp voice coming through the door would startle him

"Go away. You can sleep in the guest room since you don't like to spend time with me."

He'd stare at the door for a handful of seconds before chuckling, positive that you were only being a brat

"Come on, my love. Enough of this now. Open up so we can talk."

And he'd genuinely expect you too

Never once had you ever asked him to sleep in the guest room

But apparently, he had missed one date too many

"I'll talk to you tomorrow. Leave me alone and let me sleep."

He'd jiggle the doorknob a few times and then it'd be silence

And you'd figure he finally went to lie down in the spare room

Only for the knob to jiggle again, the sound of metal scrapping, and then the door to open, some gadget in his hand as he stepped into the room

A sheepish grin on his lips

"Not sleepin' anywhere other than right next to my baby."

General taglist

 @jigsawlover10  @titty-teetee @vibranium-soul @ateliefloresdaprimavera @glimmerglittergirl @hatterripper31 @lilac-tea-time @krysiewithak @witchygagirl

[dinsbeskar]

Subjugate the Devil (Sauron/F!Reader)

Sauron has a nightmare. You are only too happy to oblige in making him forget; or:

Sub!Sauron makes a lengthy appearance. Plot, what plot?

Set in my In The Dark series, but works as a standalone (alludes to trauma mentioned in other chapters, but it is literally just smut) // AO3 Link

Soundtrack: Disease by Lady Gaga, Don't Let Me Go by Raign, Like a Prayer by Madonna, Oh You Are Not Well by Chloe Foy

Playlist!

Warnings: 18+! Dom/sub - gentle dom, needy sub; just pure smut; literally Plot What Plot (though there is a bit if you squint); P in V sex; oral sex (male and female receiving); copious amounts of bodily fluids (sorry, like for real); cockwarming; dry humping; handjob; begging/denial/teasing; praise kink; multiple orgasms; overstimulation; unresolved trauma; tiny bit of violence but it is just an illusion; very soft!Sauron, so tender. We make him cry and that's all I wanted to do.

A/N: I've been working on this for a few days, it is ummm filthier than anything I've ever written, like I really don't know where it came from. The warnings are just what's on the menu at this point idk.

I pictured Annatar for this one, but you guys can imagine whomever you like (@troublesomesnitch he's got that chest hair though!!) Sub!Halbrand would be a treat ngl.

Excuse the gif guys, I just want to see him cry :)

Word Count: 4.2k (!!)

Sauron does not sleep. Ordinarily.

However, you make it look so peaceful, he has to try it occasionally. Of course he usually finds you in your dreams, takes all the attention you can spare and more, leaving you wanting until waking when he can ravage you again.

Sometimes however his dreams come unbidden. Instead of slipping into your mind, he falls deeper into his own, unearthing old memories he'd rather stay buried, burned beyond recognition.

You always know when this happens; your usually calm and collected lover wakes in a cold sweat, clutching at your skin, his face in your neck, desperate to forget what his mind has shown him. He has never told you the details, but you can only assume it has something to do with his master, with his cruel and unusual forms of punishment.

Tonight is one of those nights, worse perhaps as he moans and writhes in his sleep, rousing you immediately. You can't seem to wake him from his torment, every gentle touch, every kiss to his temple only seems to fan the flames. You end up atop him, each of your thighs either side of his abdomen, trying to shake him awake.

Visions of Morgoth in his wrath; illusions of you partaking in his torture at his master's hand; pain and terror in his heart, as the nightmare refuses to cease, even as you try to soothe him.

What makes you think a servant as worthless as you deserves a love like hers?

Morgoth's words hold him in a vice grip; he can't break free, the unshed tears behind his closed eyelids threaten to leak onto his cheeks, stricken with fear and pain.

"I've got you, you're okay, you're here with me." You stroke his face, your hair brushing his chest, unsure of what to do except hold him.

When his eyes finally fly open, he grasps your arms, and with a leg hooked behind you, flips you onto your back, a dagger at your throat.

You're fairly sure his weapon isn't real, but he is a master of illusion, and pain is merely a construct of the mind; he could hurt you if he wanted to.

In this state, you're reminded of just how dangerous your husband is, even between dreaming and waking. His eyes are black, unseeing, with a terrifying expression you're sure would have annihilated any enemy he could have been dreaming of.

Your hands shaking, you reach up slowly and try to take the knife; surely enough, when you clutch at it, it disappears like smoke between your fingers, so you take his hand instead, still clenched unfeeling around his shattered illusion.

You pull his hand to your chest, letting him feel your racing heart flutter against his fingers.

Slowly but surely, you bring him back to you, his daze broken but his psyche bruised and bleeding.

Your shallow breathing evens out as the light returns to his eyes, and for a moment he looks at you confused as if his position above you is of your own making.

His eyes dart from his hand on your chest, to your fiercely fixed expression, attempting to soothe his nerves but unable to hide how shaken you are.

"Is this real?" He's still breathing hard, for someone who doesn't really need to breathe. "Are you really here? Is it you?"

He's so tender, tracing your cheekbones, your cupid's bow, gently raking your hair with his fingertips.

"Of course, beloved, I'm right here, I'm always right here." You try to hide your confusion, assuming he's still walking the line between dreaming and waking.

He slowly pulls himself away to nestle at your side, reluctant to break eye contact with you as he does so, still clutching at you to ground himself.

"What did I do? Tell me I didn't hurt you, love." He's so quiet, it's unnerving, but you take him in your arms anyway, crading his head to your chest.

"All is well, my love, it wasn't real, you're here with me, no one can touch you here." Some nights, holding him close and murmuring sweet reassurances in his ear is enough to soothe him; tonight he needs a little more from you.

All you want to do is tell him you love him, that he deserves you, that you're his, that he deserves everything you want to give him, that you ache for him when he's not by your side.

But he's hard against your hip, a fact you're trying to ignore; taking advantage of him is the last thing on your mind, not that he would protest, even when he returns to his right mind.

He listens to your heartbeat for a while, focusing on the strong rhythm to forget his waking nightmare, marvelling at how your heart beats in tandem to his, running his trembling fingers across your exposed skin, up your arm, across your collarbone to your throat, watching the artery jump in time with your heart. He knows you so well, so intimately, that when you notice his erection, your heart skips a beat, and he can guess exactly what you're thinking, not needing to peer into your mind for himself.

You feel him grind against you and you release a breath you didn't even realise you'd been holding.

"Love..." You murmur into his hair, absentmindedly running your fingers over the sensitive pointed tips of his ears. "Come now, you need to rest, darling."

He can't show you what he saw, what he went through, the horror and the agony of his master's worst torments. The image of you performing the worst of it is tattooed on his eyelids, a reminder of Morgoth's favourite form of punishment. He can't show you, can't tell you, but he can ask you to make him forget.

"I need you," he whispers in your ear, strangled groans peppering his sentiments, making you gasp, "need you to feel good, need you to know how much I adore you-"

Your eyes widen as blood rushes to your cheeks, the heat of his words enflaming your core.

"I want you too, love, but right now? Are you sure?" You ask him through ragged breath as he turns his attentions to your neck, licking and sucking and blowing cool air over your wet skin, before warming it with his tongue once more.

You're so close to giving in, wanting to give him all he craves and more, and he knows it.

"Use me," his breathy moan breaks on your skin like a wave on the shore, tingles washing down your spine, filling your core with empty warmth as he bucks his hips into yours, which respond in kind as you turn your head to meet his hungry kiss.

"I'm yours. Make me yours."

His words thrill you, but his tone makes you feel incredible; needy, wanton, desperate to please you.

You glide your hands over his torso, relishing in his hot velvet skin and the soft hair that covers him; taking your time as he tries to kiss you senseless, his heated skin glowing with sweat that you can't resist tasting for yourself, salt and smoke on your tongue.

"Use me... take me... love me..." he begs you, with less and less breath left in his lungs with each command, as you gently lay him on his back, straddling his thighs, grinding your core into the hard muscle.

You slide your hands between the layers of fabric separating your skin, stripping him slowly and laying him bare for your viewing pleasure alone.

He arches his back for you, baring his neck and thrusting his hips into the ghost of your touch, chanting your name and praying for you to take his aching cock in hand.

You trace the contours of his thighs, his firm abdominal muscles, the stiff peaks of his nipples, earning you a shudder and a moan that shoots straight to your core, hot wet arousal dripping onto his thigh.

His fingers move to gather your nectar instinctively, wanting to savour every taste of his wife, but you grip his wrist and raise it above his head, and he gasps. You've never denied him before, not in the eons you've adored him, but it turns him on beyond belief.

Sauron watches you hazily, through heavily lidded eyes, in disbelief that the goddess above him is his and his alone to enjoy and to ruin. You are a sight to behold, as your hair cascades down your back, lips parted and breath ragged; your breasts bounce as you ride his thigh, hypnotising him, drawing him deeper into your thrall.

He tries to lean up to kiss you, lave every inch of your skin with his desperate tongue, but you push him back to the bed.

"Not yet, soon but not yet." You want his mouth on you, the aching between your thighs only amplified by the distinct lack of your husband’s throbbing length inside you, but tonight is for him; he needs to surrender to you first.

"I don't think you've let go quite enough yet." Your warm breath breaks on his sensitive neck, washes down his spine, straight to his cock, throbbing in his need for you.

You haven't touched him yet, hands firmly in place on his chest; his eyes plead with you to be lenient, and as his loving wife, you're only too happy to oblige him as he continues to beg for all the care and attention you can give.

"Please, love, please, need you to-" he gasps as you run your fingers over the head of his cock, gathering the copious amounts of precum pooling on his stomach to ease the glide over his flesh.

"Is that better, love?" You can't help but smirk at his pained gasps, as you languidly stroke his shaft, circling the sensitive head with your thumb, your eyes locked on his.

His cock twitches in your hand as he moans your name, begs for release, begs for your cunt, begs to be remade.

"That's it, love, let yourself go. All you need to do is feel good for me, my love," you lean down, whispering in his ear, "please me, show me how much you deserve your release."

His breath hitches and you hear him swallow hard; his expression is a masterpiece, eyes wide, jaw slack, as he begs you to show him mercy, groaning and whimpering as you pump his length.

"Please..." It's only one syllable, but it feels like a lifetime as he chokes out his plea, tries to touch you to no avail as you hold his hands above his head, placing them in a death grip on the headboard.

"Please, what? You might need to be more specific, my darling." You edge down the bed, holding him in place as he tries to follow you, until your head rests on his thighs.

"Need you to... fuck!" He growls and curses and grips the headboard as his hips jerk and writhe to meet you.

"Need me to...? What, my sweet, tell me?" You are enjoying teasing him, perhaps a little too much, and you will pay for it later, but right now he's so deeply needy for your love and attention that he'll take whatever you bestow upon him.

"Touch me..." he groans, as his cock visibly throbs with need, "your fingers, your mouth, I don't care, I need you, you're the only one, only one who can make me feel like this..."

His pleas and whimpers cut off with a sharp gasp, as you take his cock in your mouth as deeply as you can manage. He feels the opening of your throat on his tip and loses his mind, his oversensitive flesh shooting stars up and down his spine, heat pooling in his abdomen that almost immediately spreads like wildfire throughout his body, as your fingers and tongue and lips work together like an orchestra, drawing an irresistible melody from the depths of his pitch black soul, and all the seed his cock can muster.

You pull away and let him spill himself over your thighs, your abdomen, your hands; he looks mortified but he can't stop now he's started, pearly white splattering your skin, making you his.

"I belong to you," he keens and stutters but you hear him through his orgasm, his whimpers becoming moans that reverberate through you.

You can only watch him adoringly as he finishes quaking and moaning beneath you, unable to quite believe that he is yours, even after all this time.

You sit up, licking him from your fingers, and your smile is so radiant, he forgets where he is, who he is, all the evil he has ever done. For one shining moment, it is just you and him, all he'd ever need.

"Proud of you, love, so good for me." You murmur as you lean down to kiss him softly, giving him that tiny confirmation of your affections he needs right now.

"...thank you, needed you. Ahh- Need you." He is grateful, oh so grateful, but his still-hard cock betrays him, and you can't help but grin.

"Oh love, did I not do a good enough job? Have I left you wanting?" Your faux sincerity pains him and he immediately starts apologising.

"No, no, not that, never that, always so good to me, my beautiful wife, love you so much, my sweet..." His cunt-drunk ramblings are adorable but you put a finger to his lips.

"It's okay, I know, I've got you," you smile at him; he returns it so radiantly, you have to kiss him, to be the one to destroy it.

His pretty moans flutter to your cunt, arousal dripping from you like honey from the hive, and he looks up at you, gloriously wide eyed, begging to be allowed to taste your nectar, to sate his thirst for you.

You can't help but feel absurdly powerful, a Maia fallen apart at your fingertips, never mind this Maia, this beautiful demon who vowed to never relinquish his control again. It's an honour and a privilege to see him submit to you like this, submit to himself like this, let himself just feel without exercising his need to dominate, to just let go with the one person in the world he knows he is truly free with.

"Please, my love... remake me, make me yours," His breathless plea is like no music the Valar have ever sung, his moans a spell all their own, enrapturing you even as you hold the key to his release, as you take command of the Maia who values his control of others above all else.

"I do believe, dearest, that you made quite the mess, actually, perhaps you'd be so kind?" You gesture to the cum that still drips down your thighs, sticky and uncomfortable and definitely ready to be washed from your skin.

He is only too happy to oblige.

You lie back and beckon him to you; he works his way up your body, methodically but no less desperately, licking up every drop to please you, content to savour every inch of you. When he tries to make a detour to your mound, you gently yank his hair, reminding him of his task, revelling in the absolute control he's given you.

"Oh love, you did make a mess," you moan as you stroke his hair, "so good for me, cleaning me up, such a good husband, always so good to me."

Receiving such praise is almost cruel and unusual for Sauron, who is frankly more used to giving it to you, and receiving wrath from all others. A tiny voice in his mind tells him he should be embarrassed; but what is worship if not praise? Your devotion, your care, your undivided attention; all for him, giving him that for which he yearns above all else.

He can't resist stealing a kiss, crashing his lips to yours as he cradles your face. You taste his seed on his lips, something that feels strangely forbidden, thrilling in its taboo. The aching in your core has only intensified with his efforts, and you feel it is about time he served you with his silver tongue in the way you both crave. You push his head to your cunt, with which he gladly complies, settling between your thighs, gripping your legs firmly apart to allow him to feast on you.

Before his tongue can delve into your folds, he holds back, locking his gaze on yours.

"Please? Let me taste you, let me show you how much I love you."

"Fuck, yes, love, yes," you chant his name as he finally puts his tongue to excellent use, seeking out your swollen clit, lapping at your entrance, sucking at the velvety skin of your inner thighs.

He keeps his hands in view; you haven't told him he can touch himself, and he won't break this spell now.

Like a starving man at a banquet, he indulges in you, exquisitely. Every tiny moan that escapes him vibrates over your folds, making you whimper in return; he flicks his tongue over your entrance before sliding two fingers deep inside you, hooking them and stroking that delicious sweet spot inside you that makes your toes curl. He watches you the whole time, basking in the chorus of your pleasure.

You feel the heat coil in your abdomen, and you pull him away sharply; his disappointment is evident but you want him inside you when you finally claim your orgasm.

"Lay back, love, hands on the headboard." It is intoxicating, having your husband obey your every command, and as he settles into the mattress, looking up at you expectantly, you vow this won't be the last time the two of you play this game.

Sitting astride him, you feel as if he's never been so deep inside your cunt before now. You hiss a little at the intrusion but he's so familiar, every time he enters you, it feels like coming home. You grind your hips into him, capturing with your lips every whimper that forces its way past his clenched teeth. Tracing his firm chest, running your fingers through the smattering of soft hair, feeling every curve and contour slowly, languidly, while he writhes beneath your thighs, caging him inside your wet heat.

His strangled moans and gasps echo throughout your chamber; every time he reaches for you, you press a kiss to his palm and hold it above his head, until he learns to behave.

"No one could love me like you, care for me like you, knows how to take their pleasure from me like you, beautiful wife, only yours." He feels like he's losing his mind, slipping further into some deep quiet space where it's just the two of you, where nothing matters but you on his cock.

"Only you can put me back together, can sing the song my soul yearns for-" you interrupt his pretty words with your fingers in his mouth.

"Hush, my love, focus on me, only me, you don't have to speak, you don't have to beg for me unless you want to, just let it happen." You trace the shell of his ear with your tongue, savouring the tiny sighs that escape him, before nipping the pointed tip and relishing his sharp moan.

"Bound together, you and I, for all eternity... and I wouldn't have it any other way, sweet husband." You groan out between thrusts, every movement within you the sweetest form of torture.

No other thrill in the world will ever compare to this; your divine husband laid out beneath you, looking up at you with blissful wonder, eyes black with lust, golden hair mussed and tangled by your fingers, your name tumbling from his swollen lips like a prayer and a curse. Right now, you'd take either.

"Darling, please," his broken gasp spans an octave, jumping to a breathy moan as you descend on his cock once more.

"I know what you need, love," you moan as you ride him, the drag of his cock inside you fucking delicious, but the look on his face is a feast in comparison.

His eyes widen as he clutches the bedsheets, refusing to look away but requiring every iota of self-restraint to stay present with you, not to lose himself to the unearthly sensations you've introduced him to tonight.

"I've got you, just let it go, give yourself to me, beloved, let your mind empty-" you kiss him deeply and swallow the groan building in his chest.

"So proud of you, so good for me, doing so well," you let out a throaty moan as you clench your walls around him, feeling his cock throb within you.

"I know what you need..." You murmur as you lean over him, slowing the rhythm of your hips, "nothing in that head, cock wet and wanting, heart full and happy."

His ragged breath hitches as the last shred of self-control slips through his fingers. He thrusts up deep inside you, throbbing, aching to fill you, as you grab his hands and pull them to touch you finally, a precious relief to you both.

As he runs his hands up your bare skin, he kneads your soft flesh, worshipping every inch as if he's never beheld anything so perfect in his long life. His large hands encircle your abdomen, grasp your hips, pull your ass impossibly closer until you can't tell where you end and he begins; not that the distinction is important anymore.

He rests his hands on your back, fingers splayed as if to encompass you within his flesh, as if being wrapped around you, caged inside you, isn't enough contact, like the two of you enjoined in body and soul isn't enough, will never be enough to sate his hunger for you.

Finally, you let him lean up to join you, his torso flush with yours, gliding against you, slick with the sweat you've provoked in your teasing. He kisses you hard, tongue tangling with yours, teeth hungry, lips swollen, your breath mingling just as your souls are entwined, a maelstrom of pleasure in which you'd be happy to be imprisoned forever.

You brush back his soft hair, grip the roots, and pull his head back, bearing his throat to your greedy lips. You grind on his cock as you press harsh kisses, soft bites, to his tender flesh, laving his skin and savouring his moans under your tongue. He fucking whimpers under you, and you pull away to take him in, in all his ruined glory.

There are tears in his eyes, his lips wet and parted for your kiss; his expression is nothing like you've ever seen, so completely has he given himself to you and your pleasure.

You softly trace his throat before grasping him firmly, feeling every breath, every sob, every whimper, reverberating through you, inflaming every nerve in your body.

His Adam's apple bobs under your fingers, firm in your grip but tender in your passion. Tears spring unbidden to his eyes, falling down his glorious face and filling your heart with such love, such adoration, such utter and complete devotion, that it scares you for a moment, pushing you over the edge at last.

You clench around him, milking his sensitive cock for every last drop of seed, as you ride this new high, this indescribable feeling of power that his submission has wrought in you. You think if you could just hold onto that feeling-

"I feel it too-" his strangled moan is cut short, all the stars in the sky paling in comparison to the pleasure he feels beneath you right now.

You feel him paint your insides, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you until he is spent. Your foreheads pressed together, your limbs entangled, every breath shared in tandem; you would stay here forever. And he would gladly grant his goddess that wish, and any more that your heart desires.

You roll onto your side, limbs shaking with exertion, pulling him to join you, refusing to allow him exit from your wet heat. He huffs a small, relieved sigh, not wishing to be parted from you either.

His iron embrace never fails to comfort you, and it is especially firm tonight. Your heart swells at the thought that even after surrendering to you so entirely, so perfectly, he still needs to hold and shelter you, can't give up his role as your protector even at his most vulnerable.

"We should do that again, love." You murmur, feeling his smirk against your neck.

"Whatever you desire, my Queen," he peppers your neck with tender kisses, sensing you are close to sleep. "I am yours, you are mine-"

"And always will be." You interrupt with a sleepy smile, provoking a chuckle.

Sauron can only watch you enthralled, as you drift off, content, your limbs entwined with his, reluctant to follow you into sleep after tonight's events. Perhaps, yielding control is something he should master, he muses; after all, you did seem to be utterly delighted with the turn of events, and he is nothing if not a loving Lord, a devoted husband enthralled by his wife to distraction.

You slip into dreaming, holding onto him as if for dear life, relishing in the feeling of being so loved, so obeyed.

Your brain is empty, but your cunt is full, and your heart is happy.

[iamnmbr3]

Severus calling Lily a slur in a fit of rage and humiliation while being bullied - obviously very bad. James publicly sexually assaulting Severus - obviously much worse?!!! That was some serious sadism on display. Yet for some bizarro reason the narrative wants me to judge the words said in this scene more harshly than the deeds done, because at this point Lily - an author self-insert and the Holy Mother of this saga - cuts one off for their crime and falls in love with the other. I do not like that Lily’s romantic choice is treated as some sort of absolution, but it’s what JKR implied. Despite paralleling James’ actions with the Death Eaters ‘sick’ ’torture’ of the Muggles at the Quidditch World Cup! Idk, I was never satisfied with the lack of follow through on the implications of that scene, nor with the textual idea that Snape’s fixation on the Marauders is petty childishness, rather than a quite understandable trauma response.

Yeah. I have a huge issue with the way James is framed by the narrative. It's also weird because in-universe everything works fine. The problem comes when we look at the jarring disconnect between what was written and the way the audience is cued to react. James's characterization - and the characterization of the Marauders - is well done and consistent. They all act and react realistically given who they are. The problem comes when we look at how we the audience are supposed to react. Because we are supposed to see their actions as bad, but not THAT big of a deal. And uh...yikes.

The Snape's Worst Memory sequence is one of the most horrifying and sadistic moments in the series. I find it particularly visceral and upsetting because it feels real in a way that some of the more fantastical scenes just don't. It's so horrifying and personal in a way that Voldemort punishing his minions or a snake coming out of a lady just isn't. The way James and the others so obviously delight in tormenting and humiliating Snape is just horrific. And the fact that they do this out in the open and face little pushback and no consequences makes it even more awful.

Even worse, everything we see in the narrative suggests that what they did wasn't even that unusual for them. The behavior and dialogue we see from Snape and from the Marauders makes it very clear that doing this sort of thing to Snape is a regular pastime. The reason this is Snape's worst memory is because of the effect this particular incident ended up having on his relationship with Lily, not because of the horrible treatment he endured which was horrifyingly routine.

JK Rowling seems to like Snape. But at the same time I think she tends to have a view (common among TERFs btw) that discounts men as victims of assault. Because that's what this was. And I know if a woman had been stripped and exposed by a group of boys JKR would not have treated it as lightly. Yes she thinks what happened was bad, but not THAT bad. And listen I don't have a problem with the story depicting this and I think the way it is viewed subsequently by the Marauders, wizarding society and Snape all work in the story. My problem is with the framing and the way JKR has talked about James in interviews where it makes clear that she doesn't view this with the gravity it deserves.

James shows more of a natural inclination towards sadism and obvious enjoyment of cruelty and violence than young Tom Riddle does. And this is never dealt with. A lot of the real evil people of the world are more like James - people who aren't the way they are because of some dramatic backstory or because of trauma or whatever. They just aren't kind. James wasn't raised without love or forced to suffer privation in an orphanage or anything like that. He comes from a loving home with parents who spoil him rotten. He has a lot of privilege due to both his wealth and his blood status. And he is cruel and delights in tormenting someone weaker than him for sport. Not because Snape did something to him. Not because they quarreled and James went too far in retaliation. But rather because, as James himself puts it, he exists. Which is so typical of the bullies of the world.

I actually like the fact that Harry's father turns out to be this kind of person. It think it adds depth and complexity to the narrative. But I don't think JKR fully understood or intended what she wrote. She meant to show James as flawed, but not to the extent that she ended up doing I think. And I agree that has always bothered me too.

[slytherizz]

Petulant - Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

Tags: Rivals to Lovers, Fluff, Slice of Life, First Kiss

A/N I'm trying to be kinder to myself when it comes to my writing. I usually share longer pieces but I have so many little bits of fluffy drabble and I'm trying to remember writing is meant to be fun and not every one-shot needs to be perfect.

Palms flat on the jetty Sebastian hoisted himself out of the water. Cursing violent profanities as he shook his hair out like a wet dog as he scrambled onto the dock. Shaking whether with rage or because the frigid water of the black lake had chilled him to the bone. She wasn’t sure. 

Not that she cared. 

Sebastian deserved it for being such a petulant pain in her arse. And little water never killed anyone; no matter how many unsavoury creatures lurked in its murky depths.

He’d practically goaded her into shoving him off the jetty. It had only been a matter of time before one of them retaliated against this little bonding exercise of Hecat’s. If he'd seen the opening first she'd be the one drenched and spluttering - she was sure of it. 

Having to endure sharing a potions station where they could use Gareth as a buffer was one thing. But being forced to spend her precious and most sacred Sallow-free hours, in the freezing cold catching Grindalow's as punishment was beyond the pale. All because they caused a teensy fire that was entirely Sebasitan’s fault when a duel had gotten out of hand. 

Really what had Hecate expected to achieve with this cruel and unusual detention? That they’d return to the castle thick as thieves? Strike up a newfound camaraderie that would want to make her do anything besides hex the smarmy git?

Impossible. Their professor was far too optimistic and this exercise had been doomed from the start.

“Enjoy your swim?” she sneered. Perhaps it hadn’t been an entire waste of time. At least now she could savour this mental image of him sopping wet and looking utterly ridiculous. 

Regaining his balance and rising to his full height, Sebastian stalked towards her. Face like thunder stopping mere inches away from her to glare down his nose. Droplets of water falling from his hair onto her cheeks. She swatted them away wrinkling her nose in disgust which only seemed to enrage him further. 

"You. Are the most immature. Insufferable. Petulant witch, I've ever had the displeasure to meet. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t hex you on the spot! Why exactly did you feel the need to throw me in the bastard lake?”

He was standing so close to her she should really step away but her feet were practically glued to the spot. Standing so close his hot breath ghosted across her cheeks. So close in fact, she could see his freckled skin through the shirt which clung to every inch of him. Sheer white leaving absolutely nothing to her imagination. 

How she'd never noticed quite how large Sebastian had gotten until he was impressing down on her was a mystery. A realisation that came too little too late as she’d turned their altercations physical. 

No matter where she looked there seemed to be more of him. Broad shoulders heaving with every laboured breath. Water beading in sparse hairs on his chest which peaked out from over his open-top buttons. Muscles in his jaw and neck twitching in agitation. 

Her eyes of their own volition had begun to meander down his stomach following the trail of hair wondering exactly how far they went before she caught herself. Wrenching them up again to his face, before she saw if the cling of his soaking tartan trousers exposed just as much of him as his shirt. Half terrified of what she'd find; the other half disgusted with her own desire to look. She didn't know what kind of feelings it would invoke but by the heat pooling low in her abdomen - she could hazard a guess.

“Have you got nothing to say for yourself?” 

She blushed wildly. Mouth flapping open and closing like a fish out of water. Trying to stamp down the unwelcome feeling that made her want to press her thighs together. 

He blinked at her. Dark eyebrows lowering sceptically. "You're staring."

"I am not!” she spluttered. Trying to recapture the feeling of overwhelming irritation she’d felt the precise moment she’d thrown him overboard. “An obnoxious idiot just happens to be shouting his head off in my eyeline."

"You're blushing." He smirked, voice giddy with amusement as if he'd finally cracked some impossible puzzle. Her hands snapped up to clasp her burning face to hide the evidence. His tongue darted across his bottom lip licking off water. Which only made her cheeks burn hotter.

"Is that why you pushed me in? Wanted to get a good look?"

"I wanted you to shut your mouth and stop whinging for five minutes so I could have some bloody peace. But it seems to have had the opposite effect - you're chatting even more bollocks than before."

"So this why you’re so insufferable all the time. This-” He gestured down to his dishevelled albeit to her utter dismay, not unappealing state of undress. “Is your idea of flirting?”

“Flir- Flirting? You must have knocked your head on your way down.”

“Merlin. This is rich - You’d be pulling on my pigtails if I had them."

"No. I. Wouldn't!"

Foot stomping hard on the rickety planks in frustration. Rather childish and definitely not her proudest display. It did little to prove her argument and instead to her dismay only seemed to make Sebastian grin wider.

"You fancy me." Not a question. He declared it like he’d won some imaginary battle. 

"I absolutely do not."

He leaned further towards her she could see the glint of triumph in his brown eyes. She swallowed hard eyes flicking towards his lips and back again. 

"Liar.”

Strong hands seized her face and knowing he’d won - Sebastian crashed his lips into hers. They were wet and cool against hers from his tumble into the lake as he kissed her. But so soft and inviting in a way she didn’t think anyone's flesh could be it made her head spin. His fingers tangled in her hair, mouth moving demanding against hers. 

Her knee jerked instinctively towards his most precious area but faltered, along with the last of her pride. She could not seem to find the will to pry herself away. Sebastian’s teeth grazed her bottom lip requesting access. She gasped in surprise and he slid his tongue past her parted lips. A shudder ran through her as his tongue flicked against hers.  

He groaned into her mouth, as her tongue matched his motions in maddening strokes. A sound under normal circumstances she would have mocked him mercilessly for only made her kiss him back more feverishly. Regrettably, her hands were just as traitorous as her tongue. Following the curve of broad shoulders, she felt the muscles underneath firm from years of duelling. Admitting defeat she dared to go further tangling in his wet hair. Pulling gently hoping it would elicit more sinful sounds from Sebastian. 

A deep well of desire now pooled in her gut all rational thoughts drowned in. She failed miserably to stifle her own strained moan as large hands encircled her waist pulling her flush against him. Skin practically burning despite the frigid temperatures.

A truly pathetic whimper of protest escaped her lips as Sebastian pulled away from their kiss. Leaving her breathless and dizzy even as the cold rushed in. No longer able to leech his warmth she shamefully realised how close their bodies had been pressed together from the chill of her damp clothes. 

He stepped back and if she was capable of forming a coherent thought she would have hexed the smug look off his ridiculous, handsome, infuriating face. 

"Now. I'm going to go and get out of these wet clothes before I catch a death," Sebastian said. As casually as if he was observing the weather and had not just spent the last five minutes snogging the supposed most insufferable witch he’d ever met. Turning quickly on his heels he began striding towards the boat house. Leaving her open-mouthed cheeks burning from the frigid wind lapping at the wet hand print on her cheek or with shameful unwanted desire she wasn't sure. Calling back over his shoulder. A roughish smile pulled on freckled cheeks. A devilish glint in his eye. "If you're ready to stop being such a brat - I'll let you help."

She groaned inwardly, legs following him across the jetty seemingly of their own accord. Powerless to stop herself and praying no one would see her shameless pursuit. 

She knew he'd never let her live this one down.

Not that she cared.

[sapphicsigh]

I don't want a 3rd szn without Izzy. I just don't. Call me dramatic or whatever, but I'm so genuinely heartbroken by his death. I feel so betrayed. Izzy was the heart of the show, and now he's gone.

The aftermath of his death felt rushed, he wasn't buried at sea (like what the fuck, a lifelong pirate like Izzy would've wanted to be buried at sea) and the crew was just happy to get back on the revenge and set sail without their unicorn? Everyone just gets a happily ever without Izzy? Izzy died a painful death shot by a pompous asshole and for what? Some metaphor about the end of the golden age of piracy? Piss off. Closure for Ed? That could've been achieved a number of other ways. Izzy couldn't get any assurances that HE was loved? Even on his fucking deathbed? The man who protected the crew with life and limb? It doesn't feel right, and it never will. Izzy deserved so much better, and so did Con.

And worst of all, perhaps, is that Djenkins was planning on killing him all along. The whole time, while we were falling in love with the little angry man, rooting for him and rejoicing when he wore makeup in front of the crew and was vulnerable with them...he was a dead man walking.*

*I've seen ppl make rlly good points about how death was treated throughout the show and I wanted to add that context here. If I can find whose post I'm thinking of, I'll tag them

**Edit: Izzy's death was an incredible shock. EVERYONE ELSE IN THE SHOW survived their near death experiences!!! Stede got choked near to death, stabbed (twice!), and survived all of that unscathed. Ed got his head smashed in by a FUCKING CANNONBALL, pumbled by the crew and made it out with barely a scrape. Even Calico Jack could've (apparently) escaped death after being shot with a goddamn cannonball. The Swede was poisoned but was already immune to it. Wow! We (at least I felt this way), as an audience, believed that there wouldn't be any character deaths due to the overwhelming evidence we'd been given thus far. So after alllll the in show evidence that the laws of medicine or physics don't apply to ANY of the pirates, why suddenly apply it when it comes to Izzy? Hmmm??? It makes no fucking sense. It's cruel and unusual punishment. They really killed off the queer disabled elder??? Jesus christ. Did not a single person in the writer's room have a qualm about it? The optics alone are bad. But more importantly, killing off the queer disabled elder is inherently political, whether djenkins thought of it that way or not (& i dont think he did). The mere existence of queer people is inherently political in a society (the US), which wishes for our eradication. So killing off a beloved queer disabled elder, on a show which seemed to promise us queer joy and a happy ending, IS POLITICAL. it's a slap in the face and a punch through the fucking gut.

It feels doubly awful because we, as an audience, were given something we've never had before, an unapologetically queer show. One that didn't soften or censor itself for straight viewers. It was created with such love, at least it felt like, for us. So to be given that gift, and to feel recognized and seen and appreciated, only to have it snatched away...

I can only speak for myself, of course, but it's genuinely heartbreaking. I'm so utterly disappointed. I wish so badly that Con got more time with Izzy. I think Izzy means a lot to him, and he means a lot to us, too.

❤️‍🩹🦄❤️‍🩹I love you, Izzy, and I always will. Rest in peace, my little meow meow, you were and are so loved.❤️‍🩹🦄❤️‍🩹

[mythica0]

Ten-tickles

🎂: Epic the musical

🧁:Poseidon, Odysseus

🍫: Poseidon, Odysseus, Crew

Summary: Poseidon decides that instead of murdering an entire fleet, he’ll just humiliate the captain instead. It backfires.

A/N: thanks to the Anon who gave me the idea! I hope it’s what you pictured! Once again not super proud of the ending but whatevs. Some of the lines might be used in No More Suffering, we’ll… sea. Anyway, Enjoooooy! :3

Cw: swearing and intense tickles!

Ten-tickles

A loud, roaring voice echoed over the water.

“ODYSSEUS OF ITHACA!… do you know who I am?”

It was Poseidon, god of the seas, and he was pissed, his voice full of malice.

‘Oh no..’ Odysseus’ thoughts rang like bells in his head, trying to think of some way out of this.

Time passed, the god ranting angrily about a ‘lesson’ and how Odysseus needed to be ruthless and cruel.

“Come here, Odysseus.”

He paused, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“You’re… not going to kill me?”

Poseidon sighs. “Sadly, no. The fates have it in your future to get home safely. I cannot change that no matter how hard I try, so why bother.”

“Wait, really?” Odysseus grew so much hope at the words. He was going to get home. It was fate. But he was still confused. “Theeeeen… why?”

“You’ll see. I might not be killing you, but you do deserve a punishment, and I intend to deliver.”

Odysseus walks towards Poseidon, hesitant. But he doesn’t know what the god will do if he doesn’t obey, and how much worse it could be.

Once he’s in front of the god, he scoops up Odysseus, and taunts threateningly.

“I think a bit of public humiliation will be well suited~” Odysseus didn’t know why, but the tone he used sent shivers down his spine.

“what?”

With a sly, evil chuckle, Poseidon started to lightly scratch at Odysseus’ sides, forcing him to gasp and snap his mouth shut to prevent any more sounds from escaping. “Ah, I knew you’d fight~ makes it all the more embarrassing when you break, doesn’t it~?”

Odysseus was pursing his lips, struggling not to let the muffled giggles escape as he squirmed in place. Out of all the possibilities this was definitely not what he expected. He never would have thought Poseidon would resort to tickling of all things in a million years. And it made him feel a little more confident in what he could get away with. That’ll be important later.

In the meantime, Poseidon was still scratching gently against his side, getting faster and faster with each pass to increase how ticklish it felt. It was getting harder for Odysseus to hold back his giggles, muffled snickers and huffs of air that sounded more and more like laughter than breathing being released with every passing moment.

Then Poseidon worked his way under Odysseus’ arms- and he broke.

“Ppfft- fuhuhuhuck! Ehehahahahaha!”

Poseidon smirked, a smug expression dawned on his face as he spoke with a teasing lilt. “There we go~” he gave a sly chuckle before continuing, “I knew you’d break.”

“Shihihit- stohohop!” The unusual method of revenge was certain out working as intended, a blush dusting the captains face as he couldn’t do anything but laugh at the wiggling claws against his skin. His men looking on, confused and curious but also a little amused.

“Why should I? Seems to be working.”

Feeling a little emboldened by the lack of painful torture or murder, Odysseus decided to fight back. He started to move around and try to push Poseidon off, which wasn’t working. (At least not yet.)

The god let out another chuckle. “Oh? Trying to fight, are we?” After saying the words, Poseidon increased the intensity of the sensation, digging into Odysseus’ underarms with the exact pressure to make it extremely ticklish.

Odysseus twitched and let out a surprised bark of laughter before his giggles and laughs got much louder. “HOhoholy- gahahahah! Nohohohoho!”

“That’s what you get for trying to fight~”

Odysseus still felt that fire to fight however, and continued to do so, even though every time he did the tickles got more intense, making it harder for him to fight back.

“Ehahahahahaha fuhuhuck- ahahahahaha!”

“Stop trying to fight, stupid mortal. Every time you try I’m just going to make it worse.”

As Odysseus continued to struggle, Poseidon threw in some very corny jokes. “Seriously, Odysseus, you’d think you’d know better than to mess with a god, come on, water you thinking?”

If Odysseus wasn’t too occupied with being tickled, he would’ve blinked confusedly. “Whahahahat wahahas thahat? Thahat wahas hohohorrible!”

“I mean, you’re laughing. Can’t be that bad.”

“Thahahats Behehecause Yohoure tihihickling mehehehe!”

“Am I? I don’t know, sounds fishy.”

Odysseus groans through his laughs. “Uhuhugh, thahat wahahas wohohorse!”

Poseidon chuckled. What can he say? he loved a good ocean pun. “I mean, I like it, but that’s just how I Eel about it.”

Odysseus struggled even more, fueled by the amazing horrible puns. This led to Poseidon making the sensation stronger once again, forcing Odysseus into hysterics.

“Haha, I would stop struggling if I were you. You wouldn’t want to get yourself into even worse of a situation.”

But Odysseus continued to fight, and eventually going through the more intense feeling paid off, as he successfully got out of Poseidons hold and latched onto his side, quickly turning the tables.

“Whahahahat thehehe- hey!” Poseidon protested as Odysseus started to scribble and poke at his sides, flipping the situation to his favor.

“Haha, not so smug now, are ya?” He taunts with a chuckle, still scribbling his side. Odysseus turns to his crew. “Come help me with this, will ya?”

They immediately obey, a bunch of the men gathering around the now laughing, squirming god.

Poseidon could easily get out of this. Or at least he should be able to. He’s a god! But for some reason he finds that his strength is sapped from the tingling sensation, partially because.. he wasn’t sure he wanted them to stop.

“Hehahahaha dahahamn yohohou!”

Despite the protests, and despite the fact that he hasn’t really come to terms with the feelings himself, but Poseidon doesn’t entirely hate this. There are far too many men to count individually gathered around him and holding him there, scratching and scribbling on his whole torso, making him squirm and giggle endlessly.

But.. he found that he didn’t really want to make them stop. His angry mood from earlier was definitely fading, replaced by a giddy nervousness and happiness as the pleasant tingles zapped and sparked across his skin, sending him into fits of laughter.

Odysseus decided to use a bit of his own medicine, with a corny dad joke. “How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?”

“Whahahahat-?”

“Ten-tickles”

Poseidon wasn’t going to lie, he did laugh a little harder at the pun. Which Odysseus picked up on, of course.

“No way you actually liked that.” The captain teased with a laugh, only making Poseidon blush a bit.

The men continued to scratch and scribble and tickle the god of the tides, as he squirmed around.

“Hehehahahahaha shihihit! Mohortahahals- stahahahap!”

“Hmmm… I don’t think so.” Odysseus teased again, only increasing the intensity of his scratching. “You got me first.”

“Ahahahahahah shihit- nohohoho!”

Odysseus laughed with an overly dramatic scoff. “Um, yeah you did.”

“Yohou knohohow thahahats nohot whahat ihi meheheant- FUHUCK!” He was cut off by snort and louder laughter as someone started to lightly trace his gills.

“Haha, good job, Polites! Looks like you found a good spot.”

“SHiHIHIT NOHOT THEHERE- AHAHAHA!” The god’s laughter was much louder and more hysterical now, as one man, supposedly Polites, scratched around his gills and another traced his ear fins, some of his most ticklish spots.

And it wasn’t just those two spots either, there were also wiggling fingers on his ribs, stomach, sides, armpits, everywhere. It was so overwhelming, a strong sensory overload, but at the same time it felt… good. Poseidon found himself enjoying this, even though he was desperately laughing and struggling as he was tickled relentlessly by several men.

“IHIHIHI CAHAHANT- SHIHIHIT! STAHAHAHAP!”

“What’s wrong? The great god of the seas can’t handle a little tickling?”

The words made a blush spread on Poseidon’s face. “SHUHUHUT UHUP!”

Odysseus hummed and tapped his chin with one hand in mock thought, the other still teasing and tickling the soft flesh of the sea god. “Hmmm… let me think about it… no.”

“COHOHOME OHON! OHOHO MYHY- STAHAHAHAP! AAHAHAHAHAHA!” His laughter was loud and hysterical, tears starting to form in his eyes from the force of it. It tickled so much and they weren’t. Stopping. He was overcome with laughter and snorts, the electric, buzzing sensation never letting up around his gills or anywhere else.

He didn’t want to beg. That was so gods damn embarrassing, especially for a deity. But he was getting pretty damn close. It was so bad, yet so good at the same time, sending floods of happy chemicals through his systems from all the laughter. But despite that, it was still far too much for him to handle, so he eventually lost his grip over his words and self control, and… he started to beg.

“PLEHEHEHEASE- STAHAHAHAP! IHIHITS TOHOHOO MUHUHUCH PLEHEHEASE! IHIM SOHOHORRYYY!”

Odysseus smirked. “You’re gonna be nice? You’re gonna leave me and my men alone?”

“FUHUHUCK- YEHEHEHES! JUHUHUST STAHAHAP!”

Odysseus raises a hand to signal his men to stop, and they release Poseidon, who starts to breath heavily, giggles infesting every exhale.

“Hahahaha… hoholy fuhuhuck..you dehefinetly took my lesson in ruhuthlehessness..”

“I did, didn’t I?”

Poseidon eventually managed to cool his leftover giggles, and then perched himself on a pillar of water, holding his trident.

“Lesson fucking learned. I’ll leave you alone.” He chuckles a bit and then drops himself into the water, fading into the darkness of the ocean floor.

Odysseus chuckles as well, retaking his position at the wheel.

“That was certainly… an experience.”

“That it was.” Eurylochus confirmed. “It’s not every day you see a god begging and laughing hysterically.”

They continued on their way, sailing away towards a nearby island. Who knows what they’d face there.

———THE END————————————————

[steddieunderdogfics]

High And Tight by entanglednow

@entanglednow

Rating: Explicit

8,121 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Summer, Flirting, Steve Harrington is a Tease, Eddie Munson is a Mess, Pining, Idiots in Love, Steve Harrington Wears Short Shorts, First Kiss, First Time, Explicit Sexual Content, Rimming, Anal Sex, Unsafe Sex, Getting Together

Summary:

Eddie is suffering in the heat, and Steve's wardrobe choices feel like a cruel and unusual punishment.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Theme Weekend. The theme this weekend is First Kiss.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

hi baby! im sure ure flooded with requests but ive been feeling really insecure ab my hip dips n stretch marks lately n ur writing really comforts me... so i was wondering if u could write smt ab dokyeom or anyone u want rlly! finding reader feeling bad ab their hip dips and stretchmarks and he comforts them? totally ur choice love u! ❤

oh girl i have had the WORLDS WORST body image week ever so this request hits difffffffffffffferent. i'm so happy to do that -- for both of us. warnings: female reader, body image issues are a major theme, descriptions of physical insecurities of the reader, mention of a doctor visit, and possibly a bit angsty with a happy ending

this is:

No Less a Goddess

"can i come to the gym with you?" you ask shyly, peeking around the corner at your boyfriend, who is changing into his shorts and tee to work out.

"huh?" seokmin asks, whirling to look at you with his arms in the sleeves of his shirt, having been interrupted in pulling it over his head. "you've never asked before! i'd love to have you come along!"

"what do i wear?" you ask, unable to keep from smiling at his enthusiasm.

"anything you want!" he says. "just make sure it's easy to move in."

about fifteen minutes later, the two of you are walking down the stairs to the gym in your shared apartment complex, hand in hand. seokmin's sunny smile and idle chatter is almost enough to distract you from the growing knot of discomfort in your stomach.

sure enough, the second you walk in, you notice a woman running on the treadmill. her short shorts and sports bra are stylishly coordinated, at a stark contrast to your ratty gray sweatpants and ugly oversized tee. her legs are muscular, and you can't see a single ounce of fat on her. you swallow hard and try to pay attention to seokmin instead, who is excitedly showing you around. "and this is where i painstakingly grew the arms you have come to know and love," he's saying, pointing at the barbells. "you should say thank you."

"i appreciate your service," you say with a small salute, and seokmin chuckles.

"so, what are your fitness goals?" seokmin asks, shrugging off his jacket.

you have to appreciate how the gray tee hugs the contours of his body, so you just say, "i just want to be a part of whatever it is you've got going on." which makes him beam.

you join seokmin for leg day. surprisingly, you're amazed by how much you're actually able to do -- apparently years of working on your feet has paid off, and while you're not perfect, you can mostly keep up with your very athletic boyfriend. it's actually kind of fun, too, which is no surprise -- seokmin makes everything fun.

but in the back of your mind, you're still thinking about that woman on the treadmill. seokmin is the most loyal man you know, and the idea of him cheating on you is actually laughable, but you can't help but compare yourself to her. that's the kind of person he deserves, you think to yourself. not a slob like me.

it had been a bad week for your body image. earlier on, you'd had to go to the urgent care for a bad case of pink eye, and the doctor had announced your weight to you out loud, which honestly felt like cruel and unusual punishment, especially given that it was the heaviest you'd ever been. the sting was only exacerbated when you went shopping for a few new outfits for a cruise you were taking next month with seokmin. your love handles, your thick thighs covered in stretch marks and cellulite, your hip dips -- all these insecurities you'd always had seemed to zoom into the forefront of your mind and start yelling at you.

you hadn't yet confided in seokmin, because you knew exactly how he'd react. but it becomes impossible not to tell him when, post-gym and post-shower, he corners you in the bedroom and sits you firmly down on the mattress. "something's up," he insists. "what's wrong?"

"i'm feeling insecure," you admit, avoiding his gaze.

"about what?" he asks.

"have you noticed i've gained weight?" you ask in a small voice.

"no," he responds, confused. "is that what this is about?"

"at the doctor's office," you continue softly, "i found out i'm the heaviest i've ever been." you take a shuddering breath. "and i'm getting more and more stretch marks. and i just feel like you're so out of my league. i mean, look at you." you gesture to him in all his freshly showered glory.

seokmin just blinks. "well? do you have anything to say?" you ask him, feeling a little hurt at his lack of response.

he hesitates. "well, i'm not sure what to say," he says slowly.

"well, thanks," you say, standing up and stalking out of the room. "super helpful, babe."

"no, wait! come back!" seokmin says, sounding panicked. "let me finish."

"oh, was there more?" you shoot at him. "because your silence was really loud."

he sighs. "honey, i understand you're feeling upset and i get it, i really do. but you have to let me finish talking."

his patient tone of voice grates at your already frayed nerves, but you bite your tongue and sit back down on the bed. this is seokmin, you remind yourself. seokmin, the kindest person alive. seokmin, who never meant to hurt you even when he did. and seokmin, who always made things right.

he reaches over and grabs your hand. "it's hard for me to respond to that because to me, you're perfect," he begins. you scoff, and he squeezes your hand. "hear me out," he implores.

you sigh but finally turn to look him in the eyes. he gives a small smile before starting again, playing absently with your fingers. "your body is ..." he says, and trails off, his eyes devouring you hungrily. he finally shakes himself back to normal and continues. "ugh. i'm gonna get distracted if i go into more detail, but let's just say i'm more attracted to you now than i ever have been, and that's saying something." he laughs quietly. "it's hard for me to understand the insecurities because to me, you're a goddess."

"okay," you say hesitantly. "but that doesn't make them any less real."

"no, i know," seokmin agrees. "so i guess what i should've said is that... i'm really sorry you can't see yourself like i do right now. and i will do whatever it takes to remind you that no matter how things change, or how you change, i fell in love with you for so much more than just your body. and that's one thing that's never changing," he finishes.

you study him with a stony face for a moment. "okay, that was pretty good," you admit, finally cracking a smile.

"was it?" he asks.

"and you should be rewarded," you continue, sliding closer to him on the bed in the most suggestive way you can muster.

he blushes. "well...i'll never say no to that," he agrees, pulling you closer to him for a kiss.

[cablyunkataplum]

Stanford Filbrick Pines

Words: 4,524

Summary: He was so small next to him, he could fit in the palm of his two-dimensional hand and peel millimeter layer by millimeter layer to do whatever he wanted with the raw materials and waste. Previous enjoyment, at this moment repulsion for what is felt.

Written Curse: What can I say, saw someone suggesting it on Tiktok and I did it, Descriptions of insanity and more insanity, suicidal behavior, manipulation, paranoia, kind of religious trauma, self-harm (thoughts and action) depictions, and maybe more sensitive topics, please be aware, MDNI. it's kind of different from what I'm used to writing in some aspects but I enjoyed iy Seeeeeee yaaaaaa darlings!

Versión original-español

I walked through the mists of a gloomy limbo… If such a vague description makes sense, I paid attention to every step I took but I didn't feel it, almost as if it were a dream until my attention it was redirected, something was heard in the distance and I wondered what it could be. It carried with it a sinister air, perverse dyes that dripped phlegmatically, the forbidden, the temptation, the sin that, as its passage, seduced me to approach, thus, little by little, it was not only an unusual song but also a particular smell, a sensation that made one's skin crawl but as everything here was far from comprehending.

Time was distorted and my mind fell into a spiral that I didn't even know I had entered until seeing me in a dreary reflection a realization revealed, it was me.

That smell, that sound, everything… It was nothing more than my own body, that empty and rotten container that wanders aimlessly waiting for an end but even if I succumbed to the clutches of mortality, I know that my corpse would be nothing more than poison for this earth that now curses my existence. I beg for mercy even if I am not deserving and as a heretic I receive cruel punishment that lurks in the depths of my being, which from the beginning eats away at me, what led me to this state.

A simple act like the sliding of curtains felt so treacherous, he was turning his back on him and leaving him adrift. He deserves it, after all he did it was absurd that he thought he would receive any defense from him. He placed the reminder of the freshly made wound in the trash and tried to fall asleep but at no time did he blink, the minutes passed ignorantly to his situation and emotions so overwhelming that they seemed to mock without decorum. He had found a motivation that vanished at the same speed with which it arrived, he had to find another goal, a purpose, something that would give him what he had always longed for.

The days passed without anything remarkable, a blind and tired routine between corridors, living rooms and his bedroom with the irregular change of going to the library or chatting with his roommate, with whom he shared certain hobbies. He was about convincing that he enjoyed it, that despite being an unexpected result, he could take advantage of it and prove to himself that others were wrong, that he was better.

When he made the decision to live in Gravity Falls, it was as if that little flame struggled to remain incandescent and wanted to get bigger. It could be taken as an escape from home in a certain way, miles and miles away from his parents which doesn't make much difference from what it was in Backupsmore.

Everything was different, a new life that he would not let anything or anyone spoil. And so it was for quite some time, there was no day or night in which he did not find something fascinating, a distraction and a temporary relief to his thoughts that dejected him the most, but then, like a rose, it began to wither and the petals fell. Leaving a voracious appetite again.

And what happened when the snake approached him? He fell for the deception. So desperate for a shred of recognition, acceptance… And what person could resist a being greater than their own existence? It was an honor to be the favorite of such a sublime presence, a powerful being who did respond to his prayers, to his doubts, where he believed he was walking on the same floor as this one and not below as he was for so many years with his kind, he was finally an equal.

A nosedive into veneration.

The night was paler than the moon itself, its emanations were blunderbussed as they passed through the stained-glass windows with motifs that I distributed with my own free will throughout my cabin. Immersed in my inscriptions, Bill prowled in the same space and chatted about things that I didn't pay enough attention to since I was used to his actions. When I finished my last stroke I placed the pen aside and closed the bottle of ink to let it rest and therefore dry the contents of the page.

"Hey, Sixer" I turned my head and the first thing my eyes met was the triangle reflecting my appearance, I raised my eyebrow until he continued "Look, someone with science of humor" he laughed to return to his color, he snapped his fingers and pointed at me "Did you understand my pun?", "Of course I did, It's a simple enough thing not to" I adjusted my glasses before closing my journal, getting up from my chair and walking over to put it on the shelf next to the other books in my collection.

"You demean yourself a lot, don't you think? Give yourself some credit" he turned around as he moved forward with me, "I do credit myself but I know when things are easy, Bill" I rolled my eyes and left the room, on the stairs he was behind me "That's because you're very intelligent and perceptive, not everyone would have understood it the first time or the second" At these words I smiled but not for much since the day had exhausted me enough to use my muscles. The cabin was as lonely as the day it was finished, on one hand it was reassuring not to have to deal with those noises resulting from annoying habits of other people but on the other hand I couldn't help but feel more lonely… at least I had Bill by my side, even if I got desperate but very rarely. Maybe I should make a statistic about that.

"It's better as you are if you ask me," I heard his voice again but this time I didn't look at him, I went down step by step until I finally reached the floor. "What are you talking about?" I really had no idea, "Nobody deserves you, Ford" that confession intrigued me now in the kitchen where I didn't turn on the light bulb and only opened one of the drawers in the cupboard for a glass. "I mean, just look at you, six fingers; attractive, intelligent, funny, organized. You're out of their league, much better than all of them" he stood in my field of vision and crossed his arms, "And I doubt very much that you would settle for that anyway".

The circumstances that led to such a fatal encounter…

I closed my lips and remained silent, his words like gasoline for thoughts and speculations to nest in my head "We'll never know, they're counterfactual events and hypothetical situations" I drank from the glass I had previously filled with water "Besides, it makes me sound like a narciss-", "Hey, hey, stop your car, friend" Bill pushed and pulled his arms in the space between him and me "I don't say that with those implications, you're very humble Stanford" he moved his body in such a way that it gave the impression of shaking his head, he raised his arms "Everything you're doing will benefit humanity, for me that's not being selfish, quite the opposite" he approached and placed his elbow on my right shoulder.

"What I mean is that you're better off like this" with the open hand of the other arm he pointed at me, moving up and down, to emphasize his point. "You're happier than you could have been" I was still with my eyes on him without speaking "I'll show you" he moved away a little to extend his arm. "You trust me, right?". It was a bit strange to me that Bill used to ask about my trust in him as often as he did, but I always assumed that being someone with his powers was normal, after all it was logical that when he gave me knowledge and his friendship he needed to know that I would not misuse his generosity.

"Of course I do" I took his hand, his eye curled "You can always trust me, Sixer".

The cabin began to crumble and suddenly the environment changed to an impeccable construction that I did not recognize, at least not immediately, laughter and chatter filled my ears while my eyes ventured to get used to the interior, the sound of some open doors made me spin slightly where I saw something that squeezed my heart, in front of seats and more seats there I was, walking on the stage with a toga, I received my title and it was clear. I was graduating from West Coast Institute of Technology.

It was something unreal to see myself in this situation, to see how my face reflected true enthusiasm and happiness at achieving one of my many dreams that I had as a teenager. My parents were there, Stanley was there and his face was a mixture of pride and joy for me; disappointment, loneliness and doubt in those small details. It continued with a family celebration until the scene changed for the second time where I now worked as an inventor in a company of sorts, I knew that time moved forward thanks to the fictitious calendar, which at first filled the Stanford in front of me with motivation, now it filled him wit sadness. It caused him misery as he was limited by his contract, he no longer had time for his own projects or the family with whom he maintained contact.

And everything changed again, I was on Backupsmore and another possibility unfolded, I met someone and we developed feelings for each other and then, we get married? That would be a waste of my research time and even more so as I watched how we both settled in Gravity Falls and then started a small family, with similar results I gradually fell into the same thing: misfortune, sorrow, and suspicion due to the dissatisfaction with the life I was leading. I separated from my spouse to try to have some serenity but nothing, I constantly saw my other self immersed in the memories and torments of his decision, of the intensity of those discussions; about what was said or not said.

When I turned to the other side, my eyes widened when I found myself in front of the same person, they were talking or rather vociferating, it had taken me a moment to process that change so that their words made sense. "Who is going to want to be with someone like you, Stanford!?" Their face was like a slap that burned even before it landed aggrievedly on my face, but I couldn't mutter so shocked by the constant receipt of information "You're a damn selfish man!" they pointed accusation at me while they continued with their argument. Each syllable only served to sharpen the stake and in the end when it stuck in my heart I looked down, it seemed it could never escape me. Something I never asked for.

Then I knew that my insides were questioning and mortifying. Love is such a complicated concept for a mind like me, I have witnessed finite ways to demonstrate it and I can't seem to fully understand it, from my childhood until now, I still think that it is nothing more than frivolities that everyone pretends to know and handle. and then judge those who try to reach it with simplicity.

On many occasions I had witnessed my father's demonstrations towards Stanley and much more aware when they were for me. So many times I heard the expectations, his disappointments or simply his thoughts about us and each time I felt the need to relieve him but without leaving my brother aside, I wanted to be the one who was deserving enough to let me into his vulnerability and let him know that just as he loved me, I loved him. His words...they hurt , they made me feel insufficient and had the same effect on my brother but... I guess it was his way of showing that we were important, that he knew we could be even better.

That's how this person vanished and windows surrounded me to show hundreds of other situations, no matter how different they were, they all ended in disappointment "Do you see what I mean?" Bill finally decided to make his presence again and with an irritated attitude. He stayed in front of my eyes without the windows stopping rotating around us "They wouldn't appreciate you, six fingers. They are the selfish ones, the fatuous ones who couldn't stand someone as genuine as you" with his hands he enlarged one of the windows that remains motionless to show the image "Even before you moved here" my mother appears, then my father, Stanley and other people with whom I once crossed paths "They hurt you but expect you to give everything for them without complaining" he sighs "And that is why this is better for you".

"You have me by your side, I have seen what the others have not" now we moved to the usual space and he made me sit down, a cup of tea in hand "And I feel very lucky that it was you who called me and not a trashy scientist or something like that" he rolled his eyes and I just laughed, I adjusted my glasses with a little push of my index finger and sipped the liquid "I'm the lucky one, Cipher. It is not an everyday occurrence that such an intriguing and wise being decides to respond to my call" I thought the conversation would go to a more pleasant one immediately but Bill just looked at me "You are very important to me, Sixer" I didn't know what to do or say. because of the seriousness with which he said it "I need you... I would love to be in your dimension to spend more time with you, you know?" I stood up to finally be able to say something until his laughter was the next thing "I mean, at this point you are like my family and that is what all those corny things do to someone" I smiled and nodded, amused at his choice of words "Do you also need me as much as I need you, six fingers?"

"I need you, Bill".

Years later, standing on the bow looking out over the vast sea, he meditated while the other Pines was resting. The waves combined with their reflections induced a peaceful state but a hollowness different from the others persisted. The movement reminded him of thoughts and internal debates at his worst, where he let himself be dragged into the darkness and suffer in it.

If he jumped, it was likely that he would find the sense to live, hewas barely visible due to the stars that saw themselves still, the wood under his feet did not creak or seemed to recognize him, a ghost in pain that wanders in the icy night. He took a step closer to the edge but didn't take anything off, the weight would do. But with half his feet suspended and the other half still on the dock he stayed like that. How long did it take until his heart even beat? When he regained consciousness he was in his bed without a shirt or any clothing for his torso, mere soaked socks the only fabric on his body other than the blankets that maintained an acceptable temperature.

The next morning he left the cabin and walked unconsciously into the forest. Some creatures that he had already studied looked out timidly when they saw the afflicted figure of the man, who acted with the nature of a magnet. He arrived at an area where the trees contained peculiar lines that kept following him. Murmurs began to greet him and say nonsense. When he tried to ignore him, he realized where he was standing and froze. Thousands of eyes stared at him without blinking, they did not have an iris so the blackness of the pupil made him more gloomy and as if they were reading his thoughts, they began to manifest throughout him until he was no longer but a cluster of these organs.

He had come to consider removing his eyes, the simple fact of remembering that he had those orbs caused the most unpleasant reactions in his body, the immediate rejection of a similar object in a metaphorical or literal way, in any information format, just like the other geometric figure. What was once a paradise in their home now behaved like hell. His knuckles were still in limited recovery but his mind was an uncertain omen.

Or he would see his wrists that palely denoted something that he had come to hate and he would think that perhaps, with the help of some instruments he could manage to remove those ropes from his entire body, no matter how long or how painful it meant that Bill would not be able to use him never again. And he tried. What did it matter, if he was already alien to any humanity. His mania for sharp things was not discouraged, if there was the possibility of being there, it was, but; of not, did it by force. Like that time, one of the many times.

It was a moment like the other, he was wandering through the forest, now the ardor flamed between the distances from one flora to another, the aberrant calm. His body rocked because his swollen feet tried not to feel his condition, as well as making himself sick until he couldn't take it anymore and sat down against a tree. He removed his glasses to rub his eyelids with the impression of not being lucid. When he opened them, he realized that the tree in front that reached to the heavens was no longer a tree, a block splintered in its place surrounded by other thorns as a replacement. He knelt before standing on his feet and walking until the tips of his shoes touched the messy roots and he got back on his knees, his hands resting on the edge of this circle, how could he see in such detail without his glasses on?

There was no room for that question because he hunched over and brought his face closer…closer…even closer. His skin instinctively repelled his face but the word is there, instinct. Macabre allusion when the fine fabric did not hold for long and spilled on the wood until its anatomy prevented it from breaking, he moved away with complicated motion as some tried to continue in him, and at a slightly considerable distance. Whipping. And the snap didn't take long. Paralyzed it oozed with more current, the thorns appropriated the rest until they swallowed the last piece.

He hurriedly opened his eyes and sheltered his head to check that everything was still together to get out of there without waiting. It was just a dream.

Few interactions with other people made his delusions worse, strangers who were crafty, stupid, lacking in judgment, narcissistic, filthy... he was 100% sure that they reeked of Cipher. But he would not make that 'knowledge' evident, with his hands and elbows on the table he turned his back to the costumers and workers, he knew that they were watching him with that damned smile and those devilish eyes. Disgust to the one who touched his shoulder, his left imprisoned the outer wrist but what he saw was fear in normal pupils and a short circuit occurred within his logic, his face became grim when the woman began to laugh.

Another woman followed a few tables in front, so that like an infection all the faces would lengthen. Without control he imitated, the sweat reflected the terror that the experience gave him, his right hooked half of his face. His nerves had jammed as well as his vocal cords with the same sound quality as a phonograph. At the windows, palms slapped against this surface, their eyes moved quickly and in the opposite direction to the complement of their pair "I still have my eyes on ya, Stanford" they spoke in unison "Too bad you won't have any!" and some of the limbs that were hitting the windows passed through them and lunged at him, with specific emphasis on his eyes. He bent down and pulled the woman so he could leave the establishment.

Was it a good idea to have sent that postcard? It made him an easier target, he didn't know what Bill's supposed henchman could do to find him but if he was under his orders it was common sense that he already knew his location. There was no way to know what tactics he would be able to use. It could even already be at his house and he wouldn't know it.

He was so small next to him, he could fit in the palm of his two-dimensional hand and peel millimeter layer by millimeter layer to do whatever he wanted with the raw materials and waste. Previous enjoyment, at this moment repulsion for what is felt. When he turned the handle and the door gave him permission to enter, everything contained his essence, from the rugs to the money he carried with him. With his chest almost touching one of the tapestries, he wrapped himself up and inhaled the intoxicating fragrance, pressing it to his ribs. and began to rub his face against the fabric. As he raised his head, it was now suspended by his semi-extended arms, he looked at the ceiling and tears flowed. He still needed him.

"Wow" Bill spined his cane while he continued to see me in the mirror "It looks great on you, tiger" I arched my eyebrows without stopping smiling "Really?" I turned my body while taking my eyes off the mirror and adjusted my coat "Do you call me a liar?" he made clicking sounds and helped to adjust the garment "Come on, man…you're pretty much the definition of romantic, Beethoven would be jealous" this made me laugh and I restated my posture now with my fingers adjusting my neck, I had to admit that the costume was quite refined and just as I expected a period costume to feel.

"Ready to go?" he bowed and took off his hat that I reciprocated with another bow, we walked until we reached the place of the event where the most outstanding intellectuals of all time waited with cocktails in hand and chatting with each other. When I entered I had a drink and went to talk to a small group with Bill's company, even with the magnitude of the revelation I did not feel nervous, in fact, I was sure of myself and deep down I did not care what opinions they would give me as soon as the curtain came off.

When the time struck we both took the lead and gave a speech, his jokes were not lacking. When I pulled the curtain and the portal was in sight I heard exclamations, there was a silence until everyone began to applaud and ask its mechanism, my smile was so big that Cipher pushed his elbow against my arm and we only smiled before addressing the others to answer their questions.

When I woke up I didn't wait to stand up and go to work in the portal.

He remembers when his palate caught the improper corroded and pulled his upper lip that showed his red teeth in the mirror, he ran a finger to clean them but did not investigate further, convinced that Bill, by using his body got into a fight and that this was a mixture of his fluids with those of others. There were several times that it was repeated and that he decided to accept his explanation. How much had he done while using his body? For God's sake, the photographs showed him but he was a piece of something bigger, what repulsive things that being must have been capable of.

During the 30 years out of his dimension the thirst for revenge never paled, on the contrary, it grew stronger with each day that he felt his blood boil at every mention of his name. He lived for that, he had to… to see the day when Bill Cipher ceased to be a threat to reality.

But he never expected his defeat to happen in the circumstances in which they occurred. Seeing his brother with his head down and now empty as him, added to his guilt and afflictions, Stanley was always strong, determined and confident in his eyes. The other side of the coin.

The days went as the whole family and even Soos or Wendy helped Stan regain his memory and with that he tried to get his life back, which he now knew Stanley didn't take from him but Bill.

He used to think that he had to give everything to receive the minimum, but when he returned and got forgiveness… love… It was difficult to accept it at first but the night he found old photographs as well as home videos from his childhood that the brothers reminisced about, something changed.

"I can't believe you actually did that," he put his hand on his stomach and laughed, Stanley only crossed his legs and arms before extending his last ones with a failed attempt to look annoyed at the comment "It's pure comedy! A brainiac like you wouldn't understand my developed sense of humor" a blow landed on his twin's shoulder. "It drives ladies crazy" "Oh, I don't doubt it, completely crazy," he nodded mockingly in his way of doing it.

Stan hit him again "Idiot" Ford rubbed himself before returning the blow with greater force, to be fair "Nerd". After a while sleep began to come to them, Ford put his head on the shoulder of his hand while his held the bowl on his lap, and on the verge of succumbing to it he heard "I love you, Ford" a long second passed until the words came out of his mouth "I love you too, Stanley."

People could love him for who he was, not for how deserving he could get that affection.

He continued with his eyes on the wide sea remembering the details of his whole life and with that voice that told him that he was still broken. "Ford, the children are calling us!-- Stan shouted on the other side of the Stan O' War II, "Coming!" so he made his way, but not before stopping and turning to see the sea again, with an inhalation of the salty air he whispered, "I don't need you."

"Hurry up, Poindexter or else I'll throw you overboard" the sound of the seagulls, he pushed his glasses higher and resumed his steps. "Greetings children, how are my favorite kids of all dimensions?", "Uncle Ford!".

[ineedmyknightcommander]

It was only earlier today that I was hoping my icon and handle makes it obvious for my new followers I'm 95% a Meredith Stannard shitposting account, and now the Meresino chat is brainstorming Meredith/Emmrich plotbunnies and we're eating good tonight—

My contribution is a DA2 ending AU wherein First Enchanter Orsino, known forbidden necromancy enjoyer, has been in regular correspondence with Johanna Hezenkoss (CEO of validation and shenanigans) and they end up responding to Meredith's invocation of the Rite of Annulment by raising an army of superpowered undead, because there's a lot of available corpses in Kirkwall and the Fade in the vicinity is already fucky, perfect for mages who might be motivated to push the limitations of magic. Meredith's full descent into paranoia is halted because it turns out she was right, there was mage scheming afoot, and the Mourn Watch is forced to actually investigate once it's plainly obvious someone is leaking Order secrets. And who better to send than Emmrich Volkarin, who knows Johanna/her research better than anyone? 🤔 Mind you, I don't know if I'd ever actually write this, because I only have so hours in the day and it's less a story than it is several thematic elements in a trenchcoat, but God, the parallels would be so much fun to explore. (And also that sending Emmrich to Kirkwall feels like a cruel and unusual punishment he did nothing to deserve.)

[xstarkillerx]

me when donnie writes nasty dom smut about how tyrannical anakin can be as a sexual partner bcos he’s traumatized and deranged 📸📸📸

yes this is about your chastity ashtray bit

aye yai yai imagine what you’d go through if he caught you trying to rub yourself hopelessly using the very contraption he forced you in

i wonder what you did to deserve being put there in the first place asmsksmdmxm 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Read this at 2:00am when I was supposed to be up by 4:00am, I've since taken time to mull things over🧘 spoiler... he get's meaner (implied consent). Oh and if you're a smoker, pretend you're not, for the next 973 words (I really didn't mean to end up writing that much)

Cruel and Unusual Punishment (ramble)

So yeah I reeeeally feel like I can see the look on his face when he sees you, like it's right there in my minds eye OK. His eyes are dark, but the corners of his mouth twitch the way they do when he's holding something back, you know, a smile, a witty remark, some vulgar thing on the tip of his tongue, whatever. But he's amused by you, so he takes a seat on one of the chairs in the room and you're left tentatively rocking your hips against whatever you were humping a minute ago. Because really, what's more embarrassing, stopping because you've been caught or continuing with him in the room? The answer is, being unsure of which action will get you into more trouble and he loves that he can see it on your face.

You feel a push against the curve of your spine though, warm but ghostly in the way the force always feels, and it guides your hips forward. Back. Forward. Back. And of course you still don't feel anything, but the motion is provocative enough to get you lost in it for a moment. When you risk a glance at him though, he isn't looking at you; he's got one hand up to use the force, but his eyes are focussed on the lighter burning the end of the cigarra between his lips. He doesn't often smoke. It's a prop more than anything, something to further sour him for you when he feels like being mean.

You avert your eyes before he gets the chance to look at you again. You hear him stand and loom closer. His force grip migrates to your hip and you can feel the indentation of each finger now, bruising, biting with dull phantom nails. The burning smell grows stronger. It's in your hair now as he blows it above your head.

There is still no sensation, but a growing ache in your torso, a pit in your stomach, and Anakin's flesh hand ghosting its touch at the small of your back. It travels up your body, a gentle threat between the shoulder blade, then neck, splaying into an open-hand cradle of the base your skull. His fingers travel up. You know it's coming; he clenches a fist full of your hair and roughly drags it back. Gasping, neck exposed, lips parted, gyrating like a fucking whore, you know you must look pathetic to him. His smile is sickly as he plucks the ciggara from his lips and places it between yours.

"Smoke it." He taunts. He knows you don't smoke, he knows you fucking hate it but his grip on your hair gets tighter and his head tilts expectantly. He's serious. The coughing fit is immediate and uncontrollable. The ciggara falls, barely missing your bare thigh causing you to flinch and yet his fist doesn't budge. The sharp pain in your outstretched throat grows with every cough, unsoothed by the string of kisses Anakin has begun trailing up the expanse of your pulsing neck.

"Again," he whispers in your ear, taking the ciggara and placing it between your lips once again, "deeper."

"Ani-" you choke in protest between fits of coughing. He doesn't acknowledge you, pre-occupied with entertaining himself with your body: kissing, biting, sucking, groping. Anakin takes a moment to reposition himself, now sitting on the bed he cradles your wheezing frame, your back against his chest.

"one more, please baby, just one more," his voice is gentler than his hands, bordering on pleading as the cold fingers of his metal hand play with your tits. He feels your chest expand as you relent and take a deep drag, and revels in the immediate shudder of another coughing fit. It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad. Your lungs reject every desperate grasp for oxygen, you're sure you're almost purple but the coughs just keep coming.

Anakin buries his face in your hair, leaving kisses across your sore scalp. Gentle, gentle, every kiss, every touch, every sound of sympathy has turned so gentle and your heaving body can't make sense of it. What is he playing at?

"Now," he says, "say sorry." but you can't, not through the coughing, not with the lack of air in your lungs. He brushes the now tangled mess of hair out of your face.

"Say you're sorry," he repeats, colder, more demanding, but you can't even attempt it right now because your lungs are screaming and it makes your eyes sting with tears. You understand the game he's playing now and it's a fucking cruel one.

He's got a hand on your throat now, feeling every muscle move and contraction as the coughing fit finally wears down, his eyes say it for him. Tell me you're fucking sorry, or you'll regret it.

"I'm sorry," you finally muster. Still horse, still sore in the throat.

"For what?" He's rubbing salt into the wound.

"Trying to touch what doesn't belong to me," you can only get it out above a whisper, but Anakin seems to soften after that. The hand at your throat trails upward and gently cups your face, urging you to turn around and look at him. His lips twitch with a ghost of a smile at your tear-filled red eyes and the drool threatening to leak from your bottom lip. He's satisfied with the mess he made out of you.

"Throat hurt?" He asks, sounding just shy of concerned. You nod your head, too sore, too dry, to embarrassed to utter a word. "Open," he urges, his thumb brushing your reddened lips that part for him. Anakin leans in close before spitting right into your mouth and pushing you off of him. As he stands he finds the discarded ciggara and carelessly puts it out on the table.

" If I catch you doing that again, I'll put it out on your skin."

Anakin leaves the room.

Masterlist

[box-architecture]

OK I'm sort of rotating this oneshot-twoshot with demons and angels where Sam is a warden demon in charge of some sort of prison in the afterlife, usually for cruel and unusual punishments, and Dream is his incubus husband who does sex work in both heaven and hell. Usually his clientele is for angels and demons rather than the souls that come passing through. He's also on call for some jobs on Earth when things get dicey and need a demon that can hold their own, and at some point his summoning runes got written down in a few places, so occasionally a random person summons him and gets their shit rocked.

(Sam's armor has heeled boots so he can be taller than Dream as usual. He is Very Dominant and In Charge He Insists)

(Dream smiles and Sam is smitten and gone and begging for headpats and skritches)

A long time prior to the oneshot, Sam was like, severely shitty and abusive to Dream, put him in a cage, as per usual, though I have no idea if they were married or not when this happened. Sam ends up realizing this isn't okay, and after being turned in to Rehabilitation (Limbo has a special area dedicated to therapy and Getting Better because I said so) he's in a better state, able to work again, and Dream has forgiven him, even if he will never say it out loud and Sam will never ask him to. They've been enjoying a few thousand years of being married and in love and Sam is completely head over heels and if he ever hurts his Husband again he thinks he might have to impale himself on his own trident.

But Dream has friends and they Don't Like Him. Don't believe he deserves his Dream. They don't say it, but their eyes hold recrimination. You hurt him. You shouldn't be allowed to touch him.

And the one Sam's most insecure about is Punz, an angel who guards Dream so fiercely. He covers Dream with his wings and smiles warmly at him and let's Dream wrap his tail around his arm without a word. He loves Dream, Sam knows, because he looks at him the way Sam does.

He's seen it, and it's terrifying. Because Punz is so good to Dream. Loving and sweet and would never hurt him, not the way Sam did. He's afraid Dream will one day understand the immensity of Punz's feelings and leave Sam all alone.

Just a little longer, Sam begs, feeling Dreams tail wrap around his neck, grounding him in a way nothing else can. Just let me have him a little longer.

(Its haunting him. He's afraid of hurting Dream and afraid of Dream being taken from him and he wants Dream all to himself until the end of time. He knows he shouldn't be thinking like that but he can't help it. He should be talking to someone about this, but if he goes back to Rehabilitation he's afraid Dream will finally realize he could be doing better than his husband. He can't lose Dream.)

Dream on the other hand has never been happier in his life. He has his Husband who he loves so, so much, his friends have been getting along for the first time in centuries without feud or messy world ending shenanigans, and he actually is really enjoying his job, it has benefits and vacation days and weekends off. He gets to wake up his husband on Saturdays to sweet kisses and they go out for brunch together. Life is good in hell

The only problem is Sam has been looking stressed lately, and that's worrying him. Maybe he needs a vacation. They could go somewhere peaceful and Dream could press his head into his lap and then maybe Sam would spill his worries for Dream to soothe. It'll be okay.

The oneshot idea was just Sam seeing Dream talking to Punz, who brought him back home, and internally stressing the fuck out because Punz Loves Dream What If They Take Him Away Forever. Sam begs Dream to stay with him during his work day, and Dream tucks himself into Sam's side while they sits on his throne, and wraps his tail around Sam's neck like a collar to keep him settled and calm and soothed.

Sam does his work day while Dream sleeps on him (Dreams shift was during the night, so he showed up in the morning right as Sam was about to start his day) and then after the day is over they change into comfy clothes and sleep.

Next day is their weekend off and Dream tries to get Sam to tell him what's wrong by riding him and taking control, but Sam forces him down and fucks him until he admits he's Sam's. Aftercare is Dream cuddling Sam while Sam is in tears and finally admitting that he's afraid Dream will leave him for Punz. Dream assures him that no, no, Sam is Dream's too, Dream loves his Sam. He doesn't want to leave. His favorite person in the universe is right here.

The twoshot would be Punz getting together with them but instead of doing so through Dream, he starts getting to know Sam. Sam has Dream's reassurance that he won't leave Sam, but he doesn't know how to feel about this pretty murder angel looking at him and observing him and brushing his fingers against his arms

Sam and Punz falling in love, until Sam is stuttering and flushing in embarrassment, wide eyed and looking to Dream for protection from this Pretty Man who won't stop showing up and looking so nice and smirking so mischievously

[running-with-the-feels]

Can we get more Subscorp and Bireenacage? Please? Only if you want to

Honey, I always want to, these are my otps

There is NSFW stuff in this Y'all, you've been warned

---

Subscorp:

Kuai Liang: THis is cruel and unusual punishment!

Hanzo, with a weary sigh: No, it isn't. It's your asthma inhaler, so you don't die

Kuai Liang, glaring: Do you even love me?

---

Hanzo: I want cuddles

Kuai Liang: I have paperwork, but you can come sit on my lap until I'm done if you like?

Hanzo, moving to do just that: You just want an excuse to make out with me whenever you get frustrated with it

Kuai Liang: Are you complaining?

Hanzo: Never

---

Kuai Liang, an empty Kage Rage in hand and running on 0 sleep: I think I'm being haunted

Hanzo: I think you need to go to bed

Kuai Liang, climbing into his lap: No. That's where the ghost is. I'm sleeping here

Hanzo, chuckling: Okay, my love

---

Bireencage:

Sareena: I walked away for five minutes

Bi-Han, naked with Johnny's mouth on him: Sorry?

Sareena: Don't be, just give me a good show.

Johnny: Pulling off to kiss her: Yes, ma'am

---

Bi-Han: Why are my sheets different?

Johnny: I changed them, they're silk now and softer than an Angel's pubic hair

Bi-Han: That was a terrible metaphor and also this was unnecessary

Johnny: It really wasn't, your last bedsheets felt like burlap

Bi-Han: They were

Johnny: Now, see, that just hurts me, in my soul

Bi-Han: You really didn't have to do this for me, it's too....luxurious

Johnny: Well I think you deserve a bit of luxury

Bi-Han, opening his mouth to protest:

Johnny, interrupting: And even if you don't, which you do, what about Sareena? Do you want her sleeping on burlap sheets

Bi-Han: No

Johnny: There you go then

Sareena: What's this about me and sheets?

Johnny: Bi-Han's sheets are silk now

Sareena: Oh thank god, finally

---

Bi-Han: You guys love me, right?

Sareena: Of course

Johnny: I'm offended you even need to ask

Bi-Han: And I'm allowed to ask for things? When I need them

Sareena: Darling, you can ask for things whenever you like, whether you need them, want them, or you're just a little bored. Ask us, worst we can do is say no

Bi-Han:.....it feels really selfish though

Johnny: Good. You've given up enough for other people, you get to be selfish. In fact, I encourage it

Bi-Han: Are you sure?

Sareena: Yes

Bi-Han:........could you guys.....could-.....pamper me?

Sareena, grinning: Like a spa day, or.....?

Bi-Han, blushing: Or.

Johnny, coming up to hug Bi-Han from behind and rest his chin on the cryomancer's shoulder: Oh I think we can accomplish that, don't you, Sareena?

Sareena, stepping forward to grab Bi-Han's chin gently: We can, and thank you, Bi-Han.

Bi-Han, already relaxing: For what?

Sareena: Asking for the things you want. That was very good and I'm very happy you did that

Johnny: We are very proud of you for that

Bi-Han, biting back a whimper: You are both going to be the death of me

lemme know if y'all want more!

[radioactive-earthshine]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Fandom: Impulse (Comics) Relationship: Bart Allen & Max Mercury Characters: Bart Allen, Max Mercury

Additional Tags: Road Trips, Foster Care, Canon Compliant, Max Doesn't Know What He's Doing, Bart Doesn't Know What He's Doing, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior,Discovery, Feelings of Abandonment, Feelings of isolation,foster child, Guns,Life is a Video Game to Bart, Bart Allen is a Mess, Bart Allen is Literally One Month Out of VR, Anthem to Autism and ADHD, Wally West Is Trying His Best, Canon Typical Relationship, Misunderstandings, Difficulty with Emotions and Feelings, Brief appearance of Lobo, Swearing, Typical Max Mercury Behavior, Bart Allen-centric, Bart's understanding of gender is from a thousand years in the future, Original Character(s)

Words: 22,985 Chapters: 3/3

Summary: Bart didn't know what he did to deserve this, because surely forcing a speedster to travel 1,000 the long way in a moving truck was nothing short than cruel and unusual punishment. Meanwhile Max struggles to keep the peace, and keep Bart inside the truck as he mentally prepares himself for an uncertain future between them. Bart Allen, fresh from VR, certainly always keeps him guessing.

Highlights include a guest appearance from Lobo, an emotional traffic jam, and crimes involving a Jukebox.

Excerpt:

“Are we really gonna drive all the way to Obama in this ancient thing?” Bart looked at the large orange and white U-Haul truck suspiciously as Max closed the hatch and locked it. 

“It’s Alabama , and yes. We are.” 

“But why?!” Bart asked under a flash of yellow and he was gone from Max’s side. 

“Bart?” Max looked for Bart - one side of the truck and then the other and found nothing. “Bart?!” 

“We can just run there in like less than a hundredth of a second!” Bart’s voice came from the top of the truck, he was holding a little red and white paper food tray piled with fried green tomatoes that he enthusiastically munched on - a souvenir from his rapid travel to their destination to make his point. 

“Bart, get down. And don’t just… Jump,” Max sighed as he watched Bart take a fantastic leap from the top of the truck to the ground. The way he landed made his knees hurt. Somewhere between Bart’s leap to the ground and landing he had devoured all of the tomatoes leaving little crumbs on his chin. “Come on, I want to be on the road in five minutes.” 

“But why Max? I’m serious! We can just take everything there ourselves and be done in less than a minute! Why do we gotta drive?!” 

Max was starting to wonder that himself. “Because it’s how people move, Bart. And my job is to teach you how.” 

Bart looked at Max, his thick eyebrows knitting together. “I already know how to move, Max.”