#its not even just my speaking. its my comprehension too.

[volkswagenital]

wow my english is just. really just getting worse and worse. noticably.

[talkfastcal]

update i talked about the mutuals in therapy again tonight

[monoxidecahedron]

i loooove languages i love learning new alphabets i love the feeling of accomplishment and deep satisfaction of making concrete progress i love puzzles and challenges i love arabic

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Werewolf Headcanons

I've been stalked by the guilty feeling that my Romanian Werewolf boy got a lot of backstory but not much romance or interaction. So there you have it: some headcanons featuring the ancient Beast, a post-kidnapping sequel.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, monster romance, mild NSFW at the end, ridiculously older yandere

You followed the gargantuan stranger back into the city, leaving the bloodbath behind as if it was just a distant dream. Admittedly, you’d expected to be dragged into some mountainous cave or an abandoned mansion, not the cozy - albeit a little dusty - apartment on a main, historical street. On second thought, he did function as a human outside of his monstrous escapades, so it made sense. “Is this your place?”, you sheepishly asked while he wiped the thick layers of blood off him. “One of them, yes”, he answered curtly. “It’s central”, you remarked, trying to make conversation. “Well, I didn’t know about it back then. It’s been a few decades.”

Your ears perked up at the words. Gazing at his features, he didn’t seem necessarily aged to you. The deep creases contouring his face felt more like a sign that he’s lived sorrows beyond most people’s comprehension. “How old are you?” You finally asked as curiosity replaced your initial fear. He abruptly stopped his movements and leaned back, brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was born in the 80s”, he concluded. “That’s not too far back, is it?” You inquired, this time more relaxed. “80 BC, I meant. You do the math.”

He freshened himself up as you counted the millennia on your fingers, frowning in confusion. He chuckled at your intense focus, then quickly looked up into the mirror. When was the last time he smiled like this? The reflection was a foreign sight to him. “We’ll get you everything you need tomorrow”, he continued, still in a daze. What a strange idea, having someone to speak to after an eternity. And suddenly, it occurred to him just how rusted his communication had gotten: “I’m so sorry, I haven’t asked for your name once”, he said, embarrassed. “It’s (Y/N). And you are...?" Might as well introduce yourself to your benevolent captor.

The dreaded question. How did they call him back in the day? He hasn't had anyone spell it out for him, nor did he feel the need at any point to say it himself. Why would he? He hadn't anticipated meeting you. With pursed lips, he searched his mind. Eventually, from the depths or memories, from days of yore, it made its way back: "Daos."

Given your first gory encounter (where he quite literally murdered everyone else), you were surprised to find out he's otherwise a calm and polite individual. Well, he's had centuries to mature, you suppose. You've also noticed he has that rather old-fashioned chivalry to him. He's very attentive despite his stoic demeanor, and often follows with acts of service.

"You're insulting me. I can carry this myself with ease", you'll argue. "I never doubted you can. Nonetheless, it is my wish to do it for you."

As the days pass, your reluctance seems to vanish as well. In fact, you've become particularly cheeky, encouraged by his warm, unperturbed behavior. Maybe you haven't gotten the worst deal out there, after all.

"You know, you talk like an old man", you've teased him once. He was visibly taken aback by your statement, and you could discern a faint blush on his face. "Do I? My apologies, I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I'm not familiar with modern speech. Have I embarrassed you somehow?"

He spends his free time reading, though he will frequently take you on walks. It's an interesting affair to say the least. You can feel the curious eyes of the passersby and hear their not-so-discreet whispered gossip. You can't truly blame them: Daos is enormous even as a human. He towers above everyone else with his imposing appearance. To match, his voice is deep and coarse as a result of not using it much until recently.

The ancient werewolf is a living history book. If asked, he will narrate to you important events or details you might be curious about regarding his culture. Once, when he'd been in a good mood, he even shared fragments of his life before turning into a creature. He'd been a high-ranked Dacian warrior, spending his days training or fighting. He still remembers the flag he carried with bitter fondness, yet another irony to his fate: a wolf-headed serpent. It was meant to showcase their way of life; barbarians with no fear of death. They'd greeted the Roman Empire with nothing but a sword and a shield, no shred of doubt.

He might've been betrayed by his people, but the pride remains. The pride of a soldier who's never known defeat. You learned quickly that his beastly form doesn't count as a significant change by any means, save for appearances. The man has brute strength even as a human. You'd once strayed from his view, and a stranger approached with a daring whistle, gawking you up and down. Before you could react, Daos clawed him by the throat. You heard the twist of the skin and the creak of the bones giving in to the immense pressure of his large hand.

"It's the second time I have exposed you to such unpleasant sights", he said, discarding the body as if it was any other garbage. "Forgive me, but I will not have you disrespected like this."

He is very much aware he's taken you away from the world out of his own selfish desire. The fact that you accepted it is more than he could ever ask for. That's what he keeps telling himself, even as his eyes wander to your lips whenever you speak. Or as his hand lingers a moment too long against the curve of your back. Or as he hungrily takes in your scent whenever you're nearby.

He might be unhealthily possessive of you, but Daos will never do anything against your will. No matter how obvious his urges are. In fact, no amount of flirting or teasing will shake his resolve. You will have to be very direct with your approval.

Once the reality settles in, he'll become extremely affectionate, bordering on obsessive. To think he could have you in every way possible. Oh, he's waited thousands of years for you. All the suffering, the loneliness, the anger, they're stripped of any meaning now that he has you.

The city strolls at an awkward distance have since become a habitual excuse to hold your hand and show you off to the mortals. The quiet evenings of passing time with a book now include your merely noticeable weight cuddled into his lap. You didn't expect him to be this adoring. Being touch-starved for millennia counts as one reason, naturally, but there's more to it, so much more. And it all leads back to you.

He is a little taken aback when you ask him to do the deed in his werewolf form. "Don't be foolish. I can't overcome my instincts as well when I'm a creature. I could harm you", he'll lecture you. "Besides, you can barely take it as it currently is", he'll add, smirking at your baffled expression. It seems he's picked up on your cheekiness.

After a lot of pleading and waiting for the right moment - when he's ravaging you in a daze - he finally agrees. True to his word, his tune instantly changes. The tender hold turns into a desperate grasp sinking into your skin, and the thrusts become irregular, almost frantic. His drool cools your burning cheeks as you hold onto the coarse fur, feverish and overwhelmed.

His golden eyes rest on the small human squirming underneath him, and suddenly, he can't help but notice: you have the perfect birthing hips.

[lemonlover1110]

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna’s head usually lays on your lap when the sun is at its peak. He’s not sure what takes over him, or what he eats that makes him yawn and makes his eyes get heavy. He can’t carry out any task without laying down on your lap and resting his eyes for at least ten minutes.

“Are you sleepy?” You speak in a soft voice as Sukuna’s eyes shut on their own. You’re running your fingers through his coarse hair, humming a lullaby; perhaps he’s been conditioned to fall asleep like this every day.

“I’m not sleepy.” He answers, though he’s almost snoring. He’ll never admit that he’s tired to anyone, not even you. “I’m just resting my eyes.”

“Of course, Suku.” You chuckle, moving your hand down to caress his face. He hears that you don’t take him seriously and at any other time he’d prove his point. But he’s too tired to do anything, he can’t even raise his voice. He’s drifting off. “You know, when I first met you I was terrified of you, but seeing you like this…”

“I’m scary.” His speech comes out slurred, barely comprehensible. You laugh. The big scary monster is napping on your lap, claiming that he isn’t tired. 

Your hand stops moving, resting on his cheek which interrupts his flow. He grabs your wrist, moving the fixed hand for you. He wouldn’t say it in his right mind, but he’s half-asleep, “You’re soft.”

“Is that what gets you sleepy, Suku?” You question, and he hums in response. You smirk, loving the drowsy side of your husband. He’s too worn out to put up the mean front that usually accompanies him. 

“And you’re warm.” He adds, and you smile. It’s rare to find him so honest, so you’ll appreciate every second of it. “You smell nice too.”

“Are you sleepy now?” You ask him when you hear his heavy breaths. You chuckle, kissing his temple when there’s no response.

[wandaslittlebird]

Alright, another professor Wanda drabble because I’m utterly whipped for her.

“I think spoken Russian is going to send me to an early grave,” You complained. “I’m good on the written and comprehension sections but the oral pronunciations…” You groaned dramatically, tossing your ‘Russian 101’ book out in front of you and dropping your arms so you were laying prone on bed.

Wanda picked up the book, reading through the dog-eared page you had been studying. “Is this the one you’re struggling with?” She pointed to one of the longer words at the top of the page. It had been twisting your tongue for hours.

You nodded. Wanda placed the book back in your hands and sat down next to you. “You know all the syllables. Just say it slowly, don’t try to cram the sounds together, just say them one at a time.”

You propped yourself back up on your elbows, squinting and bending forward to study the page. You sounded out the word slowly. Each syllable felt like an entire word of its own. It was by no means an elegant attempt, but it was technically correct.

Wanda slide down on the bed so she could press a kiss onto your lower back. “See?” She said, nuzzling the downward curve of her spine. “You’re getting it. Keep going. Try this one here.” She reached around you to point out a sentence at the top of the next page.

You spoke the words awkwardly and slowly, mentally trying to translate the foreign lettering into sounds. Wanda started tracing her way back up your spine, placing gentle kisses along each ridge.

“You’re a lot better at this than you think you are,” Wanda assured. “I could’ve never guessed this was your first semester taking Russian if I wasn’t the one teaching it to you.”

“Thank you, professor,” you teased. “I believe you’re to blame for my accelerated studies.” You could feel Wanda’s smile curl against your back.

“I suppose that is my job,” She teased, “making sure you excel.”

“Well then you’ll be devastated to know I have someone who’s serving as a terrible distraction to my studies.” You smirked, arching your back against her mouth.

“Mmm,” Wanda hummed. “I’m sure whoever it is knows that you work too hard. And I’d bet she knows that you’re brilliant and you could’ve passed with flying colors without even opening the book.”

“As if she herself isn’t known for working herself to the bone,” you retorted.

“All the more reason to provide her with a wonderful distraction.” Wanda bit gently at the spot your neck met your shoulder. You rolled your head back, mouth falling open in a silent groan. “We can continue your studies, if you wish. Repeat after me: YA ves' tvoy.” (I am yours.)

You reached one hand back behind you, burying it in Wanda’s thick brown hair. You drew her ruby red lips back to your neck, encouraging more kisses and nips from the older woman. “YA ves' tvoy,” you repeated with easy confidence. These words came far easier to you than the long and complicated ones you were pulling from your books.

“You speak beautifully, sweet girl.” Wanda sucked at the skin behind your ear.

Your eyes fluttered at sensation.“devochka milaya,” you said. “Sweet girl.”

“Mhm.” Wanda did not pull her mouth away from the soft skin of your neck. Your words weren’t entirely accurate, as the adjective came after the noun in Russian, but she was in no mood to be pedantic at the moment.

She adjusted her position on the bed, moving to straddle your hips rather than lying beside you. You whined when she pulled away, already missing the warm breath against your neck. The whines turned into moans when Wanda ground against her hips your ass. “I want to hear you say it again. Tell me you are mine,” she demanded.

You obeyed. “YA ves' tvoy,” you said again. The words came even more natural the second time around. “I am yours. I am all yours, my love.”

“YA ves' tvoy, moya lyubov,” She translated, adding in the ‘my love’.

You giggled. “Do you plan to fuck me until I can recite the entirety of the Russian language?”

Wanda chuckled mischievously, bending so her mouth was mere inches from your ear. “My love, by the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember English.”

[impyssadobsessions]

DPXDC Enemy of my Enemy is the Worse "Excerpts" (Part 1?) I have more Ideas

Okay I kepy thinking about the prompt Enemy of my Enemy is the Worse I made LOL- (gonna post excerpts.) Probably wont fully write this.. as much as I like to right now LOL. If this inspires anyone to write, go for it.

"So now what? Going to vivisect me? Experiment? Rip my molecules apart like how my-Mr. Fenton keeps telling me." "Unfortunately, no." Agent K grumbles. "And its dissection, not-" Agent O tries to correct. "I maybe dead-but I'm not THAT dead." Danny rolled his eyes, flashing them at the two men in white. He can't believe any of this is happening. Oh he wished he listened to Jazz.. or Sam or Tuck more. He pulled at his ghost proof bindings, them having him ridiculously buried in the restraints. "Actually, Mr. Phantom, is it? I wanted to talk." Another bald man walks in, his suit notably black. Danny raised his eyebrow unimpressed, "What? Is it the Guys in Black and White now? Not that I'm against it, I'm all for equality, but it does seem a little off brand. I'm guessing the bleach bill is getting too high." Agent O was about to speak out- when the guy in black raised his hand to silence him. This guy only looked slightly amused, which gave Danny the creeps. "Of course not. That'd be ridiculous, though I'm not against inclusivity either. I'm Lex Luthor, and it is my recent interest in ghosts that had allowed the GIW to reach its full potential. " "So another annoying billionaire. Great."

"So you know of me? Perfect, then we can keep this simple. In truth, I am only interested in one ghost in particular." "We can capture him without involving ourselves with this scum-" "This GHOST has not only evaded my notice for YEARS, but has been stealing very valuable technology that would go beyond NASA's comprehension. Though I don't doubt your expertise, it has not come without notice that this particular ghost is seen the most-" Lex flicked his eyes down at Phantom. "With you." Agent K and O unrolled paper from their suits to reveal a picture of Plasmius. "The Wisconsin Ghost." - "Plasmius?!" Danny spoke same time the Agents did. Lex smirked at the Agents then down at Phantom. Danny took a moment to register what was going on before busting out laughing. "Really? What makes you think I'm buddy buddy with Plasmius? He's a total fruitloop and honestly- not surprise. He steals blueprints from my p---Dr. Fentons all the time." "You steal their items as well, if we recall." Agent K raised a brow. "Well-I- Just because- YOU USE THEIR BLUEPRINTS TOO!" "Enough. " Lex starting to sound annoyed, Danny felt like it was a win. Serves bastard right. Man did he hate billionaires. "I've observed your work in Amity Park. If I dare say you are quite similar to many of the masked vigilantes that plague this Earth. Even more heroic in my opinion." Danny was not biting at whatever trick Lex was pulling. Though he didn't miss the skip of his core at being recognized something other than a menace. 'He's lying to you.' he repeated in his head. Pulling on his bindings again to remember the real situation before him.

"That being said, I like you to do as heroes do and capture this criminal, then bring him to me." "Look, thanks for the compliment- but we both know I'm not seen as a hero. So why don't you quit the buttering 'cause I'm not interested in culinary and tell me what's in it for me. Even though I'm barely c-average on the best of days, I'm not dumb. I'm not doing this for free or just some lame you will be spared nonsense. Been there done that." Lex smirked again, "I'll grant you immunity from GIW and you can have your haunt back." "Wait? What?!" "But it took so long to capture him-" "IF you manage to capture Plasmius and bring him to me before GIW can." Danny glanced at the two agents as they puffed out their chests. Cocky. They really think they could capture Vlad? Then painfully reminded himself that they did catch him. "And if I don't agree?" "We DISSECT you and use you for very unethical and highly painful experiments that are legal on subjects like yourself." Agent K happily boast. "Riiiight." Danny clicked his tongue, "Add in that these guys are not allowed to be in a 50 miles radius from Amity and I'll do it." "No-" "Deal."

------------------------------------

Danny looped on back to the entryway as he finished swooping through every room of the manor. "Alright! Come on out Fruitloop! I know you're still here-" Just as Phantom floated down to land, he felt a hard punch in his face that sent him skidding across the room into the wall. "OOF" "Guess I should have seen that com...ming..." Danny rubbed his jaw, turning back to see who punched him. His eyes widening as he recognized the heroes he was facing. "Phantom. We're taking you into custody." "YOU CALLED THE JUSTICE LEAGUE ON ME?!" -----(Fight happens)--- Flash manages to hold Phantom, using his speeding molecules to keep Phantom from phasing through his grip. Danny gritting his teeth as the other heroes ready to capture him. Fine. If he can't phase through, he'll just phase in. Phantom uses his icy breath to freeze everything around them. Superman quickly uses his laser vision to melt the ice covering the room in mist, trying to keep themselves from being frozen. "Flash!" When the mist cleared the was no sign of him. Superman using his hearing to try and locate him- despite guarding his right side, he was kicked into the wall by Flash. Flash's eyes glowing bright green. "Well this is weird." -Proceeds to fight in Flash's body for a moment, until he gets knocked out of it. Danny's on his last legs, thinking he barely done a number on them (Not realizing he had been giving them quite a fight). Danny tries to reason again only to hear Amity Park doing great since GIW involvement. Still he isn't backing down. Even mentions Lex is backing them. He knows its only temporary peace if its really peace at all. Which he suspects is a big farce. Besides the portal still resides in Amity. GIW can't get a hold of that- portal. If he can't make them hear him out, then he'll show them why Vlad isn't just some victim. (Not realizing what Justice League may have already discovered) "Want to know why the number 2 worse billionaire is after Fruitloop?" standing up as the net placed on him burned and electrified him. It hurt so much, but he wasn't ready to quit now. Superman flew out in front of the others to block Phantom as Phantom tackled him. Phantom just uses rest of his strength to crash Superman through layers of floors til they reached the secret lab. Superman flinging Phantom into the other side of the room just as they landed, making him slam into a green tube, shattering it. The netting having dropped to the ground away from him. He coughed, shaking as a white ring dangerously popped around his waist shakily dancing, until Phantom sucked it back in. Not yet. The green ectoplasm from the tube soaking into his skin. His eyes widening as he saw what the green ectoplasm was from, jumping back with a disgust yell. He watched the clone fizzle out. "ALREADY? Really Vlad?" He shook off the creeps. "What is this?" "A Lab, du-UAHHHHHHH-" He found himself being spun around by Flash, and flung into the air where he was lassoed. Wonder Woman yanked on the rope tight, swinging him down into the opposite wall. He really was tired of being walled by them. Batman was quick to cuff him as Superman froze him in place. Danny raised a tired brow, unamused. "Are we chill now?" "No." "Thought so." ---bit more talking. Danny navigating his way through the truth of the lasso before using his wail as his last ditch effort to escape. Manages to escape through the portal as the lab collapses.

[froggyfics]

The Deadliest Poisons Are The Sweetest - 6

Conflict arises within the Al Ghul household.

18+ only! I do not consent for this content to be viewed by minors. Please take heed of the warnings listed, though they are not entirely comprehensive. All characters are consenting adults. Do not continue reading if you are uncomfortable with the content. This story and its contents are 100% fictional, and are not affiliated with DC Comics.

Sincerely appreciate you guys for leaving comments and messages about my writing! Your interactions definitely push me to complete my work. Thank you for your patience.

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Pairing: LOA!medieval!Damian Wayne x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,780

Warnings: misogyny?, smut, p in v penetration, oral sex

The Wayne Manor, in all its glory, is quite ordinary. 

Yes, it is perhaps the most magnificent building in all of Gotham – but if you look closely enough, there are little quirks that can only be seen in homes that have been lived in. 

Little chips on the doorframe showed its perpetual use. The floorboards creaked due to constant footsteps. The stained windows were discolored to divulge their age.

The manor gave off a completely different aura when compared to the Al Ghul Castle. The castle was built primarily for defense purposes and was not meant to be lived in. Its bloody history was obvious with its moat, drawbridges, and arrow slits.

Maybe that’s why you instantly felt more at ease at the manor. This was a home. It had no nefarious purpose. Even if the castle was purged of its malignant occupants (namely Talia), it could not erase its bloody history. 

With that being said, you could not say that you were completely comfortable at the manor. 

“How can I make you feel more at home?” Alfred inquires.

You’re not entirely sure how to answer his question. Maybe he could send word for your family to come to the manor instead of staying at the castle. 

You push the idea to the back of your mind almost immediately after thinking it. Your family hasn’t really been acting like your kin since you’ve arrived in the capital. They’re simply too busy schmoozing to notice your plight. After all, you are their ticket to the upper echelon. Damian had you leave the castle so hurriedly that you did not even have the chance to seek them out to say farewell. You doubt they’d care about your absence anyways.

“Where’s Damian?” 

“He’s still speaking with his father. I can have him come to your room as soon as he finishes his discussion.”

“Yes, that would be wonderful.”

Alfred bows before exiting the room. “Your highness.”

You let out a melancholic sigh while plopping on your bed. The absolute silence that surrounds you deafens your ears. The peacefulness reminds you that this is the first time in a long time that you had to yourself. 

Your ladies-in-waiting are out familiarizing themselves with the manor. Rachel returned to her own home, promising to follow you to manor after she packed her own belongings. Alice, your personal servant, is acquainting herself with the servants’ quarters. 

Talia is not breathing down your neck. Your mother is no longer nit-picking at your appearance. Your father is not here to remind you of your dimwittedness. Your older brother is not hounding you to convince your in-laws to give him a council seat. 

It's just you. After so much time surrounded by others, wishing for some alone time, you’re suddenly dumbfounded. How were you able to entertain yourself before him – before Damian?

The embroidery hoop sits longingly in your open chest. Your needlework was in sore need of improvement you realized after moving to Gotham. After all, the noblewoman here had no household chores to take up their time, thereby leaving them experts at embroidery. 

You sit down on a sturdy wooden chair. It’s easy for you to distract yourself in the work that you’re doing. All that there is to distract you are the crackling of the candles and the occasional prick of the needle. 

You nearly fall out of the chair in terror when the door opens suddenly. Your ladies-in-waiting come barging in, talking amongst themselves merrily until they notice you. Their faces sour. 

“C’mere, your highness,” Matilda sneers. “Time for bed.”

A sigh escapes your lips before you can control it. Surely, you cannot be treated this way! After all, you’re a princess now!

Alas, you scurry to Matilda and turn your back towards her. Of course, you can wish for a spine all you’d like, but you’d never stand up to her. Or to Honora. Or Joan. Or Talia. You’re…you. A princess, but you were born among the lowest of aristocrats. Just a generation prior, your family were peasants! Matilda, Joan, and Honora all came from distinguished dynasties that far surpassed your own. 

“Ouch!” You tried with all your might to keep quiet while Matilda yanks you about, but when her nails scratch against your back, you can’t help but let out a screech.

“Oh, hush now!”

“You’re – hurting me.”

Matilda remains quiet and you step out of your dress after it pools at your feet. The fireplace keeps the room warm, but the hostility in the air increases the temperature. She tugs the nightgown over your head rudely. 

“I suppose I’ll stay the night with the princess.” Honora points to the feather mattress near the bed. 

Matilda and Joan nod their heads and curtsy towards you.

“Now, is there anything else you’d like for us to do before we retire for the night, your highness?” Joan’s voice is sickly sweet, but at this point, you know her words are laced with venom.

“No, thank you. You are dismissed. Have a nice night.”

They snicker in each other’s ears and walk towards the door, while Honora looks longingly at them. Joan opens the bedroom door and gasps at the sight. 

“Your highness!”

Damian leisurely strides into the room with his hands behind his back like a soldier. The occupants of the room immediately bow in respect, including you. 

So much time had passed from when you told Alfred to call for Damian, that you didn’t think he’d actually come to see you. But here he was! In your room. You didn’t even know what you wanted to say to him. You didn’t remember why you asked Alfred to send Damian to you in the first place.

He clears his throat and looks around the room. His gaze lands on your discarded embroidery hoop atop your dresser. He picks it up to examine the half-finished red carnation on the fabric. Your entire body heats up in embarrassment. In your lonely haze, you barely recalled poking the red and green thread through the linen fabric. It meant nothing. Damian catches your gaze, and you hope to communicate silently that it meant nothing to you. Boredom took over and flowers were a common item to embroider. It meant nothing. You weren’t thinking about him then, and you certainly didn’t care that he was standing in front of you now. 

“You lot are dismissed for now.”

The ladies scamper out of the room immediately as Damian’s command leaves his lips. No back talk. No snide comment. If only they respected you half as much as they respected him, your day-to-day life would become so much smoother.

“Alfred mentioned that you called upon me.”

Your eye twitches. “Only to say goodnight.” You stare at him until it becomes uncomfortable. “So, goodnight.”

You turn around to get under the warmth of your covers. You pull the coverlet and bedsheet out as calmly as you can, even though a combination of anger and embarrassment courses through you. 

You want to lie back down fully, but Damian remains standing in place. 

“Can you please call my lady-in-waiting in here?”

“No.”

“No?” you scoff. “Why not?”

“We’re having a conversation, that’s why.”

“No, we’re not,” you huff. “I have had quite a tumultuous day. If you’ll excuse me, I will retire for the night.”

“You are angry with me.”

You scowl, but say nothing in return. You are angry. In fact, you are irate. Your marriage has just begun, and you already want to escape. 

“I’ve spoken with my father,” Damian interrupts the silence. “We will be staying here, at Wayne Manor. The castle is not the place for us.”

He exhales loudly when you do not respond. You are looking down at your coverlet, but can sense his movements closing in on you. He tediously sits on the farthest possible corner of the bed.

You shake your head in disbelief and face him with a glare on your face. “I do not bite, your highness, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

His smile momentarily catches you off-guard, but his chuckles reignite your anger. “You look like you will,” he responds once he notices your fury. His attempt at easing the tension does not work.

“I truly apologize for what my mother said to you. It was not…appropriate to say the least. Here at the manor, I can assure you that no one will question our marital bed like she did.”

“Tell that to my ladies-in-waiting. You do know that they are your mother’s spies, right? They’ll report everything to her.”

He shrugs. “I have been known to keep a loyal household.” He winks at you. “I have my ways.”

You simply can’t stand it. He’s being so…friendly. It irks you.

“Thank you, your highness. T’is late. I will not keep you up.” 

Your attempt to dismiss Damian is ignored. He tuts and closes the distance between you two. His new position is right at your side. His thigh touches your own, with just sheets of fabric separating the two of you.

“You’re angry with me,” he repeats.

“What’s it to you?” You do your best to keep your voice steady. “It’s not like you care.”

“Of course, I do. Of course, I care.”

A humorless laugh escapes your throat. “I’m not stupid. I have not grown up with your fancy tutors or privileged background, but I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were stu –”

“You don’t have to say it for me to know that you and everyone else think it!” you nearly shout. “Your highness –”

“We’ve been over this.” He rubs his forehead. “You are my wife. Refer to me as husband or Damian –”

“I am not your wife!” It’s unintentional, but some of your spit lands on his face. You fight to get the covers off of you, jumping out of bed. You can only stomp a few steps away from Damian before his arm grabs your bicep.

You’re pulled back towards him and he swivels you around to face him once again.

“I am not your wife!” you repeat.

“What are you going on about, woman?” His own anger is evident due to the bulging vein on his neck. “Have you hit your head and lost your memory already?”

You speak through gritted teeth. “Your highness, I am not sure why you have roped me into your lies, but clearly there is another motive behind our so-called marriage.” You rip yourself from his hands, and point at him menacingly. “I don’t think I care to know why you have lied to me, but just know I’m onto you. You cannot deceive me. I know that we are in a sham marriage.”

Damian’s eyes nearly transform to coal black, the green is no longer visible. You slowly drop your accusatory finger, mentally kicking yourself for your tantrum. His disposition is quite fearsome, you realize. You were admittedly terrified of Prince Damian, who comes from a long line of terrifying and tyrannical ancestors. 

“Careful there, woman,” he taunts. “You are speaking to your prince.”

“I thought you were just my husband,” you sneer before you realize what you said. You clamp your mouth shut.

His eyes narrow dangerously. “Same difference. Do you need reminding?”

Well, now you’ve done it. You were going to be beheaded come sunrise, weren’t you? Why couldn’t you have just shut up? Why did you have to believe the lies he said in the garden? Who cares, he’s a man – they all lie. What difference does it make that your man joins in the age-old tradition of lying?

Damian waits expectantly for some sort of response from you, while your mind races. 

“No…husband.”

Damian smiles, but you can tell it’s the coldblooded kind. He takes one step, then another, and then one more until he’s toe-to-toe with you. 

You look up meekly at your prince. He towers over you and it dawns on you just how precarious your situation is. It has been just a day since you’ve married. The marriage could easily be annulled, especially at Damian’s behest. You are replaceable. There are countless others you would kill to be the heir’s wife.

And who could replace Damian? Quite literally, no one. Your family would forever be disgraced. No one would want to interact with the family of the heir’s former wife. It would be an embarrassment. Not to mention, you would forever be the laughingstock of the kingdom. The day-old princess. 

He cups your face, and his thumbs brush your hot cheeks. His other fingers grip the back of your neck, nearly painfully so. “Well, I think you do.”

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat when he plants his lips on your forehead. They travel to your nose before one hand shifts the collar of your nightgown.

“Admittedly, t’is my fault.” He suckles the tender skin at the base of your neck. “I have not truly turned you into a wife yet.” The implications of his words make you shiver, along with the wet kisses he leaves up and down your neck. His actions leave you in shock. This was not the way you expected to be…punished? Reprimanded? You’re not sure what exactly Damian is planning.

He kisses the pulsing point in your neck and the sensitivity nearly makes your moan. You bite your lip in retaliation, but of course, he notices it. 

You want to retort, but his thumb rubs against your nipple. You breathe out heavily as he continues his ministrations, your fiery attitude withers away as your nipple hardens under his touch. 

His hands slowly make their way to your hips and he grabs them firmly to guide you in the direction of the bed. 

You yelp when he pushes you onto the bed roughly, nearly landing completely on your back, but you catch yourself by your arms. You watch in utter curiosity as Damian rolls your nightgown over your knees, exposing you the warm chill of the room. He bites his lip lewdly and sinks to his knees.

You yelp again when he pulls you closer to the edge by the ankles. 

“You can watch if you want.” He gives you wet kisses from your ankle till your inner thigh. When he reaches your thigh, you attempt to close your legs around his head. It’s simply too sensitive. 

He pushes your knees apart and begins the cycle again on the other leg. This time, when he reaches your inner thigh, he takes hold of your legs and spreads them as far apart as he can. 

You squirm and squirm as he continues kissing your inner thighs.

“Damian,” you whimper.

“The lioness suddenly cannot seem to roar, only mewl,” he teases.

You can feel his hot breath on your innermost parts. The intimacy of the situation makes you grip the bed, but once he latches onto you, your hands cramp in the air.

“Oh! Ooh! Oh.” You moan loudly while he deliciously eats you out. His tongue sloppily latches onto your sensitive nub, but he occasionally leaves you long, languid licks on the entire region.

His hand snakes up your body, shirking your nightgown up until it’s over your shirt. He tweaks your nipples, and you can feel your abdomen tightening in response. 

You can feel the cooling wetness when Damian finally releases his hold on your clitoris. You want to mourn the absence of his tongue, but the mourning period ends as quickly as it began when he starts to rub his thumb in firm, circular motions.

There are so many sensations happening simultaneously. His thumb on your clit. His rough shirt agitating your nipples. Wet kisses on your neck. His fingers occasionally swiping the wetness leaking from your hole and spreading it around. You couldn’t stop the tide even if you wanted to.

The only thing to hold onto is his biceps. It starts in small waves. A strange feeling arises in you, but you don’t want it to stop. It roils in faster and faster peaks. You bite your lip in anticipation. When it finally arrives, a sound escapes your throat that has never come out before. Your muscles contract as you reach your peak. 

Damian’s lips leave your neck to latch onto your mouth. You moan into his mouth as the feeling rides itself out. It’s so overwhelming that all modesty flies out the window. You don’t care how loud you are. You don’t care how you must look. All that surrounds you is the pleasure that Damian extracted from you. 

The kiss you share is unlike the one from the day before at your wedding. Your wedding kiss was short and sour. This one is long and sensual. 

You don’t want the kiss to end, but Damian takes the initiative to pull back. He maintains eye contact with you while he removes his tunic and pants. You obscenely take in the sight of his defined abs and strong muscles, but you stop once your eyes meet his hardened member.

You jump slightly when he suddenly spits on it. His hand moves up and down to spread his saliva around. The sight is so lewd that you turn your head to avoid it.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, beloved.”

His words force you to look once more at him. His pushes your shoulders down to where you lay flat on the bed. You crane your neck to at least look at what he’s doing. He holds your neck up with his hand to give you a better view once he realizes what you’re trying to do. 

He pokes at your entrance. “Beloved, breathe for me.”

You have no choice but to follow the instructions of the man that just had his face in between your thighs moments ago. You inhale, then exhale, and repeat the process.

The pain halts your breath. You hiss as the head of his penis is thrust into you. He shallowly inserts the tip in and out, and leans down to pepper your face with light kisses. Slowly but surely, your hiss turns into a whimper. In response, he thrusts deeper and deeper. He whispers tenderly into your ear.

“You feel amazing, my love.”

“This is what I should have done last night.”

“I am all yours.”

You don’t even realize you’ve shed a tear until he swipes it away. The gentleness of the moment wipes away the last month from your memory. All that exists is here and now.

It hurts, but there’s an equal amount of pleasure licking behind the pain. Damian’s ever-increasing groans only add to your own desire. He impales you with every thrust, but he does so as slowly as possible. You can tell he could be rougher if he wanted, as evident by his muscular figure. 

He leans his forehead onto your own, and closes his eyes. You keep yours open to watch him pant. There’s a glow on his skin that highlights every handsome feature about him. 

His breathing becomes erratic and so do his thrusts. His grunts are nearly animalistic until finally he groans loudly in delight. You can feel a gush of wetness around your entrance as he lazily thrusts himself in and out of you. He stills himself inside of you at last before practically crushing you under his weight.

You can hardly breathe under the pressure and feebly push upwards against his chest with your hands that are trapped under him. He pulls out of you completely and rolls over to your side, still panting heavily. 

He shifts you onto your side to face him and pecks your entire face with light kisses. You giggle at his show of affection, wishing that he would never stop. 

But he does. Everything good must come to an end. With one final peck on your lips, he rubs his hands up and down your back before getting up from the bed. The warmth of his body escapes you and you find yourself quite cold suddenly. The fireplace still burns brightly, but Damian’s touch provided a fiery heat that could not be replicated through any other means. 

Once he’s finally dressed, he leans down to give you a passionate kiss. You return the affection to the best of your naïve ability. 

“Our marriage is now officially sealed. Do you feel like our union is a sham still?”

You squirm in embarrassment. You recall the argument that preceded your intimate counter, but shame overcomes you at the way you behaved. 

You nod your head in response. “I apologize, Damian. This past month has just been a whirlwind for me.”

He gazes at you while tying his pants tight. “I understand.” He reaches down and kisses your knuckles, like he did when you first arrived in Gotham. “Goodnight, beloved.”

He strides towards the exit. “Damian, will we spend any time together tomorrow? I’d love a tour of the manor with you as my guide.”

“I don’t think that is possible. I’ll be very busy.” He attempts to walk away, but is stopped by your questioning again.  

“Can we at least have dinner together?” He doesn’t turn to face you entirely, but he does tilt his head in your direction. 

“Would that make you happy?” he finally says.

“Yes,” you immediately answer. You wanted what just happened to continue to happen. Not necessarily the sex, although that was a definitive plus, but the closeness. 

You felt so much closer to Damian within just a night of emotional intimacy that your negative memories of him from the past month shift towards the back of your head. Every kiss he gave you tonight replaced every snide comment made in your direction, the loneliness you felt, and the confusion regarding your relationship status.

“Then, we shall have dinner.” With that, he leaves the room, leaving you bare on the bed. 

His absence makes the pain and soreness in your abdomen and genitals evident. You clutch your belly in an attempt to soothe the cramps away.

Your door bursts open. You scramble to cover yourself with something, with anything, but it’s too late.

Honora glares at you as she makes her way towards the bed. The best you can do in your fumbled state is cover yourself with your arms and make yourself as small as possible. 

She looks you over, and then at the red and transparent stains on the coverlet. 

“Get off the bed,” she snaps. She exits the room and returns a few moments later with two servant girls.

“Hurry up,” she barks at the servants as they scurry to change to the sheets. “I’d like to get some sleep before the sun rises.”

[p1nk-matter]

shiggy fluff cause he deserves all the love // inspired by @aslutforfictionalmen's post (here's my interpretation, i also spontaneously wrote this @/3am so his quirk may have been erased not his trauma tho)

‘’There is no reason to be wearing that.’’ You laugh as you look at him.

Tenko in a suit has to be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. ‘’It's just a drive-in movie theater.’’ You tease and he scoffs.

‘’Yeah well I can’t win, can I? Tracksuits are too casual, I remind you of a busker, remember? And what’s wrong with that by the way, you wish you had their talent–’’

‘’Enough, we’re running late.’’ You cut him off but can’t hide your smile when he’s all annoyed lecturing you in a fucking suit.

The movie chosen was cliché, borderline comical especially when you’re accompanied by a tall man with questionable appearance. How you even convinced him to join you is beyond comprehension, most likely because you promised him to play Nintendo Switch, his latest obsession. You’d play with him regardless, a man with a childhood lost, robbed from things you experienced firsthand at a younger age but Tenko couldn’t really see it. You on the other hand recognized it, and through small acts (annoying as such because for some inexplicable reason he always lost to you) you showed him everything he’d missed.

‘’I wrote you 365 letters. I wrote you everyday for a year!’’

Ryan Gosling says as you feel a hand squeeze yours tightly, shoulders touching as the night sky glows above the projector. You turn to look at him confused, The Notebook was one of those films you’d seen a million times, failing to evoke powerful emotions after some time but it was still a very satisfying rewatch. Tenko turns his head.

‘’What’s wrong?’’ You say, anxious he might be having another panic attack. You knew how to calm him down but never the extent of it and that scared you.

‘’It’s nothing’’ He whispers, his voice is composed, you note, good.

‘’Yes... it wasn't over, it still isn't over..’’ Gosling continues.

‘’Can you believe he wrote to her all this time? This is so fucking cruel!’’ he almost shouts, as a couple of heads turn to look at him annoyed.

‘’Oh my god, are you crying over the movie right now?’’ You want to burst out laughing but the stares warn you otherwise, both your tones too loud. You can’t believe what a sucker for romance he is, he always acts all tough but ends up being hungry for love anywhere he can find it. You kind of get it, it also kind of breaks your heart.

‘’I’m so posting this.’’ You tease as he wipes his eyes clean with a tissue he had in his pocket.

‘’I swear to god if you don’t shut the fuck up.’’ His voice is shaky but his eyes are glued to the scene, anxious for what’s coming next. Will they make up? Maybe even make out, have sex? Poor him, he’s unprepared for the bittersweet end.

-

The drive back home is silent, you take it he’s still thinking about the film, contemplating its ending, unsure whether he likes it or not.

‘’Sooo.. did you like it?’’

‘’It was okay.’’ He feigns indifference and you don’t continue. You allow him to ponder before speaking up, he almost always adds something on his own.

‘’I just think it’s funny she married the other guy, you know.’’ He says.

‘’What was she supposed to do? She didn’t know about the letters, remember?’’

‘’Still, if she really loved him, she should’ve waited, should’ve been alone, grieved on her own. How could she do this?’’ He asks as you sigh.

‘’It’s just a film and people make mistakes. You never know until you tell them.’’

This time he doesn’t continue.

-

‘’So what do you want to do?’’ You ask once you’ve arrived home, it’s already past midnight but both of you are too lively for sleep.

‘’You promised Nintendo.’’ He reminds you and you sigh. Not your favorite part of the day but you silently take a seat next to him on the couch.

3 rounds of Mario Kart racing on the Nintendo Switch and Tenko is losing consecutively as he whines frustrated: ‘’Enough!’’

‘’I just don’t understand why you’re always losing.’’ You tell him, as far as you know he was unlocking the game levels with ease on his own.

‘’I don’t know, shit, you ask way too many questions today’’ he complains, ‘’I’ll go change, this suit is itching the fuck out of me’’ he continues as you get up.

He finds you scrolling on your phone, a towel wrapped around him, droplets falling from his hair, which he must’ve aggressively ruffled (in failed efforts to dry) as he literally drops his body onto yours, scaring you and making you drop your phone.

‘’Tenko, fuck agh!’’ You groan, ‘’my phone!’’

He was so annoying and on top of that soaking your shirt too.

‘’I’m sorry.’’ He smiles, he wasn’t really sorry, he missed you, he thought. Even though you were together the whole day, he still missed you. So much. He couldn’t get enough of you, any moment shared only made him more anxious for your next departure, he wished he could somehow glue you to his skin forever.

You playfully slapped his arm and he retaliated, pinching your nose as you pouted.

‘’Don’t pout.’’ He warns, ‘’I'll bite you.’’ But you don’t listen. He brings his mouth to yours as his teeth sink in your lower lip, pulling at it and letting it out softly.

‘’Ouch, you douche!’’ You fake pain but he knows he didn’t actually hurt you, he could never.

There was a moment where neither of you did anything, must’ve been less than a minute, before he leaned closer, mouths in close proximity as he noticed your eyes shut.

I want to kiss her, he thought and he did. Soft lips brought to yours, as you immediately kissed him back, cupping his wet neck and bringing his face even closer, deepening the kiss. His arms quivered, threatening to make him lose his balance and fall on top of you, he lost himself every time you kissed him.

His hand slid down your waist, positioning you higher on the couch as your hungry mouth searched for his again, needy breaths escaped your lips, a sight that made him feel the all too familiar pain in his groin, a towel was still draped around him and you were still in your outside clothes.

A peak across the room showed him the window curtains open.

‘’Give me a minute, baby.’’ He said as he got up to close them, returning to you with his arms stretched out, ready to move this somewhere more comfortable.

–

He was awakened by an asleep arm, your weight had fallen on it and he felt numb.

He gently tried to remove it but you moved around and whispered in a raspy voice, god, how much he loved that voice.

‘’What is it?’’ Your tone sounded anxious, were you afraid something was going to happen to him? Could it be that you cared that much?

Without a word he shushed you.

‘’It’s all right, go back to sleep.’’ He said moments later, a pain in his chest since he couldn’t tell you that actually yes, there was something on his mind.

‘’You know, you have to tell people how you feel, remember?’ You spoke so wisely, even after an interrupted slumber and he couldn't help but smile.

‘’I know baby, goodnight.’’ He said as you sighed and turned around.

For Tenko could not tell you that nothing compared to this, nothing like doing nothing with you and to admit this to himself was a big liability. He would tell you eventually, maybe he’d write it down, he found it easier, but on that day he chose to wrap his arms around you again, risking numbness, than to speak the words.

[rustytrident]

mc's ultimate guide to visiting the devildom!!

a comprehensive guide to being an exchange student to the devildom by yours truly, mc.

ch: diavolo, barbatos, lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor

cw: none (relationships between the characters are meant to be platonic, though i could make a nsfw version of this)

a/n: this is a long ass post ‼️‼️ i tried to be as objective as possible but idk if any biases came through. i also literally thought of this while i was cleaning my bathroom so the idea may be shitty,,, get it?? cause i was,,, cleaning my bathroom,,,, , , the idea may be shitty,,,,,, ,,,, okay so the punchline is that since i was cle-

lifestyle:

wear gloves. for everything

trust your sense of smell. if something smells too good or too bad, get the fuck away from it

write your name on the hem of your clothes

always check if something can be consumed by humans. trust me, you'd rather go hungry for a little longer than grow a limb from your stomach

don't look people in the eye when walking past them. stare straight ahead, shoulders square

learn who you can lie to and who you can't. trust your gut with that, though most demons have tells you'll need to learn

keep track of your health and request check ups from human doctors

generally, don't be afraid to ask for anything. you deserve nice experiences, as well as, ,,, yknow,,,,, checkups

take pictures of everything

don't touch books unless a trusted demon tells you it's okay

don't lose touch with your culture. implement it everywhere, from your room to your food to your music. teach your housemates all you know about it

remember you are surrounded by demons. don't tease them, don't tempt them (unless you have a pact or a pretty decent relationship with them)

the royal family:

the devildom is currently under monarchy. you will only interact with the prince, diavolo, and his butler, barbatos.

diavolo knows. he always has, he always will. don't lie to him

don't be too friendly with him for the first four months

absolutely be friendly with him after those four initial months

between us, he needs friends. and beings who don't treat him like he's fragile.

he likes games of any kind. use that to your advantage

barbatos seems scary, and he is. but you can trust him

do go over for tea if he invites you. he has an affinity for cooking and baking (mostly baking – teach him any cool recipes you may know!), and likes to serve whatever he makes with a warm cup of tea

do not, under any circumstances, even so much as mention anything about rats to him. for interworld peace

diavolo will always come first for him. don't test or question their bond, our brains are probably incapable of perceiving its magnitude

the king is just. there. but like, not even there. currently asleep

the queen is dead (unfortunately, this phrase is not seen as something positive in the devildom. don't ever say it)

the brothers:

probably the ones you'll be living with. then again, maybe not. part of the student council, and diavolo's closest companions (you'll be seeing a hearing a lot from them).

lucifer is... nice. once you get to know him. give him some time

he's very sad, very overworked. kinda like a wet cat with a family to feed. stroke his ego about twice a week and you'll be good

don't put up with what he says if it makes you uncomfortable, and don't be afraid to speak up. if you need backup, go to satan and/or belphegor

he loves music. if you want to get to know him better, ask him if he would like to talk to you about his favourite songs (they're most likely from cursed records, so listening to them is not an option)

mammon will most likely steal from you. again, put your name on everything, take pictures of everything.

the friendliest of all of them, along with beelzebub, and one of the most loyal ones

loud and a tsundere. don't ask how that works. also, very funny (laugh at his jokes even if you don't like them)

he doesn't know what boundaries are. set yours early and don't follow along with his schemes if you don't like them. he's got puppy eyes, don't fall for them

leviathan is an introvert, and antisocial. don't pressure him to talk to you.

if you're dead set in getting closer to him, do it through asking what game he's playing, or what anime he's watching. his interests are the only way he will open up

he will talk a lot if he likes the subject. he also knows every meme out there, so you can be free to say anything

he's very insecure, and will sometimes guilt trip you without realising. stay firm in your beliefs and be honest with him (do not anger him unless you know how to swim)

satan being the avatar of wrath shouldn't scare you. just don't mention anything good about lucifer during the first few months of you being there, and you'll be good

he likes books, and has learnt to be very open with his affections through them. if he likes you, you will know

again, he likes books. want him to like you? ask for recommendations, plots, ideas, poems. he's got you covered

he also loves cats. like, a lot. so if you're not the biggest reader it's time to be the biggest petter

asmodeus is touchy, but he never crosses any boundaries once they're clear to him. if you don't like physical touch, make it clear to him

the first being you should go to if you want to have any sort of physical relationship with someone there. it could be awkward to just... ask, but he's not held back by any prejudice, and would love to help

pay attention to him when he speaks. he may seem like too much sometimes, but he will be even more if you don't look him in the eye and nod (at least).

tell him he's beautiful, cause he is. and also cause who would call aphrodite themselves ugly like??

beelzebub is chill, for the most part. just don't disrespect his family or eat his food.

he's the number one demon to go to when you're having issues and want to vent it out. doubles as someone you could hug after and get a pat on the head from, but only if he's comfortable.

always have a snack in your pocket for him, you'll never regret it (but don't make it a regular thing)

he will eat anything. that is both a warning and a piece of advice.

belphegor can have a sharp tongue, so if you're sensitive it's better to either be vocal about not liking certain things he says or not be around him all together

very knowledgeable about the human world, probably the most out of all the brothers. go to him if you feel homesick

also a scholar. no he won't do your homework for you. yes he will pass every class even though he's asleep in all of them. just don't pick him as your study buddy.

doesn't hide his feelings well – you can tell what he's thinking about just by looking at him

enjoy your stay, little sheep~

[iitsarss]

╰ㅤ₊ㅤ๋࣭ㅤreader x gr13f3r　 confession　 ᠀

ꔛ word count: 753⠀╱⠀established friendship + crush 。

(¬_¬")⠀⠀⠀note ⠀╱⠀my ass cannot write smth more than 780 words long erm...yeah....more griefer i love him sm sm sigh i want to smooch him till he can't say anything comprehensible,,also yeah i see he doing this sht like yeah idk,,edit uh,changed 1 thing cause i just wrote the same thing again lol

Griefer was the epitome of immaturity and insensitivity, a walking disaster who thrived on chaos and violence. He relished in commanding others with brute force, going as far as having his father forcibly extract the Venomshank for him.

Now, here he was, standing by the very river where you two had first met as toddlers, struggling to get out the cheesiest words he could muster. It was surreal—how could something so simple be so difficult? He had even watched movies to prepare for this moment, which he would never admit to anyone—except maybe his gorilla pet, the only one privy to the embarrassing secret that he had a massive crush on you. But now, Griefer was a complete mess, unable to string a coherent sentence together without stuttering like a fool. He, of all people, blushing like some schoolgirl confessing to her first crush—it was mortifying!

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Griefer finally blurted out, “L00K, PUNK—I, UH—I L1K3 Y0U A L0T… 3RM… CAN W3 G0 0UT S0M3T1M3? W3 C0ULD G0 T0 TH3 ARCAD3 1F Y0U WANT—N0T THAT 1 CAR3 0R ANYTH1NG… UH, 3RM, CAN W3 HANG 0UT—L1K3 A DAT3? N0, N0T A DAT3! JU5T A HANG 0UT! Y3AH, THAT!”

The words came out in a jumbled rush, faster than he intended, leaving Griefer standing there, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of his chest,what was he even thinking? Calling you to come to that place? Too cheesy! Stuttering in front of you? Pathetic! And just brushing off his attempt in asking you out? God- Embarrassing! He waited, every nerve in his body tense as he anticipated your response, but when nothing came, he panicked even more, brushing it off with forced bravado.

“WA1T, F0RG3T THAT—1T W4S N0TH1NG—HA! J-JU5T A J0K3, ALR1GHT PUNK? JU5T A J0K3.”

Awkward silence hung in the air as Griefer mentally berated himself for how disastrously wrong everything had gone. What had he been thinking, bringing you here of all places? The whole scenario was too cheesy, and his stuttering made him feel like an absolute idiot—God, could this get any more humiliating?

For a moment, he stared at the ground, too embarrassed to meet your eyes. The smile on your face only made him feel worse, as if you were mocking him silently. His palms grew sweaty—though he convinced himself it was just the heat of the jungle—and he took another deep breath, trying to muster the courage to speak again.

“L00K, PUNK, 1—”

But before he could finish, you gently placed a hand on his cheek, and he froze, blushing furiously. What were you doing? He stared at you in bewilderment, his heart skipping a beat as he took in how stunning you looked up close. No, he couldn’t think like that—he was already embarrassed enough.

“PUNK, WHAT AR3 Y—”

His words were cut off as your lips suddenly met his, and Griefer’s brain short-circuited. Panic surged through him, and if he could blush any deeper, he would’ve turned into a human tomato. What was he supposed to do? He’d never kissed anyone before—not properly, anyway. The closest he’d come was a peck on the cheek from a girl back in high school, which didn’t count for much. But now, here you were, the person he actually liked,the person he actually thought of without any violent thoughts before going to sleep,kissing him, and all he could think was how utterly unprepared he was.

Slowly, as if moving through a dream, Griefer raised a hand to your hair, his fingers awkwardly threading through it before trailing down to your cheek. Okay, maybe he was getting the hang of this. His other hand found its way to your hip, pulling you closer, and he tried—really tried—not to mess this up. Which,spoiler!, of course, he did.

After what felt like an eternity—an agonizing, yet heavenly eternity—you both pulled apart. Griefer stared at you, his mind reeling. That… was actually a good kiss, especially for his first time. But then reality set in, and the nerves came rushing back. He had just kissed you—no, YOU had kissed HIM! He always thought he’d be the one to make the first move, and now he felt even more stupid. Who could blame him, though? He was just a hopeless guy in love.

Taking a deep, trembling breath, he looked at you, his hands still slightly shaky, and with all the courage he could muster, he blurted out one last request:

“C-CAN W3 K1SS AGA1N?”

[love-byers]

stancy + mlvn music coding

this is probably gonna be messy but i will try my hardest to keep it comprehensible

okay so recently i was rewatching the robin/vickie/vickie's bf scene in the gun store (4x08) because i felt like i'd heard the song that plays there before. it reminded me of the song that plays during this scene in 2x01

the song that plays in the s4 scene is actually 2 songs back to back, the first called 'Kids Two' (a variation of 'Kids" from the s1 sound track) and the second called 'Choices', originally from the s2 soundtrack. 'Choices' plays in the scene in 2x08 where dustin apologizes to lucas for lying about dart and suggests max take his place in the party and also says he felt the electricity between lucas and max-- and it leads into the scene where max and mike talk about el, and mike reminds max that she's still not in their party. i find that interesting because no one in that scene says choice, and no one in either scene is making a choice. that name does make sense for the s4 scene, because vickie is torn between her boyfriend and robin, clearly implying she must make a choice. 'Choices' is the song that sounded familiar to me.

the songs aren't exactly the same, but they are definitely similar and the one in s4 is likely an edited version of the one from the stancy scene.

those scenes are obviously parallels, steve sneaks up behind nancy and scares her and they kiss, just like vickie and her bf. then nancy/vickie look at jonathan/robin in a seemingly yearning way. love triangle stuff.

i always figured the song in the stancy scene was an original track from season 2. but turns out it isn't from s2, its from s1. its called 'First Kiss', and, you guessed it, it plays during mike and el's first kiss in 1x08.

i am not lying, go and watch the scenes.

after discovering this, i watched some more stancy scenes to listen for more similarities in the music. and i came across this scene from 1x05, where nancy almost hits steve with her bat and he apologizes to her over dismissing her concern over barb, and nancy gives him a kiss.

i went through the s1 tracklist and even tried shazam-ing the scene, but nothing turned up. i thought it sounded like 'First Kiss', but i wasn't sure if it was my own bias feeding into that. so i went to reddit, where all the people with way too much time on their hands hang out, and asked if anyone knew which ost was playing in that scene. this is what i got back

the reddit gurus agree with me.

as they said, first kiss also plays when mike and el make up in the hospital in 3x05. makes sense, since it's supposed to be their song.

i will also add that the stancy scene in 1x05 is immediately followed by the scene of joyce kicking lonnie out. that speaks for itself. AND, the mlvn scene in 3x05 cuts directly from el smiling at mike to a dead body. take that as you will

so lets recap

'First Kiss', or a section/version of it, has played during

1x05 steve apologizes to nancy 1x08 mike and el kiss 2x01 steve scares nancy and stancy kiss, nancy yearns over jonathan 3x05 mike and el make up via m&ms

2 stancy scenes and 2 mlvn scenes.

hm.

and 'Choices', which i strongly believe is derived from 'First Kiss', plays during

2x08 dustin apologizes to lucas and points out the electricity between lucas and max 2x08 mike and max talk about el 4x08 robin watches vickie and her boyfriend kiss

2 references to a love triangle (dustin,lucas,max & robin,vickie,dan)

and a nod towards mlvn involving max, who in the next season will come between mike and el's relationship.

HM.

im not sure if any of these besides 'Choices' play in s4, but once i do a rewatch i will let you guys know. im pretty sure they don't because i have a weirdly good memory when it comes to my hyperfixations so i think i'd remember it. like i knew the music from the stancy scene in 2x01 just from watching it like four different times since 2017.

all of this coupled with the countless times byler has had music parallels with jancy and lumax, i'm pretty sure this means byler endgame.

if anyone tries to say that it doesn't matter that they reused mike and el's first kiss song for a loveless relationship, i wholeheartedly disagree with you. they make songs that are specifically for one scene and are never played again. for example 'The First Lie', the song that played during jonathan and nancy's first kiss has only played during that scene. never again.

so if mlvn is what the fans say it is, the main couple, the epic love story of stranger things, why can't they just have a song to themselves? jonathan and nancy do. im sure they could've found another song that fit for the stancy/jancy scene in 2x01, knowing the implications it would give if they used it. but nope, they had to use 'First Kiss', which takes place an episode before the stancy scene. 1x08 -> 2x01

one more example, 'On The Bus' is from the s2 soundtrack. it plays once during s2, when lucas and max talk on top of the bus. it doesn't play at all in s3, and then randomly in 4x04, it plays during a byler scene. THAT. HAS. IMPLICATIONS.

take this however you'd like

[necroromantics]

Hi Im gonna be petty again. But the fact that TicciWork fans had to deal with the ship and Clockwork being brutally hated on from as early as ~2013, and now theres so much misinformation rampant on TikTok about the ship, and when we try to speak up about it everyone throws a fit. It just baffles me how everyone is allowed to hate on and be passive aggressive about this ship but when we say someone about it or spread real canon information, we're too hostile or making a fuss. We've done nothing but let you guys have your ships, you are allowed to ship whatever you want, even if its not TicciWork.

I have never once seen a single TicciWork fan make a post where Nina or Jack or Tim is a bitchy evil villain antagonist who is Toby's ex or something getting in the way of his relationship with Clockwork. I have never once seen a TicciWork fan making rant posts about another character that gets shipped with Toby. But the amounts of times I have seen that exact thing be done for Clockwork is astounding. And if any of us speak up about the hypocrisy then everyone gets all mad and posts start being made.

I really dont care for all this drama, so this should be my last post on it. My initial posts about the misogyny with Clockwork was only directed towards the people who hate on Clockwork because shes shipped with Toby, because they want Toby to be shipped with their OC or them or another character. To hate on a woman over a man is absolutely cringe and nuts. And then to twist my words by saying "If you dont ship TicciWork you hate women" is really telling of you as a person and your reading comprehension skills. Also, if the shoe fits. If it doesnt apply to you, you dont gotta bend over backwards to make it apply just to be the victim cuz I hit a sore spot. And if it does apply, then ask yourself why are you so angry over a random ass female character.

Tldr; Ahhh you mad ahh you mad as hell

[minty-drop]

hello there can you do a platonic ford x demon reader

so reader is a demon of negative energy so others would think they are dangerous but nope the reader just spends most of their time nice and calm but also in pillow bases and forts all over the shak when the reader can and ford is just taking notes while it's happening and gets pulled into one of the forts with them.

Platonic ford x demon reader

Warnings: none

Type: headcanon platonic

✎ᝰ. Ford was always naturally a smart and intelligent person. So why in his right mind did he decide to let you stay here in the shack with them? For the research of course.

✎ᝰ. Negative energy is more cosmic then most think, unbounded by the pull of the universe itself, for negative energy simply isn’t emotion. In fact, emotion doesn’t even have to do with the feeding process of these forces of raw energy itself like most would assume from the name itself. A festering pool of dark energy collected in a plain of existence where space bends and time slows. matter not visible to the eye yet so powerful it sucks in anything, similar to how a vacuum cleaner sucks in surrounding dust from the suction force of the machine itself, trapping those particles inside it. A plain of existence far from man’s comprehension. Invisible to all senses until it is too late. To be hunted by creatures that aren’t physically present.

✎ᝰ. Some call them demons, violent creatures of sin and wrath, grasping everything in their claws like a wild animal caged in a chamber of fire. This depiction was far, far from the truth of these extraordinary beings, these beings powerful enough to break through there own worlds boundaries to exceed beyond there own realms in search for something as a shared goal. It was different from a hive mind, far more complex than any.

✎ᝰ. It seemed though you in particular strayed far from that collective mind, having made yourself home cocooned in the plush blanket fort that not so neatly draped blankets over chairs to form its shelter from the ceiling fans light, pillow cases and couch cushions shoved inside the fort itself to finish off the cozy makeshift tent like bed. How odd.

✎ᝰ. The only evidence of your presence was the invisible force picking up the blankets, and draping them around yourself, enjoying staring at the tvs flashing lights and colours that illuminated the room. It was fascinating how you could see the dimension you were in yet, no one could see you. Perhaps you were a higher being, or perhaps your realm was a dimension between the third and fourth? A path way to both ends where the universe is at its thinned string when meeting ends.

✎ᝰ. Perhaps your presence wasn’t entire here, a face of yourself that is projected to interact with the social life of a different realm? To research just like him. Even so. Why insist on him joining you in the tent. You couldn’t feel warmth from the blankets and yet you clung to them, you couldn’t speak to him but continued to gesture with objects around to communicate. Why go through the trouble of it? What was the purpose of it?

✎ᝰ. Though, this wasn’t entirely bad, for this shall be a new opportunity for him. And perhaps for you as well to learn about your realms and each other.

Do not copy and claim my work as your own

[sphireath-wisp]

Can you do Blue Lock Rin x female reader x Sae? The reader is a very sweet and kind girl. The Itoshi brothers are fighting for her love.

Sypnosis: The ask above!!

Warnings: Love angle, unclear ending, all characters are aged-up, mild cursing, messy interchanging grammar

Notes: You didn't exactly specify how you wanted the story to end. Neither did you say whether you wanted Rin to get with the reader or Sae to get with the reader? Thus, I made it more of a big situationship. (I didn't have much to work with and I wanted to stay in bounds instead of straying further from your ask and making my own story)

Featuring: Rin x F! Reader x Sae

"So, this is what you were up to, Sae?" Sae clicks his tongue at the sound of Rin's voice. He had hoped that dragging you alone with him to a booth near the back of the club would have let Rin off of his trail. This suffocating crowd wasn't doing him any good, especially when they failed to slow Rin down.

Rin, on the other hand, is irritated beyond words. Even with the bright lights in the club, he can still see the bright red flush of your cheeks and bare skin. You're wasted, drunk beyond comprehension and he can tell from your slurred speech.

You're on Sae's lap, forehead resting against his shoulder as his hands pretend to hold up upright - both Sae and Rin know Sae wants to hold you.

The sight alone causes Rin's hands to ball into fists. The blood in his veins feels like they've reached a boiling point, his gut churns uncomfortably when you give him that glazed-eye look. He's never wanted to be his brother so bad.

You feel a hand wrap around your wrist. "Come on, (Name). We're leaving." Rin declares.

"You're leaving. (Name)'s with me." Sae speaks up, hand holding your other wrist when Rin tugs you off of his lap. Sae's frown visibly deepens. He doesn't like you leaving - he realizes.

You stumble between the two. The world is spinning when you stand up and the ground looks distorted. The alcohol has its own strong effect on you, you can barely stand up and, unluckily or not, they take notice.

Rin takes action first, tugging you in his direction and allowing you to rest your head on his chest. His body has a mind of its own when his hand snakes around your waist. Sae, however, just had to intervene and pull you away from him just when he was getting comfortable.

"Fucking moron, can't you see she's wasted? I'm not leaving her like this. I'm bringing her home." Rin hasn't let go of your wrist.

"I know what I'm doing, Rin. Go home," Sae's words are firm, eyes narrowing at Rin and earning a glare from him. "Tugging her back and forth like a ragdoll, you don't know how to treat a girl right."

There's an almost deafening silence between you three. You're too disoriented to really hear the snarky comments exchanged except for the loud music blasting through the speakers. Chills shoot up your spine when Rin places his hand on the small of your back. Sae stands his ground and his hand find their space on your shoulder, fingers invasively going under the strap of your top.

"(Name)'s going home with me, Sae."

"You can't decide shit for her."

"What? You wanna ask her yourself?" Rin's tone is mocking, eyes rolling at his older brother. "If you have eyes, you can clearly see that she's drunk."

"She'd still want to stay with me, drunk or not." Sae's eye twitches. "Right, (Name)?"

You blink, dazed from the alcohol. Everything's a blur and you stagger back and forth. If it wasn't for them, you'd probably have fallen down by now.

"...Huh?" you blurt out after a moment.

"(Name)," Rin begins, speaking slowly so you can process things, "Do you want to go home with me or stay with Sae?"

[the-ellia-west]

The Porcelain Girl

(My Symbolism-infused School assignment Short Story)

It's about failure, success, isolation, and the torture of artists, failure, and imitation

Gold Represents Success, Silver Represents failure, yada yada

(Tis very long, read at your own risk)

PLEASE COMMENT OR RB WITH YOUR OPINION, I NEED TO TURN THIS IN ON MONDAY

The first thing I knew was the golden sunlight filtering in through the keyhole. When I stepped out of my small cabinet, my new world seemed a wonder beyond comprehension. Within walls too big for my eyes and voices through the halls I had to run to reach the end of. It took me days to explore the castle. I could sit on window sills and hide from the metallic footsteps of the Courtiers. I didn’t know how I knew their titles, but I did know I had to be careful. The Castle paved in stone, the courtiers plated in shining metal, they were glorious sights to behold. 

I was different.

Days and days passed, turning over to weeks, then months, and I began to know my castle and its contents. Men reveled in gold, where trash became the only home for silver. I would spend my days sitting in the window, looking out at the world beyond my gilded walls. But I loved one thing most of all. The king, the one who owned the palace, the only one entirely of gold, with no silver spots about him. He would speak to his servants as if they were free, and the Courtiers would imitate him down to his very smile. 

But I was no different in that regard. I longed to be like him, looked up to instead of crushed underfoot. But he was made of gold, and I was nothing more than mud. I had beauty, true, but I was still only clay with a painted face.

However, one day, while I was gazing from the window, pondering everything but my purpose, I spotted something. A crown, upon a scarlet pillow, displayed on a marble pedestal at the right hand of the King, gleaming in the summer sunset. The same color as the dandelions plucked from the gardens or the reflection of lanterns in a Courtier’s eyes. It called the name I didn’t have. 

I needed to see it up close. So against my better judgement, I lowered myself from the window and rushed to the ballroom to catch a glimpse of it. But as I reached the room, its sheer size made me forget where I stood.

Courtiers and servants at the left and right, carrying bronze platters and golden flowers, a room so bright it hurt my eyes. Beautiful to the point of gaudiness. Feet moved to the rhythm of something the King later called music, and fabric danced around the ankles of golden women. I stumbled away and scampered through the squirming crowd, avoiding being crushed beneath shoes or knocked over by flailing limbs. Because even then. I somehow knew I was in danger of being broken.

I was jostled, belittled, and ignored. Until I saw it again. The Crown stood above my head so far I was almost sure it brushed the clouds’ silver lining. But its beauty entranced me, making me forget for a moment the scratches in my paint from the violent thoughtlessness of the Courtiers. I wanted to touch it, just to know if it was real. So I stepped up onto the carved stone, hooking my smooth glass fingers into the dents and chipped columns. 

“Girl.” 

I stopped at once. I knew it was the King without turning. My grip on the stone loosened and I answered, “Yes, your Majesty?”

“What are you doing?” his voice was gentle but firm.

“I wished to see the crown.”

“Why? You are made of clay and glass. You are safer on the ground. You know that. You will never reach the top. It is better for you to stay away from danger.” 

I knew he was right, and even though I desperately wanted to reach the crown, I didn’t know if I could. 

“Please come down.”

But I didn’t. I gripped the stone and tried to pull myself up. But with his words in my head, my hold faltered, I felt a brief rush of air and the sensation of falling, before I hit the ground with a shatter. I only remember fragments. 

The King ordered me taken to the forges to be repaired. One of the Courtiers, shoulder plates of gleaming silver volunteered to collect my pieces and carry me. I was stitched back together in blue fire and the same silver of the Courtier, marking the cracks in my perfection. 

I stayed in my cabinet, tracing the cracks in my body with my fingers, too ashamed by my failure to allow myself to be seen. Until with the setting sun and the pearlecant shine of the moon, a voice whispered to me on the wind.

“What are you waiting for, girl? Why the tears?”

I looked for it’s source, but when I found nothing, I simply whispered back, “I failed.”

“You can’t hide forever just because of one failure. You are a treasure. If anything, your new metal shine makes you more beautiful.”

“But I am imperfect.”

“And so is even the most beautiful of flowers. Don’t let it keep you down, love.”

I tried to ask the voice what that meant, but it refused to answer. Eventually, I took it’s strange words and returned to the halls. For days, I followed the King’s advice, for I had come to fear the Courtiers and Servants once more. But at same time, they drew my eye. Every time I thought to speak to them, I remembered my imperfection, and I was afraid. But my fear could not keep me from the crown forever. The next time I saw it, the King had shed it from his head, and again, it stole my breath with it’s beauty. Silver cracks across my hands the color of the tools used by the Courtiers I feared, could not deter me any longer and I set out for the room. Their golden visage seemed taller as their glinting eyes watched my quiet steps. I shrank in on myself, saying nothing and hoping they would just forget I existed.

“The girl made of glass.”

“But she’s covered in Silver.”

“Why is she here?”

Silver. What I was and what they saw. I was a walking second place medal. I started to wonder if I should have just stayed in my cabinet. But a small whisper in the distance startled my attention away from the Courtier’s rumors. 

“You can do this.”

I stopped, catching my breath as I spotted the man who had brought me to the forge. Shackles of pearly silver weighing him down. But he managed a smile when he saw me. And that gave me hope. I could do this. I would climb up there, touch that crown, and I would prove to the king that I was something he could be proud of. 

So I gritted my teeth, and began my climb. The voices cut into the cracks in my clay flesh, as they whispered and muttered. But once more, the King saw me. He warned me to descend. But I refused. Until a Servant nudged the pedestal with his arm and I lost my grip.

I reawoke in my Cabinet once again.

“Wake up. Do not give in to fear. When you are ready, you can do this.” 

I ventured into the hallway to see myself in the curved glass of the clock. More silver filled the places where I had broken. But the whisper brought a warm breeze to comfort me.

“You are resilient. That is commendable. You are worth so much more than you know. Nobody is perfect on the first try.”

Though my failure discouraged me, I wanted to see the crown more than ever. And so I waited until the news of the next Ball.

When the doors opened, I wove between the feet of the golden Courtiers, glittering like the sun in the flicker of the evening lanterns. Without hesitation, I began to climb. 

This time, I would reach the crown. I knew it. The Courtiers noticed me halfway. They began their whispers, but I held on tight. It was a long, difficult task, but I kept going. Until he saw me. 

“Foolish girl!” His voice thundered across the room, shaking me as I reached for the top. “It is worthless to try getting you to see sense! You are made of clay and silver, you were not made for this! You are brittle and broken. This is the last time you will disobey me!”

With those words, the king plucked me from the pedestal. I lost my grip, and I fell. This time I hadn’t shattered. But I had still broken. He told the Servants to repair me and then lock me away. 

“This is for your good, Porcelain Girl. You discard your fragility too often. You will not break again.”

In a blur of hours and days, I was repaired, and locked in the dark of the castle’s dungeons. The Silver ran through my eyes and darkened my hair. Shackles the color of moonlight weighed my hands and feet. Though they were too loose to restrain me, I leaned against the bars, and waited to die. If I could not please him, I had no purpose. The Courtier with the silver shoulders came to visit me once. But I ignored him. He returned the next day and played me a song.

I told him to leave.

But one day, the Spirit returned, “You have given up. Why?”

“I have failed too many times.” I said, hoping he would go.

“A failure is not a curse.”

“But I am broken.” I told him. “And I cannot be fixed.”

“Even your king and his brilliant crown have a blemish or two. Gold is a soft metal.”

“Nevertheless. I am worthless. Even if you are right, they will never want me. I will fail again and again. I will never please them. I am only made of clay.”

“You are so much more than that crown or that king, or those courtiers. You are something new, and no one is ever used to something new. You have one person, don’t you? That Courtier still believes in you.”

I hesitated, considering his words. He was right, annoyingly enough. That Courtier did care about me. For some reason. And The Spirit himself seemed to as well. 

But as I looked down at my chains, I noticed something. Little silver flakes and wires. I slipped out of them easily, for they were too large for my hands, scooping the little scraps into my arms. I left the cell, and went to the courtyard, where the Silver-shouldered Courtier watched the sunrise. 

And as the golden rays lit up the castle, I saw myself in a small puddle, and for a moment, my Silver seemed the very same color as the light itself. 

Then I got an idea. I began to weave the wires into a small circlet, just large enough for my head. The Courtier spotted me, and he smiled, offering me a small golden ring. I accepted, and he helped me to weave my masterpiece. And for the first time, I loved that I was made of Clay. Knowing we were perfect just the way we were, our failures making us better for the future.

“I like it. Reminds me of you.” He smiled, and I smiled back as we faced the glory of the sun. The Spirit brushed my hair with a warm breeze and I held the circlet up to the light. 

It wasn’t the crown of a king, and it was far from perfect, but it was mine.

@supercimi @nczaversnick @homelessnerd @i-do-anything-but-write @sunflowerrosy

@artsandstoriesandstuff @soggt-frn