#thank you violet for all your service

[polin-erospsyche]

I will jump onto the train of “in this house we thank Violet Bridgerton” because that woman has so much patience and strength. I love the scene where we get Colin completely lost and confused asking her whether friendship is a strong foundation for great love while unable to look away from Pen completely enamoured. Violet sees it immediately, she knows, she understands and there’s not an ounce of surprise on her face just pure happiness for her son because she knows he has found his home and it is just so evident. Yet despite nearly telling him to work up the courage to ask (which I will admit he tried very hard), she will have to see her son pace around, drive himself sick with love, before using reverse psychology on him because it might be the only thing that will get him out of his feelings and spur him into action. And for that I have so much admiration for Violet Bridgerton because if he had been my son I would have shook him, told him to quit moping and go get his girl.

[eufezco]

THE MUSE

Benedict needs to practice female form. Naked female form. And who better to help him than his lifelong friend?

Benedict x fem!reader (smut with plot, friends to lovers) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

Benedict didn't know how to ask you.

You had been friends for a long time, your families were practically one. Always so united, your mamas took walks every afternoon, gossiping about the ton and your fathers had been friends since childhood. You and Benedict were bound to meet.

You and he grew up together. You were friends with his siblings, you had held sleepovers with his sisters and won cricket matches against his brothers. Lady Violet Bridgerton loved you like a daughter and your mother loved Benedict like a son.

But your friendship with him had always been special.

When you were twelve, you ran away together to camp on the riverbank, just because Benedict wanted to draw the moon reflecting in the water at night. The following year, despite the scolding you received for your river adventure, you and Benedict sneaked onto private land just to pluck a few petals from the summer sunflowers to get him the perfect shade of yellow.

You and Benedict were very close. Of course, there had always been rumors about what kind of relationship you two had and that Lady Whistledown had only added more fuel to the fire writing about you two in her pamphlets. You and him never cared about that, and neither your families but it was true that you two have had to face some uncomfortable conversations with them about it.

That's why Benedict didn't know how to ask you. You had a lot of trust in each other, you had always supported his artistic vocation but perhaps this was too much.

—Oh, thank God you've come. I am in need of a model —. It was the first thing Benedict said to you when you entered his studio. The maid closed the door behind you, leaving you alone with him. Thank goodness the Bridgertons' service was very discreet, if anyone found out that you and him were alone in a room it would cause quite a scandal.

—Good evening to you too, Benedict.

—My apologies. Good evening —. He leaned to kiss your cheek.— I need a model —. He let you know one more time.

—How have you been? Very stressed from what I can tell —. You tried to have a normal conversation with him before you paid attention to what he required.

—Indeed.

You sighed. —Well, what is it? I thought we were going for a walk.

He nodded. —We can go outside later. But I need to get this done by tomorrow and I feel like I'm losing my mind.

—And...?

—I need practice female form.

You slowly nodded. You were aware that Benedict had been recently attending this art academy, you were happy that he was finally able to pursue his passion and you couldn't deny that within the characteristic desperation of the artists, he looked very attractive. Benedict's hair was a mess, his white shirt was half-open, his sleeves were rolled up. He would never have allowed himself be seen in society like that and you were grateful because otherwise he would have all the girls after him.

—And you want me to...?

—Pose for me.

You weren't quite sure how to do it but it seemed easy and fun. All the times he had drawn you, he had done it when you were distracted, reading, having tea with his sisters... The pencil moved effortlessly across the paper when he saw you laughing with Daphne or playing with the cards that Colin had brought back from his trip to Spain. He was already too embarrassed to admit each time he drew you and Anthony teased him by saying that if he didn't propose to you, he would show you his drawings, and Benedict's heart skipped a beat because he knew that his older brother was not known for being a joker.

Benedict still didn't know how he was going to ask you, maybe it was better to just let it out.

—And what shall I do? Just stand here? Like this? —You laughed and made a dramatic pose like the ones you saw in the paintings in the gallery you visited together.

—I need you to ...

Benedict swallowed nervously. He looked down at your dress and then directly into your eyes. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to finish. You also looked at your dress to see if there was something wrong with it.

—Benedict I don't think I understand what you are trying to say—

—I need to practice naked female form.

Benedict immediately noticed your horrified face. He wanted to go back seconds ago when he hadn't even asked but if it wasn't you, who would it be? —I will not draw your face. No one will know it is you. It will be purely professional, I just need a few minutes.

You bit the inside of your cheeks and decided to trust him when he said that it would be for professional purposes only. The unfinished nude sketches that made your cheeks burn when you saw them as you entered his studio showed you that Benedict found no inspiration in the bodies of the academy models. After a nervous swallowing, you nodded and Benedict's face lit up. He hugged you but you didn't have time to hug him back because he quickly went to prepare the canvas.

—Is the door locked? —You asked him as you shed the little jacket that covered your shoulders along with your gloves. Benedict rushed off to lock it and before he returned to his position behind the canvas. You called his name and gulped, your hands failing in their attempts to unzip your own dress. —May I please get some help?

—Oh, yes, of course. My apologies.

Benedict stood behind you, his fingers brushing the skin on your back as he began to slowly unzip it until the dress slid down your body and fell at your feet. Benedict felt like he had to look away, as if in a few seconds you would not be completely exposed to his eyes. He offered you his hand to help you get up on a small pedestal that he had in his studio. Once you got rid of your underwear, you felt vulnerable but not as vulnerable as when Benedict ran his eyes over your body from his position and with the paintbrush already in his hand.

He let out all the air he had in his lungs, he couldn't take his eyes off you. Benedict could not deny that he had imagined it on many occasions, but reality far surpassed his imagination.

—What... What should I do, Benedict? —You hugged yourself.

—Put your arms down and stand like that. You look perfect, darling.

Your cheeks burned after that. You did as he said. His brow was slightly furrowed in concentration as his eyes went from the canvas to you and back to the canvas. Benedict asked you to turn around and he squeezed his eyes tightly after seeing your bare ass. Purely professional, this was purely professional, he had to remind himself.

Benedict grabbed a wooden chair and walked over to you. Your heart skipped a beat once he was so close to your naked body and he felt the exact same. He placed the chair next to you and invited you to sit on it. He nodded slowly when you did, focusing on the new position of your body. Benedict went back behind the canvas and made a few sketches.

He cleared his throat. —Would it be possible if you... Could you spread your legs?

Your cheeks grew hot and you squeezed your thighs together.

The knot you had in your stomach got tighter and you felt your chest rise and fall slowly thanks to your deep breathing. You straightened your back in the chair and you did as Benedict asked. You felt the air of the room caressing you in that warm and wet area and he held his breath, his chest puffing out as your legs slowly opened for him.

—You are beautiful, darling. Do not be ashamed —. Every new inch he discovered of your body made you look more perfect in his eyes. It was as nice to see you as it was to paint you.

Your cheeks grew even hotter but this time it wasn't just your cheeks, your whole body was in flames starting with the area between your legs that was so exposed to his eyes.

—Could we try another position?

You nodded, relieved, you were sure it was painfully obvious the way you had gotten wet and you just hoped he was busy enough to not notice.

He dropped the paintbrush and got up from the stool on which he was sitting. Benedict felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter with each step he took closer to your naked body. You moved in the chair out of nervousness. Benedict leaned slightly over you. —May I? —He asked before touching your leg. His voice made you shiver, he was so close, you felt his hand brush against the skin of your thigh. You nodded and looked up at him while he repositioned your leg. Benedict's eyes meet yours, so helpless, his lifelong friend, was that innocence in your eyes, or was that...?

Lust.

Your hand grabbed the back of Benedict's head and pressed his lips against yours. His eyes widened in surprise but immediately after, his hands went to cup your cheeks as he fell to his knees in front of you. You opened your legs so he could place himself between them and be closer to you. The shameless hands of your friend traveled down your neck until they reached your breasts. You moaned against his mouth once he gave them a gentle squeeze, the soft palm of his hand brushing against your nipples.

Benedict left a trail of soft kisses from your cheeks to your collarbones and your breasts. He took one in his mouth as his hand played with the other, his tongue moving in circles around your nipple and sucking on it at the same time. Your breathing quickened and your lips parted to let out soft moans when Benedict's teeth brushed your sensitive nipple.

He let go with a pop sound and watched you gasp for air. Benedict placed his hands on the inside of your thighs and caressed your skin there before he slowly pushed them to open even further. His hands prepared you for him, his eyes asked for your permission. You nodded and Benedict flashed you a smile, that was all he needed. He peppered your thighs with kisses, taking small bites and kissing your sore skin afterwards. Your breathing deepened as his mouth got closer to where you needed him the most. He was so close he could smell you and oh Lord, his dick got hard as a rock at that moment.

You took a sharp breath when he licked from your entrance to your clit and savored your juices in his mouth. The image was completely sinful, his blue eyes were locked on you while his lips sucked on your bundle of nerves, his hands forced your legs to stay open for him. Your head was thrown back, your mouth was open in a perfect "O" form, your fingers digging into his scalp. Once he noticed the desperation in the way your hips rolled against his mouth, two of his fingers entered you easily. You stifled a loud moan, throwing a hand over your mouth.

Benedict hummed, sending vibrations to your clit.

—Talk to me. How does this feel? —He required.

—So good. It feels... —You bit down your lower lip, his fingers sank deeper. —It feels like heaven.

He was satisfied with your answer.

Benedict fucked you with his fingers until you had to grab his wrist to get him to stop, it was too much. Your legs closed around his head but his lips were still attached to your clit and he didn't stop until he heard how your moans turned into whines and cries, not until he noticed how your back arched off the chair and your chest rose and fell uncontrolled thanks to your panting. Benedict didn't stop, not until he felt how your pussy was clenching so hard that almost pushed his fingers out of you and he heard you moan his name one last time as your grip on his hair tightened.

He gave you all the time you needed to catch your breath, kissing your legs and intertwining his fingers with yours while you came down from your high. Benedict's blue eyes were locked on you making every effort to later recall every single part of you.

—How are you feeling, darling? —Benedict stood on his feet and held your hands so that you would stand up as well. Before you could answer his question, you both realized how your legs were shaking and laughed. At the same time, you felt Benedict's grip on your hands grow stronger to keep you from falling.

Benedict leaned in and kissed your lips in the sweetest possible way. The tickling sensation in your body that you felt when you were naked in front of him had turned into a different kind of tickling, now focused on your stomach. It was so familiar, you had felt it so many times when you looked at him but now, with his lips on yours and his hands treating you with so much affection and care, it was different.

You could confirm that it was not only lust but also love.

You hummed against his lips. —Wait, did you finish your drawing?

Benedict shook his head. —But, please, do not worry about that. I will help you get dressed —. You frowned confused and he gave a quick kiss to your lips so, as he had told you, you would not worry. —I can finish later. There's no way I'm forgetting your body, my dear.

[doyouknowthisanime]

Happy Halloween, everyone!

I've got some good news - I've finished tallying up the results of the favourite anime survey and can now, finally, reveal what Tumblr's favourite anime actually are. To start with, I'd like to thank everyone who responded - yes, all 1172 (wow!) of you - and to apologise for he delay in actually getting these results out. For anyone who needs a reminder, these results are based on how many points each anime received - a first place ranking was worth five points, a second or third place ranking was worth four, a fourth or fifth place ranking was worth three, a sixth-tenth place ranking was worth two, and a eleventh-twentieth place ranking was worth one. When multiple anime had the same number of points, the anime with the most first-place votes was placed higher. The results are below the read more right here - I hope you enjoy reading!

100. Yona of the Dawn - 82 points

99. Devilman Crybaby - 83 points

98. Monogatari Series - 83 points

97. Lucky Star - 84 points

96. Toradora - 84 points

95. Dr. Stone - 86 points

94. Princess Jellyfish - 86 points

93. ERASED - 87 points

92. Noragami - 87 points

91. Wolf's Rain - 88 points

90. Azumanga Daioh - 90 points

89. Paranoia Agent - 90 points

88. Odd Taxi - 91 points

87. Banana Fish - 93 points

86. Digimon Adventure - 95 points

85. Akira - 95 points

84. Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni - 95 points

83. Psycho-Pass - 96 points

82. Little Witch Academia - 96 points

81. Monster - 97 points

80. Mononoke - 98 points

79. Free! - 99 points

78. Kekkai Sensen - 99 points

77. Trigun Stampede - 102 points

76. Haibane Renmei - 103 points

75. Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters - 104 points

74. Gintama - 105 points

73. Violet Evergarden - 107 points

72. Dorohedoro - 113 points

71. Made in Abyss - 113 points

70. Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury - 113 points

69. Eizouken ni wa Te o Dasu na! - 115 points

68. Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind - 116 points

67. SK8 the Infinity - 117 points

66. Samurai Champloo - 117 points

65. Your Name - 118 points

64. Castle in the Sky - 119 points

63. Perfect Blue - 119 points

62. Promare - 120 points

61. One Punch Man - 122 points

60. The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya - 126 points

59. Kiki's Delivery Service - 129 points

58. Kaguya-sama: Love is War - 136 points

57. Inuyasha - 136 points

56. Assassination Classroom - 142 points

55. FLCL - 143 points

54. Pokémon - 144 points

53. Death Parade - 148 points

52. Dragon Ball - 150 points

51. Natsume Yuujinchou - 157 points

50. The Apothecary Diaries - 158 points

49. Revue Starlight - 159 points

48. Durarara!! - 160 points

47. Yu Yu Hakusho - 162 points

46. Naruto - 163 points

45. Black Butler - 165 points

44. Attack on Titan - 167 points

43. Houseki no Kuni - 168 points

42. Steins;Gate - 172 points

41. Cardcaptor Sakura - 186 points

40. Code Geass - 186 points.

39. Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-Kun - 187 points

38. The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. - 192 points

37. Kill la Kill - 194 points

36. Bungou Stray Dogs - 194 points

35. Baccano! - 198 points

34. Bocchi the Rock! - 201 points

33. Chainsaw Man - 208 points

32. Demon Slayer - 209 points

31. Serial Experiments Lain - 213 points

30. Jujutsu Kaisen - 227 points

29. Spy x Family - 236 points

28. Howl's Moving Castle - 238 points

27. Princess Mononoke - 240 points

26. Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann - 241 points

25. Sailor Moon - 249 points

24. Mushi-shi - 249 points

23. Princess Tutu - 254 points

22. Nichijou - 263 points

21. Trigun - 265 points

20. Spirited Away - 266 points

19. My Hero Academia - 266 points

18. Fruits Basket (2019) - 269 points

17. Soul Eater - 292 points

16. Sousou no Frieren - 300 points

15. Yuri!!! on Ice - 333 points

14. Fullmetal Alchemist - 364 points

13. Ouran High School Host Club - 374 points

12. Death Note - 437 points

11. Cowboy Bebop - 450 points

10. Haikyuu - 457 points

9. Neon Genesis Evangelion - 496 points

8. Jojo's Bizarre Adventure - 496 points

7. Hunter x Hunter (2011) - 516 points

6. Revolutionary Girl Utena - 537 points

5. One Piece - 633 points

4. Puella Magi Madoka Magica - 664 points

3. Mob Psycho 100 - 943 points

2. Dungeon Meshi - 985 points

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood - 1106 points

Congratulations to FMA Brotherhood for winning! For more detailed results, go to this spreadsheet. Once again, thank you all for participating, and waiting so patiently for the results!

[504py]

A day in a life with Ivan. [ONESHOT]

Warnings below the cut 。。。

⚠️ NSFW, yandere content, alcoholism, reader got tradwifed, stockholm syndrome, domestic violence, Ivan is very blatantly sadistic, size difference, dacryphilia, vague breeding kink, no use of Y/N, forced feminization(?), gender neutral reader.

hey yawll!! i drew this since i wanted to play more with the painting style and color palette i did in my last post, but since i hit 800 followers recently, i decided to write something to go along with it too!

thank you guys so so much for putting up with my bs and enjoying the slop i create LOL. hopefully this will be enough to thank you all and to satiate you guys till i come back from hibernation again 🩵🙏

also!! while this is a gender neutral reader, ivan still refers to you as a housewife. this is pretty much an extension of the headcanon post i did on him.

MAN I NEED TO RECONNECT WITH NATURE AFTER THIS 😭😭😭

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

The average heart rate of a rabbit is a hundred and eighty beats per minute. Much, much faster than a human's at only a hundred, the little hearts of rabbits pump virile blood into their vulnerable bodies in order to outrun the cursed life of a prey animal they have no choice but to live.

Living with Ivan feels the exact same way. You, a human, were reduced to nothing but a prey animal whose only line of defense was either freeze or flight. Ivan prefers the freeze response. Tries to squeeze it out of you as much as he can.

The morning begins normally. You wake up next to his large, minimally clothed body, while you're bundled up as much as physically possible. You don't understand how he's so comfortable in the cold, but you've learned not to liken him to humans. You gently wake him up before you leave the bed– you learned that he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed without any prior notice. It takes a while for Ivan to wake up, he's a heavy sleeper, but when his violet eyes finally open and dilate at the sight of you, the first thing he does is smile and pull you in to trap you in a strong bear hug. Don't struggle, he'll just tighten his grip. Then he kisses your cheek, and just holds you there without saying anything. He'll grumble a little when you tell him you have to leave bed to make breakfast, but he eventually will let you go.

It's a little sick how your current living situation makes chores the best part of your day, given how it allows the most proximity between you and Ivan. Cooking in the early morning is your favorite, since it takes Ivan a long time to recover from his hibernation. Thinking about what to cook is a bit of a meditative process as well, allows you to think thoroughly about anything other than your way of life and the man keeping you here.

Today, you decided to make something simple and similar to something you ate growing up. Luckily, Ivan is not a picky eater, even though he rather obviously prefers Slavic food. He'll eat whatever you make happily, but he'll be in even better spirits if you make something familiar to him.

You do not cook in silence. Silence has quickly become one of your biggest pet peeves since your captivity, and you do anything to drown it out. This damn empty mansion, the way Ivan is so terrible with his words and chooses instead to crush you with his actions, the bleak snowy landscape that greets you if you dare try and find any solace outside of this cage and your captor– It's enough to drive anyone insane. So, you pass the days by drowning out your thoughts with music and movies.

Ivan doesn't allow you a cellphone, or anything remotely modern at all. His home has a terrifying dedication to being so analog, you'd think you'd been transported to the 90's if not for the TV with a few streaming services on it, the only modern piece of technology he allows. He likes to collect cameras, radios, and old phones. Ivan's menagerie of antique goods is so expansive that it earned itself its own room. It's almost like a small museum, and you're very glad he allows you to look at and touch them as you pleased– with care, of course. He can actually be rather charming when he acts as your "museum guide" in this room. One of the few times you find yourself thinking anything remotely positive about him.

Ivan's voice is soft, it always is, but when he talks about these things he's so passionate about and so engrossed in, it takes on a bit more of a stern, confident tone that is easier for you to listen to. And when he's looking at the objects he's explaining, you can admire his side profile more openly. He's caught you multiple times (he has surprisingly sharp senses), and you're met with a flustered smile instead of the usual so-sweet-to-the-point-it-looks-fake type of smile.

"What are you looking at?" He'd ask, his voice quieting back down to that syrupy tone.

"Just you." You'd reply, which makes him pause in surprise for a second, before it earns a soft giggle from the towering man.

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Vanya." The nickname makes him melt. "You just looked pretty."

The smile falls from his face, and his cheeks redden even more than you thought possible, before his grin returns tenfold. He laughs and looks away.

The memory of such interactions make you feel like buttering up to the man instead of rejecting him so much, then you realize you're just describing stockholm syndrome. As crazy as it is, it feels like, at this point, it'd be better to let it happen than to be aware and hateful every day you live here.

As if your thoughts had alerted him, you hear Ivan's deceptively soft footsteps descend the stairs. He doesn't say anything, and just makes his way to the kitchen to watch you.

He's dressed in more clothing now, a dark blue sweater and gray sweatpants. His neck is left bare around you. When you first met him, his clothing that purposefully covers his neck always went unnoticed by you, because such clothes fit him so well, like they were always meant to be there. It was only after your capture, when he took off his scarf and you saw the bandages around his pale neck did you start to question it.

You've never outright asked him, you worry the subject is too volatile. He just... decided to stop hiding it one day. It was after a shower when you first saw it, the ligature marks around his neck and a few faded pink scars on the front of his adam's apple. Ivan noticed you staring, and you've never seen him look so small and insecure before.

"Is it bad?"

"No." You shake your head. "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore."

And that was that.

You finish plating up two dishes, one with a significantly heftier portion than yours considering how much he eats. You quickly place the chopping board and all the pans you used in the sink to wash later, and you bring the dishes to the table.

Ivan yawns, rubs at his eyes, and without much event, just picks up a knife and a fork and starts eating. You do the same only after fetching some tea from the samovar.

Breakfast is always quiet besides the background noise of whatever media you chose to play.

"Mm. Ёжик в тумaне?"

"Yeah. I like this one."

"A little somber, isn't it?"

"The hedgehog is cute. I relate to it a little bit."

Ivan takes his eyes off of the television to look at you, and ponders what you said a little more. He doesn't say anything, and continues eating.

"What will you be doing today?" You ask, in case you needed to iron some clothing or prepare extra food for guests.

He hums in thought for a moment. "I'll be going out in the evening to drink with the other nations."

"What will you be wearing?"

"What I usually do."

You nod, "I'll have it ready soon."

"What about you?" He asks.

"Hmm... I'll wash the dishes, then iron and press your clothing. After that, I'll think of what to cook for lunch while cleaning the house, and I'll prepare a meal for you before you leave. Then while you're away, I'll clean up some more and prepare dinner. And if I have some time, I'll sit and watch some more movies."

Ivan hums in satisfaction. He enjoys how strict to routine your lives were. Familiarity and stability are what he desires most, and he believes you're the only one who can grant him that wish.

"Perfect." He smiles, petting the crown of your head with a large, broad hand.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You adjust the dusty pink scarf around his thick neck after finishing wrapping the scars on his throat with bandages. You do it neatly and comfortably, as opposed to how Ivan does, quickly and efficiently, learned from decades of routine, yet it's still so much more uncomfortable compared to when you do it.

"How is it?" You ask. Ivan replies by taking your smaller hands in his and leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"You do it perfectly, любовь моя." He sighs, before pouting slightly. "I wish I could just stay home."

"You'll be alright, Vanya. Alcohol is like water to you anyways."

He snickers and rolls his eyes. "That just means it'll be boring for me, then."

"Just try to have fun and relax. I'll be safe and quiet here."

A mousy smile appears on his pink lips. You've said exactly what he wants to hear. "Alright. I'll just get it over with." He presses one last kiss to the top of your hair before leaving.

"Don't cause any trouble!" Ivan sings, before exiting the living room and closing the door behind him. You get a glimpse of the blindingly white outside world, and a gust of stinging cold air brushes against your skin like a warning.

You let out a taut breath, finally feeling like you're able to breathe without his crushing presence. You dust off your hands, from nothing in particular, before going off to do just as you said to him earlier. It bothers you how much he still affects you without even being around.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The sky is dark, and all that is heard is the droning of soft music and the burbling of something boiling on the stove. Its tranquility is broken by the door opening with more aggression than usual.

"Vanya?" You call out, hoping the sweet usage of his nickname would quell whatever spawned this roughness within him.

All you hear is something vaguely resembling a groan and a sigh, and his heavy, thudding footsteps. Your heart starts to race a little.

"Is something wrong, Vanya?" You ask meekly, approaching him with caution. He reeks of alcohol, and his movements seem all sluggish. Jesus, how much did Russia of all people need to drink in order to get this wasted?

"I'm alright." He huffs, taking off his gloves and his coat with slight difficulty. You step in closer to help him undress, taking off his scarf. You don't miss how he tenses up, so you freeze and meet his constantly intense stare to gauge his expression. His eyelids are low, pupils contracted, eyes darker than usual, and cheeks flushed like they always are. He seems to be pouting a bit. He doesn't do much else, so you continue, stripping him of his large overcoat. All he's left in now is a black sweater and thick brown slacks.

"I've made dinner. You can just sit wherever you want and I'll bring it to you–"

Ivan leans in so quickly, you couldn't even register it in order to dodge or deflect his kiss in time. This time, it lands on your lips. He doesn't do this usually at all, unless he was planning something. The blood drains from your face when his large hand finds the back of your neck, and holds it stiff, preventing any chance of backing out.

His skin and the inside of his mouth are impossibly warm, and the bitter, sterile taste of vodka is the only damn thing invading your senses. You grip the fabric of his knitted sweater, it makes him part from your lips to pant like a dog and take said piece of clothing off, now left in a dark gray shirt.

"V-Va– You taste like alcohol–"

"Get drunk off of me." He whispers, before grabbing the sides of your arms and kissing you tongue first, lapping at your lips, and at this point, you learned better than to deny him. With all the mental fortitude you could muster, you rigidly part your lips. Despite all your efforts to be as pliant as possible to try and guarantee your safety, you can't help the shiver of revulsion when his tongue invades your mouth like a parasite and rubs against yours.

It feels like time slows down, you can feel the milliseconds before your instincts kick in, and each millisecond feels like a year of dread. Unable to stop raw instinct, you bite down.

Your heart stops when you hear him grunt, and feel his grip around your arms tighten before he shoves you away. He gasps, cursing under his breath in his mother tongue before setting his sights back on you.

Doe-eyed and trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, you begin to plead.

"N-No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Vanya, please–"

He approaches, kicks the back of your knees, before you are grabbed by the scruff of your shirt. The collar of your blouse is yanked back and presses the fabric tightly against your throat as he drags you to the front door. You're coughing and struggling to regain your footing, and the moment you can breathe, you beg.

"Please! Nonono– Vanya please don't do this I'll be good–" The words tumble out like unorganized clutter using the one short breath you were able to catch.

With one more harsh tug, you fall to your knees again, and the door opens. The sight of the snow immediately triggers something within you, and you begin sobbing.

Ivan takes a peak at you, seemingly taking pity.

"Only for a few minutes."

You shake your head in a frenzy, not believing a word he says. Even if he was saying the truth, you'd much rather continue to humiliate yourself over being outside for even a few seconds. What if he forgets about you? What if that door never opens again? What if you die a miserable death, separated from your survival by just a few inches of wood?

That's why, the moment he throws you out, you scramble to your feet and shove that damned door open before he can fully close it. You know you're in deeper shit when you hear the door slam against him, and the deep yelp that follows it. You run for your life into the confines of his house.

You quickly make way to one of the bathrooms, the only rooms in the house you're still able to lock from the inside. You knew even that meant nothing, since you're sure Ivan could and would break them down without a second thought. Yet, it was still your best shot.

You lock the bathroom door and sit on the flooring right next to it. You try to calm down your heartrate and your heaving so you could try and listen in on whatever was going on outside this room.

Eerie silence is what greets you. You hate it, hate it so much. Shuddering, you hold your breath and strain your ears just a little more.

And that's when you hear it.

Soft footsteps.

You have to bite back a scream from how much raw fear that little sound sends shooting through your nervous system. Makes your skin crawl so bad that it almost hurts.

Ivan's clearly not in any rush, but FUCK did you wish he'd just get it over with and sprint right at you. You're sure he knows where you are, he just likes to freak you out, you can tell. That sweet smile he always puts on is nothing short of sadistic, constantly has this look in his eyes, some kinda weird sparkle that tells you he enjoys watching you struggle beneath him. Knowing you'll be face to face with those very eyes shortly makes your ribs squeeze around your quaking lungs and heart.

The footsteps approach. You brace yourself for a rough kick to the door or a pipe slamming through it.

Instead, he knocks. This was wrong, what was happening? Oh, god, this was so much worse.

"I won't ask again."

Scrambling to the door, not even sparing any time to actually stand up, you open it. You wince when you strain your neck to look up and see the damage done to him by your outburst. A nasty, bloody bruise on the bridge of his tall nose and that same crimson liquid streaming down his nostril. Your chest shakes like a dying sparrow's.

"I-I'm sorry. Please."

And he smiles.

Ivan is actually, genuinely, extremely pleased right now. He's wanted this all along, for you to fear the outside world so much you'd do anything in the world to stay here, right by his side. He doesn't give a single shit about the injuries you've caused him now and in the past, he's strong, he can take it, and he'll always forgive you over and over again. Of course, it makes him annoyed, because what good housewife would beat their husband like that? But he understands that your circumstances aren't exactly normal, so he'll endure it with irritation. At the rate he's breaking you in, though, you'll soon be as pliant and obedient as he expects you to be. Perhaps you'll even start to love him back. Just the thought of it raises goosebumps on his porcelain skin and makes his hands tremble in excitement.

You don't understand why he's giggling right now.

He sighs your name, and crouches down to meet your stare. You flinch as a droplet of blood hits the tiles. Ivan's grin only widens when your shaking hands reach for his face and try to wipe the blood away.

"O-Oh, Ivan," You whine uselessly, getting up on boneless legs to grab the first-aid kit. He watches with bright, amused eyes. He knows you won't try anything anymore. He's confident in your compliance to him.

As carefully as you can, you wipe off the blood with paper towels, crying harder when it smears instead of going away completely like you'd hoped. It felt like your mistakes were going to be impossible to fix.

Ivan's cheery gaze never falters. Maybe this is the happiest you've ever seen him, despite the blood streaming into the gaps of his teeth and forming a grotesque image. Dusty eyelashes frame his smiley crescent moon eyes, cheeks ruddy as little alcohol-stained puffs of air pollute the cold atmosphere. You jolt when he chuckles throatily.

"What's wrong?" His voice is as sickly sweet as it always is.

"Y-You're mad– I made you mad. I'm sorry." You choke on your own words, trying your best not to drop the bottle of disinfectant in your weak hand.

"What did you do?"

"I–" You hiccup, "I d-didn't– I didn't listen to you. I wasn't good."

Unable to hide his pleasure, he laughs and leans in to give you a chaste, bloody kiss.

"It will be okay. I love you."

You're glad your crying masks the gag reflex that almost makes itself apparent when you know what you have to say next. You steel your nerves and dryly swallow the taste of Ivan's blood.

"I love– I love you too."

He gives you a pleased, closed-mouth smile, and presses a kiss to the top of your head before taking the bottle of disinfectant from you. He begins to tend to his own wounds.

"This does not mean I forgive you, though."

Just as you felt your whole world crashing down around you, Ivan saves you.

He breathes out a laugh, "No, I won't throw you outside again. It's much better staying inside with me, yes?"

You nod in a frenzy. "Yes! Y-Yes, much better. Please don't."

"Well," Ivan prefaces, disinfecting the cut on his nose before placing a bandaid on it. He turns his head to the side and spits out the blood left in his mouth. "You will have to tend to this wound. Kiss it better." And before you could even wonder what he meant by that, his tongue lolls out, brandishing the red bite mark from earlier.

Disgust registers for only a second.

Like an automaton made solely to serve, you lean forward, grasp onto his biceps, and press a needy, desperate kiss to his drooling tongue. He laughs while you lap at his tongue like a wounded dog, warm, alcoholic breaths brushing against your face.

After relishing in the feeling of your worship for a little longer, he gently pushes you to the ground and crawls over your jittery body, placing a hand against the small of your back to hold you up and closer to him, with the other gripping the outside of your thigh.

"You will not bite me this time?"

Nodding fearfully, praying the conviction in your eyes will be enough to warrant his forgiveness, you wrap your arms around his neck.

Sighing happily, he presses his cold lips against yours, taking the lead happily as he moans into the kiss. The sound was more out of the satisfaction of establishing his dominance rather than the actual physical pleasure.

Ivan doesn't usually indulge in sexual fantasies or acts, which surprises you considering how touchy the man is. His mind usually favors daydreams of a stable, domestic life with you. Ivan prioritizes establishing your relationship over anything else, so he doesn't really find the time to lull over menial things like sex. Marriage is one thing, but your total submission is another.

Then again, this doesn't mean that he fully doesn't have any carnal desires when it comes to you. It's you, for christ's sake. When his fantasies of dominance come into play, it seems only obvious that sometimes his thoughts wander into the bedroom.

Ivan fantasizes a lot about having you desire him as much as he does you. He wants you to need him like air. Wants to have you mewling his name and clinging to him like your life depended on it, which would quite literally be the case right now. Wants to see your pretty, pretty tears reserved only for him. Wants to see you fall apart in his arms over and over again while comforting you so meanly and kissing your crying face.

Ivan tries his best to not let these thoughts make themselves apparent, but fuck, do you make it so hard sometimes. How could any man not be affected by the sight of their adorable little housewife in an apron? Takes so much for him to not just grab you by your hair and bend you over the counter. Whenever you cry for whatever reason, he almost feels guilty over how instantly horny it makes him. Almost feels guilty when all he can think about is licking those tears off of your face and making himself the cause of them. God, he wants to play the role of a nice doting husband so bad, but he can't help but feel you up and breathe down your neck when you try on the dresses and lingerie he buys for you. He can't help grabbing your waist and pressing his erection against your ass– not on purpose, he just wanted to be close to you.

While aggressive in his approach, Ivan never forces any sexual acts that you refuse. Even if he's left high and breathing heavy, he still wants to be someone you don't completely hate. Be a good husband, be a good husband. He always chants to himself. All his prayers proved fruitful when he quite literally cried tears of joy during your first time together.

Ivan doesn't know what was different that day, he didn't expect anything, just to make out and have you reject him after a bit, but you just... kept going, until he was ramming into you, hands tight around your sweaty waist and fucking into you like you were just a fleshlight. He's never seen himself like this, moaning and gasping like a girl and feeling so fucking good that all that he wanted– all that he could think of was breeding you like a bull and how beautiful your family would be. God, the memory of you struggling, doing your best to take his thick cock and crying so cutely just trying to bottom out is engraved into the grooves of his brain. It makes his stomach feel all warm whenever he thinks of it. He wants to carve it under his eyelids so he can see it every time he blinks.

Ivan laughs a lot during sex, call him creepy, it's genuinely because he is just so damn happy that he can't hide it. Why should he hide it from you? He wants to show you just how much he loves you and how good you make him feel. You make him feel so damn happy and complete that all he could do was chant IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou– while whimpering, giggling, his tears dripping onto your face.

Maybe he'll get lucky again.

Without parting, Ivan carefully lowers your back to the tiled floor, straddling your body and snaking his long fingers under your blouse, resting them against your heated abdomen. He smiles into the kiss when you jolt away, tickled by how frigid they are.

The ends of his feathered gray hair tickles your wet face, your body shivering at all the different sensations attacking you simultaneously. The cold tiles, his freezing hands, his hot tongue, the faint taste of blood, the warm drool seeping out the side of your mouth, his arid breathing, the smell of alcohol–

Your hands, still by the back of his neck, reach up to ever-so-slightly tug at his hair to signal you needed a breather. Ivan makes a small noise of surprise, before pulling away.

He looks absolutely dazed, lips shiny with remnants of a spit trail, and lavender eyes heavy and glazed over with a feral lust. His breathing is labored, muscular chest rising and falling as he intently watches every minute expression your face makes. Despite the blatant lack of nudity, this might be the most erotic sight you've ever seen. Fuck, why does he have to look so good when you're supposed to hate him?

Right now, you were so exhausted you couldn't even remember what reason you'd have to hate him, despite there being enough that you could spend the rest of your life listing all of them down.

And just when you try to refuse by backing up, your thigh brushes against his boner and he lets out the most heated, breathy, shivery moan you've ever heard. The vocalization sounded like it was tailor-made to tantalize you, to tempt you into biting the fruit. And you know what? You were a sinner anyways.

"Bed– B-Bedroom."

A toothy grin appears on Ivan's face, and he exhales a breathy laugh. He looks absolutely delighted, and starved.

Without a second thought, he picks you up, and carries you to the closest one.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The next morning begins normally. Your body is sore, and covered in bite marks. That was one of the best sleeps you've had in recent memory. Ivan seems to think so, too, with his arms cradling your torso and a hand resting over your lower abdomen. The ache reminds you about what happened yesterday, you can still feel him in there somehow.

You woke up a little later in the morning compared to usual. Since you're still a little too exhausted to get up and begin cooking, you lay there for a while, listening to the quiet howling of the wind outside. You wonder when was the last time you heard any birds chirping.

Thinking of the outside world brings you a bit of dread, don't really like doing it. But when your life is so isolated and so alone, misery can become a form of entertainment.

The more and more days go by, the more and more do you forget what your life was like before meeting the Russian. The longer you live with Ivan, the more does it feel that he was just always there, and that your life before meeting him was a falsified memory. You're not even sure how much time has passed since, it's always snowing outside, every day feels the same.

That's the one thing you remember from before this life, the feeling of warmth. You're not sure you remember the feeling of it, really, but you're well aware of the absence it leaves behind. Maybe when spring finally comes around, you can open that door, and...

Eyebrows furrowing as a migraine starts to set in, you shake your head weakly. You didn't like thinking about the outside.

Turning over to face Ivan, you gently wake him up before you leave the bed– you learned that he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed without any prior notice. He eventually stirs from his sleep, hugs you, and you do not struggle.

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

[cei1ne]

—How the MHA men would react to you wiping their kiss as a a prank! Pt.2!

დ”*•.Summary:

Reaction of each male My hero academia character of you wiped their kiss after they had kissed your lips

◌⑅⃝♡⋆Pairing:

Izuku Midoriya ; Shinsou Hitoshi ; Aizawa Shouta ; Takami Keigo ; Enji Todoroki

✩•̩̩͙*˚Tags: Fluff, funny, prank, loving, married life, aged up

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰Wordcount: 1.7k

❧◦°˚A/N:

This is part two since I just in a few minutes gained lots of likes! I’m so thankful guys, thank you so much! I’m really trying my best to make it as presentable as possibe and I hope you guys enjoy them! English isn’t my first language but ily guys!

Pt.1 Masterlist

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳➳༻❀✿

ᜊ| Izuku Midoriya (After he gets a promotion)

Izuku’s face was glowing with pride as he told you the news about his promotion. His words tumbled out in an excited rush, his green eyes sparkling with joy. You couldn’t help but beam at him, feeling just as proud.

“That’s amazing, Izuku!” you said, throwing your arms around him. He hugged you tightly before you leaned in and kissed him. It was tender, full of love and admiration.

But when you pulled back, you wiped your mouth with a theatrical frown.

He froze. “D-Did I do something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you said, tilting your head. “Kinda tastes… Nerdy.”

His face turned as red as a tomato. “N-Nerdy?! What does that even mean?!”

You bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face. “Like… textbooks and feels sloppy.”

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I—I… Do I really taste like that?”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. “No, Izuku! I’m just messing with you.”

He sighed in relief, though his cheeks remained bright red. “That’s not funny,” he muttered.

You grinned, pulling him into another kiss. “It’s a little funny.”

۵| Shinsou Hitoshi (After a midnight talk)

The moonlight streamed through the window as you and Hitoshi sat on the couch, sharing a rare moment of quiet. His deep voice rumbled softly as he talked about his patrols, his tone calm and soothing. You leaned in, kissing him softly to interrupt him mid-sentence.

He kissed you back without hesitation, his hand cupping your cheek. But when you pulled away, you wiped your mouth with a slight grimace.

His violet eyes narrowed. “Something you want to share?”

“Mm, just seems… lazy,” you said, smirking.

He raised an eyebrow. “Lazy?”

“Yeah, like all the yawns you try to hold back,” you teased.

He stared at you for a moment before a slow smirk spread across his face. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

You laughed, leaning back into the couch. “A little.”

“Well, guess what?” he said, his tone turning mischievous. “You’re gonna dream about how I taste.”

Before you could respond, his voice dropped into a lower register. “Go to sleep.”

You blinked, realizing too late he was using his quirk. “Hitoshi, no—” But the world faded, and you fell asleep to the sound of his quiet chuckle.

❧| Takami Keigo (Hawks) (After he surprises you with takeout)

The flutter of wings was your only warning before Keigo landed gracefully in the kitchen, a bag of takeout in one hand and his signature grin firmly in place. “Special delivery!” he announced, holding the bag up like a trophy.

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you actually fly with that?”

“Of course,” he said, puffing out his chest. “The fastest delivery service in the city.”

You laughed, taking the bag and setting it on the table. “You spoil me, you know that?”

“Only the best for you,” he said, leaning down to kiss you. His lips were soft and teasing, lingering just long enough to make your heart skip a beat.

But when you pulled away, you wiped your mouth dramatically, wrinkling your nose.

Keigo’s golden eyes widened. “Whoa, whoa. What’s that for?”

“Feathers,” you said, smirking. “I think one got stuck.” You say, acting like you’re trying to search for it, placing a finger in your mouth and feeling each tooth.

He blinked, then narrowed his eyes playfully. “Oh, really? Feathers, huh?”

“Yeah,” you continued, your tone teasing. “Kinda ruins the whole vibe.”

He stared at you for a beat before breaking into a mischievous grin. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Before you could respond, he swooped you up in his arms, his wings spreading wide. “If you’ve got a problem with feathers, maybe I should make you a little more familiar with them.”

“Keigo!” you squealed as he took off, flying just high enough to make your stomach flip.

“Next time, maybe don’t wipe off my kisses,” he teased, his laughter echoing through the room.

ஐ| Shouta Aizawa (Erasure head) (After he catches you staying up late)

It was well past midnight when Shouta appeared in the doorway of the living room, his dark eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of you scrolling on your phone. Wrapped in a blanket and completely absorbed, you didn’t even notice him at first.

“Bed. Now.”

His gruff voice startled you, and you looked up with a sheepish grin. “I was just about to!”

He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Sure you were.”

“Okay, okay,” you said, setting your phone down and standing up. “See? I’m going.”

As you passed him, you leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his lips. It was a small act of affection, a way to diffuse his irritation. His lips were warm, and he responded instinctively, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.

But as you pulled back, you wiped your mouth dramatically, wrinkling your nose as if something was wrong.

Shouta’s eyes narrowed further. “What was that?”

“Hmm,” you said, feigning thoughtfulness. “Tastes… grumpy.”

“Grumpy?” he repeated, his tone flat but edged with a hint of incredulity.

“Yeah,” you continued, biting back a smile. “Like coffee and bad moods. Maybe a hint of sarcasm.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, with a heavy sigh, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back toward him.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” he murmured, his voice low as he looked down at you.

“A little,” you admitted, grinning.

He shook his head, his lips twitching ever so slightly. “Lucky for you, I’m too tired to argue.”

Before you could tease him further, he leaned down and kissed you again, slow and deliberate, leaving no room for complaints. When he pulled back, he smirked.

“Now go to bed before I decide to show you what grumpy really tastes like,” he said, his tone dry but tinged with amusement.

You laughed, backing away toward the bedroom. “Fine, but you’re still grumpy!”

“Goodnight,” he called after you, his voice carrying a rare warmth that lingered in the quiet house.

❥| Enji Todoroki (Endeavor) (After a family dinner)

Dinner had gone surprisingly smoothly. For once, no one had raised their voice, and even Natsuo had stayed to chat longer than usual. Enji’s gruff but earnest attempts to engage with everyone had left you both impressed and a little amused.

As the evening wound down, you found him in the hallway, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the soft glow of the lights. He seemed deep in thought, his expression stern as usual, though there was a faint softness in his eyes.

“Hey,” you said, walking up to him. “You did good tonight.”

He turned to look at you, his gaze softening slightly. “It wasn’t much.”

“It was,” you insisted, smiling. “And I’m proud of you.”

Before he could respond, you leaned up and kissed him. His lips were warm and firm, his large hand settling gently on your waist as he kissed you back. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, one he didn’t often show.

But when you pulled back, you wiped your mouth with a theatrical frown.

His brows furrowed instantly. “What’s wrong?”

“Hot,” you said, shaking your head as if trying to cool down. “Like kissing a fireball. I think my lip burned!”

Enji’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “You knew that when you kissed me.”

“Yeah,” you said, smirking. “But I didn’t expect it to be that hot.”

He sighed, his hand falling to his side. “If you’re going to mock me—”

“I’m not mocking you!” you interrupted, laughing. “I’m just teasing.”

He stared at you for a moment, his stern expression unwavering, before he finally muttered, “You’re impossible.”

You grinned, reaching up to tug gently at his tie. “And yet, here we are.”

As you turned to walk away, his voice stopped you. “Next time, don’t complain if I turn the heat up.”

You glanced back at him, catching the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. “Oh, I’m not scared,” you replied, your tone playful.

He shook his head, but the warmth in his gaze said more than words ever could.

[ghostlyferrettarot]

✨️Pick a Picture: ✨️💙Who were you in your past life?💙✨️

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

✨️If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!✨️

💙Masterlist💙

🧡Pile 1:

You were a kind and empathetic person. From a young age, you always showed a genuine interest in others, which made you a great friend and confidant. You had an infectious laugh that brightened up any environment and an innate ability to listen. People often felt comfortable sharing their thoughts and concerns with you.

Despite your optimistic nature, you also had your reflective side. You often took time to think about your experiences and emotions, which helped you grow and learn from each situation. At times, you could be a little self-critical, but you used that introspection to improve and move forward.

You were loyal and committed to your friends and family, and always willing to offer your support. You believed strongly in the importance of building meaningful relationships and being a pillar in the lives of those around you. You had a quiet and happy life, maybe in some ways you felt it was a great life but you weren't entirely satisfied; For this reason, perhaps you seek a little more time, to take more risks.

🧡Significant things: Color orange and blue, royal vibe, long blond hair, polar bears, spring season, letters, delicate handwritting, flowers, pearls.

💙Pile 2:

You lived in an environment marked by uncertainty. You grew up in a neighborhood where it was though to evolve, and the lack of opportunities seemed overwhelming. Despite this i see that you always showed curiosity about the world around you, seeking refuge in your hobbies, I think many of them had to do with writing and books.

Despite your strength, sadness always accompanied you, I feel that others did not quite undestood you. In the end, although you achieved some significant achievements, such as finishing your education and finding a job that you really liked, I feel that you were a born educator.

Life taught you hard lessons about resilience and loss, but it also led you to discover a deep empathy towards others. There's a lot of things to learn about this, start to listen to your inner voice and don't let others dictate your path.

💙Significant things: Books, Writers, 1950's-1960's, Jazz music, Owls, Brown and Green colors, curly long hair, piano, birds.

🩷Pile 3:

You felt a deep connection to the world around you. You grew up in a small town where nature played an important role in your life. As the years passed, you began to explore your spirituality. You were drawn to the teachings of different cultures and traditions, and often spent your evenings reading about philosophy and meditation.

You learned to listen to your inner voice, feeling a connection beyond the tangible. However, life also presented you with challenges. The loss of a loved one hit you deeply, leading you to question your faith and your purpose. In the midst of grief, you realized that suffering could be a path to transformation. As your life progressed, you felt more aligned with your purpose. In your later years, you found deep gratitude for each day lived.

Life had taught you that spirituality was not only a path to personal understanding, but also a way to connect with others and the universe. You felt at peace, knowing that your journey, with all its lights and shadows, had been a priceless gift. You need to start valuing your spiritual gift, maybe you accept them for granted sometimes, but they can give you the warmth you need.

🩷Significant things: Runes and Stones, violet and red color, dark hair and clear eyes, Charisma and cleverness, owls and cats, winter season, jewerly, round face, youthful look.

✨️Thank you for reading and tell me if it resonated✨️

[squiddy-god]

thank u for the best neuvi fic ever 😭💕 if u ever have time would always appreciate more food, thank u for your service my most esteemed fellow neuvi enjoyer 💞🫡

(will probably still be screaming crying throwing up about this one in the mean time 😭)

Hehuewieewm kicking my feet reading that hehehehe im so glad that the neuvi fic didn't absolutely flop because it is really just written from a place of lust for this man because he is so fine, so here! Have some more neuvi 

♥︎Request open♥︎

Cw : fluff to smut, NSFW and SFW, soft neuvillette, gn reader, hints at fontaine’s quest, daycrafillia, more spit swapping (sue me) but not what you think, always implied chubby reader, brief mention of bottom/sub neuvi, oral (both reciving), 69, face sitting is a gender neutral sport, explicit aftercare (love it) 

Ok so as i stated this man's knowledge of relationships is, iffy at best

He knows about the basics, but the complexities of human relations escape him

That being said he's such a sweetheart, interaction may be something he struggles with but he is surprisingly emotionally aware and intune to what you are feeling

When he first finds himself falling for you, he almost doesn't notice, but once he does he is actually quite quick to come to the conclusion that he has developed a rather large “crush”on you

However it takes urging from others to make him do anything about it, he is content to be an observer 

At least before the fontaine quest, after witnessing furinas trial and experiencing the loss of focalors all over again he grown anxious, no longer content to simply forever be the impartial Iudex of fontaine 

He begins to court you slowly, as a gentleman would- and while its a bit old fashioned to call it courting rather than dating- its a sweet but delicate dance to neuvillette 

His draconic side plays a part here, instincts calling that he should gift you things, starting small with food and imported water

Then he begins to invite you to lunch or perhaps on his rare walks around fontiane

Gossip spreads fast and just about every citizen has not only heard about the Iudex’s fancy for you, but they are fawning over it 

After All the Iudex is incredibly popular with the people, and they are overjoyed to see him in such high spirits

The subtle smile that plays shyly against his lips as his pale violet eyes watch you with the tender affections of old lovers

It's really the small chivalric things that make it feel as though you have loved neuvillette for a hundred years, the way his slender gloved hands interlace with yours as he helps you down the stairs, the way he offers you his arm as you walk

To be loved is to be seen, and within the vast ocean of neuvillettes eyes you stand as a solitary bastion of his love. Your every toil no matter how meaningless is acknowledged as something with purpose, the way his eyes that are often hardened by long trials where they must scrutinies and analyze soften in a way that belongs to you alone

He cares for you greatly, to be loved by neuvillette is quiet, a peaceful love that feels timeless

to be loved is to be seen, to be cherished and wanted, to be loved by neuvliette is to know that even in the quiet sea of his love the tide will never wane, he will always see you, forever unbiased he sees you for who you are, and you know that you are see, that he will always cherish you, that you are wanted, that you are loved. 

He enjoys when you brush his hair, and he lets you put whatever style you desire 

Many may assume that he is a listener, afterall he appears very quiet and reserved, but much like another dragon he is a secret YAPPER 

Steeped in wisdom he loves listening to you talk, but there are several subjects he tends to ramble about, and his statements are quite wordy and verbose

Both before and during your relationship he is spotted at several fountains and popular wishing spots, tossing a coin of mora into the still water, silently participating in these little rituals just incase they aid him in winning your hand 

He often attends performances at the opera house, and he reserves a seat just for you next to his own usual seating, and while a private man, there is a small part of him that preens knowing that everyone sees how you are his, and he is yours

Smut time

Now i know i said most of my thoughts in the other one but come onnnnnnnn i still have more thoughts

I don't think i mentioned this but i think he definitely cries during sex, even a small amount of pleasure has this man's eyes watering

I think i did not focus enough on the gentle slow side of neuvillette, how he traces over your body and laveshes you with kisses, how he checks in, lower face dripping in fluids to ask if you'd like some water waiting for you to nod before he takes a swig of the cup he keeps next to the bed, crawling up to kiss you, the fluid benign pushed into your mouth mingling with your taste

Any access is licked away by Neuvillette before he returns to his favorite activity. 

Slow, letting himself relax and savor every touch, every sensation as if you where the finest sumarian water

In this more calm and relaxed state he whispers his thoughts, voice fleeting with the buzzing in your ears as grans out your praises

Your reassurance and comforting when he cries makes him a absolute puddle in yours arms, his head in your neck as he thrusts slowly into you, his moans reverberating on your skin until you feel the tell tale wetness of his tears, cupping his face to rest your foreheads against each other you reassure him, trying to comfort him

He's so conflicted, he loves your voice and sweet nothings but he wants to be honest and tell you that these are tears of pleasure. 

Ride this man he's mesmerized, pupils wide as saucers as he watches your face above him, feels your hands on his shoulders, your plush tummy squished in his hands 

Would low(read high) key be down for you to peg/top him, and hes a moaning mess when the tables are turned, voice wavering as he grips the sheets so hard he might just rip them

…dare I say 69? Yes the funny number, i feel like he would enjoy it immensely 

Face sitting regardless of your sex, he is trying to bleed you dry here 

He may not know that he's a total freak, but he does know that you are exhausted and spent by the end every time (he wouldn't have it any other way) so he takes great care in ensuring you are taken care of

Holds you close for a moment before sweeping you into his arms and drawing you a bath

Washes you clean of the fluids he much rather keep you covered in longer, and fetches you a regression glass of water- and whatever other drink you prefer

He even feeds you snacks as he slips into the bath and rubs your sore limbs, placing soft kisses to the crown of your head 

[yeagerfate]

their love languages.

characters: miles morales (earth-1610), gwen stacy, hobie brown, pavitr prabhakar, miguel o’hara

warnings: none! just fluff <3

notes: thank you guys so much for all the love on my previous posts! i have so much fun when i write these so i will definitely be posting some more soon. enjoy ur food lol

MILES MORALES

Miles’ love language is QUALITY TIME. He always wants to spend time with you and is definitely an “experience” rather than “materialistic gift” type of person. He gets very shy when expressing his love for you verbally, so he does it through quality time. He’ll draw you during study sessions (Unbeknownst to you, he always finishes before you. He just never says anything because he still wants an excuse to hang out with you.), will ask you to play video games with him, and is constantly going skateboarding with you, even if you’re bad at it. He just wants to see you, and is afraid to ask you to just “hang out” because he doesn’t want you to think he’s weird. In return, Miles would like ACTS OF SERVICE. A lot of people have betrayed him and hurt him, so he would really like someone who goes out of their way to help him. To him, it proves how much you care for him, and that’s really important to Miles.

GWEN STACY

Although Gwen can be cold to those she doesn’t trust, once you get to know her, she’s always going out of her way to support you. Her love language is ACTS OF SERVICE. She plays songs for you whenever you want, is always taking care of you when you’re sick, and somehow always knows when you’re upset. Before she comes over, she always gets you your favorite snacks and drinks. Gwen tries her best to look out for you the way she couldn’t for her late friend Peter. She just wants you to be safe, and she asks for nothing in return once you gain her trust. However, Gwen’s face would turn 50 shades of red with a significant other whose love language is WORDS OF AFFIRMATION. She loves it when you tell her how proud of her you are, when you tell her you’ll always be there for her… she’s immediately enamored with you. Oh, and when you tell her how pretty you think she is? She’s on cloud 9.

HOBIE BROWN

Hobie loves GIFT GIVING. Sometimes, when he returns from another mission, he’ll come back with some strange trinkets. They’re always fun to look at, to wonder what other people from other universes think of them. Hobie always makes sure to pick out the ones that you’ll like; it’s the one time he makes an effort to be consistent. A small smirk always appears on his face when he sees you wearing the earrings that he stole from another universe. When you’re going out of your way to make things easier for him, though, he’s a goner. Hobie would really be smitten for someone whose love language is ACTS OF SERVICE. He never blushes, but you’ll see a light shade of violet emerge on his cheeks when he sees that you ran errands for him while he was gone, or when you help him with his hair on wash day. It’s all very sweet.

PAVITR PRABHAKAR

Pav’s favorite way to express his adoration for you is PHYSICAL TOUCH. He loves to hold your hand, cuddle with you (he’s a little spoon), and kiss you on the cheek. Your warmth is one of his favorite sensations. He just likes to know that you’re there. It’s really scary for him to imagine a world where you’re not by his side, so he likes to give you as much affection as possible. He always wants you to know that he loves you. Oh, and if he has a mission soon? You won’t be seen walking around with him not right behind you. He gets super clingy right before he has to leave. On another note, Pav loves receiving homemade GIFTS. He’ll always wear anything that you make him, especially if it’s something for his hair. He’ll definitely brag about it when he travels to the Spider Society.

MIGUEL O’HARA

Miguel is very protective of you, so his love language is PHYSICAL TOUCH. Even if it’s subtle, he always is somehow close to you, whether it’s a hand on your back, a hand holding yours, or both. Miguel has lost almost everything, so he is always seeking out your warmth. However, he is not too fond of PDA unless it’s subtle, so he always keeps his affections elusive. It is also very important to him that his enemies do not find out about you, as his worst nightmare would be them coming after you. You are the very last thing Miguel has; he’d rather die than witness anything happen to you. Miguel would absolutely adore someone whose love language is ACTS OF SERVICE. When he comes back from a mission all banged up, and you volunteer to help him clean up? Suddenly his heart is beating 2x faster than usual and his pupils are dilated.

[major-comet]

UPDATE ON THE MISSING TROCADERO ALBUMS!

update! all missing albums are up, with a bonus album on the way at some point in the future: https://www.tumblr.com/major-comet/762317690567278592/update-on-the-missing-red-vs-blue-music-i-think

EDIT: Roses are Red, Violets are Blue: 20th Anniversary IS UP ON APPLE MUSIC/SPOTIFY/YOUTUBE

I should have checked before I hit post on the first version, lol. Deleted and re-posted to try and keep the new version going around. This is the original album + 11 Instrumental Tracks! thank you @joltning for mentioning the auto-generated youtube videos in your tags, which prompted me to look.

The songs with Instrumental versions are

Blood Gulch Blues

Steady Ride (Gunmetal Green)

Spiritual

No One - previously on the s14 soundtrack

A Girl Named Tex - previously on the s14 soundtrack

Space Invader

(617)

Superhero

Vale Deah

Half Life - previously on a chorus soundtrack, I think

Anyways, the rest of the uploads are being worked on, and this will include bonus material as well!

This is coming in the form of three albums;

Recovery: Volume 1, which will be seasons 12-13

Recovery: Volume 2, which will be seasons 14-17

and Recovery: Volume 3 which will be "unreleased orphans & rejects, cues from the show that didn't fit anywhere else."

so look forward to that! still no word on the jeff williams tracks as far as I'm aware, but this is fantastic news.

(Source: Trocadero on Twitter, Link 1 and Link 2)

[jimblejamblewritings]

love letters and second sons | part 3.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

A/N: Sorry this part is so short

You stood in the drawing room of Kew, waiting for your mother and father to arrive in just a few minutes. Instead of a huge breakfast in the dining room, you opted for a light tea in a more casual setting. Honestly, you were mildly annoyed. The only thing you wanted to do after people returned from their church services, that they never attended weekly because no one cared about the priest admonishing them, was go to the Featherington house. You were shocked that Colin was calling Marina. But friends didn’t always fall in love.

It wasn’t like Penelope was upset about it. She didn’t even like Colin. But like your mother you wanted to matchmake someone and figured they would have been the easiest couple to form. But you wanted to spy on Colin and Marina under the guise of aiding in chaperoning with Penelope since Lady Featherington was running around between girls and their callers.  

Your thoughts about who to matchmake were interrupted by your parents arriving. You poured tea for them. Breakfast was a bit awkward in a way it had never been before. George and Charlotte were assessing you intently. You got in two bites of bread when the physician entered. Your parents continued their conversation while you were being checked over. The physician made little comments for the nurse to jot down. Overall, you were fine. That seemed to satisfy your mother and father. There was a glint in Charlotte’s eye. 

“The King an— Everyone, out.” 

The room, aside from Brimsley and Reynolds, cleared out. 

“George and I have decided that we’d like to give you an opportunity. There is an opera coming up. Agatha and her friend Violet will be attending. You may come with. You will meet them before the show starts and then we will stay to watch the entire performance. Afterwards, you must go home. No exceptions.” 

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I wo—” 

“Calm yourself. You know getting excited makes your condition worse.” 

You sat back down, trying not to bounce up and down. She was right after all. Being overly excited made you sweaty or a little hot for some reason and being too warm made you start to see things or think strange things. When your parents left, you ran to your wardrobe. 

The dresses needed to be fancy but not too fancy since it was a sit-down event. You picked a yellow dress with short puff sleeves. It ended just above the bottom of your ankle — very stylish for the times. Pairing it with light blue gloves that went past your elbows, you added a light blue skirt piece that made a small train. 

“You look beautiful, Your Highness,” Brimsley said. 

“I have to agree.” Both Pandora and Reynolds looked at each other, shocked they said the same thing at the same time. 

“Thank you. Shall we go? Reynolds, would you like to be dropped at home to see Father?” 

“That would be nice, Your Highness, thank you.” 

“Then let us leave now.” 

You rolled your eyes in the carriage, setting down your copy of Lady Whistledown’s society papers. 

“It is utterly ridiculous. She is a disgraceful woman. I tolerated the gossip but speculating death, wishing death on my father is something I cannot accept nor tolerate. How dare she?” 

Your confidantes agreed with you and shared their own opinions on society and gossip. 

Whispers started to spread throughout the opera house while people still rolled in and music still played. How could it not? The youngest royal child was actually outside. There was no opening for the mouth on this particular mask which meant this was not your introduction. You might speak to a lucky few but there would be no speeches or announcements tonight. People couldn’t hear you from far away with ceramic blocking your mouth. You stuck close to your mother while everyone tried to look at you or talk to you. 

“Lady Bridgerton!” Lady Danbury yelled from across the room. “Do join us.” 

Violet tried to conceal her wide eyes and smile as she grabbed Daphne’s arm before her daughter could walk away from whoever she was trying to avoid. She made eye contact with you. You watched as she rather frantically waved over someone else. 

Anthony — or should you call him the viscount for the evening — began walking towards you, bowing to the Queen before turning his full attention to you. You let him take your hand and give it a kiss. A kiss that you noted was considerably longer by a minimum of five seconds than when he kissed you as Miss Beckett. So it was definitely Violet trying to set up the princess with her son and not the valet with Colin.    

You let Anthony talk your ear off about his responsibilities as the eldest and his horseback riding hobby, notably leaving out the details of riding through the mud and staying out there for hours. He was considerably more boring when trying to impress a woman. Ignoring the whispers that permeated through the room, you tried to focus on your friend. 

You motioned for him to lean in so you could speak into his ear and actually let him hear you rather than sounding muffled, practically silencing the hall. Anthony laughed at the joke you told which caused both of your mothers to turn around. This was the Anthony you liked better. Violet gasped when you placed a hand on her son’s arm — your mother raised her eyebrows as she and Lady Danbury gave you a slight nod of approval. 

“Will you escort me to our box, Viscount Bridgerton?” 

“Please, call me Anthony.” 

“Lord Bridgerton, that is most forward when we don’t know each other.” 

“I was told royals didn’t obey our rules of upper society.” 

The two of you started up the stairs, away from prying eyes, that led up to the Queen’s box. 

“Anthony?” 

“Now we speak of first names.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I will allow you to call me by mine, just this single occasion. Anthony, where are the other Bridgerton siblings? If I remember correctly, you have seven of them? Miss Bridgerton is here but I do not see the others.” 

“Truthfully, they were very bored by the show being put on tonight. We’ve seen it before. I’m merely here to aid my mother and chaperone my sister. Have you seen this show before?” 

“If I have then it was when I was very little.” 

“Well, then please do not let my words discourage your enjoyment of the performance. Here is your stop.” He extended a hand to help you up the short steps into the box. “Y/N, thank you for the flowers from the other day. Truly, they are appreciated.” 

You studied his face for a moment. He really was handsome. His hair didn’t cover as much of his face this evening as it usually did whenever you visited. The stark colors of his black and white attire made his features stand out. 

“I am glad you liked them. Now is where I leave you for the evening, Lord Bridgerton. I shall hope to see you some more once I formally introduce myself to society.” 

“I will look forward to that day. Goodbye… Y/N.” 

“Goodbye, Anthony.” 

Taking your seat, you waited for your mother and her friends to come to the box. The smile on Charlotte’s face grew wider the closer she got to the box. She was going on about Anthony. Obviously, you were going to have many suitors to entertain but a viscount was certainly a very important suitor and only made your prospects have to be better in their courting. 

“Excuse me, I’m going to the privy,” you told your mother when you felt your throat start to tighten up. 

She just gave you a nod. The shadows of the opera house were closing in on you and you couldn’t calm your mind down. You needed to be in a place with more candlelight. You jumped at the sound of several dogs barking from the shadows. They were big creatures. You had never seen them but you could tell from their bark and — when you got too close — how their breath fanned across the top of your head. Hastening your steps to get away, you ran straight into Violet. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I decided to take a walk after going to the privy and wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

The woman in front of you smiled. “Your Highness, if I may be so bold to ask? Would you like to attend a dinner we are hosting? The Duke of Hastings will be there. I understand that you aren’t yet introduced but it woul—” 

“I shall love to come. Just tell me when.” 

“Saturday evening.” 

“Perfect.” 

Saturday evening couldn’t have come any sooner. You were tired of counting the floor titles in the bathroom and needed to leave. For the sake of your valets, you hadn’t snuck out at all that week.

You turned to your valets. “I will be back in a few hours.” 

“Please be careful,” Pandora said. 

“I always am.” 

“Not really.” You heard someone mutter inside the carriage. 

Marshall escorted you in. You had to stop yourself from smiling, remembering that he had no clue who you were. It was almost alarming when everyone — including the Duke of Hastings — stood when you entered the dining room. You weren’t sure why you didn't expect it. Perhaps you were already too used to your disguise as Miss Beckett. You gave a slight curtsey. 

“I apologize for being late.” 

“No. You aren’t late at all,” Anthony said as he started to gather his plate. 

You shook your head. “Oh, stay where you are.” 

“But, Your Highness.” 

“I can afford to not be the head of a table for a single night.” You looked around. “I shall sit across from Miss Daphne Bridgerton.” 

“She knows your name!” Hyacinth’s voice rose three octaves. You figured you could make her night by having the princess knowledgeable about the Bridgertons. 

Colin and Benedict scrambled to pull their chairs apart so you could sit in between them. You waved Marshall away, plating your own food. You could feel the silence of the dinner table as you did things the normal way you would at Kew or Buckingham House.

They also might have been preoccupied with your disguise rather than the way you dragged your own spoon through the mashed potatoes. It was natural. Your siblings had told you all about how people would scrutinize the different masks you would wear. They'd try their hardest to get a real glimpse of your face.

The eye holes had sheer coverings on them that made it hard to see your true eye color. And when it came to your mouth. Your maids had taken their painstakingly slow time making sure the makeup covered up an unique qualities around your mouth and changed the shape of your lips to a shape unrecognizable to you at all. Hungry mamas with daughters they'd want to be in your court or sons they'd want to court you are able to sniff out something like the tiniest wrinkle by the bottom of your lip and use that to scout the whole ton until they found you without the mask on.

It happened to Edward countless of times and was the reason for all the rules regarding the masks in the first place. You looked up after cutting your chicken. 

“What were you all talking about before I arrived?” 

“Lady Whistledown,” Eloise cut in before anyone could stop her. 

“Really? Tell me more.” 

“You want to know?” 

“Of course I do. I must know her identity. However I must say I will be having a private word with her about not publishing speculation of my father’s death.” 

“How is he?” 

“Oh, he’s perfectly fine. No matter, though, I need to know every thought you have on our mysterious Lady Whistledown?” 

You enjoyed the bickering between everyone. There wasn’t even a firm thought on what class Whistledown belonged to. In your opinion it had to have been an upper class woman. Only someone like that could have enough time on their hands and still survive day to day needs. You dipped your fork into the potatoes. 

“Viscount Bridgerton, I must say that any correspondence between the royals and the Bridgerton House should be sent to Kew. I stay there now.” 

“Correspondence?” Violet asked, trying to suppress the excitement in her voice. 

“Yes. I shall need to understand the ton more than what I have studied. Don’t bother putting them together. I much prefer to read individual letters. Now, I have engagements already arranged for tomorrow so I must be on my way. However, I would love to attend dinner again. Goodnight, Lady Bridgerton, Viscount, Bridgertons, Your Grace.” 

Anthony stood up from the table. “Let me escort you to your carriage.” 

“That would be much appreciated, Lord Bridgerton.” 

~~

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

I implore you all to remember that gossip, particularly baseless gossip, can be a dangerous thing. While we all are very entertained by Lady Whistledown, remember that you must discover the truth for yourself. I would hate to see lives ruined over entertainment. 

Yours Truly, 

Princess Y/N Hanover

Dear Viscount Bridgerton, 

The dinner at your house was very lovely. Your family seems to be a wonderful group of people. I am sorry for keeping my lady’s maid away for so long. She has been in Ireland, procuring plant seeds and fabrics for me. Please fret no more for she will be back soon. But I do have to say our correspondence might be limited to letters for a majority of our current time. Until I am introduced to society, it is not wise for me to constantly be out. I shall look forward to more times spent with the Bridgertons at a later date. 

Yours Truly, 

Princess Y/N Hanover 

You finished signing the letter, handing it to Pandora to take to the press for copies to be made. Moving an entire printing house from Buckingham to Kew wasn’t exactly quick and easy but your staff had managed to do it in no time at all. For the time being, Kew was entirely self-sufficient. 

“Please take the letters for the Bridgertons to their house after you have visited the press.”  

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Brimsley, what is on the schedule after the physician leaves?” 

“You wanted to ride horses and then prepare a bouquet for the ball tomorrow night to be delivered by one of us.” 

“Yes, thank you. And after that?” 

Reynolds looked at you and then his partner. You had just made the schedule no less than an hour ago. It didn’t seem normal for you to not know. Their eye contact didn’t waiver as they silently communicated to not say a word but just answer all your questions. You got up, moving to your wardrobe to get a petticoat for outside. 

“Ah, yes, Brimsley. Are we preparing the bouquet tonight before or after the physici…an…”

Tears started to well up in your eyes as you realized you had asked the question already. Brimsley and Reynolds were a tad too slow. You were already in the wardrobe, trying to calm yourself down. Every time a sob left your mouth or you begged them not to tell your parents caused some pain in their hearts. Reynolds stopped Pandora from leaving, handing the letters to a different lady-in-waiting. 

You looked up in the dark space when you heard the knocking. It was hard to ignore the dogs in the shadows just waiting to snap at you. But the dark stopped the heavens from coming in. It was always a compromise. And since the heavens confused your mind and blocked your memory, the dogs would have to wait. 

“You can open it.” 

Pandora stuck her head in, trying to prevent too much light from coming in. “You’re stronger than whatever you have, you know? It doesn’t matter. None of it does… Maybe you should show the planets and shadow dogs and other shadow creatures that they cannot control a princess. They do not control you.” 

Reynolds sighed as he said a quick prayer to not be fired. “Maybe going to the ball would show the shadows that they cannot control you.” 

You didn’t really have a choice. Pandora practically pulled you out of the closet and started making plans for tomorrow’s ball, including how to enjoy yourself but stay hidden.

(part 4)...

THIS FIC TAGLIST:

@fredsbetch @cherrylovers-world @chrystinaamanda @grassclippers @flyestvenustrap @spookystitchery @lovelyygirl8 @ben-has-arrived @tragically-hipp

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107​ @i-have-no-life-charlie

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader headcanons: daily routine

warnings: tooth-rotting content, vibes of a semi-domestic life, OOC, established relationship.

Special thanks to @witch-of-the-writing desk and @vikkirosko for their help with this project. Enjoy! :)

Reblog to support content creators! ❤️

Alastor knows that he is a perfect gentleman with high expectations. 

He is one of the most feared overlords in Hell and thrives in the throes of chaos; those unfortunate souls who would dare to question him are torn apart, their screams broadcasted for all to hear and to remind them why he is here. Alastor knows he gets bored easily and doesn’t like to invest his time in short-lived entertainment, heavens no~! He’s here for the continuous, unpredictable acts on the stage of the Hazbin Hotel, that’s why he’s offered his services to Charlie as the gracious facility manager in the first place~!

Funnily enough, it was because of Lucifer’s delusional daughter that he met you. Through a colorful ad, you were given a room under the condition that you participated in all of the group activities unless you worked around the clock like the hotel’s other resident, Angel Dust. You admitted with a blank look that you did have a job in Cannibal Town, but your hours were flexible. 

 Oh~ho, someone new to entertain himself with, what a lovely day it is indeed~!

That had been his initial impression of you: never smiling, an excellent work ethic, and always dressed appropriately [unlike some people]. But as the months slowly trickled by, inching ever closer to the new extermination date and working with you on a near constant basis as facility manager and part-time groundskeeper respectively, you became…important to him. You opened to him about your services in both the Great War and as an Automemory Doll. 

You had done many terrible things that you were not proud of. Initially you had thought by writing letters for clients, helping them convey the words they wanted to say to a loved one, would wash away the blood you had spilt on the battlefield. In the end, it was a foolish endeavor. 

Your sins could not be so easily forgotten, and you had no doubt that some of the men you had killed were down here too, perhaps wanting to seek revenge for what you did. Your place is here in Hell, but that did not mean you could help sinners in your own way if they earnestly wished to redeem themselves.  

It had been a sudden, pesky thing. The moments his feelings for you had altered, whenever that was…irritating to say the least though manageable. Alastor had not even realized that something as trivial as his feelings had changed at all until the small affliction upon his heart festered and grew, bubbling up to the surface and overwhelming him with an emotion he hadn’t identified before. He tried to stifle this emotion, pushing it far back down into the chambers of his rotted heart and forgetting all about it. Prioritize his hunger for freedom, to free himself from the leash coiled tightly around his neck. But all of his efforts were all for naught. No matter how painful it was to admit the truth to himself, Alastor knew. He knew that this desire to call you his companion would not stop clawing through his ribcage until he was absolutely sure that you reciprocate his feelings. 

He tried to approach you with the intention of a proper courtship when romance was not his speciality; he helped you around the hotel excluding the greenhouse because of his special relationship with plants, his shadows secretly escorted you to and from work, and he used his magic to levitate heavy objects even when you had told him that you were quite strong physically. But you had somehow mistaken his intentions as a sign of self-improvement, much to his frustration. 

When all hope seemed lost, however, he found a letter underneath his door one dreary Monday morning. He immediately recognized the ruby-red wax seal as yours and wasted no time opening it. 

He read the contents, eyes growing larger and larger with each line and his heart hammering against his chest, suddenly feeling dizzy…dizzy with what? Shock? Joy? He wasn’t sure but those blasted shadows of his were dancing around the room, jazz music echoing from the swamp with besotted grins stretched across their inky faces. Love? Does he…love you as you love him? Well, your letter did not say it outright, you have confessed to him that you feel intense emotions whenever he is around you. You were bewildered and afraid and you do not blame him in any way. You just…needed help. His help in understanding these emotions before it drove you to the brink of madness and uncertainty. 

Understanding what love is, even the concept of it is just as surreal and foreign to him. But if words could reach you far better than his actions, then it would be an insult to his reputation as the Radio Demon to simply improvise on his courting methods. So he wrote a reply to your letter, carefully and meticulously penning one sentence after another until he was satisfied. His shadows had the honor of delivering his letter, and the silence in his room allowed Alastor to focus preparing for tonight’s broadcast. He couldn’t keep the audience waiting~!

Hours later, he had a script. He had energy and more importantly, he was eager to hear Vox’s outraged howling once the fool realized yet another sponsor had been snatched from right underneath his flat-screened chin~! Oh, Alastor the Radio Demon was ready to go on air until a sudden knock interrupted his little spiel. 

Confused, curious, and quite annoyed, he made a beeline towards the door, throwing it open and ready to skewer the miserable soul who would dare to intrude on his domain when he saw it was you, standing there with a silver tray in your hands. But what surprised him more than the sight of his favorite snacks and coffee was seeing a smile on your face. It wasn’t a forced one where you’d slap your cheeks and try to stretch them out, it was…a genuine smile. And it was directed towards him. 

“May I join you?” You asked.

Suffice to say, those four little words told him everything he needed to know as his own grin widened, bowing from the waist. “Of course, my dear~! Please, come in, come in~! The show is just about to start~!”

Once you stepped inside the radio station, still smiling, that's how it began. His romantic relationship with you, that is. 

Although you had told him more than once to go back to sleep after rising out of your shared bed at five o’clock in the morning, Alastor insisted on waking up with you. It is his choice as it is your habit to prepare for the day ahead much earlier than your colleagues. He will never say it out loud, but he does enjoy these quiet hours when it is just the two of you. 

Alastor is in charge of making breakfast in the hotel’s brand new kitchen, and that is final. He will appreciate your assistance with setting up the table; meticulously placing the silverware and napkins down, changing out the bouquet of shriveled flowers with fresh ones from the greenhouse, and preparing his coffee just how he likes it in his favorite mug. He gladly prepares your usual morning tea and adds just a little more sliced fruit on your already full plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. You needed all of the energy at the emporium today~! Although you did work here at the hotel, Rosie owned your soul and you were her assistant. You made sure everything in Cannibal Town was running smoothly, including the emporium, should its darling overlord be away from her territory for a myriad of reasons. 

Over breakfast, he would share ideas with you for his broadcast before deciding to put the words on paper. Goodness knows that he’s asked for assistance with typing or refining the scripts mere hours before he’s on the air, though at least he does it with more style than a clout-chasing, mediocre podcast who talks too fast and jumps from one fad to another in pursuit of allure. He hears your feedback with a thoughtful hum before asking if you would like another cup of tea.

After helping him clean up the kitchen, the two of you return to your room. He would read the morning newspapers in his comfy chair, sometimes out loud if the articles were interesting to hear over the click-clank-clank of your Remington typewriter as you wrote either scripts for his show or a daily report for Rosie. When the clock on the dresser struck seven, it was time for you to leave for Cannibal Town.

The two of you exchange words, wishing the other to have a good day and remember to smile because you are never fully dressed without one. Then you leave the hotel, suitcase in one hand and a tin lunchbox in the other. Alastor will also make your midday meals, so make sure to enjoy it to your heart's content. He will not be happy if you decide to forgo taking a proper break just so that you can be ahead of your workload. Granted it is a lovely surprise to see you return much earlier than normal, but Rosie shared his sentiments. Bottom line: take your lunch break when you are supposed to or you will face the disappointed wrath of two cannibals. 

He might have seen that you are more than capable of keeping yourself in the Pentagram, but that will not lessen his protective nature. A shadow will always be by your side when you leave the hotel’s premises, keeping him up to date on your movements while he is helping Charlie or Vaggie. 

Ironically, it is his position as the hotel’s facility manager that acts as his coping mechanism. He will keep himself busy for as long as possible, asking trivial questions here and there. He doesn’t want anyone to know that this…. habit developed because he does not like it when you are not home at exactly six o’clock. He knows Rosie would never keep you in Cannibal Town beyond working hours unless it was an emergency but have mercy on him! If you can't help working late, so be it but please come back to him as soon as you can. It would put his mind at ease just a little if you contacted him ahead of time. 

Once you are home, he will immediately sweep you into his arms and do a little dance before escorting you to the dining room, with a hot meal already prepared and waiting for you to enjoy. He will sit with you so that you won’t have to eat by yourself. Once you’ve had your fill of food and drink, it’s time to unwind for the night. He will play soft jazz over the radio as either you read in bed, or he reads, and you do a tiny bit of work on your typewriter before it’s time for sleep. He won’t fall asleep until you have drifted off first. 

Rosie will tease him about you being his support system over tea, but it’s true. You are the reason, the sanity, to his madness. 

Taglist: @alastor-simp @frompeach @imperfectbloodmoon @lanxianschoenheit @bones4thecats @22carolina08 @tired-of-life-86 @kanroji-san @oucx @navierkalani @anielly-2010 @victheauthor @the-cat-queen-peasants @solandis-does-stuff @ladydoe8 @nunezs-stuff @luthefriendlywitch @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @kameyo-kumo @yourdoorisunlocked @swallowtail-lotus

[zepskies]

Imagine soldier boy with dating a supe with siren powers 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Oooh this is different! Thanks for the ask, hun. ❤️ In honor of The Little Mermaid live-action dropping on Disney+ last week...

(Here's one last Soldier Boy imagine before Part 1 of Smoke Eater!)

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F. Supe!Reader Word Count: 800

Imagine: Soldier Boy dating a supe with "siren" abilities. 🧜‍♀️

When you joined Payback, Ben was ambivalent about you.

You were hot as fuck, sure, but he didn't think the team needed another woman.

Crimson Countess was bitch enough to deal with.

But you were a bit mysterious. You kept to yourself, didn't go out of your way to socialize or train with the others. You were smart.

Though when he heard about your powers, he was skeptical at best. Stan Edgar assured him you were what the team needed right now, in terms of margins and demographics and what-fucking-ever...

Until he hears you singing in the break room, softly to yourself while you make some coffee. Gentle, beautiful dulcet tones that manage to draw his steps into the kitchen.

You eventually notice him with a smile. "Good morning."

He gives you a charming grin, blatantly eying you from head to toe.

"Hey there, sweetheart. Pour me a cup, would ya?" he asks, in a tone that demands.

You do so, and he admires the sweet sound of your voice as you continue to hum to yourself.

"You're a little crooner, aren't you?" he asks, taking the cup of coffee from you. But when your hand brushes his, he feels it. Your power. It threatens to overtake him and draw him into you, where he craves your warmth as well as your body.

He wants you to devour him, body and soul...

Your eyes glow violet along with your knowing smile.

Then you blink. The violet haze is gone, along with your hold on his mind. You go back to sipping your coffee as if nothing had just happened.

Ben visibly falters, having to catch his breath as his mind reels from the loss of connection.

Ben frowns in irritation. What the fuck just fucking happened?

He looks at you harder than before. Secretly, he's annoyed and intrigued at the same time.

He demands to know your name. You tell him with a smile that edges at flirtation. When you ask for his name, despite knowing full well who he is, he smirks.

"Call me Ben."

And from there, he's fucking hooked.

He pursues you relentlessly. You allow it with coyness and flirtation -- push and pull. Hot and cold. You toy with him, which both infuriates him and draws him in even more.

Until you finally allow him to "catch" you. He takes you out for dinner, one of the finest, most expensive restaurants in New York. Bottles of wine, premier service, excellent food and music. You realize then that he's really trying to impress you, and inside you're actually flattered that he's doing all this, when he can have his pick of anyone. (And has had his pick. Several of them.)

You've heard so many stories about him, most of them unpleasant. You see the disgusted looks Crimson Countess gives him when he's not looking.

And you know you haven't yet seen the darker sides of Ben. (You know he's trying his damndest to charm you, draw you in. But your abilities allow you to discern when men are trying to manipulate you. You are the master manipulator, spinning them along with your touch and your voice).

But you're also intrigued by this man. He's more than his bravado would suggest. When the cameras and the press and the rest of the team aren't around, he's not quite so insufferable. You find his arrogance, partnered with his charm, amusing. But it's also become somewhat endearing.

The truth is, he's actually...sort of grown on you. And that's probably the real reason you're here on a date with him.

You lean over and rest your hand over his, frowning when he seems a bit wary of your touch.

The first time you met him, you'd just been teasing him. You'd heard how he'd been talking shit about you to Stan, doubting if you were really powerful enough to be on the team. But now, he's stiff under your hand, prepared to fortify his mind against you.

"I won't compel you again, Ben. I promise," you tell him. Your hand travels up his arm, soothing along his neck, your palm finally resting against his cheek. His green eyes stare into yours.

Soon enough, his wariness bleeds away.

He hooks a foot around the leg of your chair and draws you closer, making you yelp in surprise.

He smirks, finally getting the jump on you for a change as he wraps an arm around your waist and brings you close.

You blink in surprise, looking up at his handsome face with wide eyes. A blush dusts your cheeks, warming your face. His smirk softens around the edges, just a little, and he takes his chance to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

And maybe, you're the one who's caught.

AN: Aww, this one was really fun! Thanks for the request. 😘

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SB Tag List:

@melancholictearz @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman

@iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore

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[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Pairing: Lucanis/Spite/f!Rook

Chapter Rating: G

AO3

Chapter 1: Lucanis

Spite is never quiet. A constant commentary rattling in his mind. It became a comfort in the Ossuary and maybe it still is. Not enough time has passed for him to decide. But when Rook steps through the pantry door, his short silence traded for her company is welcome. That he knows for certain.

“Hope I’m not intruding on your space too soon.”

“No, not at all. Come in,” Lucanis jumps to his feet and she waves him back down.

She settles in beside him on the cot and Spite’s reprieve is gone.

Smells like rain in rose gardens. Bask in it.

Lucanis swallows and drowns out Spite’s repetitive request to speak with her and hopes it will not result in another tantrum.

“Couldn’t help but notice your nose was crooked after Spite had his way with you. You said you’re fine but I’m a healer so—” She stares at her hands, pursing her lips and fiddling with her nails or maybe her cuticles. An awkward silence as he waits for her to continue and her hands fall to her thighs as she offers a crooked half-smile. “You could make use of my services?”

“You need not trouble yourself,” Lucanis replies.

“Oh, it’s no trouble. And it will only take a minute. But if you’d rather I not—”

She wants to help. Most people want to harm. Let. Her. Help!

Lucanis shuts Spite out. “How much will it cost me?”

Rook is taken aback. “Nothing. A thank you, if you don’t like my answer, I guess.”

“You should charge for your services.”

“No. I’m healing people. Seeing people recover and be well is the reward. Have you ever seen the tears in a parent’s eyes when they get to hug a child they thought they lost after you've brought them back from the brink of death?”

Lucanis looks away from the sincerity in her eyes. “No.”

“I’m sure it’s not so different from the satisfaction you feel when you’re handed the coin from a contract.”

“I—suppose not,” he replies. He’s nearly shamed by her altruism. “Go ahead,” he says, sighing, and Rook is quicker than she’d said with the healing. He only feels a soft brushing of coolness as teal light washes over him, like a breeze at midnight in autumn.

“There. That should do the trick. If you feel any other pain, just let Neve or I know and we can fix up a tincture for you.”

“Thank you, Rook,” he says as she gets up from the cot.

“I’m happy to help. And uh, just as a heads up, the crossroads can be troublesome at times if you go wandering around out there but the Lighthouse is safe. Oh and there’s a spirit you might see floating by here and there. Goes by The Caretaker. But they’re the friendly sort. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

“That’s it? No questions for me?”

“Yeah, sure.” Her hand is steady on the door. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?”

“Well I could kill for a cup of coffee.”

“Ah yes, coffee with a splash of murder coming right up,” she says and she’s already out of the room.

Oh she’s fun. I like her.

He follows after her with a faint smile that pales in comparison to Spite’s inner grin. Settling in at the table, his eyes study the flickering flames of the fire between stealing glances at her. She’s a very tall Qunari with a defined muscular frame and sharp facial features. Judging by the horn replacement and the clouded eye, he assumes at some point her own healing abilities did not serve her like they just served him. But she is beautiful in a sort of ethereal way. Striking terror upon first contact but awe as his eyes trace over every detail of her face softened by the long violet strands of hair that frame it.

She does her coffee preparations in silence, no need or obligation to further converse. There is a peace in the rhythm of her movement, a harmony in the snap and crackle of the logs. But he does wonder why she seems to be the only one unconcerned with Spite.

She only speaks again when she’s pouring his coffee. “Does Spite hit you often?”

The timing is comedic but he does not laugh. He is a professional after all and to laugh would make him seem unstable. Perhaps he is that but better to keep up proper pretenses.

“Not as often as you’d think,” he says.

A smirk and, “I suppose Spite’s not all bad then. Better than to be possessed by bitterness. Those ones can be real biters. Known to do the occasional stab in the back if you’re not careful.”

I think she likes me too.

“I don’t mind the occasional taste of bitter with a bite,” Lucanis replies, refusing to acknowledge Spite, “like a hot cup of coffee.”

“I prefer a more robust and flavorful blend over bitter.”

“A woman after my own heart.” He wears a genuine smile.

“Full of a rich chocolate syrup and cream,” Rook continues. “Nice and sweet.”

“Now you’ve lost me. That is basically just cioccolata calda. Or as you might call it—hot chocolate.”

She laughs a little and he can’t help but chuckle too as she offers him his steaming cup. “I take it you’ll want this as is then?”

“Yes. It’s perfect.” He inhales deeply, eyes closing before he gives it a swirl and takes a first sip.

Oh, how he has missed its taste. Its subtle comfort is a memory of home. Home can be anywhere when he drinks a cup of coffee.

“That’s probably too bitter. I’ve no idea the quality of those grounds. Lace brought them here from Ferelden. But I hope it will suffice.”

“More than suffices,” he says but makes a mental note to take her for a cup of the best coffee that neither of them will have to make.

She smiles at him through the steam. “I need to check in on the others, but come and find me if you need assistance with anything, I’ll most likely be in the library if im not out and about.”

He returns her smile and nods. When the door closes behind her, he shuffles back to the pantry, and grabs his logbook to take inventory, slowly savoring his coffee between jotting notes.

It’s a shame how the shelves are practically bare. But it’s a good thing he arrived when he did to provide this team with proper eating habits. He will have to make a trip to Treviso’s markets and remedy this sorry situation as soon as possible.

He counts crates and marks down food labels with quantifiable numbers, but when he shoves the last crate of salted jerky aside to make sure there’s nothing hiding behind it, a note flutters to the ground. He picks it up and reads:

Where willows wail

And silence speaks

And the wind screams violently

There we meet

In tarnished veil

Death’s kiss of eternity

It’s not signed but given the subject matter, Lucanis makes an assumption it’s Rook’s, being a mourn watcher and all. But he’ll be sure to ask around. Pocketing it, he makes his way out of the pantry in search of her first.

As soon as he steps out into the kitchen, he spies Harding hopping around trying to put out a fire with a torn tapestry. The note in his pocket goes forgotten in the immediacy of calming the chaos.

[orphan-account123653]

𝕴﹕𝕾𝖎 𝖛𝖎𝖘 𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖒, 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖚𝖒

if you want peace, prepare for war.

cw: fem! reader, fyodor's probably ooc, reader goes to church, religious themes (it’s just Jesus tho)

word count: 2.0k

a/n: can you tell i got grammarly premium? please tell me you can tell that I got grammarly premium.

Staring into the oval mirror, you see your face streaked with dried tears. (The makeup the servants had applied hadn't done the best job of covering them) Your hair is styled into a bun, and your wedding dress is hanging on a rack in the corner of the large room. It's off the shoulder and dyed a pure white with gold and ruby accents. You stare at the dress from the corner of your eye, glaring at it contemptuously. 

You didn't want to marry him.

You didn't even know him.

You cover your face with your hands and start to sob once again, the carefully applied makeup becoming ruined further by your crying. You uncover your face but continue to hold your head in your hands. Your mind is running with so many thoughts. However, the one that weighed the most on your conscience was how you got into this mess.

The first time you saw him, you were going to buy sewing supplies from the tailor to teach your younger sister how to sew so she could fix her old teddy bear by herself. The manager had brought you the tools, and you grabbed the needed money out of your pocket. You placed the coins on the counter as the owner started to count the amount.

"Uh, miss? This amount of money isn't enough." The tailor had told you.

"Oh? I really thought it was, and that's all I have…"

You were about to take the money back and apologize when a man with black hair placed more than enough coins on the counter for you.

"I'll pay for her." The man said.

"Huh? No, there's no need to pay for me!"

You pause your sentence when you finally recognize who it is.

"Mr. Dostoyevsky?? What are you—"

"Don't mind me. I'm just here to pick up my new suit," Fyodor said, nodding to a fancy black suit in the back of the store. He turned back to the tailor. "It should be enough for my suit and this lady's items. Now go get our things, please."

The worker nodded and ran into the back of the store to grab his newly tailored suit. When he returned, he handed the respective items to both of you and accepted the money.

"Thanks for buying the sewing tools for me." You thanked Fyodor before he could walk off.

He nodded in acknowledgment of your thanks before walking away. 

The second time you saw him was Sunday, and you were walking to church alone. You weren't particularly religious, if at all. But it couldn't hurt to at least try to pray for your little sisters' health, could it? Isabella was getting increasingly sick, and neither you nor your mother knew what was wrong. You were too poor to afford a doctor, so all you could do was sit and wait. 

As you walked towards the church alone on that quiet Sunday, your footsteps echoed against the sidewalk as you noticed a figure leaning against the fence bordering the front of the church.

His silhouette cast a shadow that had seemed to sway with the soft wind. As you walked closer, you finally recognized him.

Him again? Seriously?

He looked up as you approached, his violet eyes softening ever so slightly as a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The quiet moment between you was interrupted by the loud ringing of church bells, marking the start of another Sunday service. You hesitated, unsure whether to acknowledge him or walk inside the building without speaking to him.

"Hello," he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that did nothing to ease the uncertainty in your heart.

The last time you ran into him, you had just bought three loaves of bread and were walking back home when you bumped into Fyodor again. You had tumbled to the ground along with your bread. 

It was getting quite odd at how many times you two had met, almost like it was on purpose. 

Your eyes widened as you blabbered words that sounded like they were trying to be an apology, but it wasn't working well. 

Fyodor let out a small chuckle as he bent down slightly, lending his hand toward you to help you. You froze momentarily before graciously taking his hand as he pulled you up.

"We must stop meeting like this."

"Indeed," you replied nervously, the loaves of bread scattered around you. You looked around at the mess, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Would you like me to buy you some new bread? I don't think you would find eating dirty bread delightful."

"Oh– It's alright, I'm sure I'll manage." You reassured him.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." You bent down to pick up the loaves of bread. You could just wash the dirt off, probably.

You immediately fled the scene after picking up your food. You quickly opened your house door and found your younger sister lying in bed. You genuinely wished you could get a doctor for her. But you can barely afford bread.

You bent down next to the bed, gently shaking your sister awake. After a while of shaking, her eyes finally opened.

"You're back?" She asked.

"Buying bread doesn't take much time."

"It feels like it does." She retorted, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I know," you sigh. Your little sister can be pretty impatient sometimes. "Where's mother?"

"I don't know. I was asleep when she left." 

You shrugged before returning to place the bread basket on the table.

"She'll come back soon, I know it." Your sister said.

Your conversation is interrupted by a loud knock at your door. You stand back up and head to open the door. Standing there is a mailman.

"I have a letter for [Name] [Last Name]. Is she here?"

"You're speaking to her."

"Oh, well then, here you are." The postman hands you a letter and walks off. 

You close the door and stare at the envelope. In the middle is the crest of the Dostoyevsky family.

You walk back towards your sister, who is sitting in bed. You sit at the foot of her bed.

"What does the letter say?" She asks curiously.

"I'm not sure. I haven't read it yet." You respond to her.

"Well, then read it!"

You ripped open the envelope and started to read the letter.

Dear Ms. [Last Name],

With the quill in my hand and the ink flowing from the depths of my heart, I must express how you have attracted me with your beauty despite your poverty. You have truly captivated me.

I was enchanted by the aura radiating from your soul when we met in the tailors' shop. 

Though fate has seen fit to place us on entirely separate paths—you, a child of the fields, and I, a child of noble birth—I am compelled to defy the standards society has set for us. Even though I had only met you three times before writing this letter, you are the one with whom I wish to share my life's journey.

Therefore, if you allow me, permit me to pledge myself to you in the blessed bond of marriage. Together, we shall travel the trials of life, hand in hand, as equals in love's timeless embrace.

My dear, I beg you to consider this proposal with an open heart and a willing spirit. For in your acceptance lies the promise of a future bright with the shine of my utter devotion to you.

With all the sincerity my soul can allow,

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

"Wow, a rich person wants to marry you?" Isabella clasped her hands together as she fixed her posture, becoming more interested by the second.

"This must be a joke– but if it has the official Dostoyevsky family crest, then it should be real."

"Will you accept?" Your sister asks.

"It'd be in my best interest, but I'll ask my mother and see what she thinks." You said as you stood up, "But until I can speak with her, you should go back to sleep. It's way too past your bedtime anyway." 

"Aw man, but I wanna stay up with you!" Isabella complains.

"Fine, but don't come complaining to me when you're all crabby in the morning."

"Fineee…"

"Thank you, Isabella." You thank her and sit up from her bed.

"Mhm."

After tucking Isabella into bed, you walked to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. While you were making it, your mother walked into the house.

"How was your visit to uncle's?" You asked her. She was always at his house. Your uncle had always been better off than your mother. So she always hung around his home, probably because it made her feel richer.

"It was fine. Is Isabella doing any better?" She eyed the dusty bread on the table as you poured the tea.

"She's doing just as fine as yesterday."

"Ah, well, I'll be heading straight for bed. I've had a long day." Your mother yawned and stretched her arms,

"Wait! There's something I need to ask you."

"Yes?" Your mother asked, "What is it?"

"Read this letter I've received. I need your opinion."

You hand your mother the letter you have gotten. She scanned it, and when she finished, she set it down and sighed.

"You're going to marry him. It's the best choice." She said bluntly.

"But– I don't love him. I've only met him three times?"

"I doubt he cares much if you love him. Besides, think about Isabella. You can get her a proper doctor if you marry him. The Dostoyevsky family has lots of money, you know." Your mother explained.

“Yeah… I know…”

"So you'll marry him?" She asked.

"Yes, mother." You looked at the ground solemnly as you confirmed her question

"That's good. I'll get you paper and a quill. I want your response by tomorrow morning."

"Alright."

You're brought back to the present when one of the servants knocks on your door. "Ms. [Last Name], are you ready for the wedding?"

Oh shit, while you were busy having flashbacks and a mini-mental breakdown, you had completely forgotten about the thing that had caused you such stress!

"Uhm– I'll be out in a minute!"

You hurriedly put on the dress and fixed your makeup to the best of your (limited) ability. Then you opened the door and stepped out.

"You look beautiful. Are you ready?"

"I guess…"

You put on the heels and walk out of the room. You try to distract yourself by looking at the glass windows as you walk down the long hall toward what you consider to be an execution. The stained glass depicts different imagery on each piece.

Jesus, with his lamb,

Jesus, with his sacred heart, 

Jesus, on the cross,

Yeah, there's definitely a pattern.

You open the wooden doors at the end of the hall and walk towards the carriage outside. Once inside, the carriage begins its way to the church.

Your mother is waiting in front of the doors leading into the venue. She's holding your veil and a little piece of paper containing the vows you wrote down at the last minute.

"Remember to smile and be polite," your mother says as she fits the veil onto your head.

"I will."

In the grand venue of the church, the air was thick with anticipation as guests dressed in their finest clothing gathered to watch firsthand the marriage between two mismatched souls. Fyodor Dostoyevsky, the eldest son of the respected Dostoyevsky family, stands at the altar, waiting for you to come down the aisle.  

The grand piano filled the luxurious room as the ceremony started, drowning out the guests' gossip. The marriage between you and Fyodor was initially unknown; most guests only knew you were getting married once the invite was sent to them. Everyone knew how proud Fyodor was of his heritage, so why would he marry someone lower class? 

As the vows were exchanged by the two of you, the weight of your future settled upon you like a suffocating cloud. Fyodor could feel your hands trembling as he slid the ring onto your finger. 

His voice was barely above a whisper as he pledged his forever undying loyalty to you. 

However, for you, this marriage was only an opportunity to secure a place amongst the elite despite your origins.

[library-ghoulette]

day 21 // somno & feral/primal

Prompt list thanks to @kroas-adtam 💜

Pairing: Phantom x reader

Rating: Explicit, minors DNI

Words: 2323

Tags: noncon/extremely dubious consent, female reader, masturbation, somnophilia, heat/breeding cycles, feral ghouls, rough sex, demon sex, coming inside

Summary: A new Sister of Sin, you learn the hard way why you're supposed to keep your window locked tight during ghoul mating season.

A/N: Please note the updated tags and warnings for this one! I feel like Phantom frequently gets the cinnamon roll treatment, so I wanted to write him being not so sweet.

You can also read this--and all my other fics--on ao3!

You expected that there might be a learning curve, when you ran away from your old life to begin a new one in the service of Satan. But you hadn't expected there to be so goddamn many rules.

You were expected to follow orders immediately and without question. Make your bed and say your morning prayers. Report for your duties precisely on time. Maintain perfect attendance at your religious education classes. The Abbey ran like clockwork under the meticulous care of its prioress, the intimidating Sister Imperator, and her word was law, not to be questioned.

Even when the rules seemed overbearing or nonsensical, you were expected to bite back anything other than, "Yes, Sister."

Luckily you had your fallen angel—the older, more experienced Sister assigned to guide your transition from your old life to your new one—and you could grill her all you wanted. Much to her occasional chagrin.

Like now, as you troop up the stairs to your cells after dinner, and in the midst of her almost daily reiterations of the rules, she adds a new one: "Make sure that you keep your door and window locked after curfew, starting tonight."

It's annoying enough that you're subjected to a curfew—you're not a child, and when are all of these supposed Sisters of Sin supposed to be sinning?—but the window thing really annoys you. The rooms are musty and old, and you've gotten into the habit, now that the Spring weather has turned warmer, of sleeping with your window open to let in some fresh air.

"Why do we have to keep our windows locked?" you ask. "We live on the third floor. No one's going to get in without a ladder… or wings."

Your fallen angel regards you seriously. "It's mating season."

"Well, I don't think any wild animals are making it up to our rooms, either—"

"For ghouls," she cuts you off. "They go into rut every Spring. And when they do, they're dangerous. Territorial, unpredictable… and horny. Well, hornier."

"…oh."

You haven't had many interactions with the ghouls. You haven't been at the Abbey that long, and the ghouls are… Well, they're a bit insular, a bit set apart from most of the humans who live and work here. They tend to run as a pack, their bond to one another so strong that they seemingly communicate without words.

They're a strange mix of unnerving and captivating, but you suppose that's true of any group of preternaturally attractive people with a better than you vibe. Even if they are demons, they don't seem particularly dangerous.

Especially not the one you've seen in the halls a few times now, with his slight stature and tumble of dark hair that always seems to be hanging in front of one violet eye. The one who caught you looking and gave you a small, shy wave in return. Phantom, you think his name is? In any case, you can't imagine him being dangerous.

Your fallen angel seems to read your thoughts, or perhaps just the disbelief written across your face. With the weary air of someone who's had to explain this exact thing to many dumb postulants before you, she says, "You haven't seen them in their true form. They're different when they're in rut. Even the older ones have trouble maintaining control over themselves, and the younger ones are downright volatile."

You've reached your twin doors—your cells connect with a shared bathroom in the middle—and she pauses with a sigh, searching for the right words.

"People have been injured before," she says, holding your gaze and wringing her hands. "Just… don't risk it, okay?"

"Okay," you agree.

"Good. Now, lock your window, and sleep tight. I'll be right here if you need me."

The soreness and exhaustion hit you as soon as you're alone in your cell. Your body is as unaccustomed to the grueling pace of the called life as is your mind, and by the end of each day, all you want to do is to fall face-first into bed and sleep for a week.

You shower, letting the hot water soothe both your mental and physical pains. When you emerge from the bathroom, waving steam out of the air as you go, your eyes fall on your window. Surely it can't hurt to open it for just a little while…

There, that feels immediately better. The breeze is warm and fills your plain little room with the freshness of Spring, the verdant scent of growing things and the world waking up. You stand in front of the window, breathing in the delicate perfume of the cherry trees that have only this week burst into full bloom, toweling you hair dry.

It's not exactly curfew yet—at least, you don't think it is—so you leave the window open as you cross to your dresser and pull out your favorite silky little nightgown. The fabric skims deliciously over your bare skin as you slip it over your head.

You lie back on your bed without bothering to pull back the comforter. You haven't forgotten about your fallen angel's warning—if anything, it keeps playing over and over in your mind. You keep thinking about her description of the ghouls, of how they become territorial, unpredictable, horny.

You try to imagine what Phantom, who seems so sweet, would be like, transformed into an insatiable… fuckbeast, you guess. The word makes you giggle at yourself, but the image it conjures unspools warmth low in your belly.

You trail your hands down your body, skimming over your hardened nipples under the silky fabric, and part your own thighs to slide your fingers between your folds. You find yourself slick with arousal, and it doesn't take much work, rubbing your clit in just the way you like, to get yourself off. As you come you imagine Phantom, skilled hands gripping your hips as he drives into you, peering down at you with pleasure and amusement as you fall apart around his cock.

You're sleepy when you come down from your orgasm, and in the haze of tiredness and dreamy afterglow, you pull the covers up over yourself and drift away, forgetting your open window completely…

You wake to the unmistakable pressure of an unfamiliar weight at the foot of your bed. Even without opening your eyes, you know you are being watched—you can feel the rake of some inhuman gaze on your skin. You feel it as surely as you hear the panting, each rough exhalation of breath as whatever this is… What is it doing?

You risk cracking your eyes open just a bit, just enough to peer from between your lashes at the intruder. At first you think you're hallucinating, imagining that a dark shadow is something solid. But as you wake up more fully and your eyes adjust, you discern form. You notice the swirling purple energy, the pinpricks of light that twinkle like distant stars all along the humanoid form.

You discern the cords of lean, strong muscle that run down its arms—and you follow that working line of muscle down, to where the creature is stroking itself with one hand, frantically pumping its fist up and down over its— oh God, over its cock. You can't make out the details in the gloom, but you can tell that it's huge.

You let out an involuntary whimper, and at the sound, the creature's eyes latch onto yours in a flash of violet eyeshine. You squeeze your lids shut again and bite your lip to silence yourself, even as you feel the creature grab your comforter in a clawed fist and the bedsheets begin to slowly but inexorably creep down your body, exposing your bare shoulders, your breasts…

Your fear screams at you to run, but another voice inside of you tells you to lie still, whispers that running is pointless. How far do you even think you would get, because the monster catches you and does whatever it wants to you?

You struggle to keep your breathing even, to remain calm, even as the protection of the covers is stripped away, even as the creature bends down low over your leg and you feel the crackle of energy along your bare calf as it… as it sniffs you, inhaling your scent.

Apparently it likes what it smells, because sharp claws grip your thighs, digging into the soft skin, and the creature presses its face against your center, breathing you in through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

Its touch is electric, its breath hot against your flesh, and in spite of your terror—or because of it?—you feel your cunt clench with arousal. You're even wetter than you were earlier, imagining Phantom creeping into your room, desperate with need…

Wait. You crack open your eyelids again, enough to take in the snuffling form crouched over your body. Despite the horns and the claws—and the skin made out of space, you guess?—there is something familiar in the creature. Something about that flash of purple in its eyes… Yes. Even though it seems unbelievable, you know with absolute certainty that this monster, this demon, is the same boy from the hall, the one who waved at you, with that sweet, self-conscious half-smile before turning away.

He's not shy now, not turning away, as he wrenches your thighs apart and licks a broad stripe up your cunt with his long, forked tongue. It's animalistic, less concerned with your pleasure than with wallowing in your pheromones, but nonetheless a whiplash of pleasure cracks through you. It's hard to hold still, to keep from moaning aloud as he licks you again and again, rutting against the mattress with each stroke of his tongue.

Finally he wrenches away from your pussy and crawls up your body, pawing at you with careless claws that sting deliciously as they draw blood. He brings his face to the side of your neck, almost like a human lover would to kiss you in the midst of passion, but he only grazes his fangs against your skin and breathes in your scent.

For a panic-stricken moment you fear he might tear out your throat, but he only emits a low, rumbling growl before wrenching away from you. And then, with shocking strength, he flips you over onto your stomach and tears away your nightgown, leaving you exposed.

If you had any questions about what would happen next, they're answered swiftly when he presses the head of his cock against your entrance. Even as wet as you are, dripping both with your own arousal and his thick saliva, the size is intimidating. Helpless to escape—and, you admit shamefully, no longer that interested in trying—you angle your hips up to accommodate him as best you can.

Somehow, the bulbous crown of his cock breaches your body's resistance and he fills you. You let out a gasp at the stretch, more than you've ever taken before, and try to adjust to the overwhelming pressure of him inside you.

But he isn't finished. You realize with horror that you've only taken his tip, as he works more of his length into you. There is nothing human about his cock, and your body thrills at the alien sensation of each ridge and bulb that drags along your inner walls, hitting spots you barely knew you had.

Finally, he bottoms out with a grunt, and you have a moment of relief that there is no more to take.

That moment ends when he begins to move.

He sets a relentless pace, pounding into you with a ferocity you've never felt before. He holds you down and presses you into the mattress as he uses your body. You can no longer remain quiet, helpless to keep in your cries, but the creature, the nightmare, atop you is oblivious, lost in his own pleasure and in his desperate need to mate.

You teeter at the razor-thin edge between pleasure and pain, barely knowing which one you're feeling until he hits something inside of you just right and everything comes together as you begin to fall apart, your pussy spasming around him and driving him over the edge of his own orgasm. He growls and digs his claws into your hips even harder, and his cock kicks inside of you, his spend filling and overfilling you. You can feel it, thick and warm, spilling out of you and coating your thighs, just before the full crest of your orgasm overtakes you, and everything fades to gray…

When you wake up again, it's to the morning sunlight filling your room and the sound of birdsong streaming in through the window. The open window.

You curse, and for a split second you remember the intense dream you had the night before. But as soon as you move and feel the spasm of soreness throughout your lower body, you know it wasn't a dream. You roll over carefully and reach down, investigating your swollen pussy with tentative fingers. You're still slicked with cum—you say a little prayer of thanks that you take your birth control religiously—and it's dried all along your inner thighs, which are also covered in scratches. As is—fuck—the rest of your body.

You flop back onto your pillow with a disbelieving little laugh. Well. You guess your fallen angel wasn't exaggerating the threat after all. You're a complete mess.

And it was the best sex you've ever had in your life.

You stumble toward the bathroom, stopping on the way to slide your window shut and lock it carefully. Even now you know that last night won't be the last time you conveniently forget to close it before bed.

But… maybe not every night, not until summer has come and mating season is over. You have to get some rest, after all.

[autistic-ben-tennyson]

What Anime Means to Me

Anime is something I never thought I’d get into. As a child, I used to think it was dumb or cheesy due to only having exposure to Pokemon or Beyblade. Learning about alt right weeaboos who watch it for being less “woke” than western animation closed me off even more. Yet now it’s my special interest and in many ways has helped me grow up, at least mentally, and taught some harsh truths that I needed during my depression phase.

My opinion of anime began to change thanks to a masterpiece of a romance. My literature class had us watch Your Name and I was blown away. It was funny, emotional, tragic and moving. Less than two years later, I was lucky to be able to watch Suzume when it was in theaters and I fell in love with the medium that day. I began watching movies like Akira, A Whisker Away, Ghost in The Shell and classic Ghibli. I think my favorite was either Kiki’s Delivery Service or Spirited Away.

The series that pushed me to expand my horizons was Madoka Magica. I tried watching the 90s Sailor Moon anime but found it a bit cheesy. PMMM was a quite different from what I expected and it became one of my favorites. Princess Tutu, I watched soon after and while I found it a little cheesy too, the ending had me on the edge of my seat. Both series helped me be a little more optimistic and hopeful when I was feeling down due to working a stressful job at McDonald’s and gender dysphoria.

Neon Genesis Evangelion is probably the most important series for me as it was sort of a harsh form of therapy. I’ve written about it before but it’s message of self love was a wake up call for me to stop trying to get validation from people who won’t change which I needed after I felt like my father handled my coming out poorly. Its message is a lot more nuanced and mature than what some other shows preach. It is not “you’re a perfect smol bean who can do no wrong” but a lesson about how you can’t just mope around in self pity and hope for validation. I know a lot of people hate the rebuilds but seeing the pilots who I all related to in some way get a happy ending gave me hope that I could do the same.

I recently finished the Violet Evergarden anime as well as the movie and am still a bit choked up. It’s a very beautiful and impactful story. Right now I’m binging Little Witch Academia and love it. Akko is an acquired taste but I find her very endearing. TPN is also on my watchlist but I don’t want to use Disney+ which is full of ads. Both Akko and Emma kind of remind me a bit of Ben Tennyson, one of might favorite fictional characters, as well which I love since that series is very reminiscent of a lot of anime like Sailor Moon.

Anime, specifically Shinkai and NGE, has had a big impact on how I view relationships and love. The former has taught me about the different ways romance can work and the latter was a deep look at unhealthy relationships and how just expecting complete validation is not a good thing to demand from a romantic partner. Sometimes you do need to change your ways by being a better person in order to find love. I know things like ableism and homophobia have poisoned that idea but things that are actual flaws should be challenged by your partner as opposed to enabled.

I never thought that I’d become so obsessed with this medium but it’s helped me grow up and mature a lot of my views about things like love, both loving one’s self and romance. It broke me out of my depression phase and has helped me cope with the difficulties of life. Something I and many others all need in a world plagued with genocide, war, bigotry, political violence and abuse.