#I may just find a way to give myself a small voice role as a newscaster 👀

[sluttish-armchair]

You know… Whether the Party is lying about having gotten control of the Americas or not, it would make sense if they have some people with American accents running the radio and telescreen programs… if for no other reason to make themselves look more powerful.

[kaisturni]

cabin fever | m. sturniolo

→ matt x fem!reader

→ plot; things are heating up at the triplet’s cabin in vermont; especially between you and matt. the group of you, him, his brothers, nate and madi spend a needed getaway at the cozy house. unknown to everyone else, confessions, tension, and late nights make it even hotter between you two.

→ includes; smut, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, f!oral receiving (matt the munch AF), mentions of drinking, blood/bleeding (NOT PART OF THE SMUT), light fluff

→ a/n; madi nate nick and chris all have super minor roles and they don’t add to the plot at all btw. this one is HOT. CALOR. CALIENTE. (imo) enjoy!

MINOR PROOFREADING

——————————————————————————

“hey, we’re here,” a voice gently whispers to me, i realize belonging to nick as i slowly come back to consciousness.

the groggily feeling of sleep soon goes away and in its place is excitement; we’re finally at the cabin.

this isn’t my first time vacationing with the triplets; we’ve been going here since we were little. once becoming friends with nate and madi, they soon joined in on our yearly trip to the cabin.

i almost immediately fall stepping out of the car, my brain forgetting that my body was completely stagnant during the 4 hour car ride up here.

i put my hands out and brace for impact; but it never comes. instead a pair of arms swiftly caught me before i had my lunch with the gravel,

“dude, you gotta be more careful,” a voice chuckles from behind my head. it’s matt; i know his voice the best out of all of them.

he helps me stand up right, “whew thanks,” i breathe out with a laugh, he says nothing but delivers a nod in response. i turn on heels to grab my suitcase from the trunk,

“here let me help you, wouldn’t want you to almost fall again,” he offers, i roll my eyes at him as he takes the duffel bag from my arms and slings it over his shoulder, not giving me any time to think of a response.

i know to some that may seem flirtatious, but unfortunately it isn’t. sometimes i can’t help but feel disappointed that there isn’t something more but the guilt of feeling like that towards one of my best friends since childhood is stronger than my urges.

however, i would be a liar if i said i didn’t find him attractive. the tattoos on his body, light stubble he lets grow in sometimes, messy curls, plump lips, his eyes… jaw…

i quickly get the ongoing list of the physically mouth watering things about matt out of my head; feeling almost a guilt that i found him so hot. i shouldn’t think about one of my best friends since childhood this way, so i force myself not to.

forgetting about my previous daydreams, i follow the rest of them into the house, taking in the joy of being at the cabin again.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

the house is big enough to where everyone is lucky to have their own room, and mine sits at the end of a long hallway, just past where chris and nate sleep.

i open the door and smile at the sight that matt has already placed my stuff down on the bed for me.

i internally slap myself, why am i reading into this? he just put my stuff down in my room. nothing else about it.

i take my duffel off the bed and seat it on the floor beside me and replace it with myself on its cushioning. i hear a knock at my door,

“come in!”

thinking i’m going to be met with matt in my doorframe, i look up, and i am only about half right.

“we’re gonna start cooking dinner now since it’s getting pretty late and we’re all starving, wanna help?” chris asks, poking his head between the a small sliver in the door.

i can’t help but giggle at his actions, “yes, i’ll help you, but next time you knock just open the door all the way, don’t be creepy,” i kick my feet up and yank the door open,

“i’m not creepy i’m polite!” he argues, voice fading as he descends to the kitchen,

“never said that!” i joke, my footsteps quickly follow behind him.

i join the rest of my friends in the kitchen, and start slicing vegetables, while chris and madi go on their own dinner tasks.

getting way too caught up in a conversation with nick, my knife skills began to be… less than subpar.

“FUCK!” i yell and instinctively drop the knife, the sound of the blade echoing through the room and blood from a large cut in my hand leaking everywhere on the counter causes all hell to break loose.

“oh my god! do we need to go to the ER?!”

“get a towel, NOW!”

“i’m fine, i’m fine!” i yell, doing my best to stop the panic from everyone else, the pressure from the towel stopping the blood flow for now.

“we need to get that cleaned, the first aid kit is in my room, come on,” matt says, taking my unadulterated hand into his and guiding me upstairs into his bedroom.

“sit,” he points to his bed and i follow his finger and take a seat on the edge of the mattress.

he ruffles through a drawer and pulls out a large first aid kit, since when was it in his room?

“this will sting like a bitch, but it’ll stop it from getting infected,” he says, shaking a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and removing the make shift dressing i have from my hand.

i close my eyes tightly and wince at the contact of it on my skin, biting my lip through the pain.

“it’s almost over, don’t worry. i’m gonna put some ointment on it then a bandage okay?”

his words are soft and comforting, which somehow eases the pain to a lower level than before.

he applies the ointment first, and i sign blissfully at the relief it has on my wound.

“that’s it, you’re doing so well,” he adds casually, wrapping the bandage around my finger.

i can feel my cheeks grow hot at his statement, him not knowing the effect his words of praise had on me.

i internally slap myself again. why do i keep thinking about him like this? jesus christ there’s something wrong with me.

“thank you matt,”

“anytime.”

for a moment, we just stare at each other. the silence is almost suffocating, and for the first time i feel like he wants to say something but doesn’t. i wonder if he thinks the same thing about me today.

i decide to quickly break the silence, “let’s go back down and eat, yeah? i don’t know about you but i’m starving,” i lie, i’m actually not hungry at all. almost cutting my hand off had a way of perfectly curving my appetite, but it’s the only thing i can think to say to rip me out of the chokehold that this silence has on me.

“me too, c’mon” he stands up and reaches out his hand for mine.

i’ve never been more confused in my fucking life. it was one thing to catch me when i fall, bring my suitcase inside, but praise me? hold my hand twice? i don’t know if i’m just delusional or if this is part of some code matt wants me to decipher, either way, i’m at my wits end.

i take his hand to help me up, and he smiles at me and we drop our hands at the same time. i smile back and he turns away to lead us back downstairs, i make sure he’s first so that he doesn’t see my face contort into a look of embarrassment.

definitely way over thinking it.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

after a great dinner and a few drinks all around, everyone says their goodnights and head to their bedrooms.

i do the same, and after a few hours, despite no one else in the house being awake and a couple drinks in me, i am nowhere near the point of falling asleep.

tossing and turning is all i can manage myself to do, sweating i don’t know which; being so hot and bothered by everything matt has done earlier or the vermont heat just personally attacking me and only me tonight.

i peel off the sheets and pillows, and it provides me with some relief for a little, but does nothing to fight my consciousness. with this temperature, maybe i just need a glass of water.

i creep downstairs as quiet as i can to not wake anyone, and i do the same with opening the fridge.

i look through it for a few seconds trying to find a water bottle, when a sudden voice behind me makes me jump,

“couldn’t sleep either?”

it’s matt. what the fuck, i thought he was asleep?

“matt, you scared the shit out of me! i thought you were asleep,”

i put my hand on my chest to cure the spike in heart rate, and turn around changing my focus back to the fridge.

“looking for a water? great minds think alike,” I hear his feet shuffle close behind me, and i feel the immediate spike in heart rate come back again when he moves me over, brushing up against me with a steady grip on my waist.

“right over here,” he says? pulling out two water bottles from the fridge. i feel like i’m going to fucking explode.

“thanks,” i crack open the lid, “so what’s keeping you up this late?” i say as my best attempt at remaining as calm and cool as possible.

“eh, y’know, just thinking about things. what about you?” he asks, and we sip simultaneously.

there’s honestly two answers to this question, I could say the truth or i could just agree.

i decide to go with the significantly less risky answer, but before i can even get the first word out he starts again,

“idea, let’s go in the hot tub,” his smile is so fucking innocent when he says it, it just drives me nuts.

i don’t even bother bringing up how ‘the heat is bothering me’ when he’s standing there, asking—no, not even asking me to go to the hot tub with him; telling me.

“oh yeah i’m down. maybe the heat will help us get sleepy,” i lie through my teeth, but saying it as nonchalantly as possible so he hopefully can’t hear the nervousness in the undertones of my voice.

“perfect, i’ll go change real quick and meet you out there,” he slips away with a light jog and i head his door close before i can even actually process what’s going on.

unfortunately there’s no time to think too deeply about it, and i book it to my room to change.

i have a couple options that i need to decide through quickly, ultimately landing on a dark blue stringed two piece.

i throw on the tshirt i had while sleeping over my bikini and quietly jog to the hot tub, located on the back end of the property, in its own reserved area. matt is already in there waiting for me, arms spread and his eyes lock with mine right when i come outside.

“hey,”

“hi, how’s the tem-“

“are you just going to stand there and talk or are you going to come in?” his words leave me slightly dumbfounded, but i can bounce back from this.

“oh, i’m coming,” i say, beginning to peel off the shirt I have on. i walk to the edge and begin to lower myself in, matt’s eyes locked on my body the whole time.

i pretend not to notice.

“thank you,” i say to him, a confused look popping on his face.

“for what?”

“taking care of me today, you didn’t have to do anything you did at all,” the words somehow just flow out of my mouth without realizing and i watch him as he lets out a light hearted laugh and looks down,

“you already thanked me today before, but no problem, i wanted to,” he replied, turning his gaze to match mine, i swear i feel like his eyes can see into my soul when he looks at me now.

“you did? why?” i ask out of genuine curiosity. it’s not like he would have never done something for me before today, but it was different; it was how he did. whether it has to do with me specifically or not, i really want to know.

“you’re my favorite girl in this world, how could i just not take care of you?” i don’t notice that we’ve slowly been moving towards each other this entire conversation, and now our bodies are just a few inches apart.

“this whole time i was thinking you were just being nice— matt, you don’t know what you do to me,” i confess, my stare going back and forth between both his eyes, aching for any hint at what he could be thinking.

“god, speak for yourself, it’s almost impossible to stop how i feel about you; or hide it” he pushing the hair in front of my face behind my ear and pulls me closer to him by the back of my neck.

the feeling i had when he caught me today, cleaned my hand and praised me, brushed up against me, all comes rushing back to me instantly, blissful in the knowing that it’s justified.

“can i kiss you?”

this man could not get any more perfect.

“mhm,” i give out and nod in affirmation, and immediately feel his lips press against mine.

at first the kiss is slow and deep, his hands not being able to sit still against my skin.

i feel the heat between legs rise, and i shortly become impatient with the painfully slow pace he’s at. as much as i love it, i’m craving more; more of him.

i gently bite and suck on his bottom lip, earning a groan from him, and he instantly gets the message. his kisses become sloppier, less tamed, and they start to work their way down my neck.

i moan in pleasure as he sucks the sweet spot between my neck and my collarbone, holding my back and nipping as he makes his way up to hungrily claim my lips.

“can i take this off?” he waits for my consent, fiddling with the small strings that are holding my bathing suit together.

“do whatever you want to me,” i breathe out, and i mean it.

he pulls me in by my waist and kisses me again, our tongues battling as he unties the strings of my bikini top and removes the fabric between us without breaking a single kiss.

the cold air on my tits compared to the steaming hot tub causes me to gasp, and i pull even closer to matt, pressing my chest against his own.

he moans lightly and moves his mouth from mine, holding me up by the legs around his lips to carry me to the edge of the hot tub.

in no time he claims my nipple, sucking and licking hard on the area, making me grow even wetter by the minute.

“mmh, matt” i moan out, tipping my head back in pleasure.

“feels good, baby?” i nod vigorously, and he descends his kisses down me stopping when he gets in between my legs to my clothed core.

his thumb circles my clit, and i have to bite my lip in order to not scream his name immediately.

“you’re so wet already, i love it. can i taste you baby?” he purrs, knowing exactly what kind of answer he’s getting, well aware of the state he put me in.

“y-yes, god, please do,” i beg him, and he works immediately to untie the strings of my bottoms and let them fall off, exposing myself to him.

the steam from the hot tub does not do me any favors in the burning heat in my core, both from that and the sheer fact i want him to fuck me senseless right now.

“mmm” matt begins,

“i knew your pussy would be pretty, just look at how beautiful you are,” he rubs his fingers between my wet folds and i blush at his words.

“i’m gonna show you how beautiful you are,” he says, right before pushing my legs further apart for him to suck my clit.

i can’t help myself from grabbing a handful of his brown locks and squeezing my legs together against his head, and he groans in response.

his groan sends vibrations further into my pussy, making it even more impossible to suffocate the loud moans escaping from my lips.

he goes to work making out with my core, and each suck, kiss, and moan makes me exponentially closer to exploding all over him.

“m-matt i feel it i’m-“ and he stops, i shoot him a confused look, attempting to get rid of the edge that’s holding me right now.

i rub my own clit, looking him in the eye and watch his breath hitch as i moan at my own self pleasure.

i almost manage to stick two fingers in myself, but before that happens he grabs my wrists, taking the pleasure from me yet again.

“i stopped because i want you to cum on my dick, can you do that for me?” he questions softly, rubbing his clothed erection on my pussy.

the feeling of it makes me buzz, “yes i can matt, fuck me,” i say in a mix of demanding and asking, and he removes himself from his black swim trunks and lets his throbbing dick spring out.

he pumps himself a few times before aligning up with my entrance. matt pushes himself in, lewd noises escaping from both of our mouths and bodies slapping against one another.

“yeah, take that shit baby. you’re doing so well.” he moans into my ear, his repeated statement of praise is music to me.

“you’re so beautiful, how can anyone be so perfect,” he breathes out, hard deep strokes becoming sloppier by the minute.

matt’s words cause me to hit dangerously close to cumming, and without warning i paint white all over his dick; but that doesn’t stop him”

“sorry i d-didn’t say it happened s-so fast,” i apologize as he keeps thrusting into me,

“mm don’t be sorry, you did just what i asked. i’m gonna cum too angel,”

“cum in me, matt”

he wastes no time arguing with me and releases shortly after into me; his and my own liquids leaking down my thigh.

i do my best to catch my breath, and he cups my face and presses a sweet kiss on my nose,

“i made a mess outta, you huh,” he laughs playfully, also trying to regain his own air.

i let out a tired laugh of my own “yeah, i’m gonna have to shower and go to bed; after all that, im surprisingly ready to sleep,” i tease and poke his chest, he drops his jaw pretending to be offended.

“yeah yeah, surprisingly, whatever. can i join you in that shower?” he suggests, handing me a towel before covering himself with one too.

“hm, only if you join me in my bed after,” i smile, wrapping my body in the soft material,

“deal,” he whispers, kissing my head, carrying me all the way to his bathroom, before grabbing my things and putting them on his bed.

except this time, it’s our bed.

[n3ptoonz]

mind writing for the Earthrealm men getting caught masturbating by the reader??👀

mk1 hcs: how the earthrealm guys react to getting caught 🥩 👊🏾 by reader

warnings: suggestive; a lil steamy, i play too much (was sick and ovulating while writing this help me god), GERAS SPOTTED???

reverse roles here

Johnny Cage

Left the door open on purpose. WIDE OPEN. There he lied on his silk linens, blasting Marvin Gaye and going to town without taking his eyes off the door. Honestly wouldn't be surprised if he added a sexy ninja mime (i will never stop referencing past games) to act out him getting caught

When you "catch" him all you can do is facepalm, but it's outta love. Expect to have him let loose 50 cheesy pick up lines, dick in hand and all. Like he would still jerk it like he wasn't stuttering over his words once you took over

If you join the cheesy line fun, he may or may not cum on the spot. He loves when you're playful back. And tease him a lot. But like. Way more than he teases you. He can and will fall in love all over again (he will also bust quickly to this too. MULTIPLE times)

Raiden

This cutie pie. Snookums bbg. Blushing like a fool because you managed to overhear him utter your name multiple times in a hushed voice dripping with lust

I fully see him falling out of his bed and scrambling to pull his covers down with him just to cover his lower half. He gets even more nervous when he sees you not even attempting to leave, but instead having an inviting look on your face

Cue the comically loud gulp sound effect. His pretty brown eyes never left your figure, sitting on the hardwood floor with a painful erection between his thighs under a rather comfortable blanket. You'd have to ask if he wants help from your own lips, otherwise no sound would be in the room other than steady breathing and his heart thumping loud as hell (he says yes at the speed of light)

Smoke

Deer in headlights. One minute ago he was furiously zerkin it like there was no tomorrow, slutty sounds escaping his lips with no shame. Now he's like...oh...! You heard that..? Ahahah..

Would apologize so many times he ends up doing it in Czech. Please tell him it's okay😭In fact you'd only shut him up by telling him it was hot

Activates self indulgence beam I think...he'd be into it if you told him to finish what he started. Like sitting in a chair and watching him and he's not allowed to close his eyes- IM GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF (fic idea huehue)(if you write it before me, tag me.) But also albeit he stumbles over his words, he'd find some sort of way to ask for your help

Geras

WHAT!!! GERAS I KNOW WTF WHAT yeah he may be an immortal being but the man has his own needs. And is it even a question like...you're wondering how THAT fits in his hand like jesus christ you're going to kill someone sir (i got next)

It's nothing extravagant. He wasn't summoned by Liu Kang for a while, so he figured why not? He doesn't get much time to himself so let's crank one real quick 👀

Think of any scene from mk11 where he got "hurt" and was grunting, that's the sounds he was making and you could hear it through his door. But you thought he was hurt, so you came through the door just to be greeted by a SNAKE in his grip

Surprisingly calm...almost too calm...did he predict this? Who knows, all we know is you interrupted him and would definitely like your help. Does not shy away from this request too but that's how we like it 😈

Liu Kang

A similar incident with Geras. You overheard him while you wandered through his mansion trying to find and surprise him. So when you finally found his bedroom door and barged in, thinking he needed help, there he was dick in hand and completely unexpecting

He would try to remain calm but it would be clear as day that he was nervous. He'd quickly cover up with a pillow and give a small smile, asking if you needed anything like he wasn't shirtless and heart pumping at mach speeds

In his mind was like a static sound as he tried to focus on not getting hard again looking at you, feeling a little guilty as he couldn't help his instincts. I guess the God contract never said escaping from mortal desires! You offer to join the fun and he's like HUH...well, if you insist! (again he looks calm but is very, very excited, i promise)

Kung Lao

He had been schmeat beating after his long days of training so this isn't a new occurrence for him. But obviously, you've never walked in on him before. He was always able to get it done before he saw or met with you

Normally you rendezvous to Madam Bo's but you're like hm, why not bring him something to eat since you know he had a long day! Once you entered it didn't take you long to hear him calling your name from his room, so naturally you thought he knew you were here. But...it started to become like a chant. His voice breathy and deep (save me shaolin monk save me-) So when you check it out you find him with his head thrown back, hair messy and coated in sweat

The favoritism is leaking through the screen LMFAOOO He heard the door creak and yelped, asking why you were there so early out of breath you held the to-go bag in your hands with pure shock, immediately getting the idea to tease the shit out of him. He does it to you all the time, why not return the favor?! And he's like well?? Are you gonna help??? UH YA I WAS GETTING TO THAT😹😹

Scorpion

Kuai Liang rarely ever has the time to even talk to you, let alone talk to himself! So one of the few times he didn't think you were showing up to the temple but he had time to himself that he didn't think would last very long, he just needed to relieve his own stress real quick

Damn, he forgot he invited you to the temple since it was a slow day. You were appointed to his room by one of the recruits and sang his name, opening the door to the sound of squelching and panting

Your little song came to a stop at the same time of his gasp; eyes locked on yours. He wanted to smile, and drop everything to greet you like the situation wasn't what it was, but before he could even begin to hide himself you calmly close the door and watch his demeanor quickly switch to smug...it's gonna be a long day for the both of you😮‍💨

Sub-Zero

I'm using the same scenario from my first bi-han fic bc i said so, bite me!

He was avoiding you because he couldn't control himself around you any longer. The more he thought about you and how you pissed him off to great lengths before has him wanting to do terrible...terrible things (shoutout loki)(i've never seen loki) but he must suffice with pleasuring himself to the thought of you, the way your voice rang in his head, and how hot you looked patching up his injuries

When you caught him oh he was so sexually frustrated he couldn't think straight, panically pulling you into his room dick swinging and all. The scowl on his face didn't match the pink blush that was starting to form at how you looked at him. Why you were at his door is the least of his concerns, if you don't help him take care of this right now he might lose his mind 🥹

Kenshi Takahashi

He wasn't supposed to be last but I accidentally clicked on a tumblr notification and lost my notes on him so. LETS TRY THIS SHIT AGAIN.

When you caught him he was so so embarrassed. Don't let the calm and hot and sexy demeanor fool you, when it came to you it's like he's a clone; unrecognizable. He was stuttering and trying to justify whatever you just saw but then also asks why you showed up unannounced

You explain he said to come around this time a few days ago to spend some time together, and now he was mentally kicking himself bc how could he forget something so simple?! But hey, the fact that you weren't even budging, and even approaching him with a smile on your face told him all he needed to know. And who is he to say no to some help from a fine individual like you???

a/n: cranked this request out for y'all (fic might be posted today) this is a gift from me to you guys 😄 happy christmas and merry holidays to any and all cultures that do or don't celebrate during this time fr ❤️

[nanamis-bigtie]

Round 7: Share Your Fantasies

about, rules & navigation | previous round | alcohol consumption implied in some of the routes

That's the first part of the last phase of your adventure, the last date before you decide whom you're taking to your bed. Choose wisely, even if it may seem impossible.

Remember you vote for a character you don't want to advance further! The character with the biggest number of votes will be eliminated.

Higuruma Hiromi

The cozy and intimate atmosphere under the deck was interrupted by the ship approaching its destination—and then the trip around the island strained the remains of the mood out of you both. It was way too hot for poor Hiromi, too hot even for you, so you focused on surviving instead of chasing the ideas provoked by the drinks in the blue-soaked lounge.

You still found a way to make out with him, even if just for a moment. You were curious how he would act when encouraged by a loose leash and he proved himself to be an attentive and curious kisser. Sloppy and out-of-practice one but catching up in no time and adjusting to you with an ease of a long-term partner, not a casual Tinder date. Impressive, given he was almost boiling alive.

He must have collapsed right after returning to his hotel, so you're not at all surprised that your next date proposal is answered around noon the next day. In a typical manner of his, he jokes around and begs for a more shaded destination with plenty of air conditioning. There's even a selfie, in theory just showing you the effect of merciless sun on him, in fact: a smart, casual way to show a bolder shot of him, in boxers only. He's all natural and it just...suits him so well, this contrast between body hair all on display and the elegance of outfits you've seen on him so far. Similar to the way he wears his fragrance, he knows how to mix all aspects of his physique to bring the best out of everything.

His body hair looks soft, too, and the fact that he's asked for a less exposed date has you a little disappointed. You would love to see more of it, at a pool or at a beach, maybe even sneak a little touch to confirm if your guess is true. But you're not cruel and the restaurant he proposes has all of your attention with the menu. If he has as good hand at choosing food as he has for alcohol and perfumes, you're about to experience a feast.

You arrive and find your booked table first; Hiromi appears shortly after and kisses your cheek for a greeting. It's quick and very soft but quite close to the corner of your lips. He's chosen a different cologne for today and the scent has your attention perked up immediately.

Small talk and appreciation for delicious food occupies the majority of your conversation for a good moment but he's been building the tension in different ways. Slightly rolled up sleeves, accidental touches here and there, his legs looking for contact with yours under the tables, longing stares and voice casually lowered... An attack is just a matter of time.

'It's...quite refreshing to be with a date who's not expecting a strong, dominating lead on my side." He muses, weighing words in his typical way. "You let me breathe and be myself, and I really appreciate it."

"You don't like to dominate?"

Corners of Hiromi's lips twitch but he doesn't smile, instead giving you the most intense of looks you've seen so far, "I don't like taking any role. It's restricting. I like to get the most out of life...and sex. There's so much from the other side of the spectrum I have yet to discover. I would rather focus on that."

Nanami Kento

The kiss was very short and left you craving for more. Much to your disappointment, he didn't kiss you again, not until you finally reached your place and said your goodbyes. Kento stood in place, clearly expecting something or trying to force something out of himself, but just getting stuck instead with a weirdly sad expression. He didn't want to let go of you, you realized after you parted, but couldn't find any excuse to keep you around for longer. Finally, he just dared to steal another kiss, this time giving you a little taste of his tongue, teasingly sliding between your welcoming lips, and retreating before you could pull him into something deeper and longer.

You lay awake through the majority of the night, obsessed with the trembling of his lips you felt before he ran away from you again. How much self-control this clearly starved man has in himself to not cave and press you against the hotel gate? Many in his place would just fuck you right there, taking the best of the hot night, but he remained his reserved, respectful self till the very end.

Oh, it's driving you crazy.

You send him a selfie straight from your bed, jokingly blaming him for the sleepless night. You expect a formal apology, instead he answers almost immediately with a selfie taken in almost the same position. There are tangled sheets, loose clothes, hair let down in disarray, sleepy expression...and undeniable morning wood visible in his shorts, "I couldn't get you out of my mind either. I'm hoping we can meet again soon."

If not for the post-insomnia, you would sprint out of the hotel to still catch him in bed. But you have to face up to the limits of your body, filling your head with fantasies and plans for the other date meanwhile.

This time, you decide to meet in the morning, in the local bakery & cafe place he claimed to be his favorite around here. A good start for the day, to gain energy and build your appetites up for the hours together to come.

You choose yourselves a little cozy table in the corner, away from the queue constantly forming for fresh bread. One bite of your sandwich later you understand why; you've never eaten such delicious bread before. Of course, a friend of a baker and a food lover would recommend only the best places.

Kento watches you with a smile, genuine, the most daring you've seen from him, even dares to brush a crumb out of the corner of your lips and steal it for himself. The repressed urge to kiss him almost whines aloud but you're busy eating to just follow it.

"I already forgot how pleasant a touch of the human body is." He muses as you fight your inner horny demons. "It's been eight— No, ten years since the last time."

You remember he's mentioned it before, "It's... impressive you lasted for so long."

"It's easier when you have something to occupy your life. Like work. And I've never been a very sexual person in the first place." You expect he'll avert his eyes but he looks straight at you now, unshakably. "But lately... It's nothing but a torture, this craving, this... fire. I can't turn my brain off anymore like I used to."

Ryomen Sukuna

He kissed you many more times that day, in his car, in a quaint cafe you stopped at on the way, before the dinner in a viral restaurant in the harbor, and right after, pressing you against the wall and for the first time daring to reach bolder, teaching you how delicious his huge hands feel against your ass. For the last time your lips meet in front of your hotel, even gentler than your first kiss, inviting foretaste of the meeting to come.

You're surprised the night hasn't ended in bed—maybe he was waiting for your proposal all along?—but you're more than sure you're going to see him again very soon.

Indeed, an invitation for another date appears in less than an hour. Followed by a photo that finally crosses out the unspoken rule. In a casual, relaxed and sitting, pose he presents you his cock, resting half-hard in his palm. The direct comparison to the well-known size of his hand leaves you a little breathless, especially with the message that comes right after, "Your little prey play left a great impression on me."

You're tempted to share an equally revealing selfie, but you know him already enough to know that leaving him a little hanging will have a better effect.

You meet the very next day in the late afternoon, in a classy bar in town's center. This time, Sukuna is dressed all black, both his shirt and pants fitting tight, underlining his assets and aggressive aura. It's hard to not stare while knowing what kind of monster hides behind the prominent bulge, even harder to casually sneak a peek when he's observing every twitch of your face, well aware of the effect he has on you. Heat creeps all over your face when he smirks down at you, huge hand tapping the small of your back, inviting you to pass the door he's holding for you, then leading you to one of conveniently isolated tables, providing a crumb of intimacy to customers who wish to not be bothered by the masses. Even the music is duller here, letting you lead a conversation without raising your voices.

He brings you your favorite drink and a generous platter of tapas to snack on, and you're gracious for having something to busy your lips and hands with because Sukuna doesn't make it easy for your self-control. Voice low and raspy, gaze heavy and skimming your assets without a shadow of shame, he talks as casually as if the topic wasn't at all related to your sex lives and his experience with BDSM.

"There aren't many things I haven't tried." He spears an olive with a cocktail stick without taking his eyes off you even for a second. "I had a taste of...the whole spectrum of pleasure, let's phrase it this way, but in the end, following someone's guidance is not a field where I can bloom."

"So, what would you call your field?" He already gave you a good guess but you're curious what kind of games he's going to name when confronted outright. "Let's assume for a moment that I have no limits, what would you like to do with me, then?"

"I would teach you what your real limits are." There's no hesitation on Sukuna's side, the answer comes immediately. "I would make you rediscover what your body is capable of. I would teach you that pain can bring pleasure undreamt of when approached in a traditional way."

Geto Suguru

You just knew the topic of bondage wouldn't die so easily. You didn't head to your hotel immediately, instead choosing to spend the evening in one of the juice parlors on the beach, to wash the taste of coffee down and collect your thoughts after the date. You didn't think twice when opening a text from him—and it was a mistake, you learned as soon as the photo loaded, revealing him in a very suggestive pose. He was wearing nothing but tight leather pants and red rope enveloping his torso with decorative knots, his toned muscles flexed and stressed by the perfect light, and his long hair casually let loose. Before you closed the photo, quickly, worrying someone might have been looking over your shoulder, you noticed his nipples and navel were pierced.

"It was done by a friend and student of mine." Suguru texted you again shortly after. "A perfect example of kinbaku for the beginners. Do you like it?"

You typed a very irritated—and horny—yes and decided to ignore him for the rest of the night. Drastic measures had to be taken, if you wanted to clear your mind. But even without his teasing, the images kept crawling to you, urging you to set up another date, the sooner, the better.

Suguru keeps you waiting, maybe as a little payback for your silence, but eventually reaches out first and proposes meeting at a club, quite a change of vibes in comparison to a very calm and somewhat sophisticated coffee shop, and absolutely not what you've expected from him. You're still eager to go, a night spent on dancing and drinking with a man like him? It could only have a very happy ending, of course you're going.

It's one of those rather fancy ones, you realize once inside, not exclusive but classy enough to have you wondering if you hadn't come a little underdressed. But you're let in without a problem—and so is Suguru, despite wearing a semi-transparent top under his jacket. You can see the outline of his piercings and a shadow of his happy trail, a sight that immediately brings the indecent thoughts back close to the surface. At least there are no ropes in sight—not physically at least because the same can't be said about your racing thoughts.

The way your bodies grind against each other as you dance is only making it more difficult for you. His gentle but commanding hands resting boldly against your middle, hips, once even brushing against your ass, his warm and moist breath at the shell of your ear, his soft and beautiful laughter, his sweet yet very masculine cologne... Suguru doesn't cross the line even once, balancing right on it instead and building the tension within you up so much you feel like exploding any moment now.

You almost mewl when he pulls you close to himself, back against his torso, having you feel his muscles and warmth of his body.

"The way you move... I would love to immortalize every frame of it." He rasps into your ear, a shadow of smirk to it. "You're a masterpiece and the things you do to me and my imagination... Oh, how I would love to do the unspeakable to you..."

[educating-bimbos]

Who is Educating Bimbos?

My name is Nicolette. I am a technical artist, musician, and an outdoorsy type of gal. I enjoy the finer things in life and I fancy myself a traditional woman and a bimbo. I don't really enjoy mindlessly obsessing over labels, but if it helps people gauge where my brain is at I am pro-patriarchy, in favor of traditional gender roles and dynamics, an ex-feminist, and before all else a believer in one's ability to exercise personal freedoms. My beliefs, mannerisms, and presentation attract the ire of feminists, born-again-religious types, and any number of anti-fun douchebags. At the end of the day, just remember that behind this silly blog is a silly person.

What is Educating Bimbos?

It is a blog and small community of bimbos looking to learn more about and express a traditional lifestyle. It is also about people who may not be familiar with or comfortable around things like BDSM get a nice and soft introduction to it without being exposed immediately to the idea of how people can enjoy things in a pseudo-sexual context. At the end of the day it is a blog and community where I and other like-minded people can express silly ideas without the fear of being lambasted by people seeking to harm others.

Where is Educating Bimbos?

Educating Bimbos can be found in one of these two places.

Why is Educating Bimbos?

Well for a while I was annoyed by the lack of communities that focused on a kind of "hyper-feminine" aesthetic while also promoting more traditional ideas. There was also the issue of communities that have tried this before of devolving into bigoted and abusive communities that would do everything under the sun to create an insular and ToS breaking community. I spoke with a friend of mine who runs a similar community a while ago and she inspired me to give this a shot. Now - close to 3 years later - I have a steadily growing community that pulls from all corners of ideology, cultural, ethnic, and interest level and the discord has been almost completely drama-free in its whole existence.

When is Educating Bimbos?

I am alive and doing silly stuff all day, every day. Except when it is nap time in which case I will be in the realm of dreams.

Further questions for Educating Bimbos?

If you find that these questions are unsatisfactory in any regard or you wish to try your hand at doing what I do follow these two links!

Asks

Ask me anything you want! I have some personal rules with regards to what I can and cannot upload, but this is generally the best way for me to answer any question you may have

Submit'A'Post

If you think I should be made aware of something, post something, or if you just want to signal boost something try this. So far I have no real rules or expectations so do whatever you want with this button.

[yuurivoice]

Just wanted to say that even though I do avoid exploring any tags related to me, I do absolutely recognize and appreciate a ton of you who regularly post awesome art, headcanons, and memes.

A lot of that is thanks to people sharing those fun, awesome things! Reblogs where I end up seeing them on mutuals blogs and stuff helps, so share and gas each other up!

There are people in this community that have been here for years, who have seen this entire corner of the internet shift and grow for better or worse. The OGs who have been around before I ever made this blog know how far the community has come, how much it's stayed the same, and how much it has changed. And I've grown along with it. My aspirations and hopes and creativity has evolved so much from just doing silly little posts as an anime twink to having a full blown web series.

Despite that growth, I am still just a guy trying to tell his stories and make some voices while doing it. I have a small team around me, and without them this would be even more difficult than it already is. We're not corporate, we're independent artists and freelancers and creatives just trying to do cool stuff, and are lucky enough that something worked.

I've failed so much over the course of my life. You see the results of things, and for the most part are incredibly kind and supportive. Thousands upon thousands have appreciated my work in one way or another, and that's a dream come true for me. I never bothered wanting anything more in my life than to share stories with people. I didn't have a bucket list, or many aspirations. I was at a dead end and ready to just give up. That mentality and the time spent going in circles did a lot of damage over time.

But you found me, whether it was 6 years ago or a week ago, and whatever support and vibes you've sent my way have mattered. I won't ever lose sight of that.

I wanted to say that because I know I am not as ingrained into my own community as an active participant and that may make me seem distant, or stuck up, or something. It's not for any sort of disdain or lack of appreciation though, it's just me, and trying to keep my head clear.

You don't get an instruction manual when you're suddenly a niche internet micro celebrity. They don't tell you about scrolling through fan art at 3am and then seeing the nastiest, most mean spirited, bad faith takes about your work you've ever seen. Shit is weird, man. And it's not for me, because I give way too much of a shit about my art, and that's a flaw. My skin has gotten thicker over the years, but what happens on days when your mental health is in the shitter? Weeks where I've been fighting my demons and losing can't afford me the grace to step on a weird internet landmine brought on by the symptoms of being a creative trying and failing and succeeding all at once in a world where everyone on the internet has an opinion they want to shout into the void.

And people can do that! It's my responsibility to look after myself and set those boundaries for my own comfort, not anyone's fault for just doing their thing on the internet, ya know? Once you put yourself out there, you have to accept that people are gonna people. Same irl, shit, I've been a fat kid my whole life, I'm certainly no stranger to people being obscenely rude for no reason other than they like the sound of their own voice.

I just wanted y'all to know that even though we're well beyond the "little internet family" vibes that some creators foster, I'm not up in some ivory tower (ha, said the thing) looking down like a curmudgeon. I am rooting especially hard for all the fellow creatives out there on their own journeys, wanting to share their passion and dreams with the world as well. I want you to win, and succeed, and find fulfillment with whatever drives you to make things.

Guess I was in my feelings a little bit and just wanted to say that I do see many of you and am thankful you've allowed me to play some kind of role in entertaining, comforting, or inspiring you. That means the world to me.

[winters-mistress]

even in the dark, you will not be my light

"Quickly, get in." Yennefer grits her teeth, finishing the spell with the last of her physical energy. The hut she has created, the invisibility and anti-tracking shells taking much more out of her than anything she'd done before sodden. It's a little shack, not much of note, but what can you expect out of a mage of stuttering magic and a frantic spell to get a child with a fever get out of a cold rainstorm?

Geralt doesn't even spare a moment to consider Yennefer's possible ulterior motive, doesn't consider that it could be a trap. But thankfully, both he and his child end up secure in a small, raggedy cottage, out of the rain, out of the storm.

The witcher places the child on the settee, sparing a glance at the movement in the corner of his eye. It's Yennefer, because of course it is, but she's not doing anything nefarious this time. All she's doing is leading Roach, Astoria and Thanau into a barn she's made up for them, and his attention is quickly caught by a stuttering breath from the girl laying in his hands.

She breathes in, raggedy and unkempt, as Geralt makes work of removing her sodden clothes and boots, leaving her only in her chest band and undershorts. Her skin is so hot, it almost rivals his own witcher warmth, and he quickly bands her hair up from her face and lays her in the bed he sees in the corner of the room.

There's only one, he realises in passing, but it's hardly the mist important thing when he realises Cirilla's skin is damp with sweat and her cheeks are flushed. She's always so confident and strong that seeing her shuddering and flushed and feverish is greatly concerning.

Yennefer comes in by the time Geralt has filled a clay bowl with water and is running a rag over her forehead after covering her up in the blankets.

"How-how is she?" Yennefer gasps out. Geralt spares her a glance, biting back a harsh response to her hypocrites. She's raggedy, her hair is unbrushed and wild, her eyes are big, and she's hunched over with her hands on her knees, looking small as she looks up at him.

"Alright. As much as she can be. She needs medication. Willowbark and salix willow. Mint, basil and ginger." Geralt lists from the top of his head, still wiping down the girl. "Need to get the sputum out as soon as we can. Keep her warm but cool, get water into her."

"Do you have any herbs in your sacks?"

"Not anything that wouldn't melt her insides." His eyes lock on the vulnerable child once more. "And the storm would take away any scents of herbs growing in the forests."

Yennefer takes a shuddering breath, walking over towards the water bucket Geralt had filled the clay pot from, and ducks her head inside, drinking greedily until her stomach aches and she belches in a way that make Tissaia bend her over and tan her hide.

"Let me see what I can conjure." Yennefer gasps out, wiping the water from her face. "I need to find somewhere to draw from afterwards. I can't give too much of myself in case she needs anything bigger, it'll hurt me."

Geralt's jaw flexes, and she knows he struggles to hold back words that she knows will hurt just as much as if they had struck her around the face.

She looks down. "Tomorrow, hopefully." She says, her voice quiet. Only he can make her feel so small with just a look. "After she's awake."

"Yennefer, she suffers. She needs the herbs." Is his way of telling her to shut the fuck up and get on with it. She nods slowly, slinking down to her knees as her eyes close, reaching inside herself.

Yennefer has to lay down next to Ciri after she has conjured a handful of several herbs. Blood drips from her eyes and she faints briefly, sending Geralt into a panicked anger. He doesn't like Yennefer so close to Cirilla at the best of times, after all that bullshit with the demon, and her role in his brothers deaths so strong she may as well have dug the knife in their hearts herself. So to have her laying next to the girl when she's so sick, it unnerved him. He doesn't even want to blink for fear of her being taken from him.

Ciri's breathing easier now, after he managed to get a teapot full of herbs and leaves down her. She's less flushed, and he keeps cold cloths all over her body to break the fever. It's all he can do for now, just brew more tea and change her cloths and get water down her in her moments of lucidity. The girl is now clothed in a long tunic with sleeves stopping just past her shoulders, it looks more like a sleep gown than a shirt.

When Yennefer sits up an hour later, Ciri's sleep is peaceful and her tanned skin is clean of blood. Geralt is at their bedside, watching them both with equal intensity. It makes guilt sit tight on her chest, to see a man who would have lay his life for her and fall to his knees in her worship so tense and untrusting and paranoid, watching every move she made. It's her own fault, her selfishness, and her entitlement, but the fact and her attempts of atonement don't go far with this man.

"Are you feeling better?" Geralt asks her.

"Yes. I-I can't draw from myself too much, not after the fire. I'll need to find a riverbank or draw from stones in the coming days." her voice is quiet as she looks to Ciri. Geralt tenses. "She's breathing easier." Yennefer comments.

"She will need another dose of her tea soon, can't have her sleeping too long without it. We'll need some lemons and honey when she wakes up, clear out the thickness in her chest."

Yennefer nods. She gets up from the bed, slow. She drinks more water and flexes her fingers.

"The rain is slowing a little." she says. "Can't imagine we'll find any lemon trees or honeycomb in the middle of winter. I'll see what I can conjure after the storm breaks." she's rambling and she knows it, but she's so desperate for Geralt to see that she's sorry that it hurts.

He looks exhausted when she looks at him. Yennefer doesn't know if it would help if she pulled back all together, at least for a while. He's so worried, for Ciri, for her health and her physical safety from those who want to hunt her and use her, of the hunt who's invasion is imminent and his paranoia that she would all of a sudden snap her from his grasp and make away with the elder blood princess.

"You need to sleep, Geralt." She says.

He snorts. "No rest to be had these days."

"Be that as it may, lay down with her, she's not awake and you cannot make her drink when she is asleep. Her fever is down and she breathes easier, you've done all you can for now."

Geralt breathes and looks at the girl. In her assessment of the girl, Yennefer is correct. The princess sleeps soundly, and his arms ache to hold her, to assure himself that she's still okay.

He silently toes his boots off and removes the armour, keeping the steel sword in arms reach as he gets on the bed, hearing it creek in protest of his considerable mass. Geralts arms wrap around her, and he pulls her to his chest, laying on his back with the young girl laying on his torso. He can feel her heartbeat, listen to her pulse, his hair moves with her breath.

Yennefer stumbles when she comes back, holding another handful of mint leaves in her hand.

"Stop, Yennefer." He orders. "You'll only hurt yourself if you keep going with no source." He huffs.

"I just-I just need to sit." But she ends up collapsing against the bedframe, and is caught on instinct, pulled back onto the sheets as her body lays down again.

"Geralt, what-"

"We both need to rest, we'll be no good to her collapsing on our feet tomorrow."

"You don't trust-"

"I do not. But lay there and collect yourself, now is not the time to speak of such matters."

"I'm sorry, Geralt."

"You've said. We can't talk about this now, Ciri is what's important now. So rest, you can't help me get her better if you run yourself ragged."

[puffpasstea]

OMGG you can do this whenever you feel like it but I have a request for satellite fluff. Maybe Alice is trying to do something nice and romantic for Harry as a gesture of her love, and maybe it doesn’t go exactly as she planned so she’s all frustrated and Harry comforts her and tells her that she tried her best and he appreciates her anyway??!? 🥹❤️

Hi lovie! Thanks for the request and for asking so politely; you're so nice! I hope you like this one. Please let me know what you think!

Warnings: Fluff, VERY SMALL mentions of smut.

---

The sound of a door slamming and Harry’s voice, cursing, “shit,” under his breath startled me out of my slumber. 

 

“Harry?!” I jumped, sitting up instantly. 

 

“I’m so sorry my love.” He tiptoed over to me, his voice just above a whisper. “That was me. I- was tryin’ to get my clothes out of the closet without wakin’ you.”

 

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, his hand gently squeezing my shoulder as he leaned in to kiss my lips. “It’s still early. Go back to sleep, honey.”

 

“Hmm.” I agreed. Relieved that everything was alright, I closed my eyes and let him tuck me back safely into the covers. He kissed my forehead sweetly before withdrawing out of the room. 

 

Harry had been overworking himself lately. Though, I think, one thing I quickly learned as soon as we got together, is that he did have a tendency to do that. He always overbooked his schedule; had a hard time saying no to anything; constantly overextended himself. I’ve yet to figure out where this stems from. Perhaps a fear of disappointing fans, or a feeling that he’s lucky to have the job that he does so it’d be ungrateful of him not to take every opportunity that he can, or a mix of both. Whatever the case may be, it was clear he’s been stressed lately. Leaving for work at ungodly hours, and coming home well past midnight, most nights, after I’d already gone to bed. 

It was all taking a toll on him, and he showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon. 

 

I’d been there myself, not too long ago, in fact. Last month was midterms season at the college, which meant that my workload had tripled, seemingly out of nowhere. Throughout it all, Harry always found ways to be supportive. Not all of them were obvious, either. For instance, he’d sneak into my office after I’d left for the night and organize my chaos into small piles of “needs grading”, “needs revision,” and “complete.” He'd leave me little messages on post-it notes around the room, for me to find throughout the day. He’d complain that he was “bored” and use it as an excuse to sneak in some time with me and bring me some snacks to  make sure I was eating. He’d wash my clothes; cook my meals with enough leftovers to be packed as lunch the next day; beg me to go out for a walk with him and get some sunshine; bring me flowers…. He even remembered my therapy appointments and set reminders for me to keep on track. When he heard that I was thinking about skipping out on therapy one week because “I just don’t have time for it this week” he forced me to go. Harry excelled at all of this. The supportive boyfriend role came naturally to him. Though all of these gestures would seem to be mostly practical; simply about keeping our life running smoothly and doing chores around the house, picking up slack, they made me feel so loved and cared for. None of these things included him actually saying the words “ I love you,” but I felt as though he had, every time. 

 

It was my turn now. I needed to step up and show him that I love him. But, unlike him, gestures of affection were entirely new to me. I didn’t have a knack for knowing what made people feel loved at any given moment. And, Harry was rich enough to just “throw” money at any inconvenience. No time to do laundry? Send it out. Too busy to find time for grocery shopping and cooking dinner? No worries, just dine out or order in, better yet, call up the personal chef! What do you give someone who already has everything they could ever want, or need? Where does that leave me as a partner?

I couldn’t believe I had stooped this low, but I went online and googled “everyday gestures of love,” almost throwing up in my mouth at how embarrassing this was. While some of the recommendations on the list involved things like “buy their favorite snack” that I didn’t need to do, there were a few ideas that I could get inspired by. Alright. I had some planning to do. I wanted this coming weekend to be the best couple of days that Harry has ever had. 

***

 

Friday night had rolled around, and I was ready to deliver. My plan was to be so ridiculously sweet and romantic with him that, if I were a literal edible sweet, I’d kill him with a sugar overdose. After much contemplation, I decided to make us dinner. Surprising him with all of his favorite things: shrimp pasta, that weird healthy salad he likes, wine, and finishing off with a heart shaped, raspberry-white chocolate cake. It was shaped like a heart. It was chocolatey, it was red, what’s more obnoxiously romantic than that? But that was only the beginning. I dressed up, hiding an elaborate (and frankly quite uncomfortable) little piece of lingerie under my dress. I lit candles, decorated the dining table with flowers, and I waited to surprise Harry as soon as he got home. 

 

What I didn’t expect, however, was just how long I’d have to wait. It was already 7 pm and Harry hadn’t come home yet. I checked my phone to see if he’d called or texted, but I had nothing from him. Perhaps I should text him? But I didn’t want to rush him. This was about being supportive and loving, not impatient and attention-seeking. So, I waited. Then I waited some more. Then, I fell asleep. In my tight dress, makeup, and lingerie. Right on the couch. 

 

It was almost midnight when I heard the shuffling of Harry’s feet as he walked  into the room. 

“Oh my god, Alice! Did- did we have plans? Did I just completely forget and stand you up? Baby, I’m so, so sorry!!” Harry rushed over to me, grabbing me in his arms. Even in the poorly-lit living room, I saw his heart drop, the dark circles under his eyes, his chapped lips. He was exhausted. 

 

“N-no, no. Harry, calm down.” I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “We didn’t have any plans.”

“Oh.” His shoulders relaxed instantly. “You’re just dressed up, and….I’ve been so forgetful of everything lately, I just assumed-“

 

“Relax, Harry. Alright? I- umm. I made us dinner!” I said, springing to my feet. “You just stay right here. I’ll go get you a drink while the food heats up, okay?”

 

Harry’s lips parted, he was ready to protest. I stuck my finger out, pressing it to his lips. “Hush. Don’t wanna hear it. Just take a breather, okay? I’ll be right back.”

 

I got the oven started, turned on the stove, and set out the cake. Pouring Harry a drink, I began to feel nervous. Okay, so, the pages online said to be cheery. Ask him about his day. Listen to what he wants to talk about. Give him compliments. Play with his hair. Those are the things that he can’t buy with money. I can do that. Sounds simple enough. 

 

In the living room, Harry looked like he was ready to doze off. I stood over him with his drink in my hand, not sure if he was even awake. Then he stirred. 

 

“H-hey. Sorry, nearly fell asleep.” He smiled, reaching his hand out for the glass I’d brought him. “The lighting in here is making me sleepy.” I was going for romantic but okay. 

 

“I’ll turn the lights on, sorry.” I rushed to the light switches around the walls, turning them on one by one. “Better?” Harry nodded taking a sip of his drink. I shook my nervous off and sat next to him, rubbing his thigh gently as he drank. “S-so, how was your day?” Mentally, I checked “ask about his day” off the list.

 

“It was fucking torture. Had all these meetings all day, none of which went well. By the time I got to the studio most people had already left, but I didn’t want this day to be an absolute waste so I tried to get some work done, but- it just- it wasn’t happening! I kept pushing through the frustration but- everything I wrote was horrible-“

 

As Harry went on venting about his day, I tried to focus and be present in the moment, but my mind quickly drifted off to my role in all this. What was I supposed to say? What would he want to hear right now? I asked myself what Harry would say to me if the tables were turned. I tried to remember the tips I’d read online. Before I knew it, I was zoning out and completely missing what he’d said. 

 

“Well, uh, you’re home now. So, that’s all that matters.” I  smiled reassuringly and took the glass out of his hand, setting it on the end table. I jumped in his lap. “Just relax, okay?” brushing my fingers through his hair and feeling him relax at the gesture. Yes! Finally, some success. He nodded sluggishly, a hum reverberating in his throat.

 

“’S nice.” His eyes fluttered shut as he rested his head against the couch cushion, releasing the tension from his shoulders. “Thank you for being here.” He mumbled, smiling up at me. “Kiss me, please?”

 

What started out as gentle kissing quickly heated up into more steamy territory. Harry’s arms desperately wrapped around me, as if worried I might escape. His tongue pushed against my lips, moaning into my mouth. Eventually, his hips were pushing up against mine, his clothed crotch looking for friction. “A-Alice,” he whined. “I-need- I’m a mess.” He confessed, blushing and hiding his face in my neck. “It’s not gonna take much.” His hips bucking up again, pushing his center against mine. “Please?”

 

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” I smiled, curling the ends of his hair around my finger.

 

“Mhm. I’m so, so close. It’s actually quite humiliating, but- ahh,” He gasped as our bodies collided. “Please? help?” 

 

It’s not that I wanted to be cruel. Not at all. But Harry’s desperate hands squeezing all over my body reminded me of my plan. I’d dressed up for this. Shaved my body head to toe. Cooked. That’s not when the plan says to have sex. Plus, I had the oven going. I was too in my head to register Harry’s trembling, or the fact that my squirming and scrambling to get off his lap had rubbed enough on his groin to give him the most painful and underwhelming ruined orgasm ever. He moaned in pain as I jumped off of him.

“Wait, it’s time to eat!” I rushed into the kitchen, leaving Harry behind to deal with the waves of pain hitting his body. 

 

At dinner, Harry said nothing about the table decor, or the flowers. In fact, when I looked down at his plate, he’d hardly taken a bite. 

 

“I-is everything alright?” I looked at him; he seemed like he was falling asleep right at the table. 

 

“Yeah, mhm. All good.” He smiled, swirling his fork around.

 

“You’re not eating.”

 

“No, I am. I promise.”

 

“What? Does the food not taste good?” I  reached over and took a bite out of his plate, seeing if I could taste anything wrong. It seemed fine to me.

 

“The food’s great! I love that you made my favorite dishes. It’s so sweet of you. You definitely didn’t have to.” Harry forced a smile on his face, consciously squeezing his eyes open.

 

“What’s the matter then?”

 

“Well- it’s nothing. I just- I kind of already ate. Just before I got here actually. I…I thought you’d be asleep. Didn’t know you had a whole thing planned. I’m sorry. But I can still eat! It’s fine!”

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?!!”

 

“Honey, I tried to. When you said you’d made dinner, I was trying to tell you, but you just got out of the room so fast. It seemed important to you. And…like, you’ve put in all this effort. It’s okay, really. I always have room for pasta!” Harry went to dig his fork into his plate, but I reached over and grabbed it. 

 

“It’s fine, Harry. You don’t have to eat if you’re full. That’s ridiculous. Let’s just go to bed.” It was kind of him to want to do it for me, but it was entirely unnecessary. 

 

“Are you sure? I mean, you made all this food, and-“

 

“I made it because I thought you’d be hungry when you came home. Cuz I was trying to make sure you ate something. Not because I wanted to force feed you. You’ve eaten! You’re all set. That’s all the matters. That you’re looking out for yourself. Let’s just go.”

 

Relief washed over his featured as he set down his silverware. “Okay.”

***

 

At least I had one last trick up my sleeve, though if I weren’t so caught up in trying to make this night work, I might have had the presence of mind to know that saving this trick for another day is perhaps the wiser choice. I unzipped my dress and walked out of the bathroom. Harry had barely taken off his shoes. His feet dangled off the bed as his lower half hung over the edge. He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes already half-closed. Before I could turn back around and put on a robe, he noticed me. 

 

“W-wow. You look- wow.”

 

His speechlessness made my cheeks flush.

 

He got off the bed and reached for me.

 

“No.” I pushed him back down. “Stay right where you are. Let me take care of everything this time.”

 

“wait, babe- before we-” Harry hissed.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Harry.”

 

“I- ah, I need to- I gotta tell you something-“ 

 

I unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down his legs by the hips. Harry grabbed my wrist as I hooked my fingers into the waist band of his boxers. “This is gonna sound- wait-“

 

I yanked them down in one swift motion. It was more aggressive than sexy. In my head, the assertiveness was meant to be hot. But it certainly didn’t look, or feel, that way. 

 

I saw the wet stain on the front of his boxers and looked up at him with tight lips and eyebrows quirked up. 

 

“It’s not- gosh, it’s not what it looks like, I promise. It’s-“

 

“Hey, I’m not judging. Like I said earlier, it’s been a while since we’ve….you know. You gotta do what you gotta do sometimes. I just think…I mean, maybe next time pack a spare-“

“W-wait, what? No! God, no! That’s not- what am I? some kind of animal? Jesus, Alice!” Harry blushed, looking away for a moment, then back at me. “This…it just happened earlier. On the couch?”

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah…told you it’s embarrassing, but, I don’t know. I got a bit too excited I guess, and, when you left to check on the food…you were a bit rough and…it’s- whatever. I- wanted to go change, but-“

 

“I did this to you?”

 

“C-can we not…I don’t know. Can we not talk about it?” He giggled.  I’ve always thought of myself as a free and comfortable guy, but- I guess admitting to your girlfriend about prematurely finishing in your pants brings out the worst in a man.” He licked his lips nervously.

 

“I’m so sorry, Harry- I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I wanted to make you feel good!”

 

“I know; I know, baby. It’s okay. It was- god, I mean, this is sexy, huh? It was an accident.” He laughed, reaching for my necklace and fiddling with it anxiously. 

 

“Well, let me make it up to you.” I leaned in to kiss him. Harry pecked my lips quickly and pulled back. “Actually…Could we- maybe not? Not tonight. I’m feeling… im just a bit tired. Just wanna rinse off in the shower and go to sleep.”

 

“Oh.” I scampered off of him, gently, this time, and helped pull his clothes back on. “Of-course. Yeah…yeah, that’s a good idea.” I was aware that I sounded as though I was trying to convince myself that I was okay with this.  “Ummm..” I looked around the room to avoid his eyes. “Let me, just, wash off my makeup and you can go into the bathroom, yeah?”

 

“Take your time baby.” He gave me a tired smile and rested his head back down onto the bed. 

 

I understood why he’d turned down sex, and I certainly never wanted him to feel uncomfortable saying no, or feel like he had to sleep with me whenever I wanted, but even with all that in mind, I couldn’t help but feel a bit rejected. I took a deep breath and stood frozen in front of the mirror, watching my face for any signs of disappointment. I didn’t want him to feel guilty for having said no. But this was about more than the sex. It was about the fact that this night was looking nothing like I had planned it. All I wanted was to wrap him up in my love and appreciation and make sure he knew that he had a soft place to fall when things got to be too much. Somehow, I’d done the exact opposite. I was a failure as a partner. I mean, what does it say about me if I’m only good at receiving love, not giving it? Doesn’t that put a lot of pressure on the person cursed with having to be with me?  I was back at square one. Not knowing how to communicate my love for him. 

 

A sudden, piercing noise snapped my thread of thought in half. I ran out of the bathroom in a panic. “What is that?!” 

“It’s…the fire alarm” Harry yelled out over the sirens. “But I haven’t heard it in years.”

 

Fuck. My stupid cake. 

“Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkk.” I rushed downstairs cursing and yelling. 

 

The kitchen and dining area were barely visible behind the black smoke. “SHIT!” I ran into the kitchen and turned the oven off; leaping to open ever window on the floor. My eyes were watering, my lungs filled with smoke, I struggled to breathe.

 

Moments later, Harry appeared behind me, speaking on the phone.  “No, sir. I promise. All is well. Just a cooking accident. Yes, I’m sure. It’s- it’s no big deal. Not at all please don’t bother. We’re okay there’s no reason you should drive out here at this hour. Yes. Thanks. Good night.”

 

I ran back into the kitchen with oven mitts, pulling out the flame-roasted remains of what was once my romantic gesture. Tears ran down my face and onto the black sludge in the pan.

 

“What was it in the oven, anyway?” Harry followed me, clueless.

 

I turned around, holding the cake in my hands and showing it to him. “My black, loveless heart is what it was!” I broke down sobbing.

 

“Oh, honey….” Harry looked down at the pan and back up at me with pity. “Don’t cry! What is that?”

 

“Cake! What else would it be, Harry?”

 

“I don’ know, Matilda, S’ kinda hard t’ tell at this point…” He laughed.

 

“I’m glad this is funny to you! Go ahead and laugh at my failure!” My screeching had reached fire-alarm levels of high pitched. 

“I’m sorry. Okay, you’re right. I shouldn’t be laughing. Ummm, why don’t you set that down so I can give you a hug, hmm?”

 

I did as he suggested and ran straight into his arms. He pulled me into him, rubbing my back and whispering in my ear. “we’re okay. It’s all good, babe. It’s okay.” We stood there  for a while, long after my sobbing had quieted down. “Thank you for my cake, baby.” Harry broke the silence, chuckling. I elbowed him right in the chest but it only made him hug me tighter and laugh harder. “Looks delicious. Really, I can’t wait to dig into it. Jus’ if I may, uh, what…flavor is that supposed to be?” 

 

He managed to make me laugh.

 

“There she is! Yes, no more crying.” He kissed my cheek.

 

“I’m so sorry, Harry.” 

 

“Hey, it’s alright.”

 

“Not it’s not!”

 

“It’s just a cake, Alice….”

 

I pulled my body out of his arms and sat at the kitchen table. “N-no it’s not! The cake is a metaphor.”

 

“I’m sure it is, baby. But- it’s late, and I’m tired. Explain to me?”

 

“It’s…it’s just the perfect example of my failures tonight. All I wanted was to be romantic! I wanted to cook for you, and love on you, and….” I reached over the kitchen table and handed him a piece of paper.

 

“Love, intimacy, time…” He read out loud. “What’s this?”

 

“It’s a list! Of relationship things you can’t buy with money.”

 

“th-that’s sweet-“

 

“I wanted to give you those things. All weekend. I did my research. You know, about all the healthy things that romantic people do?”

 

“R-research?”

 

“You’re just so good at the lovey-dovey stuff. I always feel so loved and valued whenever you do things for me. I wanted to do the same for you.”

 

“Babe, you did research for me?”

 

“I know, it’s pathetic! I’ve just…never done this before. Loved someone like I love you. Nothing ever feels enough, I…wanted you to feel my love for you. Wanted to take care of you like you always take care of me.”

 

Harry rushed over to me, pressing our lips together firmly. “I love you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I whispered against his mouth.

 

“I’m the luckiest man in the world.” He pulled away and grabbed the chair next to me, moving it closer so he was mere inches away, and sitting down. “Listen to me! No, I mean it. I’m the luckiest man in the world…I’m so glad you were thinking of me. I can see that. Really. All the effort you put in? You made me a heart-shaped cake, for fuck’s sakes!” 

 

“Wanted you to feel loved, to rest, to eat a balanced meal. But I burned your house down.”

 

“the effort that you put into burning my house down is what matters.” He laughed at his own words, shaking his head. “Baby, listen. I love that you did all this for me, but you don’t have to try this hard. I certainly wouldn’t want you to do things that don’t feel natural to you, just to make me happy. It’s okay, if you’re not into all this over the top stuff. I don’t expect you to suddenly become someone else just cuz we’re dating now. That’s not who I fell in love with anyway.”

 

“B-but, what about you? Don’t you wish you had someone to spoil you like you always spoil me?”

 

Harry shook his head. “The way I see it, we don’t both have to need the same things, you know? Like, I only do those things because I know that’s what you need to make your life easier, and to make sure you’re safe. What I need looks different, and that’s okay. I don’t cook for you one night then expect you to cook for me the next one. That’s just not how it works.”

 

“H-how does it work, then? W-what do you need?”

“You. No, I’m serious. I’m so happy right now, all I wanna do is kiss you. Because you just said you loved me. Twice in the last 5 minutes. You almost never say ‘I love you.’ I always do it first, and then you say ‘I love you, too.’ Hearing it come from you, unprompted? I’m on cloud nine! Would’ve just been happy calling it a night as soon as I came home, and cuddling in bed with you. You’re the person I want to see at the end of the day. Just wanted you to hold me, and to hear about your day, or just talk about mine. Nothin fancy. Just you and me.”

 

“And I was too caught up with online tips and white chocolate- raspberry cake, and perfect bedroom sex…”

 

“I LOVE that. I do. Shows me that you love me. Now, every time I’m feelin’ down I can just think about this night and I’ll never have to wonder if I’m enough for you. You’ve given me so much just by trying. I mean, you did research just to make me happy! If that’s not romantic, I don’t know what is.”

 

“It’s the thought that counts?”

 

“exactly.”

 

“Hey, Harry?”

 

“Yes, darlin’?”

 

“I love you.”

[lake-archive]

Voice Talent

AO3 Link - A Shared Love Between Our Posse (Masterlist)

Fandom: Hypnosis Mic

Characters: Gentaro Yumeno, Ann Wolff (OC)

Pairing: Genann (Gentaro/Ann) (Developing)

Synposis: Ann often hears Gentaro playing around with his voice. So one day they suggest that he pursue voice acting! Well… The conversation takes a… Very different turn. To say the least.

Words: 1,162

“Yumeno–Sensei… Did you ever consider recording an audiobook?”

A straightforward question, though perhaps a little too straightforward. It was one of the few times where Gentaro had been caught off guard himself, to the point where he had been tempted to spit out the ice tea he was drinking. But no, he managed to not choke on it, as out of nowhere as it was. It was certainly a question he didn’t get everyday… Or ever really.

“An audiobook? Where have thou gotten such an idea?” He asked the person in front of them. It had been Ann of course, a person he entertains his time with whenever possible. Though it might be a bit of a dirty tactic these days to do it behind Ramuda’s and even Dice’s back. But a friendly chat should not bother anyone, should it? But anyway, enough side tracking, back to the situation at hand.

Because the next thing they did was nod several times. “Yeah, an audiobook.” They responded, grinning a little, as if giddy. “Your voice acting performance in Magic House Murders for one of the characters was incredible! Are you sure you’re a newbie at this!?”

“Oh, thou art flattering me. While I thank thee, I must disappoint thee all the same.” He responded, trying to keep his composure. Though he couldn’t hide a light smirk on his face at the very least. “It was nothing but a guest role. It was nothing outstanding.”

“Oh nonsense! That’s just one instance!” They protested, surprisingly insistent on the point they were making. “I’ve heard you a few other times. You got a pretty impressive range if you ask me.”

This only made him raise one of his eyebrows, confused but also intrigued. “May I ask for thy reasoning?”

“Ah– W… Well… I have attended some of your readings before. Even the most recent one!” They admitted, having him a bit surprised. Actually, he had never noticed Ann in the crowd at any point. Nor could he recall seeing them. Maybe he was just too busy. Yeah, he wouldn't notice them everytime. And yet, it was an odd feeling to know that they have heard him read any part of his stories out loud… In a good way of course. It was just unusual is all.

“And I have to admit, the way you read is very immersive! Especially the voices you give your characters! Like that old, twisted witch Isolde–Sa—” Yet they interrupted themself there, a bit of red on their face. “I mean Isolde had to face. When she tried to free the people from her grasp.”

Isolde? What was— Oh, right! Actually, Gentaro recalled it. He just needed a bit of a reminder on his own. Ann had been speaking about one of his latest stories, a story where he wanted to explore a little bit and had taken up the world of fantasy for some of his novels. He even wrote about a young woman as a protagonist, one who has been abandoned by her mother at a young age and is leading the rebellion to bring her mother’s reign to a fall. Said protagonist was the character Ann had mentioned, Isolde. Actually, in the last few conversations he was surprised to find out that Ann was such a huge fan of the novel series and its adaptations. For him it was nothing but an experiment, trying himself at something new. Though he had to admit that it was a one and done deal. He didn’t plan to pursue the story any further, this tale had been told. And yet, the enthusiasm the young person had for such a small story of his was making him chuckle, they were clearly holding back whenever bringing it up.

“Not just that but your voice for the Black Knight was just as I had envisioned when I read it myself! So calm yet intimidating. And the way you have delivered his whispering… Good thing I sat in the back row that day or I might have gotten goosebumps.” They continued to explain while recollecting the memory of said reading. Honestly, all Gentaro had done was doing his job. But Ann seemed genuinely impressed with his voice work, complimenting it non stop. Honestly, he felt a little flattered when hearing their praise.

And they certainly did not stop. Praising his voice for several characters – How he voiced the mother in peril, the stuttering knight and even Isolde's own mother. Not to mention his narration, apparently being so soothing yet at the same time keeping one's attention. Not too slow yet not too fast, just the right tempo to digest everything.

He was at the brink of blushing, a rare occurrence. Ann knew how to make Gentaro all flustered, even if unintentionally. They were very enthusiastic, as if trying to convince him. Or were they just having fun talking about it? Regardless, he couldn't just let them get away with this. He had to distract them and fluster them in return.

“Oh my, I appreciate thy praise.” He began yet it was sincere. But that did not mean he would show any mercy. “Though it appears that thou art enjoying my voice quite a lot.”

“Huh? Well, I do think it's impressive, so–”

And yet, he managed to cut them off with one simple gesture. He leaned a little forward across the table, putting his drink aside so it was at a safe distance, enough so that he was close to them, in a distance that he was able to whisper: “If thou enjoys it that much, I shall provide thou with free samples~”

He saw them growing stiff for a moment, face bringing the usual – Flustered from one moment to the next. “Eh!? Wait, what are you–”

“I do not mind. Would thou be so kind as to help me practice?” And to add even more fuel to the fire he stretched one of his hands out, gently touching one of their facial cheeks with his palm, gently caressing it. He could feel their skin, their goosebumps forming and it was amusing. So amusing that he couldn't help himself but chuckle, that smile of his staying for a while. He knew it would because he couldn't help himself. “Thou can make me say whatever thou art wishing for. How about it, Ann–San? “

“I… Er… Uhm… Y… Yu… Yumeno– lSensei! Don't phrase it like that?“

“Oya? But I mean it. I will say whatever thou art wishing for. Go on go on, don't be shy~

“Wait a minute! That–”

“Do thou wish to hear sweet nothings? Or a confession? Or maybe thou want to place embarrassing words into my mouth? Whatever thou wants me to say, I shall oblige. “

“Ah yeesh! Don't toy with me like that!”

“Haha, how cruel. I am not~” An obvious lie. And yet it was just too hard to resist. Ann was just too adorable for their own good.

[rainrise]

『Scorpio's Venom』 Capture your heart/Chapter 1

〖Translated by RainRise〗

Tomoya: Thank you for your hard work, Hakaze-senpai. May I come with you?

Kaoru: Are you alone today? I can't find the other members of Ra*bits.

Tomoya: Yes. I was recording a drama until a while ago.

Kaoru: Are you going to appear in a drama again? As expected of a popular actor~♪

Tomoya: No, it's not for sale. A child in the same office got sick, so I'm substitute him.

I played the role of a mob who didn't even have a name, and I only had a few lines.

Kaoru: Hmm..... Why did Tomoya-kun take over?

Even a rookie can play such a role, right? I have a feeling that Tomoya-kun won't even come out.

Tomoya: I applied for it. The staff at the office was in trouble just before, so I thought it would be a good experience.

Kaoru: Experience?

Tomoya: The movement of the gaze, Melting into the place. Because there are not many lines, there are techniques that can be refined.

It's a good opportunity for the creators to remember your face. Just because it's a small role, you can't be a fool.

What~? Sorry for being arrogant.

Kaoru: It doesn't matter.

Kaoru: ....…I see, there is also such a way of thinking.

Basically only offers, no opportunities to play small roles I didn't notice.

Scales fell from my eyes. Thank you Tomoya-kun.

Tomoya: No way..... Isn't Hakaze-senpai the most popular person?

During this time, you appeared in a youth drama about tennis, right?

Kaoru: Haha, did you see it? It's embarrassing.

Tomoya: How could you say that? It was great. The role of the hot-blooded department manager was like!

Kaoru: Really? Koga-kun laughed at me because I looked like a different person.

Tomoya: That must be a compliment. Because an actor is someone who can become someone else.

Kaoru: I don't think so..... Tomoya-kun is kind, aren't you?

Sometimes they tell me what I need to improve, but basically they give me compliments. I feel like I'm spoiled.

Tomoya: You're not the only one. Other people also praised seniors, like Anzu-san.

Kaoru: Eh..... Anzu-chan?

Tomoya: Yes. Actually, I watched the youth drama I mentioned earlier in the dressing room with Anzu-san during break time.

When the offer came, it was Anzu-san who recommended Hakaze-senpai. It seems that people around me were worried that I might be miscast...

I thought seniors could do it, so I'm glad that you're being recommended it.

Kaoru: E, he~e. Is that so..

(I didn't know.... Myself suspected that the cast was wrong. But Anzu-chan...)

(I wonder if Tomoya-kun knows why he recommended me. I'd like to hear more about it.)

(... Let's not do that. It sounds strange when you listen to it.)

Tomoya: What's wrong, Hakaze-senpai?

Kaoru: N-no, nothing.

Eum... Now that you've brought up the topic, may I ask you about your acting?

In playing a hot-blooded man, there is a part where I hesitated until the end. Right?

Tomoya: Oh, yes. I'll be happy if it's okay with me.

《After a While》

Kaoru: (...I'm glad I got to talk with Tomoya-kun about acting. After all, it's not enough to just imitate someone you know.)

(Tasho ended up becoming a hot character because he was too conscious of Moricchi, where he should have left his own personality.)

(It was well received at the scene, and Tomoya-kun also said, ``I didn't feel uncomfortable.'')

(There is no point in being cast just by copying. Even though I had Anzu-chan recommend me.)

........

(.....Anzu-chan, why did you choose me? What did you think when you saw my acting?)

(I couldn't ask Tomoya-kun, but... I'm curious, so I think I'll ask him directly.)

(It's just about work. As an actor, I'm just asking for his opinion, so I should be able to talk without thinking about it.)

(Hmm? This voice like Anzu-chan....)

(.....and Moricchi?)

Chiaki: ━━Hmmm, is that day difficult? Even Anzu can't do anything...

Don't make that face. Sadness doesn't suit you.

....haha. Alright, I tried quoting the lines of my favorite hero then.

But it is also sincere. I don't want to bother you.

I'm glad that you took me seriously. Thank you, Anzu.

Kaoru: (Eh, what kind of atmosphere is that? Isn't it a good feeling?)

(I'm curious about what you're talking about, but it's hard to interrupt.)

(Let's pretend I didn't see it just now, I'll see you later, Anzu-chan――)

Chiaki: Hmm?

Oi, Hakaze! Isn't it Hakaze?!

Kaoru: Oh no..

Note: Moricchi is Chiaki name made by Kaoru

──⇌••⇋──

Capture your heart/Chapter 1: END

Story Details:

Story type: Scout

Story: Scorpio's Venom

Story by: ゆーます

Collaborator: -

Character in this story: Kaoru Hakaze, Tomoya Mashiro, Chiaki Morisawa

Reminder: I didn't create this, but I translated it. So please if you want to repost in any platform, ask me first or credits me.

I'm sorry if there's any mistakes. Happy reading all!

(All - Next) Thank you for reading!

[alabaster-moon]

*I* want to hear about your stuff! Tell me about your stuff!

i- that is so ridiculously sweet of you… i thank you, truly (and also totally don’t know where to start ohmigod). this may be a touch long, as i have a lot of stuff, and much of it never gets voiced… apologies for the sheer length.

i mean first and major project (that won’t be posted here for reasons like enjoying being faceless) is my cosplay for an upcoming convention. i’ve been planning since literally last year to make a megamind cosplay, and it’s finally starting to come together! the cape’s nearly done, i have a solid plan on how to do the suit (after a tiiiiiiny mishap with my first attempt… like the cardboard i used to protect layers from paint sticking to the back of the thing… heh) and it’s just… it’s finally looking like it’s gonna work, and i’m Very Excited. i need to buy more spikes though. but that’s on brand.

i’ve also got another thing planned for that con - a dear friend of mine (who should be asleep now, she doesn’t know about it) is a brilliant fic writer, and i only ever see her for this con… i want to try and hand bind one of her fics to give to her. she has given blanket permission before, and it would be a single copy for her; i won’t have time to make one for myself. i’m very, very new to bookbinding: i have no skills, but i have the audacity, which is basically the same thing. fingers crossed i can get that done, i plan on doing the typeset on tuesday, wish me luck~

there are also another fic i was binding - i don’t think that author follows me on here, and they know about theirs, so i can state this too. but that one i was going to bind one copy for me, then one for them, so their copy was Nice and Pretty (and i can fix the bloody typesetting mistake on page 116 for theirs). but like, and this part they don’t know about, i was deciding on what i wanted for the cover of the fic when they said that they buy themselves sort of congratulatory rings when they finish a longfic, and posted a pic of them. so i’m going to find a way to make the cover of this book match the ring they treated themselves with as congratulations. i think it’d be cute. i hope they like it.

last week, i got fabric for two other cosplays; a william james moriarty and a james bond, and while i’m uncertain when i will be able to work on them, i am very excited. i plan to tailor both suits myself (again with the sheer audacity), and because of that i can make fun hidden things… like the crimson red lining in william’s jacket, and pastel pink lining the shade of bond’s manga cover in bond’s. i’m also considering embroidering the characters’ initials into the lining of their jackets too, because if you can go fancy, why not go all out? i managed to get my hands on a lovely wool for the waistcoats rather cheap, which was nice, and the patterns i have seem straightforward enough. i do plan to remake my sherlock’s jacket too, as the one i currently use was my mother’s; it is both too feminine and i would be devastated if i wrecked it… when i make his i’ll make the lining blue. small details, but the thought of them makes me so freaking happy.

a bit of a different one now, but i’ve also set myself on a little personal journey of transcribing the whole of the yuumori musicals - they have become so dear to me, and i want to appreciate them somehow. that being said, my primary art form is music, so short of covering them (which i’m tempted to do anyway, i’ve wanted to learn the violinist’s parts since the first ten minutes of op1) there’s… not a lot i can do. but making sheet music? yeah, i spent a three year degree on that, i can do that much. it’s a tough slog (@ sherlock’s actor specifically who very much enjoys going into free timing just on the good violin parts… hiraryo why you do me like this?) but it’s been so rewarding so far, and honestly im getting faster at it, which i’m also so glad to see. (i also have a very long meta about the role of the organ in op4 that i need to format into a tumblr post… it is currently across like six or seven paragraph messages in my friend’s dms. apologies to her notifications).

not so much a thing i did, but of late i’ve also had a wonderful time exploring the 2.5d musical scene; i had already known about hetamyu since like 2018, and the time between finding yuumori and finding morimyu was Very, Very Short. but i’ve had a friend guiding me through a bunch of others, which has also led me back to my very first manga fandom via tenimyu. i didn’t realise how much i’d missed prince of tennis until i saw those boys on stage… like those characters really were something so special to me growing up, and i’m thankful to have them back. i kind of want to have a look at the hakuouki musicals properly soon (the first live yaisa… iykyk), and i promised another friend that i’d watch the black butler musicals with them, so there’s a journey ahead of me and i am so excited to see what it brings.

there’s also a couple of bits and pieces, meta posts that i’ve been too scared to actually voice (i just see certain similarities between my last fandom and my current fandom and i want to write the comparison post to recommend the thing i enjoy to all my favourite people but Fear yanno cause what if they don’t like it) and all the plot bunnies that i either don’t have the time or don’t have the skill to complete (mostly the time one). i also lowkey decided on a whim to join flufftober, so that’ll be fun. i laid out the doc, and i have a really nice idea for two of the prompts, so we’ll see how that one goes.

also i’m thinking of reviving my university final project… i’d made an utau, and then wrote an album for her, but never got it to a state where i was content enough to release it. it’s like the one thing i regret… but it’s never too late to bring back, right? i can revamp the songs and bring her back properly… if i have time, i really want to do it.

but yeah. that’s my current stuff, barring one or two things that are group efforts and as such idk what i am able to say. hopefully the formatting is somewhat coherent. i thank you for giving me the mental permission to voice it all though… that was lovely of you ^^

[jellofish4000]

The Male Genius

02/01/2023

The male genius. 

I am a woman, yet somehow I have become entirely enthralled with the male genius. 

The male genius is a myth, of course. And it is not miraculously that I have come to center so much of my media consumption around this myth. Putting on a new movie, picking up a new book, listening to a new album. These male geniuses are everywhere. Why is it that Elliot Smith seems to capture the essence of our existence so perfectly? How do Shakespeare or DFW or Poe manage to write in a way that seems so innovative and incomparable? The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Pink Floyd, Michael Jackson, Prince, Tupac, Elvis, Fitzgerald, DeLillo, Scorsese, Hitchcock, Spielberg, Nolan, Mozart, Liszt, Chopin, Beethoven. It continues. It continues on and on, forever and ever. Men are the universal constant. Jesus himself. God always referred to as a “he”. A force so much larger than humanity is a man, consciously or subconsciously. We all know “history was written by men” but let’s not forget about everything else. 

I will never forget the time a friend (a man) marveled at my music listening habits once, telling me so sincerely: “You only listen to them (some kpop group I can’t bring myself to remember) because you think they’re attractive.” The shock on his face when I told him I had no clue what this particular group of men looked like was laughable. Sure there can be elements of attraction whenever you consume something. Watching a good movie and finding out the dude behind the camera is just your type. It’s a pleasant surprise. But you don’t go on to scour streaming sites for his films just because you think the guy’s attractive… You scour and scale because you have never seen a person use a camera like that. Write a song like that. Describe a feeling like that. He may even be the exact, feature for feature, opposite of your type. He may remind you of that man you wish more than anything to forget. But wow have you ever heard someone speak so eloquently? Have you ever seen anyone with such unique little ticks and habits? Have you ever heard a voice like that? And that attitude is simply… 

They are everywhere all the time. “The first to do this”, “The first to land here”, “The first to think of this”. 

I sit. I write things. I delete. I wonder why there aren’t more women in the things I consume. 

The terrible reality is, the male genius may not be a myth. It may very well be the truth. Maybe they are just that good. And it’s not that us women are utter shit. It’s not that we can’t write in awe-striking ways or convey our existence along the same vein as an Elliot Smith song. It’s more like we’re not allowed to. There are very certain things a woman should be. People flamed on Jennifer Lawrence recently after she admitted how proud she was for her role as a major female protagonist in popular culture following The Hunger Games movies. A studio exec had told her something along the lines of “men can’t relate to female stories.” She was determined to prove them wrong through the spirit of Katniss Everdeen. The internet-o-sphere lit flames under her bed after that interview. They pulled up all sorts of previous examples of “strong” and “independent” female characters that did it before her. The flames consumed her, the blame fell squarely on her shoulders because God forbid she give herself a little credit where credit is due. Everyone chose to ignore what the studio exec had said. 

Men are the geniuses always because they are allowed to be. They are allowed to sit in a studio for 3 days in a row, screaming demands in all directions until they make the perfect track, only to beat their wife and small child when they finally make an appearance back home. They are free to be raging alcoholics and avid drug users, writing down their life-shattering experiences for pages on end, and when they pass they will forever be memorialized as the tragedy we should’ve done more to protect. We will trust the Elvis biopic of a male genius into the hands of another male genius and milk 8 Oscar nominations from the results. We will similarly trust these men with the Marylin Monroe biopic fated to die a silent death and fade into the obscure of unfortunately shitty movies. Some man will confess on a forum for musicians that Alanis Morisette is his guilty pleasure because, naturally, she is something to be ashamed of, nevermind the quality of her music. I will continue to add song after song to my playlist, watch film after film, read book after book, learn fact after fact because those feelings are what I want from life. I want to be able to live it the way I desire. I dream of breaking free from expectations. “Woman” is a label held above my head at all times, that I wear proudly, but one that brings me great pain. Nothing I can do will subdue this feeling. I experience my freedom vicariously through all the men who are allowed to express their pain and suffering without fear of revolt or mockery, but I will always continue to dig through the pile for the female genius. The Ella Fitzgeralds, Donna Tarts, Cate Blanchetts, Mary Shellys, and The Wachowskis of the world. Our collective suffering knows little bounds. We are bonded together by it across the world. And we can also make those unimaginable, irreplicable, inherently important things. One day, the act of being a woman won’t be anything to be ashamed of.

[discoerot1ca]

they set their lips to my life and leave the kiss with me. nicknames for everything, a thousand small loves contained to each. ze lets me love them the way I need to. he lets this connection be a conversation, be a tiny bird fluttering between us to sip the nectar from our fingers. (I turn to you- remember that bird in the ceiling? remember how your voice swelled so loud it filled my house, set the windows to bursting with the sound of you, and chased him out? this one nestles easily into new perches. she sings for every dawn they bring into my life. we like this one.) they keep their hands in my life.

my softness is not an irritant to zir- it is celebrated. ze loves what a romantic I am. we watch movies and I am hopeless with it, tied into the story beats and relationship drama and sweet exchanges. I am betrayed when wickham is horrible, and she laughs. they love that I wanted to love him. they tell me their stories of sweetness and they pretend to grimace when I smile and gush for them, but they wouldn’t tell me if they didn’t like it.

six hours of a bbc series, and ze tells me it was worth it to see my reaction at the very end. when they play music, when they sing, I try to keep a recording in my mind, try to play it back later. spring is coming but I keep this wrapped around me anyway, insist it is still cold enough out to wear it. they let me cook for them and bandage his finger because they understand I need to love him in my way sometimes.

she is used to earning love through usefulness. they play therapist, they fix, they carry, they drive, they save, they hold, they help. I mention a problem and ze insists they can be a solution. he says the things ze thinks I need to hear, they try to fit the role. I describe a someday person and they leap to be that-

“I’ll grow my hair out and find someone who can do historical styles” “I could figure that out”

“I need to find a boyfriend who likes driving so I don’t have to” “I like driving”

“I should end up with someone good with math to do my taxes” “I’d be good for you then”

and yes, I love him in the driver’s seat, but I love more that it is him who is next to me.

we get drunk and sit on the floor of my kitchen for a second time- love is the half-plain pizza, love is the unquestioned “okay, this is who you are”.

they’re kind. they take me at face value. they believe that I am a good person who deserves nice things. the 36 questions musical is going to stay painted in their colors for the rest of my life.

( - it’s written down in my phone, dated march sixteenth- “remember this. in this moment they call you di and love of my life and darling and they love you. in this moment you can call them lovely and my love. in this moment there are polaroids and they love taking pictures. they send you a heart and you send one back. they love when you play with their hair.”)

ironic that i never told you the exact spelling of his name but you somehow spelled it perfectly correctly (i guess there are only two ways, it was bound to be one of them, lucky guess). your ask haunting my box in the wee hours of the night, mere hours after I’d cried myself to sleep.

you wanted a good old fashioned love letter. this, too, is part of it, my love is at war in his mind. not with his mind, not yet, or with the people in it, but with the thoughts that tell him she doesn’t love you she doesn’t care end it right now. she meaning me. the variation of pronouns twinkling throughout your letter like lightning bugs, and they use he/they now. i once asked if that was they, singular, or they, meaning the system and my love shrugged and said, either or, i just know I’m not a girl or femme aligned. in the days of papyrus and scrolls (yes, that old-fashioned) it may still have mattered to some one other than i. the variation doesn’t vex me, i love my love the same.

and right now to love him is to give him a little room to breathe. i tell him just tell me when i can come back and he replies that he’ll talk to me later. i never wanted to overwhelm him or suffocate him. i said you may get tired of me and they told me they didn’t think so. another love letter, written in pencil, is waiting on the opposite desk. before i set that down, I’d found a poem that i had written for the first person in the system i dated—i still don’t know if he’s host anymore. i didn’t want that, though—recycled sentiment. i wanted my love you mentioned most recently to know that even though i loved both of them, the way i loved him was unique.

it doesn’t make sense to me, this kind of mental tug of war, and i just want to pull him out of it. tell them of course i love you of course i care and im staying your mind is being mean to you and it’s not your fault. i just don’t know when I’m allowed, it’s a constant thing i struggle with—the being allowed. i know, because of therapy, that boundaries are important.

—and two hours before the tears, i write, “the tears are because i get to love you. m-you don’t even know how happy that makes me.” i write earnestly and channel all the softness i can muster. i write, “i love you. i hope to nourish you right back, heart and mind and soul.”

(i’m a little ashamed and a little shaky, that this is what i produced, but please take it gently into your palm, please do)

[exozero]

I've been dating since the breakup, more than a month now, and after a lovely night always end up thanking them for the company before sending them home. At first I thought I was hung up, which, emotionally, I'm sure there are patterns (now absent) I'm still reeling from, but while I'm not 100% recovered from the split, particularly from her self-destruction, those awful nights, I don't find myself pining.

Comfort is lovely, and I need it. Sometimes I go home with a girl to find the same predictable roles being asked of me, ones I enjoy, but am too fatigued, now, to properly relish, properly revel in the exercising of. Power isn't something I have interest in right now. Even when it was it was about the giving, or denial (same thing) of pleasure, and more complex dynamics, hierarchies, were a sort of higher level, extensions of those base (&base) tenets.

Now... I don't know. Women I once would have torn my hair out about, ached over in secret from just a glance, found ways to flirt and laugh with – they keep fucking approaching me, every single time I go out. I smell horrible, I dress worse, last night I realized the last water I'd had was in a bar & two days prior. I was followed to a cafe to the park from the thrift store yesterday by a woman in her 30s, dirty blonde with a scratchy voice and thick, strong thighs which glowed golden under a carpet of light freckles. I've always had a sharp radar for the tastes of others, but not anymore, or at least not always, now. We had a laugh and a chat and I wondered if she might want me the same way I wanted to be wanted, but after she pulled her phone out, hinting, hunting, and I said she should follow me, her little glance upwards, a quick intake and nod, a small pleasure at receiving an order from me forced me to sigh. I didn't mean to, and she surely didn't understand anything but the disappointment, on some level, but she is used to being wanted, so carried on, and texted me, and I her, but thankfully we stopped, letting it peter out.

I invited her anyways to what I said I would, happy to have a new friend, but that's not what she wants from me. Can't blame her for that, but it's something I've been coming up against increasingly often, especially now that I'm single. Though my desire is the same, to be friends, theirs is not. They want one thing from me, a tired story for all new york, as I resemble a phase, or a hope, or some nonsense I can't be bothered to suss out every fucking time. My only luck may be that the more het a cis woman is, the less interested in me she seems to become.

It's surreal to be eating pussy, truly to be happy doing just that in that moment, and to be interrupted by someone who wants to just get fucked. The whole thing is comical. I tell them that that's what I want, that that's all I want that night, and not one of them believes me. Not that I don't emphasize, I wouldn't accept a woman's offer to solely come over to go down on me if we hadn't already spent nights together, but I just can't be any clearer. I'm on hiatus! Not spanking, slapping, choking, or really fucking at all. At most, and what I ache for, is someone who knows how to call me cute, how to leave me be, how to be persistent, and how to assume about me.

I'm sure I'll return to dominance sooner than later, but there's this gap to be bridged by someone who is willing to play her own role until that's sorted out. Last time I was heartbroken the first person I met happened to be a woman who craved the taste of me, and loved the kinds of attention I'd lavish on her body. We were incredibly drunk when we met, and incredibly open as a result. There was something to my anguish that led her to clasp me to her chest often, lovingly, the gesture held past the "normal span" a hug might, oftentimes developing slowly, through murmurs and kisses and caresses, into a teary lovemaking. I doubt either of us would have any sexual interest in one another ever again, but for those few days, in our mutual states, the freudian dissolved into the human, and the human the universal. We didn't call each other by any names or titles, and the murmurs were unintelligible, just sounds made by lips hesitantly approaching their target... It was comfort, and when I'd cum my head did not arc back but twist aside, her ankles always, somehow always, no matter the position, pressing into my backside, massaging me deeper, pulling me deeper, hands wrapped round me, caressing, cooing.

It reminded me of something.

All the years I'd spent, gently or not, fulfilling those pleasures for others. The reason I still sometimes get messages, years later, soaked in their since-frustrations. It's not that I didn't find pleasure, life, joy in them, but that I was looking after them, the onus on me. With her the onus, finally, was on another. And it's not quite so simple as power. I'd been powerless before her, and we switched hour to hour. Here our psychology blended such that she simply... knew. I was seen through in a way that the rest hadn't. It wasn't love – I'd seen through too many myself to still think that kind of knowledge is worthy of being called Love – but it was the power of a glance, of eye contact held without bravado, even if I'd held her down and bit and bruised her, the unsurprised glint in her eyes would never change. Finally I understood why those women whom I adored staring at could so rarely meet my eyes for more than a moment without a silent request for... something. My hips met hers desperately, brutally, and even as she writhed and moaned and came around me that glint never left her eyes, and as I pushed, panting as I reached my finale, I quailed under her gaze.

[bi-bard]

Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Morpheus - Dream of the Endless Imagine/Preference (The Sandman)

Title: Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Morpheus

Pairing: Dream of the Endless X Immortal!Reader

Word Count: 1,674 words

Warning(s): mentions of imprisonment

Author's Note: I usually do this as a preference with multiple characters. However, due to the sheer number of characters in this show with the lack of an easily defined group to encompass most of them, I will do them one at the time.

If I didn't write it this way, it would take me days and I would hate it.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

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

willow

You know that my train could take you home Anywhere else is hollow I'm begging for you to take my hand Wreck my plans, that's my man

I took a deep breath as I looked out over the horizon.

The air in the dream realm always felt fresher than the air in the waking realm. Maybe it was the calmness of the entire place that added to that. No overwhelming sounds or places crowded with people. It was just perfect.

"You make it this way for me, don't you," I asked, looking over at Morpheus. I don't know if he knew that I noticed him there. "Calm and peaceful."

"You mentioned how much your waking life overwhelmed you," he explained, looking at me. "I may have played a small role in giving you an escape."

"Trying to get me to stay?"

His eyes went wide. "No, no. Not at all-"

"I was kidding," I stopped him. He relaxed.

I looked back out over the water, listening to the little waves hitting a rocky shore that- in the end- I created.

"You could stay," Morpheus suggested. I didn't speak, I just looked at him. "Would it be that terrible?"

"No," I replied. "It just... it wouldn't work. I don't belong here."

"You say that you don't belong in the waking realm either."

I sighed.

"Stay with me."

His voice was quiet. Like he was scared that the words would be too much if he said them any louder. Like I would shatter if the words hit me with any force. It sounded like a plead. Not an order or just a request. A plead for me to be there.

"Why," I asked. My voice was just as quiet, just as careful.

"Is it not obvious?"

"What is?"

I listened to the pebbles shifting under his shoes as he turned to me at last. His eyes almost made me want to look away. So intense. Always so intense.

One of his hands found a home on the skin of my cheek. I was certain he could feel how warm my skin was against his palm. My eyes fluttered between his lips and eyes. I barely noticed him leaning closer to me until his breath actually brushed against my skin.

"Morpheus-"

His lips captured mine as soon as I said his name. Any other thought was silenced as I slowly kissed him back. His lips were so soft. Every movement he made was more passionate than the last, clearly spurred on by me grabbing at the fabric on his chest in the hopes of pulling him closer.

When he finally pulled back, I felt like I was in some kind of trance. His nose still touched mine.

"Let me make this realm a place for you to call home," he begged in that low voice that could always send a shiver down my spine. "I love you."

It felt like a blow to the chest. I had been alone for so long. The idea of loving someone was something that I hadn't entertained for so long. But now, looking at him- also immortal and begging me to stay- I wanted to hold onto this.

"I love you too."

He pressed another kiss to my lips immediately. "I will find you in the waking realm and bring you here. You will find peace here."

"I'll be waiting," I replied.

"Not for long, my love."

I felt myself waking up as he kissed my forehead. I was alone again.

I stood up and looked around the room.

He was going to find me. I was going to have a true home. I was going to be loved.

And the mere idea of that was all the comfort that I would ever need.

This Love

This love left a permanent mark This love is glowing in the dark, oh-oh, oh These hands had to let it go free, and This love came back to me, oh-oh, oh

"(Y/n)."

I had been trying to clean some of the rubble from the throne room. A pointless action. The realm was crumbling with Morpheus missing and I didn't have the power to hold it together. All I could do was hold onto what was still there.

"Yes, Lucienne?"

"Someone's here to see you."

I dropped the rubble in my hands as I turned around. "Unless it's one of the dreams that left-"

She grinned at me when my words trailed off. Morpheus was standing just a few feet away from her. His face told me how sorry he was. I felt tears fill my eyes, any response dying before it ever made it to my lips.

"I'll let you both talk," Lucienne said before turning to leave.

"She told me you never left," Morpheus said as he started stepping forward. "I never meant to be gone so long. I only went to stop the nightmare. Some man captured me. Took my things."

I walked down the steps, meeting him at the bottom.

"I am so sorry-"

I cupped the sides of his face and kissed him before he could truly finish his apology. His hands touched my sides. It was almost overwhelming. After 100 years of being more alone than I ever had before, suddenly being able to touch him and kiss him was almost a shock to my system.

I pulled away slowly. My thumb ran along his cheekbone.

"You're okay," I muttered.

He nodded.

I stepped back, letting him grab my hand as I looked around the room.

"I tried to keep it together," I explained. "But I don't have your powers. It all started melting away in front of me. Lucienne has been very helpful."

"You've done more than I could ask of you," Morpheus tried to reassure me. I let my eyes flutter shut as he kissed my forehead. "I need to get my things back. Then, I can begin rebuilding this realm."

"Can that wait just a while longer," I asked quietly, moving closer to him. "Just a little while. I've missed 100 years with you. May I have five minutes?"

"Of course," he nodded before leaning in and kissing me again. "You can have as long as you'd like."

Enchanted

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you

Dreams had always felt too real to me.

I always just assumed that it was a result of the whole "being immortal" thing. Did I have any proof of that fact? No, not at all. I just clung to the idea of that being the cause.

Nothing ever solidified how real my dreams were as much as the day that I walked into the throne room of Lord Morpheus.

I didn't know his name at the time, but it was difficult to not find myself intimidated by the man in all-black attire standing next to the throne. His posture was perfect, hands behind his back as he looked at the stained-glass windows in front of him.

It's like something made my footsteps louder. The next step that I took rang throughout the room like a gunshot. The man by the throne and the woman a few steps down from him both turned to face me.

"Hello," I said awkwardly.

"Who are you," the man asked, starting to walk down the staircase. His voice made him even more intimidating.

"My name is (Y/n)," I explained quickly. "I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone else was going to be here. I have just grown accustomed to walking around this... realm alone."

"You can freely walk around the dream realm?"

"If that's what this world is, then yes."

"How?"

I shrugged. "I can't say that I know. I just always assumed that it was because I was... you're not going to believe me."

"I am the King of Dreams," he explained, stepping even closer to me. "You would be amazed at what I believe."

"I'm immortal."

I almost stunned myself. I was never one to admit that so easily. To discuss it with people. But something about him made it so simple. Like it was a normal part of life. I really liked being able to freely discuss it.

"How?"

"I don't know," I whispered. "I just stopped aging one day."

He nodded. "If you find it so easy to walk in this world, then know that this will be a safe place for you."

"You just trust me?"

"This is my realm," a smirk seemed to tug at his lips for a brief moment. "You wouldn't have much power here if you were to become some kind of threat."

I felt like I was in a trance as I looked into his eyes. Was that his power or was that just an accident due to how bright his eyes were?

"What's your name," I asked softly.

"They call me Lord Morpheus."

I nodded. Lord. He was in charge here.

"My lord," the woman on the stairs spoke up. "May we return to the matter at hand?"

Morpheus nodded to her before looking at me again.

"Have a good dream," he said softly. As if it were a secret between the two of us. "Maybe I'll see you here again."

I had to bite back the urge to say that I hoped so. I had been too scared of embarrassing myself at the time.

"Goodbye, Lord Morpheus."

I watched a soft grin cross his lips as he spoke, "Goodbye."

I felt like my heart was mere moments from leaping out of my chest.

He had said a handful of words to me, yet I was already prepared to listen to his voice for as long as I could. It was like beautiful music. It wasn't fair.

As unfair as the effect he had on me was, I knew one thing for certain. I was going to see him again. I had to.

It was all that I could dream of.

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

Author's Note: I had to actively fight the urge to use Wildest Dreams in this.

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

Masterlist (Includes links to All Writing Challenges)

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[ikesenwritings]

Wounds

A/N: This was so hard to finish 🥲🥲 but I think I’m pretty proud of this one ! I hope you like it as much as I do <3 (The last bit of dialogue is a quote from a TV show called New Amsterdam according to Google! I saw it online and it just broke my heart 😭) Pairing: Mitsuhide x Reader Category: A little fluff and some angst Warnings: Brief description of injuries to the hands Word Count: 1.5k

Add. Notes: None of Mitsuhide’s route has actually happened but this takes place roughly three months after your arrival (with no looming wormhole and no idea that you’re from the future). Mostly just ramblings and thoughts from our kitsune.

Mitsuhide's POV

Oh, my little one, you wouldn't believe me if I revealed to you the truth of my feelings—that, in this moment, the feather-light touch of your fingers across my bruised and broken skin would be enough to sustain me through this life knowing I could never truly share it with you.

Your hands are quite small and unscathed in comparison to mine, but they are not without their own history of hard work. Callouses kiss the tips of your fingers in a way I wish I could. They leave a lasting impression on your person. I can only assume they were the result of you pricking your fingers with a threaded needle one too many times.

How wonderful and uncommon for someone to pursue their passions so freely in this time. So please, little mouse. Continue allowing your "rough" hands to meet mine. Permit me this one indulgence: your touch. Give me a piece of you that could have been a part of me if I hadn’t grown up in such circumstances.

Would you be so courteous, my love, as to allow me one more revelation? As of late, these meetings of ours have left me questioning my abilities. I wonder: when had this little charade of ours become a routine?

When, after I've fulfilled my duties, I find myself in your chambers?

When, after the sun has stowed itself away, I consider you to be my personal healer?

I learned to be content with loving you from a distance. So when had I become more selfish than I already allowed myself to be when I am in your presence? To have my hidden desire for you dictate my actions rather than my wit and ambition? Have I veered too off-course? Is this what you have done to me? Am I content with such a change?

I never wanted you in my world; one of violence and deception.

But there you were, rooting yourself in my life—asking if I ate my meals, if I slept, why I always poked fun at you, asking for my opinion of castle-goers that "only a kitsune would have."

And there I was, unable to shut you out, incapable of resisting you. My funny, inquisitive, fiery little mouse. If Hideyoshi was the castle charmer, you were the enchantress.

My love, you are addictive. I am seated on your futon but I am evil. You may perceive me as a good man of the Oda forces. I am no such thing, nor am I a kind man. The role of Nobunaga's left-hand—there is no one in Azuchi more suited for this job than I am… though I suppose you are aware of that and chose to ignore it, for I am seated on your futon and I am evil and this is a tender moment I will continue to relive until you refuse me at your doorstep.

I crave this. Your presence, your touch, is my drug. Like a fine herbal remedy. If I were a god, I would command that your presence never escape mine—such a glorious reprieve from my duties.

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Your words cut through the silence as easy as ripping parchment.

Oh dear, perhaps my abilities have deteriorated. I certainly wasn't expecting to hear your soft voice. Nights like these usually passed without a word—a surprise at first—I thought you'd have endless questions for me, silly mouse, what with all the regular prying you liked to do in my life.

While I've seemed to lose count of our nightly meetings, I do recall the very first. I recall rising you out of your sleep. Yes, it was quite pleasing to see that sleepy expression of yours. But I knew you could not mistake the smell of blood and sweat mixed together once you came to.

Your tired gaze had shifted from one of confusion to one of shock when your eyes landed on my forearm. Your movements were stilted as you gathered the supplies I held in my hands and started bandaging a large gash that I had sustained from a sword fight with a rebellious daimyo and his militiamen.

I recall having my subordinates spread gossip amongst the maids at the time. I planned for whispers around the castle to let you know all about my role as Nobunaga's left-hand man without much frightening detail. I was sure it would be enough to keep you at arm's length. Clearly, I underestimated you.

You can't keep doing this.

Keep injuring myself? Keep inviting myself into your chambers? These are not easy asks, little one.

But you should not hold concern for someone like me.

To have you patch my shallow wounds would be enough. I believe something as superficial has to be enough.

You can’t keep doing this.

Such simple words yield such complex feelings. Oh, how I wished everything I did was done to please you. And yet, I mustn’t allow myself such fulfillment.

Perhaps I should steer this conversation in another direction before it even starts. I assumed a face one would reserve for a child and spoke in a mock apologetic tone. "I know," I teased. "Azuchi's princess requires a proper amount of rest."

Dearest me… my silly mouse does not seem willing to converse in a light manner this night. I should smooth out the crease in your tightly-knit eyebrows, kiss your frown away. Perhaps I shouldn't.

You surveyed my now bandaged hands that remain cradled in yours. I know what you are thinking, my love. Remembering the degree of my injuries just a moment before—immensely swollen, purple, and covered in blood—you contemplated whether I'd listen to the opinions you'd been forming of me and the manner by which I operate over the past two months.

Everything you say to me holds such meaning. For you, little one, I would carve whatever you wanted to say to me into my being, carry your words with me wherever I ventured.

"Mitsuhide."

A certain urgency in that beautiful voice of yours. Need not. I shall continue to joke for your sake, though maybe it’s really for mine.

I wish to keep these meetings light, just as you are.

“My, what a stern tone. Perhaps Hideyoshi spends too much time following you around when I’m not here.”

Stay there. With Hideyoshi and Masamune and the others. Stay where it is bright, but not too bright for me.

Shall I make one last attempt at quelling your worry?

“I’m okay, little mouse. I see Iesayu has been teaching you. Your touch heals me much faster than before.”

It really does.

Then you say, “People in this castle care about you.”

Your voice comes as a whisper and you sound almost like a child consoling a hurt parent and I feel like pieces of my life could begin chipping away—as if all of the things I’ve endured, the pain and suffering associated, could be erased by your words.

It seems foolish, really.

How did I come to be here? To be in Azuchi? To be alongside Oda Nobunaga himself? To be consumed so wholly as his left hand?

“Whom may that be, pray tell?” I ask.

“Hideyoshi, for starters. And Mitsunari. Nobunaga, Masamune, Ieyasu… me.”

Yes. I now know that I am, indeed, more selfish than I’d been when we first met, for I wouldn’t have strung such a declaration from you. A declaration I was well aware of by now, but my dear, it is much more lovely to have it fall upon my ears.

There are moments where there is truly nothing to be desired, but there are times spent with you, and I come to realize that I desire things for myself much more than I let on.

You. I want you.

These are the words that should flow out of my mouth. A silly but earnest confession.

But instead, I say, “Yes, I suppose the people in this castle serve society well. They have a predisposition to care for others, even me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. Frustration, even?

“No—why are you saying that?! You walk around like you’re waiting for your last day or something. Like you’ve shouldered everyone’s burdens and you’re not sure when you might collapse but you’re willing to carry more and more.” All I hear is your anguish. “You get to be selfish, you know? You deserve a lot more than what people take you for.”

My love…

I gather you in my arms. The burning sensation of my injured hands pressed firmly on your back is an afterthought. I rest my head on your shoulder. My gaze is directed at nothing in particular, but I do catch the peaceful sway of the cherry blossoms outside your window. Such contrast from the tumult of feelings I hold for you. In this moment, I feel as though my heart could not beat any faster. As if all my energy was used to fuel the song my heart sings for you, my words come out in a strained whisper: “You have no idea just how selfish I am... you are my greatest joy and deepest pain."

And a gasp as light as the wind that blows through the cherry blossoms escapes my little one. A lovely sound to mend my wounds.