#like man best just avoid this again by getting rid of all the mirrors

[fawninthesnow]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞: Part 2

Part 1,

𐙚 Emperor Geta x Fem Reader! 𐙚 18+

Summary: You are the daughter of General Marcus Acacius. After gaining your fathers blessing to join in at the palace, you run into a familiar face.

Warnings/contains: dom fem, f4m, teasing, pinning, size kink, praise, idealization, obsession, not proof read

Word Count: 2.5k

More on my Master list!

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“[Y/n], I would like to speak with you.” Your mother knocked upon the open door of your bedroom. You sighed aloud, taking off your jewels from the day. She moved behind you in the mirror, undoing your bun and undoing your small braids. “I will not ask why you are restless. I want to apologize to you. I know that…we *may* be more protective of you than-“

“I would call it absurd. This is absurd.” You turned to her, “I may not shop on my own! I may not take a walk by myself. Even as we speak, mother, a man watches!” You point to the guard that stood by your bedroom door. “I seem to never leave this place!”

“I know you are angry, but this is for the best!” You squinted with annoyance, throwing yourself onto your bed. “You are a beautiful young woman, [Y/n]! Moreover, you are our daughter! There are people who will want to hurt you.”

“I am aware of your worries, mother, but It is hard to believe the people of Rome know of my name, let alone what I look like!” You rolled over onto your back. Your father, General Marcus Acacius, now leaned on the post of your bed near your mother. “Now, I love you both dearly, but your words do not match your actions and I am tired of being left here to wait and rot! I am not one of your statues, Mother.” You stood in front of them now, your arms folded, and a crossed expression rid your gorgeous face.

To your surprise, your mothers’ hands clasped, and she sadly smiled. Her eyes welled, “Ahh, I am sorry. Y- you are just- you have grown so much.”

You tried not to fold under the pressure. It seemed whenever she got emotional, you found it hard to stand your ground. “Yes, yes, I have. And I want the freedoms of a woman. You say you want me to marry but the only men I have seen in the past few years were your guests, these brute guards and men of the Senate.” You said straightforward, avoiding your mother’s gaze, instead, looking into your father’s eyes.

The man sighed, holding his face in his hands. “What is it that you want?” He asked, officially surrendering to you. In that moment, you wondered if you had done this before on your 19th or 20th birthday.

“I want to follow you, Father.”

“Me? W- no! You cannot. It is too dangerous! Far too dangerous!”

You crossed your arms again and glared at him. “I barely see you as is! You will not let me join your army! You will not let me even speak in public! I want to be called your daughter. I want to follow you!”

Your Mother looked at her husband. She knew you had a point. You had a good reason to be emotional. “I do not know, Lucilla. This is dangerous.” She said nothing.

“That is all I want.” You said softer, close to your parents. “…for now.” Your father sighed.

“I will speak to you again in the morning.” He rubbed his forehead before leaving the room.

You balled your fists, looking away from the door, “Honey.” Your mother took your hand into hers, “It will be ok.”

“Does he hate me?”

“No. No, he could never. He is just tired. Do not stay up too late, ok? I love you.” She let go of your warm palm.

“I love you too.” You said as she left your bedroom. “Will you watch me change as well?!” You asked the guard who bowed his head and quickly left the bedroom.

The next morning, you were awakened by a servant with a tray of dyes for your makeup, with sage and frankincense for your perfume; separated into small bowls. “My Lady?”

“What is this?” You asked, moving the sheets from your body.

“Your father would like you to get dressed. I will do your hair today.” You tilted your head for a moment, rubbing your eyes. Another servant brought in a dress from your mother’s wardrobe from her youth.

“He said yes!?” You jumped from bed and dashed down the hall. The two servants continued to prepare you for your day as you pushed open your parents’ bedroom door. “Oh! Thank you! Thank you!” Your arms wrapped around your father’s waist. He kissed the top of your head.

“You should dress. We leave soon.”

*

Outside the home, you were helped onto your horse. “We will take the main streets.” Your father spoke, “Be sure to stay close to me. It can get crowded very quickly.” You nodded as the two of you, and a few guards who followed, entered the city. The last time you were here, you were being scolded. However, that was two weeks ago, and you never went this far in.

Your eyes flickered around at the stores and market. Children chased each other and women gathered water from fountains. Along side streets, men gambled and shouted. Inside of a cheap jewelry store, a mother bargained. Upon seeing your fathers face, people gathered around the horses, slowing down the group. “Keep your horse forward, [Y/n].” Your father spoke over the crowd. The city was rather overstimulating, and that was obvious. These people were obnoxious in your eyes. To you, this was just your father. Sure, he’s a decorated general, but this was the man that taught you math, dressed you in the mornings, learned how to braid your hair, collected flowers with you, and laid beside you when you fell ill. He was a man. Not a god. “[Y/n]?”

“Where are we even headed?” You asked as guards cleared the way for you and your father.

“To the palace.” He directed to the northeast of the path.

“The palace? Why?”

“I have business with the emperors.” You smirked. Something you adored was snooping. What a place to do so! “After, we can go wherever you please.”

“Sounds like a plan, Father.” Emperor. You hadn’t heard that title in a while. It had been weeks since that clown of a man called himself one to you. You remember that day like it was yesterday. That arrogant, short man. Just the thought him nearly made you laugh aloud. There was no way he would ever be emperor. That scrawny excuse of a man?

When you and your father arrived at the palace, he helped you off your horse; he held your palm, leading you up the steps.

A short man with his arms open greeted your father. Something about his face looked familiar, however, you had never seen him before; for sure. “Acacius! Haha! Hello, my friend!” Your father bowed to him, and you followed suit. “Ahh,” He held his own hands, admiring the face of the young woman standing beside his general. “And who might you be?”

“This is my daughter, [Y/n].”

“Ahh!” The man yelped with excitement. It was then you noticed the small animal on his shoulder. What is that? You wondered. “She is quite beautiful…mhh.” His eyes fell on your curves.

“Should we speak inside, Caracalla? And find your brother?” Your father asked, interrupting the thoughts of the emperor.

“Yes!”

He led the two of you inside, moving rather awkward without his brother. You looked at your father. “There is two, yes?” You whispered. He nodded.

You stayed outside the room as your father spoke to Caracalla. You leaned against the wall, listening in as they planned on a map. It was mostly your father speaking, and Caracalla feeding his monkey while nodding.

In the hall, the sound of loud shoes moving across the floor caught your attention. You looked over your shoulder. “Do not linger outside of there, servant.”

You frowned, turning your body to the sound of the familiar voice, “Do I look like a servant to you?” You asked, stepping closer, as did he. You face shone under the sunlight. The man stepped back and caught his breath.

“It is you! Yo-“

“Oh, shut up!” he gasped, “What are you even doing here?” You stepped closer and he moved back.

“I am an emperor! Of Rome!”

You laughed as he spoke with a nervous undertone. “Be honest, *you are* a servant, no?”

“I am the emperor! Are you ill?! Can you hear me?”

For a moment, you thought aloud, “But, isn’t the older brother supposed to be…bigger…” You circled around him like prey. He wondered if you had gotten taller since your last encounter. “…more commanding? This is rather disappointing…”

“I have had it with you. What is your business here?! Hm? Who even let you in?!”

You push him into a room across the hall. “Shut up. My father is right in that room!”

“Acacius! General Acacius!” You pulled him with you behind the door and covered his mouth, your other hand on the front of his throat.

“Say another word and I will snap your neck.” You said into his hair. “I guess you are the emperor…but that means little to me. For if my father finds out what you did in that garden, he will have your head.”

“Ahg! I did nothing. It was you!”

“Ha! You stained my dress, tiny! Even so, you speak if he’d believe your word over mine.” It was true, he most likely would not believe the emperor. You had your way with words. You had your way with threats. “Now, what to do with you…” He bit your hand before dashing from the room. You chased him down the hall and stopped him in his tracks. He gulped, looking up at you. “And where are you going?”

“Y- you cannot intimidate me! Not in my own palace!” You leaned down and held him by his chin. “T- these guards! They will stop you!”

“You are mistaken. They do not work for you. They work for my father.” The man gulped before wiping sweat from his brow. “I can do whatever I want with you. We can keep playing chase, sure.” You step out of the way, and he ran down into the field of grass, surrounded by fruit trees and such. You laughed at him, chasing him into the field before cornering him and pinning him to the grass.

“This will not work on me! Very soon, your father will catch you!”

“Oh really?” Your knee pressed between his crotch, pushing on his balls.

“Y- yes.” A feathered moan left his lips. “I- I want you t- to let go! Let go, I say!” You let go of his hands, however, he does not move.

“It seems you like this.” Your finger found its way on the wet tip of his penis, coated in precum.

“I d- do, no, I-” He said rather softly. “A- n- you are a bully! A rude woman! No man will ever have you!” You continued to tease and rub his tip, making it hard for him to speak.

“Is that so?” He bit his lip and looked down at the mess he made on your fingertips. “Look in my eyes, you pervert.”

“I am not a pervert.”

“You are a pervert.” You lean down into his ear, gently kissing and suckling on the skin. “Only a pervert likes getting bullied by a woman in broad daylight. Only a pervert likes having his body exposed in an open field…under a woman.” Your hair dangled in his face; your bosom pressed on his chest as he hyperventilates.

His eyes opened wide, and he rose from under you. “I will not entertain you any longer.”

“Come here…Geta, was it?”

“I-“ He stepped away from you once more.

“Geta.” You say, inching closer. “You are too small; you will never escape me.” He held his crotch, trying to stop his throbbing shaft from its movement. The emperor fixed his toga, only for his crown to fall off his head. He groaned, growing flustered. “Do I make you nervous or something…?” You twirled his laurel crown around your finger. You looked heavenly from his view. He felt as if he had come face-to-face with Venus herself. “This crown means nothing, you know? Do you even feel like an emperor when you wear it?” He did not reply but you knew the answer. As you moved closer, your purple dress held onto your hips and swayed with every step. You placed his crown on your head, “Do I look pretty?” You knew he would agree. You are stunning, how could *anyone* deny that? And with that gold crown over your head? It was hard to believe the gods did not hand deliver you to your parents. “I know what you are feeling…why so shy?”

“Leave me be, woman!”

“Come here, little boy.” You tilt your head, offering your palm, “I will make you feel better.”

“I- I am…the emperor…”

“Sure.”

“I wear the crown.”

“Fine, take it.” You tossed it back to him. For some reason, it seemed to lose its meaning. It did not feel as heavy as before. It felt cheap, pointless, useless. Was it really a symbol of the gods if a goddess denies it?

“Acacius…he will not be happy.”

“My Father will not know.” You giggled, twirling his hair.

“See?! I knew it! You are a deceiver!” The emperor took off his shoes and ran back into the palace before turning into the room where General Acacius and his brother leaned over the table. He caught his breath. You stood behind the man and caressed his side. He jumped, and whined, “S- she’s-“

“Oh! Emperor Geta.” Your father bowed to the man, and you did the same, smiling at him. “Good morning.”

He looked between you and your father; the resemblances were undeniable. You squinted at him as if daring him to say something to your father. Geta moved away from you. “…proceed with the meeting.” You went back to your place by the pillar, watching him from afar. He felt uncomfortable, hot under his collar. The general spoke of invasion plans to the north of India. Although you should have cared, your attention was set on the nervous mess in front of you.

The meeting carried on faster than you would have expected. The two emperors walked you both to the entrance, exchanging pleasantries. You lean towards Caracalla, and he happily kisses both of your cheeks. Towards Geta, he resentfully kisses your right cheek, “…I will see you again very soon…” You whisper.

He froze in shock, “No. No, you will not.” You smirked and he groaned, kissing your left cheek. “Stay away from me…”

“It was delightful meeting you, emperor Geta.” You spoke so condescendingly, he felt so small, like a peasant when in comparison to you. When you pulled away from him, and climbed on your horse, Geta adjusted his garments, his cock stayed hard throughout the morning. He had to admit that you were some form of a goddess; maybe it was your figure, or your personality, but something within him felt as if this connection had to be holy, divine. His hips ached, and his tip was wet with lust. He would never admit it to you, that would only boost your ego.

Part three

Part one on my Master list!

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[adashoflavendermelancholy]

Pen Pals

If anyone asks, it’s Aces fault. He was the one that told Yamato about superstitions. Ace didn’t mean to put the idea into Yamato’s head. In fact, he hadn’t even known Yamato had never heard about superstitions before. It was just something he said one day on a whim. When Yamato was moving into his new apartment. A mirror broke and Ace jumped a little.

“Ah, man, that sucks. Better do some good deeds soon.” Ace said, smiling at him.

Yamato didn’t know what that meant. Waiting for Ace to explain himself was easy enough. Just stare at him until he did so. Add a little, “What do you mean?”

“You know, Seven years’ bad luck,” Ace said, realizing that Yamato still wasn’t getting it. He didn’t know that the other wouldn’t know this. It was a common superstition on his home island. Explaining it to him, Yamato loved them. He didn’t know that little things would change the outcome of everything.

From that day on, Yamato looked into all kinds of superstitions and kept up with them. Not wanting to make things hard on their loved ones. He even went out of his way to do good deeds to get rid of the seven year bad luck.

There were some superstitions that Yamato loved more than others. The step on a crack and break your mother’s back was mean. With how the sidewalks in his neighborhood were, there was no way he could avoid cracks. If his mother was alive, she would be in the hospital for multiple cracks in her back.

There was the time that Yamato was almost late for school. Thanks to the black cat that crossed his path. He had to go all the way around just to make it to school. Barely making it before the teacher arrived. He had taken a seat while panting.

“First place goes to Yamato, who raced me here.” Professor Marco said with a smirk on his lips. It wasn’t fair that the man ran with him, but wasn’t out of breath at all. “Why were you running late, anyway?” Professor Marco asked, looking at him. When Yamato answered with a black cat crossed his path, the classroom broke down. Yamato would get a few pokes and laughter from the other classmates. It wasn’t bad, having people that liked you around.

Weeks passed since that time. Professor Marco never let it go. Drawing a little black cat on the corner of all his papers. Not that he was all that sad about the cute cats in the corners of his papers.

There was the time with Luffy, when Yamato would be dragged around on different adventures. Seeing things he never saw before, or even thought about. From the highest place int he city to see everything. To the best hidden restaurants that hard hardly anyone there. Yamato couldn’t help but remembering that curiosity killed the cat, only remembering the second half once they were seeing something new. That satisfaction brought it back. “Your brothers like a cat,” Yamato told Ace once. The Other laughed at him so hard he almost passed out.

“Yeah, he kinda is.” Ace said, when he could breathe again. Yamato loved being around these brothers. They were always doing something that reminded him of what could be out there. No matter how small and unimportant it seemed, there was adventure around every corner. If you just took time to look.

Yamato’s phone rang. He was making dinner. It was going to be ramen again. The ring tone telling him who it was before he even picked it up. “Yamato, you’re late for dinner.” His father said. Probably at some five-star restaurant. It’s that time of year again. When his father forced him to have dinner with him. The anniversary of his mother’s death. She made his father promise to feed him a good dinner like she would have.

Yamato ignored the man as he placed two bowls on the table. “I’m not late. I’m eating with mom.” Yamato said, back. Looking at the photo frame on the table. There, his mother smiled back at him. She was wearing a school uniform and holding graduation flowers. Her face relaxed, looking off beyond the camera. It’s the same school that Yamato is now in. They had thrown out the uniform a few years ago.

“We are to eat together.”

“I am. With my mother.” Yamato rolled his eyes. Just how often was he going to have to tell him to get bent?

There was a sigh on the other end. “Your mother wanted us to eat together as a family.”

“Yeah, well.” Yamato said, thinking back to his favorite superstition. Step out of line and break your father’s spine. Smirking into the phone, he asked, “How do you’re back feel?”

His father didn’t know what got into Yamato to sack out in such a way. He had never done so before. Maybe going to his school was a bad choice. It wasn’t too late to cancel the funding and pull him out.

A knock on the door, stop Yamato from pushing further. It wasn’t all that loud, and sounded delicate against the door. It couldn’t be his father, or so he thought.

“Let’s eat.” The man hardly fit into Yamato’s apartment. Something that Yamato did on purpose. He wanted to growl at the man in front of him. What more could the man want?

Eating in silence. Even though Yamato could swear that his father glared at the bowl in front of him. Once he finished the meal, they sat there for a moment. “I’m still hungry.”

“Then go get something else,” Yamato muttered, not able to bring himself in being too mean. Not with his mother’s smiling face looking at him. She just wanted her two boys together. Nothing more than that.

“Next year we are eating out.”

“Whatever,” Yamato agreed. It would be better than having him back in his apartment. His apartment that he would have to move from. Not wanting his father to have ever been in his safe place.

[smolsix]

-blows dust off this blog-

So

Little Nightmares III, huh???

I was trying to avoid being excited about it because no solid release date and 2024 could be a few months from now or a year from now and Idk how long I can handle being so fuckin hyped for this game YEEHAW

BUT I CAN'T, I KEEP THINKING ABT THE GAME AAHAHHGAGA

so here are my thoughts, if you wanted to know

FIRST OF ALL, i am so glad that after we saw LTNM II we thought it'd be co-op but it was just an AI, that we finally get co-op! AND ONLINE TOO, i spent the first day worried it'd be shared screen same room situation since i wasn't trying to get my hopes up but then I realised I can just.. google it.. AND IT IS!!! ONLINE!! IDK WHO I AM GONNA PLAY IT W FIRST AAAAAAAA

anyways, you can definitely tell it's a new studio working on this game, the world feels mostly the same but the character designs themselves are definitely stylistically similar, but not the same. With Six especially, the MC designs were very simplistic and realistic but used colour (or for Mono, a single design quirk being the bag) to stand out against their backgrounds and against the enemies which are largely neutral colours. But these new ones feel... "over designed"? On their own they definitely aren't, but in comparison to Mono, Six, Seven, and even NPCs like the flashlight girl, they have a lot more going on (especially the little wrench kid, Idk which one is Alone and which one is Low yet btw OOP)

Despite it being a new studio and you can tell, new puzzles and environments, they're still doing their best to have the OGs vibes and whatnot to feel familiar, namely in the trailer they bring back the fuses, and the additional gameplay video there's a short scene with an environment with all the shelves you can find in LTNM 1s gnome section (the one with the cart that is affected by the Maws swaying).

But regardless, it still feels different enough my brain is still nervous about it. I also feel In A Way about Tarsier having LTNM II explode and their franchise getting the attention it deserves, only to have it stuck with Bandai and now it's going to likely explode again and they aren't involved. Idk how anyone on that team feels about it, but if it were me omg.

Also the only boss we've seen so far (i hope they add more and i def want some to be a surprise so im not gonna assume this is the only one for now) feels... out of place? it has the design qualities of a LTNM boss, but the size of it makes it more of a spectacle than a warped/corruption of an adult. All the previous bosses fit in their environment, we are the small ones and they are scaled to the world around them. This is the first time, outside monster Six who imo is a bit of an outlier anyways due to her circumstances, we're getting a boss who is this huge and doesn't even fit their own environment. I hope we get a lore reason for this in some way, because currently the boss doesn't have the same vibe as the others and it's throwing me off a bit. Don't get me wrong, it'll be terrifying, but looking at the picture as a whole they are sort of out of place for me rn. I don't hate the bitch either, I'm not gonna be like omg get rid of it or change it, but it does strike me as odd seeing it for now.

And yes the tall man is too tall for a lot of things, but he's not THAT big. He's more like yer tall guy who hits his head off doorways, which happens irl anyways LMAO

Little Nightmares primarily tries to capture the feeling of being a small child and how everything is big and scary, but a doll that huge is out of the realm of reality set up for us already. It's gone from scary corrupted animal to godzilla, if that makes sense.

OH AND THE MIRRORS ARE VERY LTNM COMICS OF THEM TEE HEE < 3

[pichlive]

again some spoilers since i looked stuff up

in another ending you can just convince the princess... to Not become a god and Just Become Mortal and presumably enjoy the world as is (i know the context is i guess we... destroy the world as gods? but idk. other than i feel it'd be... not more explicit but more i guess... hinting at it, a tad, unless i'm wrong, i feel like the 'destroying of the world' is just... 'death existing', given... again the narrator wanted to DESTROY DEATH ITSELF.)

and for one just. reinforces how. tragic the narrator is in hindsight?

he can't enjoy his ideal version of a world, and you won't either obviously (in some cases, not all to be fair, should you choose to do so), and like he probably didn't think it was as 'simple' as 'just love her'. (which isn't to simplify it but. you know. true love helps and all that)

which

man

again i just. think. says. a lot. about him.

i think metaphorically he's like... the self that goes through hurt and isolates to avoid it but is more unknowingly destructive in the long run

and also metaphorically-- sometimes it's best to let go of that hurt

not forget it, or not learn from it, but,

not holding on so tight that the shard of the mirror breaks your skin.

also on a side note it makes me... idk wonder if he kind of also caused the end of his world w all this or was delaying an inevitable?

i'm not discounting if it was a perfectly normal like our world

(or... ~justifying my heinous awful actions ooo~ like one anon would believe-- am i the princess here? did i just get assigned my personal fucking narrator?? anyway)

but it gives me vibes of:

this world might have already been on a brink of ruin and thus delaying it an end would be cruel

in general getting rid of the concept of death IS KIND OF BATSHIT AND NOT GREAT TO ME.

the alternative where nary may have caused his world to be destroyed because in a sense he... gathered Her and made her into such a form that she might have force to do so (and also to be fair she clarifies she's not even just death)--

..

hey. um.

the princess. is. a being of. perception. right?

so. it's. entirely possible. that....

he might have given her the ability (and motivation? kind of) to destroy the world because he believed and willed it so

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - The Loners

New Roommate

It's the next day. And finally there was a break from all the snowfall. It was almost lunchtime by now when Twyla and Leila met in the kitchen. “You know what's nice? You don't have to get up at 6 a.m. and go to work. You can sleep in and get up whenever you want”.

“hnhn, yes, that's true. We can decide for ourselves how to organize our daily routine. Well, did you like the food, Lucky?"/ ‘See, you like him’/ ‘haa,, o.k.,, I admit, he's really cute and hasn't chewed the furniture yet’. After a few seconds, there was a knock at the door. “huh? Is Autumn coming back after all?"/ ‘hnhn, I don't think so“.

Leila went to the door and opened it. She thought it might be Gage, who had left very early to drop by the neighbors' house. But that wasn't the case. She looked into a slightly shocked and desperate face. “Yes, please?"/ ‘Hello, I… I'm here because…um…’/ ”I assume you're here for the place to sleep. Come in first”.

After he entered the house, Twyla got up from her chair and greeted him. But he avoided her gaze again and looked around the room instead. It was warm and smelled of food. “Hello… Yes, well… I would like to accept the offer, if it's still available”. She looked at Leila, who just shrugged her shoulders. “Sure it is”.

She looked down and past him for a moment. “Don't you have any luggage with you?"/ ‘No… Just the clothes I'm wearing and maybe a few bits and pieces in my jacket pockets… I know, I look like a bum,’ he said with a shy smile. “What nonsense.” But Leila seemed to be thinking exactly that at the moment and wrinkled her nose a little. Apparently he hadn't been able to wash his clothes for a long time.

Leila withdrew a little. She left it to Twyla to show him around and explain the rules of the house. “Sorry, she wasn't exactly thrilled last night"/ ‘because of the dog or because of me?’/ ”A bit of everything. But you made the right decision. And we still have a few things to sort out"/ ‘I see. Is this the bathroom?’ he asked her, looking at the door next to him.

She smiled and opened the door for him. There was indeed a bathroom here, fully equipped, with a bathtub. He took a deep breath, almost in relief. “And you really have hot water? How…"/ ”We found an older pipe that still worked. If you want to take a bath, you can do that.”

He turned to her. “Thanks… I wouldn't know otherwise…"/ ”You don't have to say anything else, okay? You're here now and that's good for now. I'll ask Gage if he has any clothes left. What about your work, are you still doing it?"/ ”No, I… I've found someone who would like it to take over…” / „OK then… I'll leave you alone for now and look for some fresh clothes for you.”..

Gage came home about ten minutes later. “I can see if I can find something for him"/ ‘thank you. is it okay for you that he's here?’/ ‘well, as I said, we still have to sort out the thing with the supplies… But otherwise it's certainly good not to be the only man in the house’/ ”hnhn. We should all get to know him better first”.

While the others were somewhere in the house, Reginald ran the bath. It took a while before the water was hot enough for him to insert the plug so that the bathtub could fill up. When it was full enough, he undressed completely and slowly sat down in it until almost his entire body was covered in water. “hhh, oh man, this is the best thing in a long time”….

While it was freezing cold outside, he enjoyed the hot bath. He thought about the past. The catastrophe and what had happened long before. “Should I tell her? It's not something that's completely out of the ordinary… I'd just like to get rid of everything and draw a line under it. So that I can let go, mentally… I'm ready for that…”.

A little later. While Reginald was still in the bath, Gage came past the bathroom and pushed his things through a narrow gap in the door for him. After a long bath, Reginald put the clothes on and then looked at himself in the mirror. “Maybe a tad too small, but it works… Thanks. Hmm… I look terrible.”

After he had finished his stay in the bathroom, he went back to the others. “Hey, that looks good. Do you feel better now?"/ ”A lot better, but… when I looked in the mirror, it almost hit me. I think… My hair needs to be cut…"/ ‘I can do that if you like,’ Twyla said with a smile.

Reginald smiled a little sheepishly. “You can do that?"/ ”Sure, or would you rather go to the hairdresser? It's just hard to find one here right now…”. He had to laugh a little. He knew, of course, that he had no other choice. “hnhn, that's all right. You're welcome to lend a hand… A-at my hair I mean“/”hn, okay. Today or can we postpone it until tomorrow?"/ ‘It can wait ...’/ ”I think so too. You must be hungry, right?"/ ‘hmm, a little bit’/ ‘then I'll make you something’.

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@greenplumbboblover ☺

[deancaspinefest]

My Turning Page

Author: Jean Pilgrim | Artist: Alexiescherryslurpy Posting on Monday March 6

Okay, so maybe dragging Sam and Dean’s otherworldly lookalikes into their world wasn’t the best idea Dean’s ever had. But it’s not like they’re gonna stay long. They’re just gonna help them out and then move their asses somewhere Dean doesn’t have to deal with the way the other Dean keeps glancing at Cas. Right? Wrong. Tweedledee and Tweedledum are here to stay for a while, and it’s annoying the hell out of Dean. Nevermind that he’s busy trying to defeat Chuck and simultaneously ignoring the feeling in his chest that bubbles up any time he sees Cas and asks himself why his best friend shot him down when he confessed his feelings to him in Purgatory. - Chuck is gone and the world is saved. The Grady twins have left the building, too, and all should be well. Except, it isn’t: Cas is dead and it’s Dean’s fault. It must be. Cas loved him, and Dean loved Cas, and it was the end of him. Dean sees little hope for himself, but the least he can do now is try and be the man Cas thought him to be. A brave man, who never stops fighting for the people he loves. A man that cares about his brother and Jack. When Jack returns, Dean finds one of Cas’ very few sentimental possessions, and with it, his will and determination to get him back. If only he could find someone to take his place and help him hide his plans from Sam and Jack…

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“I am going to help Sam load the car,” Cas suggests, then. “It was nice talking to you, Dean.” With a smile and a tip of his head, he gets up and walks past Dean, very pointedly avoiding each and every eye or body contact. Dickbag-Dean, now finished with putting on the shirt, shrugs the flannel over his shoulders, and calls after him: “Likewise, Castiel. Safe travels.” Dean makes an effort to take a few deep breaths so as not to clock the guy. They need to get going, get this show on the road and get rid of their counterparts, migrate them to a different hemisphere, if Dean gets his way. “Fridge is stocked,” Dean counts off coldly, staring at what looks like his crooked mirror reflection. “Keys are next to the door, in case you need to get out. Make it quick if you do, though. You got our numbers?” “Oh, Castiel gave me his. No worries. We’ll be good and let you know if something comes up,” the other Dean says amicably. Dean grinds his teeth, forcing the words out through pursed lips. “Good.” He grants his counterpart a quick nod, then hoists his duffel further up his shoulder and turns to leave. “Oh, and Dean?” WIth his eyes closed and his patience running thinner than the fabric of his worn down jeans, Dean turns around again and clutches the straps of his bag until they almost cut into his palm. “Yeah?” “You and Cas, you’re…” “Friends,” Dean confirms tonelessly, not liking the way the corners of the other guy’s lips tick up at that. “Best friends. Cas and I are family.” “I just wanted to make sure. I didn’t want to, you know, overstep. But alas, it seems that I can try and shoot my shot, as they say, then.” Dean barks a toneless laugh, trying to cover up the hollow feeling in his stomach. This isn’t happening. “Sorry, definitely barking up the wrong tree there, dude. Believe me. Save yourself the trouble.” He doesn’t know why he says it like that. He doesn’t know why he says it, period, other than the fact that he never, ever wants to come into one of the countless rooms in the bunker to witness… whatever was just going on between his lookalike and his best friend, again. “Hm.” Douchebag-Dean seems to consider that for a moment, his eyes trailing the staircase to the bunker’s main entrance where Cas had disappeared a mere minute ago. “Thanks for your concern, but I don’t think I will.”

 [continue reading on Ao3 on Monday March 6]

[the-blue-sandglass]

So my Tales from Earthsea thoughts are back again as I do quite enjoy this movie but-

I have my own grievances with how they handled certain things from the books (cough whitewashing cough) but the thing is, I feel they would have been a lot better off if they'd just kept to their own coherent plot even if that meant diverging a lot as opposed to trying to Frankenstein so much shit from different books together-

Spoilers ahead for the movie if you've not seen it by the way, and trigger warning for mentions of m//der with parts of the plot-

But I feel one of the bigger issues is that with the shift towards Arren and his personal shit, we never actually get much explanation as to what provoked a lot of his ways of thinking throughout the film or why the fuck his shadow came into being beyond his anxieties and fears overwhelming/consuming him and like...okay, that's fine as an explanation for how the shadow came into existence, but what specifically prompted that? Where did his fears specifically come from? What is the 'living in fear' that he mentions being so tired of?

I mean, he's supposed to be royalty yet that trait feels completely incidental to the plot, like if you cut that part out it would have zero bearing or impact on the events of the narrative. What bothers me is that him being royalty could have been used to good effect to account for this new troubled aspect of him!

Like imagine if they took some time to go into at least a little bit of what his life as royalty was like; he could very well have dealt with assassinations, potential kidnappings, political bullshit and backstabbing as the heir to his kingdom in the past, and even that being mentioned could have gone a way to explain where this desire to avoid/flee from what terrifies him so much could have stemmed from. More aptly, what was his relationship with his father like?

I know in the film he says that his father was a good man and didn't do anything bad to him, but I do think they could have expanded on that; his father could still be a good man, but that doesn't necessarily mean he was the best parent - he was a king after all and I don't imagine they would have had a lot of private/personal time, or at least not what Arren might have needed as pressure mounted on him.

In general, him purposefully murdering him just adds a lot of problems story-wise in my opinion. Arren's whole behaviour throughout most of the rest of the movie struck me as avoidance, attempting to escape his problems/fears in any way he can find - whether that be through him being tempted to accept Hazia, the eternal life Cob seemingly offers to help him get or just by accepting death - so why the fuck would he purposefully kill someone that important when all it would do was bring more trouble onto him, more problems to run/avoid?

I feel even going for something like...maybe Arren purposefully trying to split himself up so he can be rid of the heroic side of him that he blames for his problems, as that side would likely contain the dutiful, noble side that keeps him bearing a crown with a weight he struggles to handle - i.e messing about with powers he shouldn't be as a mirror to Cob for example, or to Sparrowhawk in the books arguably - and then being caught in the act, prompting him to panic and instinctively gut the person thinking they're going to hurt him only to realise it was his own father would have potentially worked more. It would still give him a reason to flee, since not only has he fucked around and found out but he's also killed both the king and someone who seemed to be very dear to him, and it still allows the parallel later with Sparrowhawk, except this time he isn't wounded.

Obviously, these are just ideas off the top of my head - but I do really feel that having a more focused narrative or going all the way with leaning into the shift of things between characters wouldn't have been amiss.

[cardentist]

I think what Really gets me about it is like. the things that I described? that's My Body.

for so long I was just. indifferent to my body. long before I'd ever thought about gender it was just. Where I Lived. I didn't look in the mirror much, not necessarily because I was avoiding it, there just wasn't anything to see.

realizing I was trans masc was a big deal, obviously it was. a lot of things clicked into place for me. (I liked men but didn't like being a Girlfriend for one.) but it's also like !

it's taken as a given that a trans man wants to lose their boobs. I wore sports bras all the time until I could buy a binder because that's just what was done. I cut my hair because that's just what was done. and in the moment it did help simply because those were things that were in my Control.

I couldn't go take myself to a doctor and get testosterone, but I could do that.

and there was some euphoria there, don't get me wrong. I still very much so enjoy walking around in the oversized shorts I bought that make my hips look like a rectangle.

but like ! seeing my body as Both, conceptualizing myself as Both, changed things.

I didn't Have to get rid of my boobs ! I could even Like Them. and I did, for the first time I did.

I look at my body now, the way I'm shaped, the way my face looks, things that I'd looked at before and at best felt Nothing, And I'm Happy. I think about the way I'll look when I get to take testosterone And I'm Happy.

but to Them (to these people who are so determined to see people different from them as anything but people) they can only conceptualize the things that I've described as belonging To Them.

I talk about My happiness with My body and they clip it to complain about how I'm Sexualizing them. how I'm Fetishizing. like it isn't My Body that we're describing. why is it sexual to like my boobs? why is Sexual to like my face? why is my body inherently sexual to them?

it's ! weird !!!

genuinely, how is this different from accusing a trans woman of autogynephilia. oh, you're comfortable in your body when you present this way? Well That's Obviously A Fetish. except this sexualizing of ME is being framed as a sexualization of THEM because of the Crime of pointing out that we have anything in common.

because they don't see My feelings as real, so if I insist that I'm anything like them then I Must be saying that their feelings aren't real either.

they are somehow being transmisogynistic, transandrophobic, And exorsexist all at the same time.

which is Exactly why I've emphasized again and again: hating trans men is just being a transphobe. it doesn't matter if you yourself are trans, this mindset is transphobic. because you can't hate a trans group for their trans identity without being transphobic. and this is a perfect example of Why.

The post that was screenshot: [Link] This post with the reply by catgirlforeskin: [Link] A convenient post that I wrote going into it about my gender yesterday: [Link]

obviously I would suggest reading the original post, as it has context for what was being said in those screenshots.

ahem

So Like, We Just Hate People Who Aren't Binary Huh?

We See Someone Come Out About Being Genderqueer And Talk About Their Own Presentation And Sense Of Self On Their Own Post And It's Immediately Responded To With "You're Fetishizing Trans Women By Thinking That You Have Anything In Common With Them."

let's review !

1: I made a Vent Post where I responded to a Cis Person, I made my own post and crossed out their username because I didn't feel like they did anything Wrong, but I wanted to discuss my feelings on it anyways!

2: these feelings were that it's upsetting that people don't seem to think about the trans perspective when discussing gender Stuff, or how marginalization in general plays a factor when discussing representation in media.

3: within Two Notes I got someone crawling into my replies and dms to talk down to me for being trans masc, so I expressed frustration that That's something that happens to me.

4: THEN somebody responded to That to insist that me expressing frustration about people lashing out at marginalized men was harmful to trans women.

you'll notice ! I was a trans person speaking about my own feelings on my own post, responding to a cis person and someone who explicitly harassed me. I did not mention trans women in this post, because it was a vent post. I explicitly say in my response to that post different kinds of trans people venting about their experiences does not imply or take anything away from other sorts of trans people.

so ! what we're left with is !

1: people being Furiously Angry that I would say that all trans people are capable of being hurt and that all trans people deserve to speak about their feelings, enough to rip things out of context and lie

2: People Just Unironically Saying With Their Entire Chest That A Trans Person Who Considers Themselves Both Masculine And Feminine Is Transmisogynistic, Because Being Genderqueer Implies That You Don't See Trans Women As Real Women. Somehow.

so like. where do we go from here huh.

firstly, there's an awareness. I need people to be Aware that this is something that is happening. that we've reached a point where people hate trans mascs so much that they're willing to tear them down for talking about Their Feelings in response to Cis People.

that we've reached a point where people get so blindly Angry when someone suggests that trans people should all be treated with dignity and respect that they're willing to act like this.

I Need people to share things like this, even if it's not this post specifically. because I Need People To Understand the kind of vitriol and hatred that trans mascs are facing simply for being visible At All.

if people aren't aware then they Will end up supporting and spreading this kind of harassment without realizing.

[writing-good-vibes]

get a load of this trainwreck: bonus content

a little extra from the "vincent has a breakdown" fic i wrote expanding on a tag i left. warning for angst but nothing major and the briefest mention of (prescription) drugs.

Bo always wakes up first, and after the turmoil of the night before, he isn't surprised when it takes Vincent even longer than usual to stir.

It's long after the haze of the morning as dispersed when Bo feels Vincent's breathing hitch with some form of alertness.

"Feel better this mornin'?" Bo mutters.

Vincent only shrugs, twisting the blanket up around his face, probably intending to just go back to sleep.

"Well, I'm gonna get up, but I'll be around the house," Bo promises. He rubs Vincent's shoulder and rolls out of bed. Vincent is still in his clothes from the day before. Bo stretches, the rough material of Vincent's clothes having left creases on his skin compared with the worn out pyjamas' he'd already been sleeping in when Vincent woke him up.

Vincent doesn't seem too offended by his leaving, so he creeps away, opening and closing the door as quietly as possible as to not disturb the fragile tranquillity of the room.

Once alone and, making his way down the hall, Bo lets out a sigh. Heavy and weary. Fuck, he thinks.

He tries to maintain at least some of his routine, get dressed and have a coffee at least, but he feels like he's working against an unseen clock and he has no idea when the countdown will come to an end.

Searching in one of the downstairs closets, he pushes aside boxes of junk and piles of coats and hats and scarves that they'd hidden away for the summer.

Beneath it all he finds a spare tool kit. He'd go down to the garage, but time is of the essence and he can't afford the brisk walk that he really wants right now.

Instead, he makes do with what he has, finding the screwdriver he is looking for and heading back upstairs.

He goes into the bathroom at the end of the hall and looks around. No immediate evidence of the night before. That is, until he sees the hairline crack in the mirror, splitting it almost evenly down the middle.

It's an easy enough job. Bo just unscrews the cabinet door at the hinges and takes the whole thing off. He steps back to look at it. Three small shelves of pill bottles and band aids and the ointment they use when their scars start acting up.

He does the same with the cabinet in the downstairs bathroom. Then he takes down the mirror in the living room and replaces it with a landscape -- he's pretty sure it's one of Vincent's own cast-offs that he used for practice but never really cared about.

That should do.

With the pressure gone, Bo hauls the three mirrors under his arm and sets off to the garage. The air is humid and he can feel his palms sweating against the silvered glass.

He stores them down in the basement. He thinks he ought to smash them, get rid of them entirely, but you never know when these things might come in handy.

[crossroadsdimension]

I’m still rolling around in analysis mode with Trigun Stampede, and I remember folks familiar with the serious complaining about how much of Vash’s backstory gets revealed.

Except...while there is a lot that’s blatantly said, it doesn’t outright confirm what old Trigun fans already know.

Here’s what we know so far in the first 3 episodes, if you’re coming in as a newbie:

-He was a kid living on a colony ship when the crash happened

-He has a brother named Nai (going by Knives) who is absolutely off his rocker and wants the Plants to survive more than the humans on this desert world. (I mean, just look at Ep 3 again if you think I’m wrong)

-Vash is something more than human (my dad, who is watching this with fresh eyes, thinks that Vash is a cyborg because of the circuitry). Other than his appearance, how quickly he moves and how well he can avoid bullets even while scrambling around like a clown in Ep 2 makes this clear.

-Vash has excellent eyesight and sharpshooting skills, considering he isn’t using a sniper rifle to shoot at EG Mine’s feet as the man sat on his perch in Ep 3, and a single boulder and a single bullet can destroy an entire cluster bomb. Considering how quickly he probably had to calculate how big of a boulder to throw and where to hit it, that means he’s got a very good brain between his ears. (Whether or not he uses it, though....)

-Vash doesn’t want people to know he’s skilled. He said in the first episode that destroying that cluster bomb was all luck on his part.

-Vash is terrified of his brother. It’s a through line in the first three episodes that culminates with Knives showing up. Anyone inexperienced with the series probably thought the piano was pretty until they saw the look of pure terror on Vash’s face, and his shots went very wide when he was shooting at his brother.

-Vash doesn’t like killing/hurting anyone and wants to keep people safe and alive, and he gets furious when someone threatens the status quo because they live for killing others (like EG Mine. I’ve seen that clip of his voice dropping an octave while he points his gun in the bomber’s face, and I know you all have, too).

At best, we could guess that Vash and Knives are enhanced humans, like the two Nebraskas, but with Lost Technology instead of cobbled-together experimental materials. It would explain the “circuitry,” as well as maybe some feelings of betrayal on Knives’ part, if he doesn’t want anything to do with the humans who “re-made” him.

Again, the above is looking at the information the show has given us and extrapolating on what newbies could be thinking. I don’t know if anyone’s actually thinking this or not, but considering my dad’s current perspective....

Here are the things we don’t know because the show didn’t spell it out (putting under a read more if you don’t want to see these questions, and because the post is getting a little long):

-How long it’s been since the crash (or what they even call the crash, because the manga has a name for it!)

-WHAT Vash and Knives are

-The “gate” that Knives talked about, and what Vash might have that mirrors Knives’ abilities (insofar as they’re brothers, at least...I expect some character foil/mirror nonsense)

-Where Millie is (in all seriousness I expect her to show up at some point)

-How Vash lost his arm and where he got the prosthetic

-How Knives knew where Vash was at the end of Ep 1 (it sounded like he was talking to someone....)

-Knives’ long-term goal for himself and the Plants (beyond getting rid of the human “parasites,” as he calls them in Ep 1)

-How far back before the start of the show Vash gained the “Humanoid Typhoon” status

I’m sure there are some other points, but I hope this makes it clear that no, Trigun Stampede does not give us everything about Vash right off the bat. It gives us some points, but not everything. And I’m looking forward to how they reveal everything else as we go along

[the-yoru-whoru]

may i (shamefully) request some nsfw noncon w yandere! sova if that's alright? ur writing is crazy good

( tw- very non con, very rapey, nsfw) ( choking ) ( ur lucky I’ve been thinking about this already for a while now thank you for requesting lol ) ( this is fucking long ) ( Sova is…. Delusional Yandere, but not that violent imo, at least not on purpose. ) ( wanted to practice more dialogue in this )

Sova was always looming over you, smile gentle and kind, but eyes unsettling in a subtle sort of way.

Maybe it was the way his gaze would stalk you as soon as you entered the room. Or the way that they would narrow as soon as another male were to even speak to you.

It could be the way he looked at you with such longing and hunger, or maybe it was just the bright blue eye that made it so creepy.

Either way, you tried to avoid running into Sova on base, even though he’d had done nothing wrong besides look at you intently as if you were one of his targets.

One day you’re cleaning up your room, trying you best to liven up the grey walls that all the agents were given.

You had been trying to string up some fairy lights at the top of the walls, face furrowed in concentration, feet straining from the tippy toes they were precariously balanced on.

Suddeny you feel a very study set of hands grip at your waist, and before you can react you’re hoisted up into the air like you are nothing.

You yelp and squirm for a moment before turning your head back and seeing Sova looking at you with an amused smile. You relax only a bit; he may not be a stranger but he was still someone you didn’t trust.

“Wh-what are you doing in my room?” You asked, tone a bit demanding.

He didn’t take any offence to your hostility, only adjusting his grip on your waist and holding you up even higher, “I heard sounds of you struggling when I was passing by,” His accent is warm and concerned, “I just wanted to help out.”

You press your lips together unhappily, before turning towards the wall to find that you are indeed, closer to the ceiling, and able to hang the lights up with ease. You work quickly, and Sova is quiet behind you, his hold on you never flattering even for a moment.

When you finish, you wriggle in his grasp, “I’m finished. You can let go now.”

The man gives a nervous laugh at your coldness, but puts you down, although rather hesitantly. When he lets go you can still feel the warmth of his hands on your sides, Sova’s touch still lingering on your skin.

“Alright, thank you. I can do the rest on my own.” You say quickly, taking a peek at your door which was unfortunately closed.

He’s looking at you again in that strange way that he does, eyes filled with a certain wildness that betrays the pleasant smile that everyone on base seems to trust except you.

“Why so eager to get rid of me?” He inquires, taking a step forward that should be non-threatening but just makes your heart jump, “Have I done something to upset you?”

Just his mere presence makes your room feel tiny, makes it feel like he’s taking up every corner with just the strength of a seasoned warrior.

You shake your head, and mirror him, taking a meek step backwards, “No! You haven’t done anything wrong, I just don’t know you all that well…”

He closes the distance between you too far too soon, “We can change that…darling.” He murmurs.

You narrow your eyes. You knew he was a creep! Knowing you weren’t just imagining the whole thing brings at least some peace to your mind. You raise your arms to push him away from you, planning to march straight to Sage’s office and file a complaint, but Sova suddenly has both your wrists pinned to the wall, movements faster then you could comprehend. Your back hits the cold metal of the wall hard, and you don’t have the reaction time to fight back.

He looks at you, smile all but gone, “You need not be so aggravated. I’m not going to do you any harm. In fact, I would tear apart anyone who even dare lay a finger on someone as beautiful and sweet as you.”

You’re stunned into silence by his confession. Then you glare at him, “I can take care of myself. Don’t touch me.”

He makes a displeased sound, and you swear his eye shines a brilliant blue before he’s swooping down to kiss you.

Your hands struggle against his iron grip to no avail, face moving frantically side to side to avoid him.

“S-stop!” You manage to gasp out, but he only lets out a low growl that has you freezing up in place.

When you stop moving he pushes in again, lips soft and gentle against yours, but there’s an air of desperation to it. Like a man starving he doesn’t stop, and you feel your eyes well up from the unwanted contact.

Finally he pulls away, gasping for air. You can feel his hot breath on his face, the soft tingling of the kiss still on your lips.

“You taste even better then I expected,” He managed to breathe, eyes now full of wonder.

His words make you cringe, “Fuck off. I hate you,” You spit out.

“Now now,” He coos as if you’re simply an angry kitten, “You don’t really mean that.”

You feel like if you say more it wouldn’t matter anyways, he was clearly delusional; this was way beyond an extremely persistent crush.

Your wrists are sore, “Okay fine. Just let me go and we can talk about this, Sova.”

He lights up, as if your slight compliance is a sign that you’re finally coming around.

“Alright, let’s talk. Please just listen to me,” He says slowly, and you nod.

When he releases you, the first thing you do is rub at your sore wrists, staring at the ring of red that circles it. How easily was he able to wrap his hand around you? You glance at his hands, and then your own.

Sova still stares at you, hair slightly disheveled and chest rising and falling in a strange manner. Like he was in a trance just by being near you.

It was creepy.

You just want to dash around him, into the hall, and get to the others, where you know you’ll be safe.

But a lot of the agents have already gone on a mission, and the few that remained may not even be in any of the public living spaces of the base either; they could be in their rooms, which meant you’d have to knock on every door just to find someone who could talk some sense into Sova.

You were scared. This room was too small. This man was too strong. You were alone.

“I’ve always admired you,” Sova starts dreamily, oblivious to the turmoil in your head, “You’ve gotten the prettiest eyes, the most delicate of hands, and a voice that very well be compared to that of a siren.”

On the outside you nod politely, but in your mind you are cringing again, trying not to let your uncomfortableness show.

He mistakes your silence as flustered speechlessness, “There’s even more to love about you; from the way you hum to yourself when you walk around base, to the soft noises I hear when you’re fast asleep.”

You freeze, “Wait, you listen to me when I’m asleep?”

Sova doesn’t even look guilty, instead he has the nerve to give you an amused smile, “You do need to learn to lock your door properly every night, don’t you?”

That pit in your stomach just gets heavier and heavier with every word that comes out of his mouth.

“What the fuck—get away from me!” You can’t help from yelling out, trying to walk around him quickly.

Then you’re weightless, hands grabbing onto your waist not unlike before, but this time you are lifted high into the air, before being brought down onto the plush blankets of your bed, your landing sending your hair about and disheveling your clothes. You bounce against the mattress and scramble to get up.

But Sova is quick to climb on top of you, pinning you down with his weight alone, “I said listen to me,”

He doesn’t sound angry, only frustrated, the crease of his brow turning inwards, eyes stern and piercing.

Two thick forearms surround your head, and you can feel the overwhelming warmth radiating from his body.

You know it’s futile to fight him, “Sova…”

“I need to show you,” He says suddenly, abruptly, “I need to show you how much I love you. Then you’ll understand, won’t you, love?”

You feel even more helpless, especially when he presses his face near yours, till you’re nearly touching noses.

“N-no! Get off of me!” You weakly push at his chest, but he doesn’t move an inch.

One of his hands goes down to fiddle with the hem of your shirt, and you start thrashing in desperation.

Sova’s patient expression suddenly breaks, “Stop moving. Please dear.”

He looks strangely sad, but doesn’t make any move to pull away.

Even with your struggling he manages to peel your top off of you, eyes immediately trailing downwards and taking you in with a shaky breath.

“Wow,” he says over the sounds of your wriggling and moving, “You are even more breathtaking like this. So soft…”

His fingers brush over the swell of your chest and you grimace, trying to shake the tears out of your eyes.

“Sova please,” You plead with him again, “We can talk about this I—”

“I already tried to talk to you about it,” He interjects, eyes still staring at the now empty expanse of your skin, “You didn’t want to listen, so we have to do this the hard way.”

But he doesn’t sound all too sad about it; in fact, his face is basically glowing, a small smile growing on his face the more he touches and fondles with you.

Tired of struggling, you all but grow still, feeling detached from yourself as you watch Sova bring his hand lower, hovering over the waistband of your shorts.

You almost want to laugh when he looks back at you with a questioning look, “May I?”

There’s a pause.

“Does it even matter what I say?” You manage to scoff weakly.

He ponders your response for a moment, “I suppose not,”.

You try not to tremble as he carefully pulls your shorts down, listening to the sharp inhale he makes. He tosses the clothing somewhere behind him.

He full-on groans; voice deep and guttural, and you shake in his arms.

“Look at how perfect you are,” he murmurs softly, “I’ve dreamt of this for so long.”

Worn and calloused hands drift over your body, touching and stroking at your thighs and waist.

It felt so intimate. And in a way, that was worse then if he’d just thrown you down and started fucking you.

Sova shifts on top of you, and you can feel the hard bulge that nudges up against your leg.

But he seems content to simply run his hands over you, touching and prodding like it’s his first time.

Lower and lower his hands go, until one of his fingers hooks around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down agonizingly slow.

“Please don’t do this,” You beg quietly, one last time.

He doesn’t stop his tender movements, “I’ll make it feel good. I promise.”

Then he’s pressing a thick finger between your legs, the sudden sensation making you yelp.

Sova starts pushing it inside of you, “God, you sound so good. Look at this cunt; so needy and tight just for me.”

You shaking your head side-to-side, eyes watering from the intrusion.

“F-fuck you,” You manage to say, and Sova’s pleased smile turns into a disappointed frown.

You watch in spite as one of his hands goes up and rests on your throat, not squeezing, but the heavy weight of it is enough to make you fall silent.

“For now, the only sounds I want to be hearing are your moans and cries. No more lying to me, alright?”

When you don’t respond that hand tightens dangerously around your neck, “Alright?”

You start nodding your head as best as you can while in his grasp, already scrambling for air. The hand loosens, but remains resting on your throat.

He nuzzles your face lightly, kissing your cheeks softly, “Good… that’s my girl.”

The finger pressing at your entrance starts pumping in and out of you, and it feels thick enough that you’re terrified of what it’ll feel like when it’s replaced by his cock.

Meanwhile Sova looks like he’s in bliss, lips slightly parted, eyes half-lidded, and the gentle hold on your neck possessive and heavy.

He starts to become rougher, and the next time he plunges inside of you it’s with two fingers rather then one.

“Y-you can take this? Yes?” He says almost desperately.

You shake your head but he just tightens his grip again until you start nodding, fuzzy black edges entering the sides of your vision. Only when he sees you agree does he loosen up again.

His fingers are jackhammering out of you, lewd sounds filling the room, his flushed face so eagerly focused on yours.

Finally he stops, but not before tasting at one of his fingers, “God… you taste so good. I cannot wait any longer, I’m sorry.”

But he doesn’t sound sorry. You refuse to look as you hear the telltale sound of a zipper, and the soft rustling of clothes. How he manages to pull out his cock with one hand you don’t know, but you’re too focused on the hand still wrapped around your neck to think about the logistics of it.

Plus, you don’t have to look to know that he was big.

He rubs his heavy cock against your thighs, smearing precum against your skin, and you hear him inhale sharply.

“I’m going to make love to you now, okay?” He tries to sound gentle but you can sense the anticipation in his tone, “If it hurts you tell me okay? We’ll take a break.”

You don’t even try arguing with him. Even though he isn’t squeezing down his hand makes it hard to think straight, makes it hard to get proper oxygen. You feel dizzy and light-headed, and everything he is saying contrasts what he’s doing so much.

Sova pushes in slowly, letting out a long, satisfied groan.

You keep waiting for him to stop thrusting in. You wait for his balls to line up against your hips, for him to finally bottom out.

But it’s not until he’s nudging up against your cervix that he slows down, the hand around your neck trembling with what you could assume was restraint; his hips were twitching, and he looked like he wanted nothing more then to fuck you into the mattress and chase the pleasure.

“C-can I move now? Does this feel good?” His voice is shaking.

Your voice sounds weak and small even to yourself, “No… stop…”

It’s clearly not what he wants to hear, because his expression turns pained, the hand around your neck tightening until you’re pulling at his arm helplessly.

“Quiet now,” He shushes you over your whimpers, “It’ll feel good, darling, just wait.”

When he moves you feel a jolt of pain, every thrust making you feel so full and so small.

He starts fucking into your heat earnestly, moans and groans filling the room, his hips slamming into your in an almost inhuman pace. His blue eyes glowing brighter then ever, and his hand is slowly crushing your air pipe.

He doesn’t even seem to realize how much he’d been gripping your neck until your eyes are rolling up into your skull, and the only thing you can feel and hear is his constant thrusting, the dull ache you feel when he hits your cervix, and the harsh moans he makes with every stroke.

“Oh!” He suddenly lets go of your throat, surprised, “I’m sorry, love, I-I didn’t mean to hold down so hard.”

He looks genuinely apologetic, despite the fact that he’s still 10 inches inside of you, using your body for his own pleasure.

“It’ll be alright,” He says soothingly, brushing a hand against the bruise you can feel forming on your skin.

You keep quiet.

“But I have to admit,” He can’t stop the arousal that seeps into his voice, “You do look so pretty all marked up like this.”

You cry out when he shoves his dick particularly hard, and you can hear the hoarseness of your voice.

You watch Sova’s face contort into pleasure, “And you feel so good. Like your body was made to take me; I just know it, you and I are fated to be together forever, nothing will change that, my love, you are mine and I am yours and I promise I will make you happy and content and—hng!” He frantically spews sweet nothings, speed increasing, sweat slicked hair sticking to his forehead, and his cock starting to twitch inside of you.

You really don’t want him to cum inside, but before you can even try protesting, you feel his warm cum fill your insides, his hands going down to grip at your waist so hard your bones felt like they were creaking under the pressure. He dug into you, pressing as deep as he could, panting and groaning above you.

“Please take my cum, darling. I want to fill you up so bad. Please please please…”

It felt like it would never end, spurt after spurt, until the skin between your thighs was also sticky from the semen that managed to leak out of you.

After a moment, Sova pulls out slowly, and you cry out in pain, soreness already spreading throughout your body.

This man is quick to comfort you, holding you close in his arms, pulling you up so you can openly sob into his chest.

“It’s alright now,” He says quietly, deep voice sending a rumble through his body, “I’m here. I love you so much. Now you see. I love you so much I feel as if my life has no meaning without you in my sights. You are the air that I need to breath; without you I’d rather end my own existence then spend a day not by your side.”

He pulls you away so he can look you in the eyes seriously, “You understand right? Some part of me knows that this is wrong but how can true love ever be wrong? I have nothing but my love for you. And I know you’ll love me too. Because if not…”

You feel a hand start playing absently with the hair on the nape of your neck, “Well, let’s just hope that it doesn’t happen, yes?”

Your mouth stays closed.

Sova smiles at you, beaming, “I knew you’d understand. Now let me take care of you, darling.”

[seungly]

Dancing in the Rain

pairing: husband! Hwang Hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, angst if you squint

wc: 2.7k 

warning/s: cursing, implied social anxiety, use of she/her pronouns.

✎: belated happy birthday to stay’s prince! 

: ̗̀➛ ©seungly 2022

not proofread

-

Hwang Hyunjin, everyone told you to stay away from him due to his reputation, but he has been the best thing that ever happened to you. Being with him was intoxicating, exciting, thrilling; it was always unexpected. 

He is poison as one might say, yet a deadly substance you’re willing to consume over and over again. You love him, and you will for as long as your heart beats. 

“Reservation is in 30 minu- wow...” you jumped at your lover's sudden appearance, causing you to drop the eyeliner, “Oops~” you turn to frown at him as he makes his way to you.

“My make-up is ruined.” your frown turns into a pout which made Hyunjin laugh, “Not funny, Hwang.” you turn back to the mirror, grabbing a make-up wipe to fix the crooked line.

“In my defense, you’re also a Hwang and you’re still absolutely gorgeous!” he grinned. 

You roll your eyes at the taller man behind you. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling his arms slither around your waist. You drop the wipes in the bin beside the dresser before turning around to face him again, “I’m only forgiving you because it’s your birthday.” your hands are flat against his chest.

“Great! can I have a kiss?” he leans closer just enough for the tip of your noses to meet, “I’m gonna kiss you now.” you let out a chuckle before closing the gap between you.

Your hands travel from his chest to his nape, arms wrapped around his neck as he pulls you closer. One of his hands made its way to the back of your head to deepen the kiss while yours intertwine in his hair, tugging it slightly just to feel him groan against your lips. Your lips tug into a smile as you pull away, “You wanna be late?”

“For you? absolutely!” he laughs, “I’d rather we stay here now.” a smile on his face while he admires your incomplete make-up, gently tucking the loose hair behind your ear.

You’d love to stay at home as well, laying down in the arms of your love while watching a sappy rom-com. Although the offer is quite tempting, you rid of it to the back of your head knowing you’ve been waiting for this day. You had the night planned and no kiss will take those efforts away, not even his. 

“We have to leave in a few minutes, wait for me downstairs to avoid further...distractions.” You plant a last kiss on his lips before fixing his shirt and sending him out the door. 

You shake away the longing feel of his lips against yours to finally finish your make-up. You take one more look at yourself, nervously running your hands on the silky fabric of your red dress then fixing your slightly disheveled hair. It felt like prom all over again—except he married you.

With one last glance at the mirror, you let out a sigh in an attempt to lessen the nervousness then made your way downstairs. “My offer to stay home still stands?” he chuckled, meeting you at the foot of the stairs. Hyunjin couldn’t help but bite his lip when he saw you walking down the stairs, he was almost—almost lost for words.

“You’re completely hopeless.” you roll your eyes playfully, grabbing ahold of his arm, “We can still make it!”

You were sure Hyunjin was a gift from the gods. You couldn’t help but adore him when his one hand gripped the steering wheel while the other holds your thigh, gently caressing the smooth skin to help lessen the anxiousness you were distressed to hide. 

You wondered how he always knew whenever you were getting anxious, but then he does know how anxious you get whenever you’re in public. Hyunjin has taken note of how you always seem to be overthinking whatever people may notice about you; how self-conscious you were in social situations. He knows he’s not able to take that away from you so he’d always do his best to lessen it. 

“Your legs, baby.” he snaps you out of your thoughts with a motion of his head, you had been bouncing your legs again along with scratching your arm. You let out an almost inaudible thanks. Hyunjin’s hand held yours, lightly squeezing it, “You look beautiful, I promise.” he smiles to himself feeling lucky.

“am I showing too much skin?” you give him a crooked smile.

“Stop worrying so much. You’re perfect, okay?” he glances at you for a moment, “We’re almost there. It’s gonna be fine.” 

“I have the night planned for us, I hope it goes well,” you whisper to yourself but enough for Hyunjin to hear.

“I’ll love whatever you have planned for us. Plus, I already have an amazing wife and nothing else can top that.” he glances at your hands, quick enough to intertwine your fingers. The difference between your hands made him laugh.

You pay no mind and continue to watch the city lights. The moon was beautiful and so were the stars. You were occupied with watching the tiny dots in the sky twinkle that you didn’t realize you’ve arrived. You only noticed when the car stopped moving.

It was fancier than you expected. A large chandelier hung in the middle of the room as people sit with their friends, family, significant others. Hyunjin’s arm was wrapped around your waist until you were shown to your table where Hyunjin holds out the chair for you. You smile at him, fixing your hair. 

The waiter holds out a menu for the both of you which you gladly take. You couldn’t take your eyes off of the fancy decors around the room, especially the chandelier that had caught your attention from the moment you walked in. It was beautiful. 

“Should I call the waiter?” you hear Hyunjin chuckle. You gave him a smile as you nod. Soon the waiter walked to your table and wrote down your order.

“How are you feeling?” you worry the place would be too much or not enough for his taste.

“I reassure you, everything is great so far.” he holds out his hand for you to take, “So don’t worry so much.” he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on it.

“Okay.” you let out a sigh, “but if anything is bothering you-”

“I’ll be sure to tell you, alright? so calm your pretty head.” he lets out a short laugh.

“Your fault for marrying such a nervous wreck.” you watch as his eyes crinkle into crescents, letting out yet another laugh.

“You know I wouldn’t want anyone else.” he eyes the ring on your finger. It fitted you perfectly, whenever he looks at you he sees the same girl he fell in love with in high school. Though your appearance improved, you were still the same girl he loved back then and he means that in the best way possible. 

“Why are you looking at me like that, Jinnie?” you worry, “oh no is it the make-up?” you quickly reach for your purse,

“No no no! not at all. Your make-up is perfect.” he laughs, “I was just thinking about, well...about you.”

“W-what about me?” you smile nervously, fidgeting with your fingers.

“How you’re still the 8th-grade Y/N I nervously gave those daisies to.” you smile at the memory, encouraging him to tell more, “I remember getting pushed to you by Seungmin because—and I quote: It’s not that hard to give flowers to a girl, you coward.” you both burst into a fit of laughter at the recalled memory but mostly because Seungmin was never to confess how he felt for someone.

“How brave of you then.” you giggle, “at least you didn’t trip on your own foot while giving a letter.” 

“You were adorable.” he recalls the memory, “I remember it so vividly. That must be a core memory.”

“One of your core memories is your 8th-grade crush tripping to give you a letter?” you puzzle, scrunching your nose.

“Yes, cause I got to hold her after.” you scoff, “It’s true! after you tripped, I held your hand for the first time and I’ll never forget how cute you looked embarrassed.” 

“Well now you get to see me embarrassed all the time.” you pout, crossing your arms. Hyunjin only send you a wink which made you blush furiously, “Hyunjin!” 

“Oh I’m sorry there must’ve been something in my eye.” he winks again this time to annoy you. You roll your eyes at him, but the smile on your face tells him otherwise.

Not long after the banter, the waiter arrived with your food. You would exchange memories you’d recall from your high school days, laughing at them. The immature fights you’d have when you started dating in the early months of 10th grade. 

You started dating Hyunjin in 10th grade but had to break up with him in the first year of college since your relationship was affecting your studies. Then ever since you broke up, Hyunjin was supposedly known as the biggest casanova around the halls, but it turned out untrue. Hyunjin is undoubtedly a charming man so when people found out you broke up, the ladies swarmed him like bees, but a particular one he turned down was Ga-ram. Let’s just say she didn’t take the rejection quite lightly so she started a rumor that was fast to go around.

You believed them for a while before Hyunjin ran after you, rebuffing those rumors. You then promised each other that when everything gets better, you’d get back together again. 

and you did.

Although you can stay in the restaurant for as long as until it closes, you had other things planned so as soon as you finished dinner, you paid the bill and left. 

The moment your skin meets the cold wind outside, Hyunjin hurriedly took his blazer off to drape it over you “Alright, where are we off to next??” he grins, hands in his pants pockets.

“I was thinking we should go overlooking.” you clutch the blazer, pulling it to hug your frame, “I can’t believe you didn’t remind me to bring my jacket.”

“So I can give you my blazer.” he gives you a sly smile, “So where are we going?”

“Ah, it’s a walking distance so let’s just go back for the car later.” you hold out your hand, ”and I also happen to know you’re a sucker for clichés.”

“No I’m not!” he denies yet smiles as he slips his hand in yours, “So where do we go?” 

You tug on his arm, leading him to your destination. You take a moment to watch his eyes turn to crescents as he follows you, hand in hand. You notice the pinkish hues that painted his cheeks and nose along with it his disheveled hair, and despite the sweat on his forehead, he still appeared god-like. 

Your walk came to a halt when Hyunjin stopped in his tracks, “It’s raining.”

You scoff, “No it’s not.” you were completely wrong. The droplets of rain started pouring faster and heavier, “W-we’re till quite far!” you shout over the noise of the rain.

“The car is far from here already!” he laughed, “There’s no place for cover, what do we do?” he questions, searching the surroundings for any cover you could squeeze in.

You stood helpless under the pouring rain, eyes already watering as you eye your lover from beside you. He was completely drenched, you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore. You sob in your hands, feeling at fault for his ‘ruined’ birthday.

Hyunjin was fast enough to notice your sobbing figure, “Why are you crying?” lets out a low chuckle, pulling your drenched figure to his. The rain wasn’t strong enough to be a storm but it was heavy enough to drench every surface it laid on. 

“I ruined your birthday.” you sob in his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You can’t control the weather, Y/N.” he smiles, drawing circles on your back, “We can be like the Notebook!” he chuckles.

“but that’s sad.” you scoff, lifting your head to face him.

“no, it was beautiful.” his hands gently cup your face, enveloping it in the warmth of his palms while he softly runs his thumb along your cheek, “I don’t need to go overlooking to see the best view.” 

“You’re such a sucker for sappy clichés.” you give him a weak smile, “What do you suggest we do now?” you poke your bottom lip out, staring worriedly into his eyes.

“Dance with me?” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips before pulling away to hold out his hand.

You giggle at his antics but wasted no time slipping your hand in his. Hyunjin intertwines your fingers with his; his other hand taking a hold of your free hand to place it on his shoulder then holding your waist. 

He sways the both of you one step at a time, following the beat of his heart. The noise of the rain though some may say is just plain noise, creates a beautiful composition. 

You let out a light-hearted laugh that made Hyunjin’s heart swell. He had only seen these in movies how the lovers would dance under the pouring rain. He thought of it as silly, but not when it’s with you. “Twirl me.” you giggle.

Hyunjin nodded, twirling you until his arms wrap around you. He pulls you close to him, head resting on your shoulder as he lets go of your hand to place his on your waist. You continue to sway to the pitter-patter of the raindrops, enjoying the unexpected comfort of the empty street and pouring rain. 

You turn around to face him, a sly smile on your face as you run your hands on his clothed chest. Your eyes that were once mirroring his, slowly travel their gaze to his soft, smooth lips. You lean forward to meet his lips, only for his to meet you halfway. 

Hyunjin grips on your waist, steadying you on your toes. The kiss sends sparks into your body, your hand snakes its way to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss, deep enough to make you dizzy in his arms. He pulls away slightly from you, “I’m so glad I married you...” he let out a breathy chuckle, panting from the heat of the kiss.

“I can’t believe you did.” you mirror his breathless state, mind spiraling as you try to recover from the kiss.

“I’d do it all over again.” he pulls you in for another dizzying kiss. 

The rain doesn’t stop pouring, but your drenched frames are no obstacle to finding each other’s lips. Hyunjin’s hold was protective, yet careful as if you’d break. He pulls away to catch his breath only to steal one last kiss from you. He lets go of you gently, watching your eyes flutter open. 

He adores the way you look post-kiss. Your cheeks flushed red and he couldn’t catch your gaze, “I- we should go back... back to the car!.” you laugh nervously, still avoiding his gaze.

Hyunjin tilts his head in amusement at your behavior, “We’ve been married for 5 years, and you still get shy.” he giggles at your adorableness.

“S-So? I’m just... taken aback that’s all.” you finally meet his gaze.

“You’re so cute.” he smiles.

“I’m sorry your birthday is a huge bust.” you pout, pulling his arm in the direction of your car, “Weatherman said no rain today.”

“I don’t mind. I got to make-out with my insanely beautiful wife in the rain.” he pulls you into an embrace, “Just kidding. That was just a bonus. We could just sit on the sidewalk and eat burgers if you wanted to and it’d still be my best birthday.” he laughs.

“You don’t mind that we’re completely drenched? and so will your car be in a few minutes?” you tilt your head.

“No, cause my amazing wife will help me dry it when we get home.” he grins, “ but really, thank you for another amazing birthday.” he continues to hold your hand as you walk.

“You’re welcome, Jinnie.” you pause for a moment, walking a little faster to catch up with him, “I love you.” you hug his arm, leaning your head against his shoulder as you continue to walk through the rain.

“I love you so much!” he playfully bonks your head with his, “Would you marry me again if I asked you?” he waits quietly for your answer.

“Over and over again, Hwang.” 

-

[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (1): Suspension (Fem!Reader x Toji Fushiguro, 5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: One of your favourite students has been suspended for fighting, and Gojo has palmed off the meeting with his guardian to go through all of the paperwork and facts and conditions on you. “Don’t worry,” Gojo says. “It’ll be Megumi’s sister, she always takes care of this kind of stuff!”. Gojo is wrong.

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. dom/sub dynamics, light fearplay and predator/prey elements. piv sex.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

1.

“I’ve got all these other parents to deal with,” Gojo whines at you, pushing the papers into your hands. “And I hate paperwork, and I don’t have time to meet with Megumi’s family today – hell, if it were up to me, the kid wouldn’t even be suspended! Those guys had it coming!”

Gojo is not a very good teacher. Both of you know that – no matter how justified – violence never solves violence. Gojo, you think, would let these kids fight it out in an arena instead of solving things like an adult. You heave a large sigh as you look down at the papers detailing Megumi Fushiguro’s three-day suspension for fighting during school hours.

You’d seen Megumi before he’d gone home. He hadn’t had so much as a scratch on him; his face set in a frown, his arms crossed, his eyes downcast. You’d sighed at him and asked him if he was alright, and he’d shrugged.

He’s not a very talkative boy at the best of times, and you suppose that the suspension and the fight and the mini uproar it had caused in the school aren’t helping be any more verbose. You’d said goodbye to him and said that you hoped he thought about what had transpired today, your heart aching a little bit that you couldn’t be any more help to him.

You’d seen the three boys Megumi had got into a fight with, too. They had not gotten off so scot-free – they were bleeding noses, scraped cheeks, bruised eyes. At the very least, you don’t think any of them will get on Megumi’s wrong side again.

Gojo has to meet with all three of their parents tonight to give them the full story of why their children are so roughed up and what’s being done about it; a position that’s been doled out to him, you’re sure, because Principal Masamichi blames him for the incident and is punishing him. You can’t deny that seeing Gojo actually get punished for something is nice, but--

“Won’t they be mad to see me instead of you?” You ask him, biting your lip. “I mean . . . you’re his teacher. I’m just your aid.”

“Oh,” Gojo’s eyebrows rise behind his glasses. “No, it’ll be Megumi’s sister who’ll come, she’s a sweetheart! She’ll nod at you and say mournfully that she’ll talk to him and you’ll give her the paperwork, and that’s all – job done! Honestly, if I could palm this off on you and talk to Tsumiki instead, I’d do it in a heartbeat--”

“This is your job,” you tell him, exasperated, and he laughs wide and open. You’re not really supposed to get like this with him – if he were any other teacher, you’re sure that the exasperation and sighing and half-snapping you do would have had you thrown out of their class – but Gojo treats your irritation with him as if it’s the funniest thing that has ever happened. “You’re supposed to be good at dealing with this kind of thing!”

He shrugs.

“You’ll be fine!” He tells you, again. “Honestly, this isn’t the first time this has happened with Megumi and it won’t be the last. That kid’s got a right hook that could knock out an elephant!”

You do not ask him how he knows this. Asking too many questions of Gojo is always flirting with danger; you never know when his mouth will flash into a grin and you’ll suddenly be barraged with a flood of words and stories that don’t quite make sense and never seem to have a concrete end. But you can’t resist one last question – just in case it comes up. After all, it seems that Gojo has spoken to Tsumiki enough times for him to at least kind of know her--

“His sister?”

Gojo looks at you, and for a moment the shroud of capricious energy lifts from him, and he seems entirely serious. You’ve noticed this particular change in him only a few times – and often, those times have been about the more difficult backstories of students.

“His father isn’t around very often,” he says, eventually. “He’s some kind of something or other, Megumi never really says, but whatever he does, there’s a lot of travelling involved. Tsumiki’s his older sister – she’s twenty one, and she’s been more of a parent to him than it seems like his dad has.”

No wonder Megumi always seems suspicious and tired of Gojo. Something about his flighty nature probably strokes the back of Megumi’s psyche, where annoyances about an absent father are kept. You sigh, turning away and shaking your head to rid yourself of the idea of psychoanalysing the students.

“Alright,” you say wearily. “I’ll talk to Tsumiki.”

2.

You’re nervous as you set up for the meeting. You know Gojo had said that this would be easy, that Tsumiki was very sweet and would probably apologise to you for Megumi being a problem – but still! This is the first time you’ve ever met any of your students’ guardian figures in any capacity. You feel kind of bad that it had to be for this kind of news, actually – ordinarily, you like Megumi a lot. He’s very intense and serious and clever, and you think that he has a bright future ahead of him when the trials of being a twelve year old boy finally are over – but this meeting isn’t for saying things like that. This meeting is for giving details of the three day suspension that Megumi has gotten for – you check the paperwork again – fighting three boys by himself on one of the sports courts, making them bleed and . . . breaking one of their arms? No wonder Gojo had seemed so miserable at the thought of meeting with the victims’ parents.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, making sure that it still sits as neatly as you’d arranged it that morning. You check the clock to see you still have two minutes before anyone is due – you discreetly check your lipstick in a compact mirror (yesterday you’d had it on your teeth and you hadn’t realised until Mai had pointed it out with a laugh in her voice), smooth out your pencil skirt, tug at your stockings to make sure they’re pulled up and not wrinkling about your ankles . . .

And then, you wait.

The clock is straight across from you, so you’re able to see as Tsumiki is five minutes late, and then ten minutes late, and then fifteen. The tick-tock echoes in the room as your leg bounces against the floor, anxiety making you want to gnaw all of the carefully applied lipstick off of your mouth. From what Gojo had said, this doesn’t sound like Tsumiki at all – you’re just about to give up and pack all of your things away, figuring maybe she’d called into the office to say she couldn’t make it and telling you had been neglected, when the door slams open.

You rush to your feet, your sensible heels clacking on the ground.

“Miss Fushi--”

Your voice peters away.

The person stood in the doorway is, you’re certain, absolutely not Tsumiki Fushiguro.

For one thing, it’s a man. For another thing . . . well. You’re not entirely sure that a man with that expression on his face would ever be described to anyone as a ‘sweetheart’. Your frightened eyes linger on him for another moment, really taking in the broad shoulders and the muscles and the hair falling over his face, the dark, green eyes that are glaring at you like you’ve interrupted something very important. There’s a scar by his mouth that you also do your best not to stare at, just in the same way you avoid staring at how the form-fitting t-shirt he’s wearing clings to a muscled abdomen.

“It’s Mr, actually,” he says, which seems absurd in the face of him, standing there. He raises one eyebrow at you. “You were expecting my daughter, right?”

(You don’t know it, but Toji Fushiguro has gotten a read on you in less than a moment. He’s seen the wide eyes and the pretty mouth and the neatly appointed outfit, the pencil tucked behind your ear, the slightest tremble faced with his imposing presence – the fear as you’d seen the scar and the smoulder and the body. You’re adorable.)

“I . . . uuh--” Your cheeks are hot. You nod, weakly, and he walks into the room proper, the door swinging shut behind him with a deafening click. There’s danger in every one of this man’s movements, like a wolf who has finally cornered a little rabbit. You are feeling inexorably like prey, at this moment in time.

“I was expecting a man,” he says, shrugging. He sits at the chair in front of Gojo’s desk, pulled up just for him. He looks huge in the classroom; his shoulders too wide, his biceps bulging from the sleeve of the shirt. You don’t think this man was intending to be in a school classroom right now. “I guess you’re not Mr Gojo, huh? Gotta say,” he shoots you a grin that’s dangerous, everything about him is threatening. “I much prefer this development.”

“Oh,” you’re blustering, and it’s so cute. You sit back down in the chair with a quiet displacement of air, agitation in your fingers as you rake through the papers on the desk. Said desk is incredibly messy; Toji doesn’t think it’s yours. He ought to feel mad that they’ve palmed him off on some little assistant who’s probably not even fully qualified yet – instead, he’s watching your hands trembling and your teeth nibbling on your pretty mouth. “Y-yes, G-Gojo’s dealing with the parents of the other party--”

“My kid got into a fight, yeah?” He asks. “Decked ‘em pretty good, from what I heard.” You wince at his words, and that’s cute too.

“Megumi’s a good boy,” you say. “He’s just . . . got his own sense of justice, I think.” You look down at the papers, and your eyes seem to focus, back in a more comforting zone. “He’s been suspended for three days, and when he comes back, he’s on probation.”

“What’s that mean for him?” Toji asks, promptly, though something about the way he says it suggests to you he doesn’t really care. There’s a lightness, an airiness in his tone that sets you all off-kilter.

“It just means we’ll probably keep an especial eye on him. He’ll get a report that’ll need signing off on at the end of every period, someone will check up on it--” You see one of Gojo’s scrawled notes in the margin of the paperwork. You wince. “I’ll be in charge of it, actually. Making sure everyone’s happy with his behaviour for a few weeks--”

“How old are you, sweetheart?”

The question makes you jump. You’re like a doe in headlights, looking up at him. You blink slowly.

“I—I don’t think that’s an appropriate question, Mr Fushiguro,” you say, prim. That’s cute, too. He likes breaking prim and proper things like you. “I’m—I’m doing my training. I’m working as an aid here for a year, and then I’ll be qualified to be in charge of my own class.” There’s a hint of pride in your words, there.

“Toji,” he says. “That’s my name. You haven’t gotta call me ‘Mr Fushiguro’. I’m not tryna’ be pushy,” but he’s inched forward. His elbows are resting on Gojo’s desk, in front of you – he rests his chin on his folded hands, sharp eyes regarding you as if you’re something he wants to devour. “Y’just look tense.”

“This is the first time I’ve met a student’s parent,” you admit, though the minute it’s left your mouth you’re regretting it. Like you’re admitting to some kind of weakness. This close to him, you can see there’s a dark red stain on one of his wrists, like dried blood. Your stomach is tying itself in knots. It’s not helping that his forearms are so big, ridged with muscle.

“That so?” His eyes gleam. “What d’ya think of me?”

You don’t actually need to answer him. He can see it in the way your eyes keep nervously skimming over him. The way your lips are shining in the light. The bob of your throat as you swallow.

“Mr Fushiguro--”

“I told you to call me Toji,” his voice is almost mocking. You watch him lean over the table like you’re somewhere far away from the action – watch his hand reach out and cup your face, calloused thumb brushing your cheek, like you’re a ghost in the corner of the room. His palms feel like they’re burning hot. “You’re tremblin’, little lamb.”

You had thought you’d felt like a rabbit – shy, ready to run at any moment. But the moment his hand is on you, you’re docile – too scared to scamper away. You suppose you are like a lamb, staring a wolf straight on in the face, too stupid or too pliant to use your common sense and run.

“I . . . I shouldn’t,” you say, voice trembling just as much as the rest of you. Toji’s smirk hasn’t left his face. You’re saying you shouldn’t, but he just bets if he reached further down and unbuttoned your blouse, your nipples would pebble for him – he just bets there’s a wet stain on your underwear, right now. He can always tell when someone’s turned on by the idea of playing with fire.

“I wouldn’t mind spendin’ a few weeks with you in charge of me,” he muses, and then chuckles humourlessly, correcting himself. “Sorry. Lemme rephrase that. I’d rather be in charge of you, but--”

Oh, he sees that. The little flash in your eyes, an imperceptible contract of your shoulders. If you weren’t behind the desk, he bets he’d have seen your thighs press together too. Girls like you are just so fucking predictable, and he loves it every single time. There’s just something that’s so much fun about breaking them – making them submit, admit that him being so close with the scent of something-that-might-be-death clinging to him turns them on like nothing else. Your attempts at being haughty and polite and proud have just made the stirring between his thighs harder to ignore. You’re such a cute, neat, demure little thing – by the end of this meeting, he’s going to have his way with you, you bet.

“M-Mr Fushiguro,” you say, trying to wrest back control of yourself – honestly, he’s pissed you aren’t listening to him, but the title’s kind of endearing. You’re trying so hard! Pity you’re going to lose all of your manners when you’re bent over this desk with his cock inside you. You haven’t even moved your face away from his hand. “I-I have to give you these papers.”

He stands up, pulling his own touch away from your cheek. Stretches. Your eyes are drawn to the brief expanse of his stomach, just above his trousers – the dark line of hair leading down to . . . Oh, God. You shouldn’t have thought about that. The grin on his face is cocky, and you know that he knows you were looking.

“I’m just gonna throw ‘em in the trash, sweetheart,” he says to you. “Now. Let’s talk about the elephant in the room, yeah?” He steps closer to you. You totter to your feet, half-unsure, half driven by the low ache between your legs and the thrum of desire that’s been reverberating through you since the moment he’d carelessly thrown out how much happier he was to see you than Gojo. You have to tilt your head up a little when he comes closer. You’d thought you realised how massive he was when he’d walked through the door, but that’s nothing compared to how his size seems to dwarf you. Every unkind thought you’ve ever had about your body or your face seems to have gone out of the window as his heated green gaze hungrily drinks you in. You know it’s the stare of some predator who’s going to devour you, and you still feel transformed. Your breath catches in your throat as his hand idly comes to the top of your blouse buttons, a finger brushing the place in your throat where your pulse is beating its unsteady rhythm.

“Whaddya say, little lamb?” He grins down at you. “Gonna let yourself be caught by the big bad wolf?”

You’re supposed to be telling this man about his son’s misbehaviour, giving him all of the paperwork that Gojo had thrust at you, getting him to say he’ll talk to his kid and try and make sure that it won’t happen again. You shouldn’t be tipping your head back further, letting his fingertips lodge dangerously in the hollow of your throat, flirting with the place where your windpipe is. You shouldn’t be breathing out, all of your pretty prissiness and good morals and pride disappearing where you stand in the face of one of your students’ really hot dad.

“Yes,” you breathe.

And Toji wastes no time.

3.

He doesn’t even bother unbuttoning your blouse; just drags his hand down, and the buttons pop off, scattering on the floor. You gasp at the show of strength, and Toji is still grinning, clearly enjoying that you’re admiring him. His hand pulls at the fabric, until your breasts are fair falling out of it, the blouse wrestles off your skin.

“You’re wearin’ something like this at work?” He asks you, giving a tug to the gore of your bra. You hadn’t done enough washing this week, and the one you’re wearing is all filmy white lace. “Almost like you knew I was comin’ huh?” His grin is crooked. You tremble as you reach behind you, undoing the clasp – and for that, you get a murmur of ‘good girl’ that has your knees turning to jelly.

He whistles as the bra drops from you, his gaze admiring. He takes in the spill of your breasts, the little peaks of your nipples. He takes handfuls of them, squeezing them in his big hands, his fingertips digging in so painfully you can imagine that you’ll have bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow. The idea doesn’t disgust you.

He lowers his head to kiss you. He’s not gentle with you for a moment – his teeth immediately nip at your bottom lip, kissing you hungrily like you’re the first taste of sugar for a man who’s lived on nothing but bread for months. His tongue licks at your lips, begging entrance – dancing against your own when you helplessly open those same lips, demanding in the exact same way Toji is.

He pinches your nipple between thumb and forefinger, delighting in how quickly the bud hardens. He rolls it between them, toying with it, enjoying the soft noises you make that get caught in his mouth. If he wasn’t kissing you, he thinks, you’d be bleating like a lamb right now. Huffing and whimpering. When he finally gets his cock in you, he’ll have to remember to clap a hand over your mouth so you don’t attract too much attention.

Your other nipple is given the same treatment, hot lightning bolts of pleasure ricocheting from the touch of Toji’s calloused fingers to the spot between your legs. You’re grateful for how solid Toji is – if he were any less so, you’re sure you’d be buckling over where you stand.

He pulls back with a final, marking nip to your lower lip, almost hard enough to make you bleed. You whine, and a dark chuckle spills out of his lips in response.

“Toji,” you whimper as he pulls away. You miss the feel of his body pressed against yours like a physical ache. His hands encircle your thighs, pushing you up onto the edge of Gojo’s desk, clever fingers already pushing your tight pencil skirt up so it’s bunched around your waist.

He kind of misses ‘Mr Fushiguro’ now it’s gone, but the sight of your stockings digging into your thighs soon chases the thought from his mind. He guesses your skirt is more than long and tight enough to make sure nobody gets a glimpse, but oh . . . that you’d be walking around all day, like that, with nobody to fuck you silly--

He can’t help but let his hands knead the soft skin, the flesh, his thumbs imprinting so hard in the plush that you squirm. He’s pressing your thighs apart, now – revealing the modest underwear, the soaking wet patch where he can see the outline of your plump labia lips.

With your legs spread, he can smell how turned on you are. Oh, yeah – he knows your type, alright.

“Ain’t you cute?” He says, chuckling. “You really want me to do you over this desk?”

“You can’t leave me like this--” Your voice is reedy, breathy, almost petulant – at another time, he’d make you beg for it. He’d take his time over you. But although the idea of being caught fucking the cute little teacher’s aid is briefly appealing, he doesn’t really want to make a whole load of trouble for himself when his cock is practically begging to be sheathed inside your wet holes. “Please--”

It’s the please that does it. It’s always the ‘please’ that does it for Toji. He chuckles, smirks, crooked grin – all of it feels like it’s mixing together in your mind, your throat very dry as nothing seems to matter right now except the fact that your sex is practically pulsing with how empty it is, and you think that the hot hard stiffness pressing against your thighs would really help alleviate some of that.

“Aww,” he says, fiddling with his zip and underwear, grabbing his cock and giving it a cursory pump just so you can admire the sheer size of him. “Don’t worry, little lamb. I’ll give ya what you need.”

He gets what he wants. Your eyes, as big and dark as the eyes of a doe – the soft choke of breath as you get to see the size of it, so big his own fingertips don’t quite meet. It’s the kind of cock that could ruin you for somebody else – and you’ve had sex before, of course, but you’ve never taken anything quite like that--

“That’s cute,” Toji murmurs, pressing forward, nestling his slick cock-head between your soaking wet thighs. “Wish you could have seen what a picture your face made just then. Afraid I’m gonna tear you in two?”

He might – he might, you think. But you pout at him and Toji’s cock throbs, as he glides the slick glans through the mess of your arousal, wetting himself even further. Your breath hitches, your hips doing a cute little jerk as it brushes your swollen clit. He can’t help himself but swirl the head over it some more, making your breath catch and whine, bleating like a little lamb--

He sinks his hips forward, and your fingers flex on the edge of the desk, knuckles white, at the relentless sear of his cock driving you open. You feel so stretched out, and he’s barely a third of the way in – he can’t help but watch your expression. He always likes to see someone the first time they’re impaled on his cock – the glassy eyes, slack jaw, the pleasure-cum-pain in their faces. He wants to take a picture of you and keep it in his wallet so he can pump one out to the sight of you when he’s on business trips and too busy to go out and find himself a hole to fuck.

“How’s that feel?” He asks you, so soft and low that you barely catch it. Another slow inch. He lets you feel every ridge, every vein, every bump of his shaft. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“F-full—” you gasp.

“I bet,” Toji replies – and then, he bottoms out inside you. His eyes look down to where the two of you are joined; the slick fluid leaking out of you, all heat and needy. “You fit me like a glove.”

Your cheeks heat at the compliment, at the lewd way he’s looking at your spread open cunt – the way your hole is fluttering around him, the peeking pearl of your clit. He’s studying you like he wants to learn you by heart.

“Head’s up,” he says. “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You’re about to open your mouth, and ask him what he’s doing right at that moment if he hasn’t started fucking you yet – but then, he’s dragged almost the entire length of his cock out of you in one savage thrust and is immediately spearing it back into you, his pace brutal. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back hitting the solid, flat surface of Gojo’s desk so that you’re flat out with your thighs wrapped around Toji’s hips.

If he weren’t so entranced by the feel of your walls fluttering around him, trying to suck him in further and deeper, so tight that you’re basically a vice, he’d grab you by your hair and force you to stay seated whilst he fucked you. But right now, you feel so good that all he can think about is his own release. The wet sounds of his cock gliding in and out of you, the squelch of your arousal and slick making every pump easier and easier. You feel so good. You’re tighter than he even imagined you could be, so good that he kind of wants to take you home and have you take up permanent residence in his bed.

You’re moaning, your back arching with every one of his thrusts – taking it admirably. There’s pain in your moans, yes – he supposes he could have prepared you better, had you come on his fingers a couple of times, if time were not of the essence – but they’re the pained moans of someone who likes to be hurt a little bit.

With every rock of his cock inside of you, he hits some new spot that you’ve never had stoked before, makes the heat and need inside of you swim just a little bit closer to the forefront. You don’t even notice you’re moaning and whining until a big hand slaps over your mouth, rough, hot palm against your lips, smearing your lipstick.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and stay quiet,” Toji says to you, through those savage thrusts of his cock inside of you. “You don’t want your . . . your fuckin’ . . . anyone walkin’ in on you being railed by your student’s dad, do you?” You shake your head, but he feels the throb of your cunt around his cock, the way your walls contract, and he adds it to the store of things he’s learning about you. Always the quiet ones, right? Always the proper ones who look as though they’ve never even seen a cock--

The feel of him inside you is absolutely dizzying, so much and so full that you can no longer think. His cock batters against a certain place in your channel, a textured wall – and before you know it, everything is going dizzy and black and white like exploding fireworks, your chest bursting into heat, your inner walls getting so tight around Toji as you come that he thinks you’ll be the one to fucking break him.

Oh, you’re adorable, creaming on his cock – the slick gush of your arousal around him, the dreamy cast in your eye, the fact he can feel you drooling against his palm. He increases the speed of his own thrusts, chasing his release through the weak aftershocks and smaller pulses of you around him, through the over-sensitive squirming of your cute little cunt, the fact that tears are pooling in your eyes at how much everything is suddenly feeling--

He groans and the hand still clinging to your thigh is suddenly pressing so hard you think he’ll snap your bone, ragged breath;

“Fu—fuuuck, sweetheart, you’re gonna take it all, that’s right, good girl--” in between belaboured, ragged pumps, his cock twitching as he manages to pull out at the last moment and his release spills all over your thighs, luridly glistening wet in the overhead fluorescent lights.

That’s another moment he’d take a picture of, if he could.

He’s not the kind of man who waits around. He gives himself ten seconds, to catch his breath, to admire your plush thighs painted with his come, before he’s tucking himself back into his trousers and zipping zippers and doing buttons. He shoves his hands into his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet for a second – double checking he’s left nothing of his in the classroom.

Yep. All clear.

He turns to leave, air of cocky confidence back – you only just see the shifting muscles in his back as he turns to go, leaving you where you are. You’re lucky he’s so tall, or you’d probably barely have seen him in front of the door frame (you didn’t even lock the door, anyone could have walked in at any time! You don’t even want to know what Gojo would say if he’d walked in to his aid being fucked like a slut across his desk).

“W-wait,” you say, weakly, still sprawled over the desk with his come cooling on your thighs. You manage to prop yourself up on your elbows, but your entire body feels like it’s just taken a battering. He takes a look back at you from the door, dragging a big hand through his hair, his crooked grin still on his face. You look so pretty like that – all fucked out and messy, the shine taken off of you. “T-the paperwork--”

You’re not sure where said paperwork is. Underneath you, maybe? You hope it didn’t get soaked.

“Told ya’,” he says, dismissively. “I’m just gonna throw it in the trash. Thanks for the fun, sweetheart. See y’around, huh? I should do stuff for the kid’s academic career more often.”

The door slams shut behind him.

[harfanfare]

I saw this post and I was wondering if you write Malleus' too, is okay for you to make that?

How to win a heart of Malleus Draconia?

a/n: I started posting my writings here because I want to improve my English — so I technically wouldn't make this request. But! Someone on Wattpad (where I take requests) asked for the same thing, so I rolled up my sleeves and wrote this guide today in both languages. Enjoy~

1. Don't be afraid of him.

It is said that the first impression is the most important.

So when you first saw this guy walking through the corridor of Diasomnia, it was hard for you to get rid of that view from your head.

Illuminated both by the green magic flames set in the lobby, as well as by the moon, which eventually managed to break through the dark clouds and with a bright glow appear in the windows of the dormitory, he seemed... lonely and beautiful.

You shuddered as you took a step down the hallway and the dark-haired man turned to you. He measured you with his emerald eyes. And then you recognized him; all the conversations about the mysterious and fearsome Malleus Draconia flew through your head.

Everything told you to rush towards the hallway and run as far as possible, but a piece of you found it inappropriate. Or rather, no one would want to chase everyone away from themself... right?

When you realized you were looking at him for a while, you took a deep breath and nod slightly.

"Good evening, Draconia-san," you said quickly. After a while you added, "The moon is beautiful today, don't you think?”

 2. Smile a lot.

Today was a really wonderful day: the test was postponed, your favorite dish was given in the canteen, and for some reason, the last two lessons were canceled – your class had to make just a quick note about a topic and it took less than fifteen minutes.

"Something happened?" Malleus asked, seeing how almost in the jumps you walk past him. When you looked at him, he added, "You smile a lot.”

"I can stop smiling if you want," you made a sad face, but after a while, the corners of your mouth began to tremble uncontrollably and twisted up again. "Oops, I can’t. Today... it was such a good day... that I think I'm slowly using my life's happiness.”

"I didn't say that smiling is bad," he said. "You look so much better when you smile.”

"Oh," you sighed with apparent surprise. "Is it a compliment?"

"It’s rather a fact..?"

 3. From time to time visit him during club activities.

"Is this a class of the ‘Gargoyle research society club’?” with a deaf knock you opened the door. Malleus turned to you, making a break from browsing through the materials gathered in the library about the history of each of the gargoyles on the school grounds. And there were a lot of them.

"Yes," he replied briefly, getting up. "Do you need something, [Name]?"

"Not at all, my club don’t have a meeting today," you said, closing the door behind you.

You looked around: the room was as clean as ever, except for one desk, where were laid several huge volumes about statues in NRC.

“Are you here alone?” You said before you thought. You lowered your eyes to see Malleus nodding unconcerned slightly. You blinked several times trying to think of what else you could say. "This room... could be a secret base," that was the first thing that came to your mind. Malleus turned his head to one side, uncertain of your response.

“A secret base..? Why?”

"I have no idea," you admitted quickly. "But the very existence of a mysterious point is interesting, isn't it? Doing normal things, such as watching movies or just talking, seems more interesting in places like this,” After a moment of silence, you sighed. "You know what, this idea with the base is stupid”

"We can try," he replied with serious tone. You raised your eyes to see how he looked around the room. "But you'll just have to explain this idea to me in more detail. We can also tell Lilia, Silver and Sebek about it...” he smiled as if seeing your five together in his thoughts was a pleasure. "It will be surely... fun.”

 4. Get yourself a Tamagotchi.

"Look!" you spin a new key chain on your finger. You finally stopped and showed it to Malleus. "Now they are matching!”

A small electronic toy, in a dark green screen that, when it flashed, showed a virtual, pixelated animal. You were impressed with how good quality it was made, especially since you only gave the Shroud brothers a sketch of a toy that Malleus owned.

Your keychain was exactly the same, just a different color and with another pet.

Malleus pulled out his own device and put it on the table. He pressed one of the buttons and a small pet appeared on the keychain – a dragon.

"They can now be friends," you brought your toy closer to so-called Gao-Gao Dragon-kun.

"Do you think so?" He asked in a very surprised tone, but it sounded as if in a moment he were about to burst out with an inexplicably joyful and surprised laugh.

"Of course. Everyone needs a decent friend, no?”

 5. Gain the trust of Lilia, Silver and Sebek.

Lilia, one of Malleus' closest people. It is much more likely that you will meet him before Malleus. He will be very proud when he learns that Malleus has found a friend. If you become a taster of Lilia, in terms of his pastries, he will 100% like you, and at 20% you will leave the kitchen alive and well.

Silver, who has mastered the art of sleeping in any conditions. It's easy to get him into your plans, although with the craziest ones he will hesitate. Rather well-disposed towards everyone, he can cover for you when you are not in class— but he usually inadvertently falls asleep and both of you often have penal assignments after school.

Sebek, faithful to Malleus, if he doesn't like you, you won't have too many opportunities to stay by Malleus's side without a thunderous glances at you. He will recognize you if you will listen carefully to his monologues about his master and as a sign of your friendship, he will teach you by heart of all the titles and achievements of Malleus so far.

With this trio by your side, you can get a lot further than you might have imagined...

 6. Be a master in hide and seek.

You’d give your right arm that your breath was too loud.

You pressed your hands to your mouth as you crouched in the corner of the room.

From whose voices you already heard, you knew that Lilia had already found Sebek. This meant that you or Silver would still be helping cook dinner since Malleus didn’t come at the start of the game.

This may seem silly, but the ability to play classic games was one of the elements of the art of survival in Diasomnia.

It was thanks to games like ‘stone-paper-scissors’, hide and seek or tag that household chores fell on the shoulders of the losers. Lilia loved the idea, and there was always a proud smile on his lips when he saw his beloved children play together.

You heard the steps behind you and shivered.

Very slowly you turned around and looked up to see Malleus standing over you and wondering what you were doing, crouching in the darkest corner of the room.

Puns were also included in the survival pack.

Fearing that Lilia would hear your whisper, you put your finger on your mouth, asking him not to say a word. You put a begging eye into it – all but not cooking with Lilia. Not again.

Malleus nodded, recognizing the gravity of the situation, although he smiled.

Really, no one would want Malleus to be an enemy.

Or at least in such a situation.

 7. Do not hesitate to ask him for help with learning.

"In theory, you should focus on the space around you," Malleus pulled a wand in front of him. It flashed, and almost at the same time, a thin but incredibly strong protective barrier was created around him. “Weaker spells can be reflected. In turn, the stronger ones are better to block”

You nodded understandingly.

Defensive magic was not something easy to understand. Most depended on the person against whom the counter spell was being prepared. And there are countless people who walk on this Earth and want to start fights.

"Unique spells block or avoid physically," he continued. You nodded at every subsequent sentence, slowly feeling like all the lessons are eventually gaining transparency. “Using unique magic against unique magic, the stronger will win, both will lead to explosions or completely reduce.

He looked at you when you wrote down the last sentence in your notebook.

"I sincerely hope that you will only need this information in class," he said with a sigh. "If you need help, call me. I will come. I promise.”

 8. Sometimes be persuaded to wear extravagant clothes.

"Do you really think it suits me?" you turned around, looking at yourself from every possible angle in the mirror.

You were going to the theater in a few classes to see some era-related play that you've been discussing now in history lessons. Everyone, respecting the reputation, actions and achievements of theatre, dressed in their best clothes.

Malleus stood next to you.

He was already wearing a black and white outfit with green accessories. They all worked so well together and fitted him like a glove that you were sure that the whole outfit was made especially for him.

"Yes," he replied. "Everything you put on today suited you very well.”

Once again, with critical eyesight, you looked at the outfit, face and hair, before you quickly turned off the lights in the room and closed the door behind you.

Then you smiled at Malleus.

"We can go now," you said. You made your way through the portal to the main NRC building. "And... thank you for your help.

"My pleasure," he said. Under no circumstances was it just a polite formula. He really loved looking at you.

 9. Invite him to your birthday/party.

"Another break from school soon, huh?" — you muttered, leaning against the railing.

You took a deep breath and let the fresh, pleasant air refresh you.

"Are you going to home, [Name]?" Malleus asked. Green lights were still flying around him, so you guessed he’d just appeared here.

"I haven't decided yet," you sighed. "It would be nice to go home, but the break won't be very long... Ah, that's right!” you straightened up and turned to him. "How about spending another break together? As soon as I can, I will contact my family... although I cannot promise anything.”

Though he did not show it, Malleus' heart beat a little faster.

Spend free time? With someone? With someone he likes?

"Of course," he sounded less calm than he thought. He wasn’t often invited anywhere, even for the things he should have been on, so there was a lot of excitement growing in his body. "I don't see anything against it.”

 10. From "The Great Malleus Draconia-sama" to "Love".

"Ah, The Great Malleus-sama!" you sighed theatrically, taking from him a box of chocolates with a joyful smile. You could promise that because of this dark-haired boy here, you slowly become pampered. "Thank you for your generosity!”

Malleus frowned.

"The Great Malleus-sama"..?” he pondered, putting his fingers to his chin. "Did Sebek told you again to call me with this title?"

"No," you laughed softly at his reaction. "I did it out of curiosity. Maybe I could call you some cute nickname, hmm?" you smiled mischievously.

"For example?"

"By adding ‘-chan’ to your name?” you turned on your phone and typed something related to the nicknames. You started reading suggestions and struggled to hold back from laughing. ” ’Sunshine’, ‘star’, ‘flower’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘love’...

"I like the last one," he said, and the invisible force stung you to the ground.

"Would you like me to call you like that? Out of curiosity or out of love?" You laughed, but your cheeks were all red with blushes.

He smiled sincerely at your reaction.

"Hmm, I wonder..?"

[silkenstarlight]

in the softest hours of night

Summary: Bucky gets a haircut and (Y/N) helps him to fully wrench himself from the clutches of his past.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warning/s: fluff, cuddling, kissing, mention of Bucky’s past trauma

Word count: 1.6k

Author’s note: this made me feel very soft

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The sound of Bucky singing in the shower always made you smile.

He didn’t know that you could hear him from your spot in the bedroom. Sometimes, you considered telling him that you were his audience, when the guilt crept in and you felt as if you were intruding on a private moment. 

But, most times, you chose to lie beneath the blankets and listen. 

You could only ever make out fragments of lyrics-- tonight, he was singing Gene Sullivan. 

“When my blue moon turns to gold again… you'll be back in my arms to stay.”

It was soft and tentative, his breathy, murmured syllables of blues-y jazz and swinging pop bouncing off the tiles with a sweet, echoing reverberation. He seemed to weave in between thought and song, quietly uttered lyrics often followed by a long period of silence before he picked the melody up again at the next chorus. Sometimes, his words were rushed and garbled, as if he were leaning into the shower head’s stream to wash shampoo-scented suds from his hair. Other times, he embraced the song head-on, crooning confidently into the clouds of steam, as if he were imagining brazen trumpets and thrumming drumbeats backing his vocals. 

Whenever his volume crescendoed like that, you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face. He sounded so peaceful, so free, when for the past several decades, he had been the prisoner of his own mind. His singing was a small thing, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

You heard the water turn off and you turned onto your side, burrowing into the sheets and wiping any evidence of eavesdropping from your face.

A few seconds later, you heard his feet padding against the hardwood, and you turned to face him, smiling sleepily. He was bare, save for the white towel wrapped around his hips, minuscule water droplets rolling off of his muscled body with every step. His shoulder-length hair was drenched, framing his face in a slicked chestnut curtain. 

He reached the dresser and pulled out the top drawer, picking out a clean pair of boxers. He slipped them on beneath the cover of the towel, and you smirked at his unnecessary, but courteous, sense of modesty. You had seen him naked before, but he still preferred to stay covered in nonsexual situations such as this. So traditional.

He unwrapped the towel from around his waist and tossed it in the dirty laundry bin, and then walked over to your side of the bed. You reached up to him and he eagerly climbed on top of you, grinning as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

You stayed like that for a moment, even though his wet hair slid against your jaw and his weight crushed the breath from your lungs. You didn’t care that you couldn’t breathe. You loved it when he was mellow. He was his truest self when he was at his most vulnerable, his eyes crinkling at the edges with affection, his lips turned upward in a toothy smile that stole your breath and colored your cheeks a rosy pink.

He shifted, pushing up to rest his forehead against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut before he pressed his mouth lightly against yours in a delicate gesture of warmth, his lips warm and soft. His hair fell against your face, brushing against your skin and tickling your cheeks.

You broke the kiss, dipping your chin down and giggling. You opened your eyes to meet his gaze.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” Bucky repeated back, his voice low, his tone similar to the one he used when he sang quietly in the shower. He returned your smile, until more of his hair slid down, blocking his vision of your face. He pushed it back with a dissatisfied grunt and frowned slightly.

He sighed. “Would you-- would you mind braiding my hair for me?” He raised his eyebrows questioningly, sitting up. “I don’t like the weight of it all. My hair, I mean.”

You sat up as well, instantly understanding the dual meaning behind his request. He wanted the hair out of his face, yes, but he also loathed the identity that was tied to it, the decades of mindless, brainwashed life that it represented. He hadn’t trimmed it since the forties, his hair an immortalized vision of his pre-war self, an artifact of the abuse he faced at the hands of Hydra. His hair carried the weight of a lifetime.

“Absolutely,” you responded.

He shifted, sitting at the edge of the bed, and you sat behind him, your legs caging him in. Despite the fact that he was almost naked, his modesty preserved by his plaid boxers, he was warm. You leaned into his broad back, savoring the heat that he provided, walking your fingertips lightly up his spine in a teasing gesture before brushing them through his hair.

“Your hair is really soft after you wash it.” Your fingers carded through Bucky’s shoulder-length locks, fingernails lightly scraping against his scalp. You brushed through the wet strands, gently untangling a few nasty snarls with adept ease.

“Well, I did have to borrow your conditioner. Hope that’s okay.” Bucky said quietly, his back to you as you separated his freshly-washed hair into three sections.

“I don’t mind,” you mumbled, pushing your tongue between your teeth as you began to concentrate on the braid. “Makes you smell good.”

He scoffed. “Did I not smell good before?”

You paused, strands held loosely in your fingers. “I-- well, yes.”

He huffed a laugh, but was silent after that, enjoying the dull tug as you weaved his hair into a neat plait. 

You were reaching the end of the braid when a thought crossed your mind. You paused, still grasping the three separate sections, and looked at the back of Bucky’s head.

“You know, Bucky,” you said, voice gentle. “We could cut your hair, if it bothers you this much.”

He paused, breath stalling, and considered what you said. Although he hated the years of violence attached to his hair, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to completely sever it from him. So much pain, so much history, snipped off and swept away in the blink of an eye-- he wasn’t sure who he would be without it. He surely wouldn’t be the same man as he was before all of this, so smug and cocksure, so smooth-talking and suave, the perfect image of 1940’s lady-killing swagger. But, he also wasn’t sure if that even mattered. That was who he was before. Now, he had lived through years of torture, decades of service as a trained assassin. He didn’t know who he was anymore. Maybe a fresh start would do him some good.

“Can we?” His voice cracked, throat tight with a sudden urgent need to bid farewell to his past incarnations.

“Do you want to do it now?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Go into the bathroom. I’ll find the scissors.”

Bucky followed your orders, reaching back to undo the braid you had so carefully woven. Silken, freshly-washed strands slipped through his fingers until he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, waiting for you to rid him of this long-held burden. He stared at his reflection, the tired, light purple crescents that shaded beneath his eyes, the natural down-turned tug of his lips, the deep, worried crease between his brows. A hard knot of self-hatred began to form in his throat, but he swallowed it as he heard you approach the bathroom.

You slipped behind Bucky, scissors in hand, and tapped his shoulder. At your signal, he knelt, folding his arms in front of him and leaning his head against the counter to allow you easier access to his hair. 

“You ready?” you asked, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“Absolutely,” he said, nodding slightly, granting you permission to proceed.

You combed through his locks one last time, savoring their slippery, soft texture, their bristly split-ends. And then, you grasped a large section from the back and snipped.

You watched as the hair fluttered to the tiled floor below. Bucky smiled.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

Slowly, you began to cut away more and more sections of hair, trying your best to avoid creating any harsh, choppy lines. You weren’t a hairdresser by any means, though, so once the bulk of the length had been cut away, Bucky’s hair was a haphazard mess.

“Oh, god,” you breathed, shakily placing the scissors on the counter. “We’ll have to make an appointment with a hairdresser tomorrow.”

He stood, brushing stray strands from his shoulders. “That’s fine.” He turned towards you, not bothering to look at his reflection. “Just wanted to get rid of the length.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, whether in shock at his new appearance, or in embarrassment at your amateur handiwork, you couldn’t tell. But he just wrapped his arms around you, hugging you to his chest as you both shook with laughter. 

He leaned back, reaching up to your face and tucking your hair behind your ear. “Let’s go to bed.”

You nodded and let him lead you back into the bedroom, turning off the bedside lamp and climbing under the sheets after him. He settled on his back and you wrapped yourself around him, tucked into his side, breathing in his fresh, soapy scent. 

“Goodnight, doll,” he breathed, and you kissed his ribcage before letting his breathing lull you into the gentle space of sleep. 

He simply smiled and stared up at the ceiling, a decades-old weight suddenly lifted from his neck. No longer did he feel the tendrils of his past slithering against his neck with every movement.

So this is what it’s like, to be free. 

He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes, tugging you just a little closer as he drifted to sleep.

[honeytae]

You like my muscles that much, baby?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @flytomyjoon!!! you light up my dash and bless me with your thots™️ each and every day so...i just wanted to give you a little something to hopefully start your day off right :) while i was thinking about what to write for you there was only a split second of brainstorming before i settled on this concept, and i was like ‘ah yes, this feels very jas.’ also..this did start as a 600 word drabble but. anyways. i love you and i hope you have the best day my fellow taejoon simp and pisces bby!! <3 genre: smut

warnings: buff!joon, heavy grinding, hand stuff, sex in a mirror(does that need to be included here?), namjoon has a big dick, exactly one spank, dirty talk (not much though lol i’m not good at writing it), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it...unless it’s joon), kinda rough but still ~loving~ word count: 2.0k

Haphazardly tossing your bag to the ground while walking into your home gym, you exhaled at the hot air thick with the faint smell of perspiration, breath momentarily taken away from you when you spied your boyfriend lifting his body onto the pull up bar across the room from you.

His skin was glowing with sweat, lips parted as harsh breaths escaped them, his muscles visibly contracting with each lift of his body as his eyes scrunched shut at the pressure in his core. 

Dropping to the ground with a huff, he pushed a hand through his hair, catching your eyes through the reflection of the mirror with a tired smile. 

“Hey, baby,” he called to you, ushering you to him with a reach of his hand as you eagerly followed the action. 

Your legs seemed to move without thought, bringing you closer and closer to him until you were within reach, squealing when you were pulled in by his arms suddenly wrapping around your torso. 

Pressing you to his chest, he dipped his head so that his soft lips met yours, pulling back when you shriveled at his damp palm cupping your cheek. 

“Ugh, you’re all sweaty.” You wrinkled your nose at the feeling of his slippery skin on yours, pushing him away with a light shove of your palm to his chest as he only chuckled at you. 

“My apologies.” He smiled, stepping to the side to grab one of his barbells and beginning to lift the weighted bar to his chest.

You chuckled slightly at the man, reaching for his water bottle in hopes to relieve your dry throat from the commute home.

Taking a sip, you breathed out a sigh, the sound catching your boyfriend’s attention before he opened his mouth, a silent ask for you to lift the bottle to his lips.

You nonchalantly hummed as he thanked you, raising it back to your own mouth to get more of the cold liquid down your throat.

In the midst of doing this, Namjoon had bent down to grab more weights, sliding them onto the bar and lifting them with a groan before he eased into the pattern of lifting, pausing, then lowering again.

Nearly choking at the soft grunts escaping his lips every now and then with the effort, you internally scolded yourself, shaking your head to rid your impending thoughts as you properly swallowed the water.

The grunts he let out were deep with a bit of rasp, breath exhaled at the end of each one. The noise was similar to what he sounded like when he thrusted into your-

“How was your day?” He asked, the question momentarily bringing you back down to earth.

Just as you opened your mouth to answer him, you were once again distracted by the muscles moving his biceps, shifting underneath his skin each time he moved the position of the weight. 

He’d been bulking up lately and fuck, it was doing a number on you. 

“Babe?” He called for you, interrupting your daze with a raise of his eyebrows, watching you gulp in response as you blankly stared back at him. 

“What?” You asked, Namjoon smiling slightly before repeating his question, tilting his head when you only shrugged distractedly. 

“What is going on with you?” He asked, eyes darting down to where your eyes were still attached to his bicep, bottom lip trapped by your teeth as you shifted in your stance. 

“You are going to be the death of me.” You mumbled, quiet enough for him not to be able to make out the words but loud enough for him to know you’d said something. 

“Wha-” He cut himself off with a hum as you suddenly dove forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss, the sudden fervor you met him with causing a confused noise to escape his throat. 

The bar in his hand messily clattered to the ground, Namjoon quickly guiding your bodies away from the area to avoid injury, trailing his hands up your arms as he returned the needy action. 

It wasn’t your fault his lips were like a magnet; pink and plush and pretty, always drawing you in for more whenever he gave you an intended sweet peck. 

After all, they felt like velvet against your own, soft yet firm in the way he worked them over yours, large hand sliding to the back of your neck to secure you there. 

The feeling of his tongue pushing into your mouth had you moaning instantly, the man’s grip on your hips dizzying you as he began backing you up against the mirror.

Gasping at the feeling of the cold glass against your back, Namjoon took the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, his hot tongue swirling around your own and eliciting a whimper.  

“Jump.” He mumbled, capturing your lips with his again as he squeezed at the back of your thigh, instructing you to jump up onto his body as his palms went to support your ass. 

Being pressed directly against your boyfriend’s body had you reeling, subtly rocking your hips into his and making him moan in response.

The butterflies at the pit of your stomach only grew with each motion, the throbbing between your legs informing you that this was not at all the innocent greeting you’d been expecting as Namjoon began thrusting to meet your hips movements, quite literally fucking you over your clothes. 

The grinding seemed to be getting to him just as much as it was you, the growing bulge in his shorts proving your suspicions as his throaty noises hummed into your opened mouth. 

“Fuck, rough day or something?” He panted against your lips, breath catching in his throat when you rolled your hips down harder against his, increasing the friction to make his eyes momentarily roll back.

“N-not really, just, shit, unghh” You trailed off as his hand went under your shirt, thumb rubbing at your nipple over your lace bra, “your m-muscles, Joonie.”

Whining when his fingers trailed up your thigh and disappeared under your skirt, you gasped when his fingers dipped underneath the fabric of your underwear, exhaled moan falling from your lips when his thumb slipped over your swollen clit. 

“You like my muscles that much, baby?” He asked in amusement, feeling your arousal begin to drip onto his finger, breathing out a curse word at the feeling.

You didn’t respond, instead letting out a pitiful whimper as his fingers slid down your slit to gather your wetness, entering you two at a time. Namjoon moaned quietly at the feeling of your fingers clenching around him, knowing how it felt whenever you did that around his cock. 

“Oh shit.” You whined, grinding your clit into his palm as his fingers scissored inside of you. 

Smirking, he removed his fingers, raising them to your mouth and tapping on your bottom lip with his sodden fingertips.

Obediently you opened your mouth, taking his fingers in with a swirl of your tongue, smugly watching as his eyes darkened at the sight of your cheeks hollowing around them.

“Fuck, need you now.” He huffed, withdrawing his hand to tug his shorts and boxers down to his knees before shifting your own underwear aside with a brush of his fingers, groaning at the fresh slick coating his appendages when he pulled them away. 

“Here?” You asked, the man chuckling as he gripped his cock, giving himself a few strokes as he turned his head, meeting your eyes in the mirror placed behind him. 

“Yeah, here. Just enjoy the view, I guess.” He laughed, you scoffing at him as you locked your fingers behind his neck, rubbing at the hair on his nape with a fond smile. 

“Joon.” You gasped as he entered you, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder as he held himself there with all the self control he could muster, taking a moment to let you get used to the intrusion.

His cock was fucking massive, stretching you open as he slowly bottomed out, the sting burning into electrifying pleasure as he patiently waited for you to give him the go ahead.

“Move.” You mumbled, the man immediately following instruction as he pulled his hips back, pushing back into you with a shuddered breath.

You moaned at his shallow thrusts, meeting them with a slight roll of your hips each time as he whispered praises into your ear. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight for me. Mine.” He growled, stinging the flesh of your ass with the impact from his hand, groaning as you clenched around him in response. 

Smoothing his hand over the skin, he kneaded the flesh in his fingers, the tender action a stark contrast to what his hips were doing. 

His thrusts had now picked up pace and were harsh, your fingernails clawing at his back with the pleasure coursing through your veins, foggy brain barely noticing his fingers prying your shirt down to reveal your chest.

His hips never faltered even as he concentrated on tugging down the cup of your bra, his mouth sucking at your nipple in such a way that would surely turn the skin shades of purple later on. 

Although the music from his workout playlist was still going, both your moans nearly drowned it out, along with the squelching noises whenever Namjoon re-entered you, your arousal embarrassingly loud over the beat from the speakers.

But you couldn’t seem to care when the head of his cock was persistently tapping at the spongy spot he knew drove you crazy, watching your eyes flutter shut with a smirk as he glanced up at you, his mouth still sucking diligently at your hard peak.

Making a sound of complaint when he popped off your chest, you allowed yourself to be slightly jostled in the man’s hold, his hands directing you to lock your legs around his hips tighter as he shifted you slightly up his body.

“Oh my- Fuck, Joon!” You shouted as his grip moved to your hips, taking your body into his control and lifting you up and down his cock, slamming into you at a brutal pace that had your eyes rolling back into your head as you clung onto his shoulders. 

Opening your eyes, the sight in front of you was filthy, your reflection in the mirror looking absolutely wrecked as you watched yourself bounce on Namjoon’s dick, his biceps contracting each time he lifted your body.

Shifting your gaze to Namjoon’s face was even worse, his beautiful features twisted in concentration, teeth gritting against each other at the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around him.

It was only a few moments later that you felt the familiar knot in the pit of your stomach, babbling nonexistent words that clued him in immediately, his finger rubbing at your clit again to encourage you. 

Your pussy clamping down around him had your name falling from his lips instantly, squeezing you tighter to him as he sloppily thrusted into your heat. 

The feeling of his hot cum shooting up into you made a whine escape, his final loud moan triggering your walls to flutter around him one last time before you hit your high. 

Exhausted, you dropped your head back against the mirror, wincing at the sting it created at the crown of your head. Namjoon hummed, soothing your head with a gentle rub of his fingers and a caring look in his eyes, the dark lust that was there previously now completely gone. 

“You okay?” He asked, smiling softly as he tucked damp strands of hair behind your ears, leaning forward to kiss both of your temples as you tried to catch your breath to answer him. 

“God, you’re gonna split me open.” You finally exhaled, Namjoon chuckling as he planted a sweet kiss to your lips, pulling back to look at you with a tender gaze. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll help you shower?” He offered, your eyebrows raising at him with an amused smirk. 

“Doesn’t that benefit you, too?” You chuckled, the man laughing a bit as he shrugged. 

“A little, yeah.” He agreed, thinking for a moment before grinning at you, ”I can cook you dinner?”

“Now that doesn’t benefit anyone.” You said, Namjoon pulling a face of offense as you laughed at him, his eyebrows pulled together and mouth gaped open just slightly as he fought back a smile. 

“Keep it up and I’ll retract my original offer.”