#...it's also rapidly feeling like Not Quite Enough.

[gunilslaugh]

Through The Tunnels

Oh Seungmin Summary:After sliding down one of the plastic play tunnels at your work you find yourself in a place that is definitely not your home. There you meet a guy Seungmin and no matter how kind his actions are there’s just something off about him.  WC:~6.3k Warning: Viewer discretion advised. This a darker toned fic/ on the horror side. Dark!Seungmin

You hated working the late shift. Primarily because of the place you work, Kids Empire (a play place for kids) was somehow one of the most horrifying places once all the yelling kids were gone and the lights went out. The way the play structures would creak and moan. The way you can hear the laughter of children haunting the place. Sometimes you swear that you hear the rapid footsteps of children running around. It gives you the creeps. More than the creeps. There’s a constant chill running down your spine. Your nervous system is always on the verge of fight or flight. Your chest feels tight. You wish you could just hide in the backroom for the duration of your shift, but alas it’s always the late shift person’s responsibility to wipe down and clean all of the structures and count the balls in the ball pit. 

“I really should just quit,” you say anxiously, rubbing your arms as you stand at one of the entrances to a room. “No, no. You’re fine. Nothing has ever happened before. It’s just your mind scaring you,” you tell yourself. You blow a quick breath and head inside the room with the bucket of cleaning supplies hooked on your arm. 

You start simple, picking up the discarded plastic balls and tossing them back into the ball pit. Then you take your time deliberately cleaning the outside of the play structures. Definitely not stalling with cleaning the insides of them. 

Now you stare at the entrance to the play tunnels. Your heart rate spiking. “They’re just plastic tunnels. Stop being so pathetic.” You make your way inside. The cold plastic creaks under your weight. You spray the cleaning solution and begin whipping down the inside. You’ve ascended your way to the top, fully being inside the tunnels now. The cold plastic digs into your knees. It almost feels like ice.  You don’t remember them being this cold. Your heart never rests its assault on your ribcage. Your heart’s punching against your ribs only gets worse when you hear a faint, but clear giggle. It makes you fumble the rag in your hand and knee jerk against the already unforgiving plastic. 

“It wasn’t real. It was just in your head. Calm down. You’re just being paranoid,” you desperately tried to convince yourself. Still you make quick work with carrying on to clean the next part of the tunnels. That proves to be a mistake when you hear the blood spiking giggle again, but sounds louder, closer.

“Nope that’s it. I’m done. Going home. Never coming back,” you say rapidly crawling to the nearest slide to make your exit. Not even bothering to take the cleaning supplies with you. Just as you reach the slide you feel a hand encase one of your ankles. It’s big and warm, and couldn't possibly belong to any small child. That terrified you even more. A scream rips through your lungs and you yank your ankle back with enough force that you send yourself barreling down the colorful plastic slide. The colors blur as you hurdle down. Everything becomes dark once you plunge into the ball pit. You push your arms against the plastic balls, but it didn’t seem to be much use. To even more of your horror your legs couldn’t find the bottom either. Since when was the pall bit this deep? You swore it was no more than four feet deep, you should be able to stand right up, yet right now it feels like you're struggling in the deep end of a pool. 

Suddenly a warm hand encases yours and you feel yourself being pulled up. You’re met with light as you emerge from the ball pit. You’re also met with the person who saved you.

“It looked like you could’ve used some help there.” There’s an almost imperceivable smirk on his lips, but you do see it and it does nothing to settle your nerves.

“Uh y-yeah.” An uneasy breath leaves you. You try to go over to the edge of the ball pit to push yourself the rest of the way out, but before you can the guy is leaning down and wrapping his arms around you. “What are you-” He ignores your question, lifting you the remaining way out of the ball pit, setting you on the ground. 

“There you go pretty. All good now.” He smiled at you, one of his hands coming to caress down the side of your head. However you flinch at his touch. “It’s ok. I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s the opposite actually, I’m gonna protect you,” He told you. His hand cupping the side of your face ever so tenderly. 

“What?” It’s the only word you can mutter out in your haze of shock and confusion. 

“From the horrors of this place.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing.

“This place?” You only grew more confused. You were not at work? You looked around the room. It looks basically the same as the play room you were cleaning in prior, but then notice a very important difference: everything was mirrored. “Where am I?” you asked, though you fear you don’t want to know the answer.

“This place doesn’t have an exact name. It’s an alternate realm of sorts. Home to lots of different entities, beings. Forgotten things tend to end up here.” His words invoke a very eerie feeling inside of you. 

“How did I end up here?” Your voice carries a waiver. 

“Reality has cracks in it. Sometimes things happen to slip through those cracks. Sometimes forgettable things that no one misses. Other times…” He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “Very precious things.” He looks at you like you’re a delicate flower. There’s a few moments of silence between the two of you. Then he speaks again, “You can call me Seungmin.”

“I’m y/n.” Though something in his eyes makes it seem like he already knew that. Still he smiles. 

“Nice to finally meet you.” Before you can question what he meant, by finally he is leading you out of the room. Guiding you with his warm hand that he wrapped around your wrist. When he opens the door you’re met with a  beige yellow hallway with flickering fluorescent lights. It’s quiet, too quiet, so quite you can hear the buzzing of the fluorescent lights. There’s a crisp coldness too. One that surrounds you in a cold icy hug.

“Where are you taking me?” you questioned. 

“Somewhere safe. Keep your pace up. Lingering in open areas is never a good thing.” He spoke as if he wasn’t pulling you along by your arm. 

Soon enough you arrive at a door. It almost blends into the wall if not for the handle and very slim framing around it. 

“Here, come inside.” Again he speaks as if he isn’t already pulling you inside of the room. You can hear the door click shut behind you. You look around the room. It’s not very big, but it isn’t too cramped either. It looks like it used to be some type of office, but had been converted to a room. There was a twin sized bed shoved into the far left corner. The bed had baby blue sheets with matching pillow cases and a small stuffed bear that somehow looked familiar. You approach the bed, carefully grabbing the bear.

“I feel like I used to have a stuffed animal like this,” you said, one hand rubbing over the bear’s head. 

“Is that so?” Seungmin appeared by your side. “It’s just something I picked up one day. There’s quite the amount of them lying around this place,” he told you. Forgotten things tend to end up here. You remembered his words. 

“You said forgotten things tend to end up here. Is it possible that this was once mine?” It was weird. Looking down at the bear in your arms you felt some form of attachment to it. Like the kind of attachment a child would feel towards their favorite toy, but could you really have forgotten something that felt so dear to you?

“I can’t say it’s impossible, but you don’t look like the type who would forget about her toys.” There’s something in his eyes when he speaks, something you can’t pinpoint. “It’s probably just this place having an effect on you.” He plops down onto the bed, taking the bear from your arms as he does so. Practically yanking it away from you. “This place.” He opened his arms in a grand gesture. “It has a way of messing with people, so don’t think about it too much.” His eyes remained fixed on you. You don’t like the way he stares at you. He looks at you like you're some prize to be won. You shift uncomfortably, shoulders rising, arms pushing together before you wrap them around yourself. 

“Won’t you sit?” He looked at the empty space next to him on the bed. You hesitate, still not feeling very trusting of him. However a very loud bang occuring just outside of the room has you fleeing to the bed. Your knees tucked up to your chest, as you eyed the door in a panic. 

“Hey, it’s ok.” Seungmin shushed you, placing his warm hand on your knee. “You’re safe in here I promise.” He looked at you so gently. Then he frowns. “You’re cold.” His warm hand starts to run up and down your chilled pant leg. “Here.” He reaches over to the end of the bed, grabbing a blanket that was folded up there. He proceeded to wrap the soft material around your body.

“Thanks,” you say, grabbing the ends of the blanket with your hands, pulling it tighter around yourself. Your cold stiff muscles are finally able to relax some, finding a hint of comfort in the blanket. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked you. 

“A little,” you replied. Truthfully you were more than a little hungry. You hadn’t eaten since earlier in the afternoon. Well before the terrifying events of today took place. 

You watched as he walked over to where there was a desk facing the wall. Directly under a shelf that had different books and other random items on it. He opens on the drawers on the side of the desk and pulls out two tangerines. He took the time to peel them before setting them on some old book that he grabbed, using it as a tray. He carried the two tangerines over to you. He hands them over to you with a smile. You take them from him. Your hands grabbing the ends of the book with barely steady hands. His fingers brush against yours as you do so, leaving a tingling sensation on your skin. 

When you eat a piece of the tangerine it’s more sour than you were expecting, almost too sour. The sourness pricks against your tastebuds, but still you manage to chew and swallow. Trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t that bad. 

“Sorry. They’re sour aren’t they?” Seungmin looked at you apologetically. 

“It’s ok. They’re just a little sour, not too bad,” you told him. Your response makes his eyes shine.

“That’s good. I’m glad. There’s not much food around here. Definitely no fine dining options, but don’t worry I’ll never let you go hungry.” He caresses the top of your head like a mother would a child. His touch makes you want to crane in on yourself, but you refrain from doing so. You give him a shallow nod and put another piece of sour tangerine in your mouth. 

Time doesn’t pass normally in this place. It doesn’t really feel like time passes at all actually. It feels the same all the time. It makes everything blur together. You have no idea how long you’ve been trapped here. Days, weeks, months, has it been a year? Seungmin has told you a number of ‘safety measures’. Though it felt more like he was telling you rules you had to abide by. Whether they were really for your own safety or just his way of keeping you on a leash the rules were: Never walk through an open door. Because there’s bound to be danger lurking on the inside. Never go towards the sound of children's laughter or cries, it doesn’t belong to a child. Tunnels never lead anywhere good, so don’t crawl through them. If you ever encounter glowing eyes don’t look into them. If the lights ever start flickering one by one leave immediately. 

Currently Seungmin is guiding you through the never ending maze of hallways. You stay close on his heels. You still don’t fully trust him, but he is definitely the better option when compared to any other entity that resides here. A flickering light at the end of one of the hallways catches your attention. Then a figure appears. A tall figure with abnormal limbs. Your breath hitches in your throat. Suddenly the figure appears closer, much closer. A scream escapes you and you stumble backwards into a wall. Except it’s not a wall. You find yourself falling through it tumbling down, down, down till you land with a loud echoing smack onto a hard floor. The room you’re now in would be pitch dark if not for the one singular lightbulb that hangs from the ceiling. 

“H-hello?” You call out. Your limbs ache as you stand up from the floor. Your arms curl around yourself. Your feet take very tentative steps around the room. Then an opening appears in one of the walls. It’s not any opening though, it’s a tunnel. A plastic tunnel. You remember what Seungmin said about tunnels. How they never lead anywhere good, but you can’t help approaching it. You crouch down in front of it. Trying your best to peer down it with the little light that the room provides. It looks like a slide. It reminds you of the ones from your work place. 

Don’t you want to go home? A voice rings. Would this plastic slide send you home? You move closer to the tunnel. Your toes touching the edge. It might send you somewhere worse? In that moment of hesitation an unanticipated pair of arms are wrapping around your middle, pulling you up and away from the tunnel.

“Didn’t I tell you tunnels never lead anywhere good!” Seungmin scolded you, making you flinch in his hold. 

“I-I’m sorry!” Your head tucked down into your chest. Your reaction seems to strike something within Seungmin. His hold around your middle loosens. Not enough to let you go, but it no longer feels like a boa constrictor is trying to make you its prey. 

“I’m sorry too.” His voice is much softer now. His head falls against your neck. His breath tickling your skin. “I was just scared. If you went down that tunnel something very bad would have happened to you. Do you understand that?” He nuzzled his nose against your skin.

“There was a voice that asked if I wanted to go home.” Your voice carries a waiver in it. Seungmin sighs, his head pressing deeper into your neck. You can feel his lips resting against your skin. They’re so warm it almost feels like they’re burning your skin. Then he’s turning you around in his hold. Staring directly into his eyes. 

“The only voice you can trust in here is mine,” he states. “I’m the only one who wants the best for you. To keep you safe.” He brushes the little strands of hair out of your face. “Now come on. Let’s get you back.” You were about to question how you were supposed to get out of here, but as he wraps one of his arms around your shoulders you see a door open on the wall opposite from the one the tunnel was on. 

“How? Where?” You sputter out only from him to shush you.

The walk back to the room where you stayed was quiet. A tension lingered around you two. Seungmin usually would always take glances at you, but now his eyes remained fixed on the path ahead of him.

When you reach the room he wordlessly leads you inside. He doesn’t lead you over to the bed to wrap you in a blanket like he usually does, so you awkwardly make your own way over to the bed. Taking the blanket and wrapping it around your cold frame yourself. Somehow it doesn’t feel as comforting as it does when he does it. He remains silent as he peels a tangerine for you to eat. 

“Here.” Is the only word he tells you once he finishes peeling the fruit. He doesn’t bring it over to you either. He simply sets it aside on the desk. Leaving you to stand up and go grab it on your own. 

“Are you mad at me?” you carefully checked as you went to grab the sour fruit. It tastes extra sour when you take off a piece and put it into your mouth. You almost choke because of it. Seungmin looks at you still not saying anything, but he runs one of his hands down that back of your head, caressing it. 

“No, I’m not,” he finally speaks. “I’m just thinking.” He twirls the tips of your hair around his fingers.

“About what?” you asked, feeling a bit more relaxed. 

“What did the voice sound like? The one that asked if you wanted to go home?” Something shifts in his eyes. They become darker, more serious. 

“It was on the deeper side. Like a guy’s but, it didn’t sound like it was mocking me. It sounded genuine,” you tell him. “Why?” you followed. Seungmin shakes his head. A sparkle comes back into his eyes. He reaches for the blanket you wrapped yourself in and pulls it more securely around your shoulders before his hands cup the sides of your neck. 

“Just curious,” he says. His thumbs swipe across either side of your jaw. 

“You made that door appear didn’t you?” You decided to try your luck again. He looks at you like he’s deciding how he wants to answer. Eventually he hums lightly with a small nod of his head. “How?” you pressed. Seungmin inhales a deep breath and lets it out in the form of a sigh. He leans his forehead against yours. 

“Because I could,” he told you

“What are you Seungmin? I don’t think you’re human, not fully.” You pulled your forehead away from his and looked up at him. 

“What am I?” He chuckled, leaning in close to you, making your eyes level with his. “I’m your savior.” He presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. 

Ever since that night when he declared himself your savior Seungmin slept in that twin size bed with you. He had you sleep on the side by the wall. More often than not he had one of his arms thrown over your waist. You thought that you would feel uncomfortable sleeping in the same bed as him, but oddly you found that it was the opposite. That sleep found you easier when he ran his finger through your hair, rubbed your back, drew random patterns across your skin.

Upon waking up in the morning, well you don’t really know if it’s morning. Doesn’t really matter what time it is though. When you woke up Seungmin wasn’t in the room with you. There was a peeled tangerine on the desk though with a note lying beside it. Gone out to check on some things. I’ll be back soon :) It’s not the first time Seungmin has stepped out with the excuse of checking on things. You never know what things he is referring to. You’re not sure he would even tell you if you asked. 

As you eat your tangerine (that’s sourness you’ve become accustomed to) your eyes trail over the objects and books that lie on the shelf above. You’ve looked at this shelf many times, however this time you see that a book is sticking out. Not being aligned with the others like it usually was. Your fingers wrap around the spine of the book and pull it from the shelf. It’s now that you see it’s not actually a book, but a journal. You sit down at the desk and open up the journal. The piece of tangerine in your mouth punches you with its sourness as your stomach drops. 

She startles easily. Anytime those play structures creak. She’s terrified of working the late shift If only she knew that she had nothing to be afraid of. That I’m watching over her. That I won’t let anyone or any entity hurt her. 

My favorite time is when she cleans the bathroom mirrors. I get to see her in all of her beauty up close. So much better than having to watch her from those stupid funhouse mirrors or the reflective bolts holding the tunnels together. I don’t think she knows how pretty she is. 

The kids there love her. One made a bracelet for her during arts and crafts time. It didn’t look the nicest, but she still wore it the whole rest of the day with a smile on her face. She even put it with her other jewelry when she got home. She’s beautiful inside and out. 

This journal was full of entries about you. You feel sick to your stomach. He had been watching you, stalking you for a long time. Then you remember your first meeting. They way it seemed like he already knew your name. Because he did. “Nice to finally meet you.” It made sense now. You start to think that you ending up here was no accident. That it was somehow Seungmin’s doing. You turn the page and nausea rumbles around in your stomach. There’s a name tag: Taegyun. It’s the same kind of nametag you have. It’s the nametag all the Kid Empire employees wear. 

I hate how close he gets to her. He’s too comfortable around her. Throwing his arm over her shoulders. Always bumping his filthy knees with hers. It’s infuriating how he makes her laugh. Especially when she leans into him while doing so. 

He gifted her a stupid stuffed bear today. She smiled. She smiled so beautifully over something so pathetic. It’s just a small pathetic bear, yet she cradled it against her chest like it was something precious.

She thinks he’s so kind because he stays with her whenever she gets scheduled to work the late shift. She doesn’t know how dirty he is. How undeserving of her he is. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

I will get rid of him.

Taegyun, you read the name on the nametag. It does feel familiar. Taegyun. Taegyun. Taegyun. Why can’t you remember him? You look over to the bear that lies on the bed. You’re sure that it’s the one Seungmin got so mad over Taegyun giving to you.You recall how he yanked it from your grasp that first day he brought you here. Now that you think about it. He never did like you holding that bear. Anytime he found you with it he found a way to toss it aside. You continue to stare at the bear. Again, why can’t you remember? How could you forget not only the bear, but the person who gave it to you? How could you forget an entire person? One that it seemed like you liked too. ‘Forgotten things tend to end up here.’ Seungmin’s words echo eerily in your head. Does this place also erase things? Make things become forgotten. A chill runs down your spine. 

“You finally read it.” You just about jump out of your skin when Seungmin’s voice brushes against your ear. You can’t even go anywhere because he cages you against the desk. Either of his arms trapping you where you are. Your back digs uncomfortably into the hard material of the desk. Though that’s the least of your concerns right now. 

“What did you do?” You look him in his eyes. Which feels like a mistake. 

“All I’ve ever done is protect you,” he cooed. 

“No, Seungmin. What did you do?” Your hand grips at the desk. Your knuckles turning white. 

“It’s not like you miss him. You don’t even remember him,” he sinisterly chuckled. Tears gloss over your eyes. A choked breath stumbles out of you. 

“How could you? What else did you do?” The second sentence isn’t necessarily being spoken to him. It’s you wondering. What other things has he made you forget? How many things has he taken from you?

“Why are you crying?” He looked at you as if he hadn't done anything wrong. His hands cup your cheeks. Thumbs swiping away your hot tears that spill from your eyes. 

“Don’t touch me” You tried to push him away to no avail. Instead he grabs your shoulders firmly. Fingers pressing almost painfully into your skin. 

“Fine, I get it. You’re upset, but look.” Suddenly you find yourself in a different room. One that has a bunch of windows, but other than that it’s black. Seungmin changed his stance. He now has your back pressed against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your front, holding you to him. “They don’t miss you.” He guided you over to a window. At this time you realize that it’s not a window, it's a mirror like the backside of one. Now you get to witness how he was watching you all these years. 

You recognize this mirror. It’s the one you had in your room. Only it’s not your room anymore. It looked like it was turned into some kind of second family room. You see your family gathered on the couch. Pizza box on the table with their drinks as they watch a movie. You can hear them laughing. 

“Mom! Dad! y/s/n!” you desperately yelled. “Help! I’m right here! Can’t you see me?!” you sobbed. 

“They don’t even remember you. Of course they can’t see you.” He pressed you tighter against him. His free hand caressed your face. 

“Let me go!” You fought against him. 

“I’m never letting you go y/n. You belong with me. I’m the only one who can protect you,” he insisted. 

“How is taking me away from the people I love protecting me?” You pulled on his arm that was keeping you bound to him. 

“They didn’t appreciate how they should have. Did any of them care when you told them you hated working the late shift? No, they didn’t. They laughed at you. Said you were being a scaredy cat,” he reminds you. 

“And Taegyun? What did he do?” You can tell you struck a nerve by the way his muscles tensed around you. 

“Don’t say his name!” he spit venomously. “He didn’t deserve you.”

“Why not?” You’ve stopped fighting, gone limp in his arms, but your tone is cold, unforgiving.

“Because you're mine!” He snapped. “You’re mine.” He repeated, his head dipping down to your neck. He presses a chaste kiss there. “I’ve loved you for so long. Yearned for you. Waited for you. God it was torturous only being able to watch you. Now that I get to have you in my arms. I’m never letting you go. I’m the one who loves you the most and takes care of you the best. You were happy with me too. Don’t act like you weren’t.” He ran his nose along the length of your neck, lips ghosting after it. 

“I didn’t know what you did then,” you argued with an icy tone.

“I’ve only ever protected you. That’s all I’ve ever done,” he reiterated. He forces you to face him. With a snap of his fingers, you’re back in that room. Though now it doesn’t feel even the slightest bit safe. In fact it feels suffocating. You try to put distance between the two of you, but he doesn’t let you go far. 

“Seungmin please,” you pleaded. “Just give me some space.” You held your hands out in front of you.

“Pretty, are you really that upset?” He truly doesn’t believe that he has done anything wrong. He does listen to you though. He stayed leaning against the desk while you moved back away from him. Tucking yourself up in the uppermost corner of the bed. Your back pressing against the cool walls.

“Why did you keep it?” you asked, looking at the small bear that lied in between the pillows. A part of you wants to reach out and hold it. While another part of you is scared that Seungmin will permanently make it disappear if you do.

“Because you held it. It felt like a part of you. As much as I hate where it came from. At the time it was the closest I could get to holding you,” he explained. He slowly approaches the bed making you press yourself farther into the wall. “Pretty,” he sighed. He ever so carefully reaches his arm across the bed. His warm hand finds purchase around your ankle. The heat of his skin highly contrasts with the icy skin of your ankle. “You’re cold,” he pouted. He finds that blanket that he always wraps you in. He sits on the bed as he drapes it over your shivering frame. 

“Seungmin,” you protest his closeness. To which he shushed you. His warm hands found yours over the blanket. You can still feel the warmth of them radiating through the blanket. 

“I’m sorry that I upset you.” It’s not a real apology. It's a peace offering. “I know you’re probably feeling a little bit scared of me, but what I said when we first met is still true. I’m not gonna hurt you. I never would. I’m only protecting you. I’ll always protect you.” He cups your face tenderly just like he did back then. 

“I wanna go to sleep.” You just wanted all of this to stop. To wake up in your bed back at home and find out that all of this was just one long nightmare. 

“Ok let’s lay down.” He pulls the covers back from the bed. You try to make yourself comfortable as you face the wall. Having your back towards Seungmin. 

“Can you not?” you say when you feel his arm land around your waist. You hear an annoyed sigh come from him.

“Just for tonight.” He reluctantly removed his arm from around your waist. You can still feel the heat of him behind you. 

Through the tunnels. Escape through the tunnels. You wake up with a gasp. Seungmin is already scanning you over, trying to see what was wrong. 

“What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?” His arms have already woven their way around you pulling you into him before you can answer. 

“Yeah,” you weakly say. There’s no way you could tell him what you really dreamed about. 

“Aww no. See this is why you need me to hold you or else you get nightmares.” He rocks you against his chest. You want to protest, but if you want to get the chance to try and escape you’re gonna have to play the part for a while. So you slowly wrap your arms around him and bury your head in the crook of his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. 

“Shh it’s ok.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “It’s not your fault. Let’s just go back to sleep.” He adjusts you both to lay back down, but with your head on his chest this time and his arms locked securely around you. 

The next few days (if they were even days) passed like nothing was ever wrong. You couldn’t help but feel like you were walking on eggshells though. You were paranoid that Seungmin somehow knew you were just looking for the right moment to run. Because you couldn’t help noticing how his grip on you was a tad tighter than before. You can’t tell if that’s just the aftermath of what took place prior or because he knew.

However the more time that passes the more you start to wonder if you should listen to what that voice told you in your dream. What if it was just some entity that got into your head? On the other hand could it even get much worse than this? If the tunnels lead you to an even worse place at least an entity would more than likely put you out of your misery. You technically wouldn't be stuck here anymore. You don’t particularly want to meet your end either though. 

“What are you thinking about pretty?” You didn’t even notice Seungmin standing in front of you with a peeled tangerine. 

“Oh.” You take the tangerine. “I just randomly thought. I know that the tunnels here are dangerous, but what about the ones in that room? The room that looked exactly like the one from my work. Does that same rule apply to them?” You tried your best to make it sound like you were genuinely asking and not trying to find out if that could be your way out. 

There’s that dark shift in his eyes again. He runs his hands through your hair. “Yes, the same rule applies to those too. It would be bad if you went through them.” 

For him. A voice echoed in your head. You still don’t know if you can trust that voice, but if you can you just got your answer. 

You’ve come to realize that you’re never gonna get the perfect opportunity to get your chance to escape. You’re just gonna have to bolt for it. You're gonna have to run with all you got to try and get your life back. So that’s what you do. You wait till you're close enough to that room.

“Seungmin, hold on my shirt feels like it’s twisted,” you say. When he lets go of your hand to fix your shirt you duck and run. 

“Y/n!” he shouted after you. You can hear the thundering of his footsteps after you. They’re much louder than yours. “This isn’t funny you know how dangerous it is here,” he called after you. You’re not listening though. Only focused on making it to that room, on escaping. 

When you reach that room you quickly open the door and throw it shut behind you, trying to give yourself any extra second that you can because you know you need it. You dash over to the entrance of the tunnels and you can hear the door fly open behind you. 

“Y/n seriously you won’t come back out if you go in there,” he threatened, but you were already inside. The plastic feels like ice against your skin, but you don’t have time to care about that. Sharp pains shoot through your knees and palms as you crawl your way through the tunnels. Just when you reach the entrance to the slide there’s a warm hand encasing your ankle and pulling you away. 

“You shouldn’t test me like this pretty. I don’t want to get mad at you.” He crawled his body on top of yours, trapping you against the freezing plastic. You grip above your head at the edge of the plastic slide. 

“Seungmin please. Please just let me go home,” you begged, trying to pull yourself free. 

“This is your home. Right here, with me. Exactly where you belong,” he brushed the strands of hair away from your face. 

Please help me. You think. You opened that slide for me once before right? Please just one last time. Help me get home. It felt like the only thing you could do was beg that voice for help. There was no way you could escape Seungmin alone. 

Next thing you know you're sinking through the cold plastic of the slide and tumbling down that colorful plastic slide. This time instead of being swallowed into darkness you see light. Your arms push against the plastic balls and you easily emerge out of them. Your feet have no problems finding the bottom. You make haste with running out of the building. 

Finally for the first time in a long time when you reach the outside and early sunrays shine down on you you feel safe.

Safe to say you quit your job. Not even putting in your two weeks you just sent your resignation and stopped showing up. You got rid of the mirror in your bedroom and threw a towel over the one in the bathroom. You tried to look up Taegyun, but it really was like he was erased from existence. You still can’t remember any memories you had of him, but at least you knew his name and that he was once a part of your life. 

You got a new job at a warehouse. It was exhausting because you basically moved heavy supplies all day, but there were no mirrors or other reflective objects, so your mind felt at ease. It still took a long time before you could fully relax. You didn’t tell anyone about what happened to you because you knew no one would believe you. You didn’t even know if you believed yourself sometimes. 

As the months passed on you got back into the swing of things. Finally feeling like you got your life back. You didn’t think of that place any more. You didn’t think of Seungmin anymore. Stopping fearing that he would just randomly pop out of somewhere. 

That was all until.

“Hey y/n meet the new hire, Seungmin.” Your blood ran cold. An icy chill running down your spine. 

“Sorry, I’m kinda busy right now.” You picked up a big heavy box, using it to shield your face. 

“Oh here let me help.” Warm fingers brush against yours as they help you carry the box. “Hey pretty, I missed you,” he whispers against your ear. 

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin @junhanism @bee-the-loser

And a very special tag to @gyuuberryy!!! Their recent fic don't look back! inspired me to write this fic <3

[afniel]

I am seized with a burning and sudden need to Get Super Weird With It except I'm also going to meet my partner's other side of the family soon and if I happen to Get Even Slightly Weird With It where they can see it, I will probably get to experience being the butt of uncle jokes, so I cannot do that right now.

But the moment nobody is looking I'm going to be so goddamn bizarre on purpose and who's going to stop me? No one. Definitely not me.

(And maybe I'll declare Fuck It We Ball and paint my nails anyway. Who give a shit. Well, unless my partner specifically doesn't want me to do that, in which case I guess I'll take it off again before meeting anybody.)

[sforzesco]

a view from the Tañon strait :) and also my desk, since this is a desk post lmao

Cleopatra 1963 was on TV last night and ohhhhhh my god Richard Burton’s Mark Antony is everything to me for real. I wrote an Antony comic a million years ago, junked it because I don’t care about him, but I’m not immune to Richard Burton’s Antony in love and despair. like, I was frantically writing scenes in my notebook during commercial break, I was on Twitter talking about how much I love this film, etc. unparalleled. show stopping.

in other news, Trikaranos ch 1 should be up sometime this month or at the start of the next! I also have some Italian renaissance comics I want to knock out of my WIP folder. low key kind of thinking of turning the DMBJ au into a little side project for when I get tired of thinking about the implications of Roman coins and taxes or whatever, but I’ll probably attempt that as a combination of rough pencil comics and prose if I do it because it would strictly be For Fun 🤔 we’ll see! there’s some original comic stuff I want to tackle before the end of the year too. augh. the passage of time

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PRANKING ROOMMATE TOJI THAT YOU’RE MOVING OUT FOR APRIL FOOLS

Toji stepped through the front door, the familiar heavy thud of his leather boots clomping and echoing on the tiled floor. He dropped his keys with a clang and sighed as he leaned against the doorframe, clearly worn out from the day.

“Hey Toji,” you said as you stood by the doorway, trying to sound as calm and collected as possible, “Can we talk for a second?”.

His eyes narrowed slightly and you could tell he was already on alert because of the serious detection in your tone. “Yeah, what is it? You sound a bit too serious”.

You took a deep breath, practically forcing yourself to stay composed. “I’ve been thinking…” You hesitated for a moment, searching his face before finally saying it. “I think it’s time for me to move out”.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. Ever since you’ve moved in together, things had been easy and comfortable. You two got along well, no drama, no issues, so this came out of nowhere.

His brow furrowed as he set his work bag down. “Wait, what? Why? You serious?”

You nodded slowly, watching his expression shift to disarray and confusion, maybe even a flicker of something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” you said, keeping your tone steady. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I’ve already started looking at places… I just think it’s time for a change”.

For a second, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, his tired and weary eyes scanning your face. You could see him trying to figure out if you were joking or not. After a beat, he stepped closer, his voice dropping a little. “Hold on. You’re really gonna just leave? Just like that?”

You nodded again, trying to keep up the act. “Yeah. I don’t want to be a burden, you know? With your job and everything… it’s just better if I go”.

He didn’t move at first, his arms crossed tightly, like he was trying to process what you said. You could see the gears turning in his head, his usual confident demeanor slipping just a little.

His jaw tightened, his broad shoulders looking even more imposing as he walked over to you. You could feel the tension building, and you had to hold back a grin. Toji was a tough guy— tougher than most people but right now, you could see the concern flickering in his eyes. It was working and he looked so so defeated but also trying his best to keep himself up.

“Look,” he finally said, his voice low and gentle. “I don’t know what’s going on but you don’t need to leave. I— shit if it’s rent, I can help you out more. You don’t gotta go. We can work something out y/n”.

For a moment, you almost felt bad— he sounded so sincere like he was genuinely trying to figure out how to fix things. You wanted to laugh at how serious he was because you had never really seen this side of him before but you held back. It was almost too easy.

You let the silence hang in the air before you dropped the bomb. With a smirk, you leaned back and said, “April Fools”.

Toji froze, his eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to process what you just said. Then slowly, his expression shifted. He let out a sharp sigh, clearly annoyed as fuck but mostly relieved. “You’re a pain in the fucking ass, you know that?”

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach because of how funny it was. “You should’ve seen your face. You totally fell for it!”

“You little brat,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a light chuckle. He took a step closer and before you knew what was happening, he reached down and squeezed your cheek— hard enough to make your face squish between his fingers.

“Next time you pull something like that, I’ll get you back,” he warned, his voice playful but more relaxed. You gasped, flailing a little as you tried to push his bigger hand away. “Oww! Hey! You can’t just—”

Toji laughed, obviously pleased with the reaction. “Don’t fuck with me, kid. You’re lucky I even like you”.

You rubbed your cheek, half amused and half annoyed. “That was mean!” you whined, still trying to fight the grin that was spreading across your face. He gave you a knowing look. “You deserve it, I thought I was losing my mind for a second there”.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t keep the smile from creeping up on your face. “Just wait until next time. I’ll get you back even more”.

Toji gave you a pointed look, just relieved that you’re even implying there’s gonna be a next time. He walked over to the fridge to grab a beer to calm his nerves. “You’ve got some nerve pulling that on me in the first place, I’ve had a long day, kid”

You grinned, but your heart skipped a little. It was moments like these— his teasing, the soft side of him that made living with Toji so entertaining and easy.

You knew he wasn’t actually mad. In fact, you could tell he was secretly impressed that you even pulled it off.

“Next time I pull a prank, it’s gonna be worse so watch out, old man,” you teased. “Yeah yeah, sure,” he muttered, cracking open the beer. “We’ll see about that”.

[lay-z]

Things you shouldn’t say around Task Force 141, unless you know how to deal with the consequences.

It’s a rare lazy day at the 141 HQ on base in Hereford.

Lazy for you, at the very least, due to an upcoming long holiday weekend and the blessing of being one if not the most efficient secretary around. 

Days like this mean it’s time for some groundwork, cleaning up messes from the past weeks, and doing all the filing you’ve been procrastinating for longer than you’d like to admit. 

But they also mean that either your boss or one of his men will approach you to ask for your lunch order at some point—more than happy to indulge in some much-needed downtime between training and paperwork. 

While Captain Price sits behind his desk with you standing next to him, signing some documents for you, the other three men all lounge around the room like they don’t quite know what to do with themselves if no orders are given. 

Kyle and Johnny manspreading on the leather couch in the corner, Simon is standing by the open window with his mask rucked up and a ciggy dangling between his gloved fingers. 

“What about shawarma? Haven’t had tha’ in a while,” Kyle suggests, scrolling on his phone as he continues to look for restaurants and chip shops nearby. 

Johnny groans next to him. “Aye, ’s good, but gives me the farts–” A loud smack. “Ow!” Your eyes flit up with furrowed brows, holding out another document to the captain. 

“Bruh.” Kyle kisses his teeth snidely, shaking his head as he drops his hand again while Johnny rubs the rapidly flushing nape of his neck. “There’s a lady present, Soap.” 

Simon snorts, flicking ash out of the window before taking another drag. 

“Muppets,” Price mutters under his breath as he takes the next document from your hold. 

“What do you want then, sweet’art?” Simon asks you directly, his voice even more gravelly before he exhale a plume of smoke.  

Smiling, you give a little shrug. “What do I want?” You chuckle, feeling bold enough to crack a joke for once. “How about a fat baby and a husband who’s utterly obsessed with me.” 

And suddenly, the office goes eerily quiet; tension skyrocketing as your face begins to heat up furiously within seconds. Now too embarrassed to even look up, you miss the severe look all four share with each other, as if you’d just spoken some forbidden words—or given the permission to cross a line they’d drawn themselves. 

“Uhm,” you clear your throat awkwardly, tapping a neat stack of papers on the captain’s desk, “I mean uh... just some chips and–and a sandwich maybe?” 

But it’s too late, they all heard you loud and clear—noticed the underlying truth and longing in your words, even if you tried to mask it with humour.  

Both Johnny and Simon stare at you like they’ve finally locked eyes on their target, and while Kyle can nudge Johnny hard, the young Sergeant can only debate to throw a boot at the Lieutenant to snap him back to reality, but then Price clears his throat and takes the lead. 

“Right,” he says gruffly, “sandwiches sound good, darlin’.”  

The leather of his office chair creaks as he leans back leisurely, regarding you with a strangely soft look and a friendly pat on the back of your hand, like he’s soothing a bristling kitten.  

“Would you be a dear and call the sandwich shop to have ‘em prepare our order? I’m positive Soap or Gaz will pick it up for us later.”  

“Yes, sir,” you answer tentatively, and you catch how both Sergeants nod all too obediently, flashing toothy smiles at you with a rather suspicious glint in their eyes while Simon lights another cigarette with his broad back now turned towards you, now holding an awkward tension in his shoulders. 

“Brilliant.” Price clears his throat again and you suddenly feel lout of place, like they’re having a fully non-verbal conversation about a secret you’re not briefed on. It’s feels entirely different than the times they talk about anything classified—like this is personal. 

“Now, darlin’, if you have all the signatures you need, I’ll have some intel to share with the team.” 

It’s his polite and roundabout way to tell you to leave, so you give a quick nod as you gather the files you’d brought, and you hate how your hands are trembling with adrenaline, feeling like you’re watched by four apex predators. 

And when the door to the captain’s office closes behind you with a final click, it echoes inside the empty hallway along with the shaky exhale of a deep sigh as you curse yourself for cracking that joke and making the men uncomfortable. 

Meanwhile, just behind a heavy door and thick walls, the core of TF-141 is already planning their upcoming mission, now determined more than ever since knowing you to fulfil your greatest wish— 

Giving you a fat baby, each, and four men utterly obsessed with you along with them. 

[trashpremiium]

taking care of myself not because i actually care about my own wellbeing but because im a massive quitter and don’t like when things are hard

[ayyy-pee]

ℍ𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝔸𝕗𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕤

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Female Reader

Summary: But you can see - in those deep violet eyes of his - three little words swimming behind them that he's been itching to say to you for quite some time now. You want to say them too, have for as long as you can remember. 

But you're both Hashira. It's already enough that you both keep towing this dangerous line, finding yourselves in this exact predicament more often than not.

or

Sanemi is just so down bad for reader.

Story Warning: Smut, Alley Sex, P in V sex, Profanity bc c'mon...it's me, Vaginal Sex, Jealousy, Jealous Behavior, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Sanemi being bad at feelings, Secret Flings, Secretly in Love, Sneaking Around, Some canon Giyuu hate from Sanemi, Reader is a Hashira too!

Art by: krit961 (Twitter)

A/N: This is my first time writing for this fandom ever, but the Sanemi brainrot has been so INSANELY strong I just had to write SOMETHING up. It's nothing crazy and I'm rusty because it's been awhile for me but ugh. THIS ONE IS FOR YOU SANEMI!!!! Also shoutout to @lemonlover1110 for helping me with the title!

“We should head back…” You sigh, breaths coming rapidly. “Before…” A quiet gasp interrupts your words when you feel the sting of teeth sinking into your neck. “Before the others notice…”

”Fuck the others,” a gravelly voice growls into the juncture of your neck. Large hands grasp your thighs hard, holding them wide open as a hard form sits between them. “Don’t give a fuck if they notice, either. Maybe Tomioka will stop staring like a lovesick puppy if he figures it out.”

He buries his face further into your neck, grumbling against your skin. Something along the lines of “I hate that guy” and “I should gouge his eyes out”.

Your fingers slip into the snowy white tresses at the nape of his neck, gripping hard and pulling so that you can see his face. Pretty, long lashes cover hooded purple eyes that soften the moment they catch sight of you. The softness is such a contrast to the deep, pitted scars scattered along his face. But he’s beautiful all the same.

“Sanemi…”

At the sound of his name on your lips, he rolls his eyes. “If you’re gonna defend him–”

“Sanemi –”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” 

Your lips set into a deep frown, and Sanemi matches your expression, stubborn as ever. “What is your issue with Giyuu anyway?”

Sanemi scoffs, “Giyuuuuuu,” he mocks with a nasally tone. “Stop talking about him.”

“You brought him up!”

His mouth finds yours, rough and hungry, all consuming. It’s all teeth and tongue, nipping at your lips because he knows they’ll still be just swollen enough by the time you both get back. He’s marking his territory in his own way, as much as he can. Possessive and jealous, even when he knows he has no reason to be, no right to be. But he can’t help it.

You don’t belong to him, you don’t belong to anyone. Because you know it wouldn’t be smart to commit to any one person. Not in this line of work.

Sanemi has you pressed against the bamboo fencing in the darkest part of an alleyway, just outside of the Ubuyashiki Mansion with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. It’s your usual meeting spot when you’ve been separated for some time, both of you too impatient to wait until the early morning hours when the Hashira meeting has finally ended to see each other.

“Fuck me,” Sanemi groans against your lips. He places an arm beneath your ass, holding you up as his other hand hikes your uniform skirt up to your waist. “Swear this gets shorter every time I see you.”

A giggle slips past your lips, because it absolutely gets shorter every time he sees you. You do it on purpose because you know it drives Sanemi up the wall to see little peeks of your ass and not be able to do anything about it. Makes him even crazier that he knows others can see it, too, and he can’t do anything but shoot death glares at anyone who dares to let their gazes roam. 

But you can’t let Sanemi know that. So you pout, laying your palms against his exposed chest and tracing his scars with your fingertips. You watch as his eyes flutter, sensitive to the touch. “You don’t like it? I can always request a change in uniform…”

Sanemi groans, leaning forward and kissing you hard. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” He presses his groin into your, evidence of his arousal against your soaking core. “You look so good in it.” His hand slinks between your bodies, thumb going straight to your clit, where he presses down, a shit eating grin spreading across his face when your back arches off the wall and you moan. “Look even better in it when you’re making that face.”

Your nails dig into his scars and Sanemi’s reaction is automatic, hips rocking forward roughly and now you’re both whining into each other’s mouths. You’re sure if anyone came across the two of you, you’d appear as this horny couple who couldn’t bother to wait until they got home to dry hump each other. And outside of the couple part, they’d be correct. Sanemi ruts against you, his erection running deliciously along your clothed cunt. Your lips slot together, tongues deep in each other’s mouths as Sanemi grunts into yours, and you keen into his.

There’s not much time to waste, you’re meant to be at the mansion soon. It would be suspicious if one Hashira, let alone two were missing when the Master arrived and if asked, the crows would spill your secrets in a heartbeat. You need to hurry. And Sanemi feels the pressure too. Even though he loves to annoy you pretending he doesn’t care about being late or cluing in the others on what’s going on, he would never disrespect the Master. 

Pausing his movements and leaning back to peer down at you, Sanemi sighs. He’s so painfully hard, his length throbbing within the confines of his uniform as he drinks in the sight of your kiss swollen lips, just the way he wanted them. And your face flushed, pupils blown wide as all hell with arousal. He’s sure he looks much the same, knowing you’re just as possessive as he is, though you hardly show it. It’s simply easier to hide your little territorial marks, the scratches you leave on him when they blend in so well among the rest of his scars.

Your fingers ghost along his chest, finding his nipples and you pinch the hardening buds, smirking when you see the way Sanemi’s eyes almost roll back. He can’t take another fucking second of this teasing. Not after he hasn’t seen you in who knows how long. He wants you badly that even your voice is enough to make him ruin his pants right now. It’s the semi-annual Hashira meeting tonight and he’s not willing to wait until Himejima is done yapping to have you.

Sanemi tugs at his uniform, getting his pants down just barely enough to pull his cock out. The tip is angry, red, just as desperate to be inside you as Sanemi. It glistens with his desire for you and you only.

“Gonna fuck you now, okay?” He tells you, hooking a finger into your undergarments and pulling them to the side. He runs his digits through your folds, hissing when he feels how drenched you are. It helps when he slips two fingers into you, mouth falling open when you throw your head back with a cry, your walls clamping around him. This Sanemi’s favorite part. Watching the way your brows knit together, how your pretty teeth dig into your plush bottom lip to bite back your moans, how your pussy makes the most lewd noises as he pumps his fingers into you.

You are glorious.

Always have been. It’s why he can never get enough of you. You’re insanely strong, clearly. You’re a Hashira, standing alongside him and some of the strongest in the corps. But you’re also blessed with a beauty that rivals every woman Sanemi has ever laid eyes on. He’s drawn to you in ways he cannot explain, ways he doesn’t need an explanation for. It’s why he hates catching the little glances from a certain other Hashira. Not that anyone knows what you two have going on, but all Sanemi knows is that he –

“Sanemi…” you whimper, eyes gazing softly at him. “Please. I need you.”

And he doesn’t need to hear more. His lips crash against yours as he swiftly pulls his fingers from you, gripping his length tightly and pumping himself. “How bad do you need me?” He asks. Because he needs you so fucking bad right now he can’t think straight. His mind is foggy, his body burns with his lust for you. 

“So, so bad, Sanemi,” you loop your arms around his neck, kissing him just as eagerly as he kisses you. “I need you more than anything.”

Sanemi groans, pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance. But his eyes never leave your face, even as the tip breaches your walls and makes him want to shut his eyes and focus on not cumming embarrassingly fast. He wants to see you, watch the way you lose yourself when he splits you open. The thought of it has him pulsing painfully in his hand. He rolls his hips forward, slowly, gritting his teeth when your wet warmth envelops him. “Still so goddamn tight for me,” he grunts. “Your greedy cunt is sucking me right in, fuck.”

Your nails dig into the fabric of Sanemi’s shirt, hanging on for dear life as Sanemi pushes deeper and deeper into you. As many times as you’ve been in this position with Sanemi, it always feels like the first time. He’s so long and thick, you have to adjust every time he slips into you.

“Oh my god,” you whine, and Sanemi pauses.

“You okay?”

“Yes…just…fuck me, please, Sanemi…”

He grips your thighs, pushing you back against the bamboo fencing to hold you in place. And then he thrusts forward, bottoming out in one swift motion and you both cry out in unison, the overwhelming pleasure making you both shudder.

“Fucking hell,” Sanemi sighs. He places his hands beneath your ass, keeping you still while he rears his hips back, only to slam back into you over and over. He pounds into your pussy at a relentless pace. Half because you’re on one hell of a time crunch, and half because he can’t help it. He feels animalistic when it comes to you, fucking into you mindlessly because it just feels so goddamn incredible. Every thrust feels better than the last, your warm walls clenching around him with each snap of his hips.

“I can’t go that long without you again…” Sanemi croaks, catching himself because he feels he’s getting too sentimental. “...without your pretty little pussy.”

“God, just say you missed me, you asshole.” You tell him, moving your own hips to meet his strokes. Though your words come out as more of this pathetic whimper than an actual demand and it makes Sanemi’s hips stutter. Just briefly. His hands on your ass lift you up before pulling you to sink back down on him.

Sanemi chuckles, leaning back just enough so that he can look between your bodies, watch the sticky strings of your slick connecting you, watch how his dick disappears. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes!” You cry when Sanemi hits a particularly tender spot. “Shit, I missed you so much, Sanemi.”

His brows rise, a little surprised by the confession, and a loud one at that. “Oh?” He kisses you hard, keeping his pace. Your confession turns him on more than he’s willing to admit. He missed you, too, though it’s harder for him to say so. Instead he fucks all of his feelings into you. 

How he misses you when you’re apart, because his thoughts are dangerously distracted wondering what you’re doing, who you’re with, if you’re alive.

How he wishes you’d be assigned missions together, so he could watch you tear a demon's head straight from their shoulders. Then find somewhere to stay the night so he can fuck you on every surface possible (He’s done this with you before. He wants to do it with you again).

How he wishes he could open his mouth and tell you how he truly feels.

But those feelings have always been foreign to him. Sanemi is lucky you understand his silence, that you accept his actions for what they are and let them speak for him. You accept everything he gives you happily. And as you tighten your legs around his waist, as you quietly let your pleasure be heard by him and him alone, as your walls clamp down around him with your release, convulsing and pulling him into you, Sanemi can only thank the Gods for every shitty circumstance that led him to you.

Does he deserve you? Probably not. Does he care? Absolutely not.

Because you chose him. This secret…whatever this is. Out of anyone in this world, you chose Sanemi.

And it’s enough to send him over the edge with you, gasping desperately for air as he tries to find your lips again. He closes his eyes, pushing himself as deep as he can as his release floods your walls. It’s so much, a build up over time and he knows his seed will be dripping out of your core before he’s even had a chance to pull out. It’s always this way. Because Sanemi doesn’t bother entertaining other women when he’s away. He only wants you. So the second he’s within the same vicinity as you, he has literally so much to give.

You never seem to mind.

Sanemi breaks the messy kiss, placing gentle, sweet pecks to your cheek before he leans back to stare down at you. That fucked out look on your face almost has him getting hard again. But you don’t have time for that, so he just watches you and you watch him. And he’s glad for the fact that you can’t see the way his mind is racing with only thoughts of you, thoughts of this feeling he’s buried so deep trying to claw its way up Sanemi’s throat.

But you can see - in those deep violet eyes of his - three little words swimming behind them that he's been itching to say to you for quite some time now. You want to say them too, have for as long as you can remember. 

But you're both Hashira. It's already enough that you both keep towing this dangerous line, finding yourselves in this exact predicament more often than not.

It's a little more than ridiculous actually, the way neither of you can resist sneaking glances, hiding touches, making excuses to leave on missions together. You and Sanemi…you're drawn to each other, your strings of fate knotted tightly together. It’s become impossible to leave each other alone. You don't think you'd be able to resist what you're doing even if you met as two civilians on the street. Hell, you couldn't resist each other all those years ago when you were low ranked corps members. 

Training was a confusing hell back then, every session filled to the brim with fury and a strange and thick tension neither of you could put your finger on until way down the line. It wasn't until one particular training session when Sanemi had you pinned to the ground, his strong hips pressing into yours, that you then understood what that tension was. The evidence was apparent in the way Sanemi's hard stare bore into yours, how the heat between your legs began to ignite when you felt Sanemi’s thick length pulse against you, how something akin to a whimper fell from his lips when his gaze snapped down quickly just in time to watch the hem of your uniform skirt slip further, enough for him to see the way your bodies seemed to just…fit.

Then his eyes were back on your face, your lips, now parted as harsh breaths escaped you. Your eyes, wide and wanting, peered up at him from beneath your lashes and Sanemi remembers this being the very moment he stopped denying what he had always known. You are breathtakingly beautiful. He also recalls this being the moment he knew he was done for. 

So when your hands found themselves placed against his not yet scarred chest, balling the sweaty fabric of his shirt in your fists…when he leaned closer and curiously rolled his hips against your clothed core and heard you let out the most captivating sound he'd ever heard, a sound he's been obsessed with since he's heard it…when he pressed his lips lightly to yours and you whispered into his mouth “I've never done this before”.

Yeah, Sanemi knew then that he was fucked. 

And though that night was not the night you'd given your virginity to Sanemi - that would happen years later - it was the night Sanemi tasted you for the first time. And he devoured you time and time again like a man starved. He would have you any way and any time that he could, if you allowed him. 

That was only the beginning.

Not much has changed in the years that you have been keeping up this arrangement with Sanemi. It's the only thing that you both keep coming back to, the only thing that feels solid. Though you both know it's stupid to feel as if anything in this line of work is not at risk. 

Every night that you lie awake, together or not, is a reminder. Every semi-annual meeting with the Hashira, mentally taking a headcount of everyone is a reminder. Every Hashira meeting without Rengoku, without Tengen is a reminder. 

Death is always standing just outside your door.

You can't afford to delude yourselves into thinking you can freely love and care for each other. Not until this thousand year war is over. Not until you are free to roam beneath the stars together without the scent of blood, the cries of pain and loss tainting the night. 

So, as you and Sanemi slip into the gates of the Ubuyashiki Mansion, your fingers brush together just briefly - a silent display of those words you dare not mutter aloud. You make your way to your respective places amongst the strongest of the Demon Slayer corps; you, next to Tomioka and Sanemi beside the Serpent Hashira. And while you quietly mingle with those around you before the Master appears, you miss the hushed conversation further down the line. 

“You reek of her,” Obanai remarks. Resting around his shoulders, his snake whips his tongue out at Sanemi in almost an agreement. 

“Shut up.”

“You're more tense than normal. Did you finally confess? Did she reject your advances?”

“I said shut up,” Sanemi growls. The chatter of everyone is already grinding on his nerves and your voice is not helping. He wants to look at you. See what - or who - has you giggling and speaking so sweetly that it's making him sick. It shouldn't matter. You can talk to whoever you want.

‘Except Tomioka,’ Sanemi thinks. But it's only because he's so clearly in love with you! He can't understand how you don't see it.

“Looks like Tomioka is making his move,” Obanai notes quietly, like he read Sanemi’s mind.

Sanemi can hear the teasing tone in his voice. The asshole is really getting a kick out of this. Even still, it's enough to have Sanemi’s gaze snapping over to you just in time to see Tomioka and you smiling sweetly at each other, nodding and whispering amongst yourselves. 

It shouldn't make Sanemi as upset as it does, just seeing you enjoy yourself with him, seeing him enjoy himself with you. Your smiles, your laughs, your kindness. It should only be for Sanemi. But you're a kind person…too kind. So kind you'd allow a monster like himself to fall in love with you.

Tomioka is much kinder, more understanding, better for you than Sanemi could ever be. 

And so, seeing you and him bond…Well, it fills Sanemi with a rage so hot he finds himself standing, eyes locked on the back of your head. You must feel it, his gaze beating down on you like rays of heat from the sun itself, because you fall silent and your head snaps around. Your eyes find Sanemi's immediately, gaze wide and questioning. 

Tomioka looks confused as well. ‘Good,’ Sanemi thinks. He can't wait to see the look on the Water Hashira's face when Sanemi does what he's been wanting to, but admittedly too scared to do for so long – claim you as his in front of everyone.

He lets the fumes of his anger fuel him, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw hurts. And then he's opening his mouth to speak, tongue on the roof of his mouth as all other chatter dies and the eyes of the other Hashira land on him. 

“I lo-”

“The Master has arrived!” Twin voices call in unison. 

And it's like muscle memory for every single Hashira, falling in line on one knee with their heads bowed as the Master approaches. His arrival extinguishes the fire that burned hazardously within Sanemi just seconds before, soothes the scorching left behind. His head is clear now, the reminder of why you both choose to keep your meetings between just you two evident.

You have a job to do. Defeating this evil comes before all things, even you. Though with the way Sanemi almost blew the lid off of your secret, he's not sure how much longer can go on without openly being with you. 

But it sparks something within him - a new fire. One that burns solely for one purpose. 

To defeat Kibutsuji Muzan…so that he can finally, and fully have you. 

[bull-shit-suji]

not that this is a particularly profound take but imo the dadbastian trope IS pretty applicable in canon if you just like. Look at it from a slightly skewed angle.

it's not that i'm coming at this in a "sebastian is gradually changing for the better and learning to empathize with and/or regard o!ciel as someone he genuinely cares for" way because, as much as that narrative is fun and angsty and Just So Happens to make sebastian a little easier to relate to, it clashes with how calculated he canonically is.

that being said! he absolutely is changing. his character arc revolves around a realization that the tactics he's comfortable using aren't good enough, and this goes wayyy beyond undertaker being two steps ahead of his "punch first, ask questions later" instinct. everything sebastian does is catalyzed by a belief that, no matter how treacherous the situation becomes, he'll be able to figure it out with little to no effort given his superiority as a supernatural entity.

ciel and sebastian's dynamic prior to emerald witch relies on this ethos. ciel has a goal and views sebastian as the sole avenue through which he can accomplish it because he's a demon. ciel feels unsafe and views sebastian as his only source of protection because he's a demon. all sebastian has to do to maintain this dynamic is be scary and generally infallible which, surprise! are natural dispositions for him.

enter BOC, in which this dynamic is challenged during ciel's initial asthma attack. this is the first time sebastian is relatively helpless to keep ciel alive - he has to defer to a human doctor because there's literally. Nothing he can do. which is then paralleled by ciel's second flair up.

there's a reason ciel's asthma is referenced again in this scene. there's a reason sebastian looks so skip-happy while carrying out ciel's order of burning that bitch to the ground. he doesn't have to question his abilities! he doesn't have to alter the dynamic! he can keep flexing his demon powers anytime shit hits the fan and ciel will always come crawling back to him.

sebastian's fatal flaw isn't just that he's muscle-brained - he's also stubbornly, willfully ignorant of his own weaknesses. sure, he was completely useless in preventing ciel's asthma back at the circus, but that's fine, who cares! he gets to fall back on his strengths and ignore how powerless he actually was.

welcome to BOA! for context, prior to this arc, sebastian rarely, if ever let ciel see him expending any kind of effort, i.e. he's in a constant battle with the servants to keep the manor from descending into chaos and purposefully tries to hide it. this isn't just a butler aesthetics thing, it's also an "I'm a demon and everything is easy for me" thing, to the extent that sebastian continues attempting to uphold his unflappable demeanor when he's quite literally on the verge of collapsing.

sebastian's tactics aren't all that's challenged in BOA - his entire persona gets irreparably damaged. ciel sees him be outsmarted. ciel sees him injured and genuinely struggling to keep the former safe. this should be very bad news for their dynamic;

except, it isn't.

ciel responds so positively that it makes sebastian Yapper Of The Century michaelis momentarily speechless! he then immediately tells ciel to cut that shit out, thus deferring once again to a dynamic that's rapidly crumbling before his eyes and ignoring how effective his accidental appeal to pathos was in retaining and even strengthening ciel's attachment to him.

which leads me to emerald witch, aka the cataclysm for sebastian's change. on top of undertaker being a constant, underlying threat to his food, sebastian ONCE AGAIN has to deal with said food's delicate mortality.

obviously, sebastian is all out of sorts, but his expressions / the way he's framed when he's alone (or not being perceived) absolutely floor me. he looks genuinely distressed after speaking to the other servants. he's drawn in these bird's-eye and wide-shot views while in the forest, creating an isolated, pensive atmosphere and illustrating him (a big, bad demon) as nothing short of small.

he's conflicted. which is weird, right? this isn't the first time his food has gotten sick. moreover, ciel isn't in any active danger - he's having a PTSD response. sebastian is not stupid, he knows this, and should be either confidently reminding ciel of the power he wields or threatening to eat him right then and there; and yet! he waits multiple days before reverting to these (historically effective!!) responses.

it's not just that he's a picky eater - this is sebastian, for the first time in the series, recognizing how fragile ciel's attachment to him is. he's doubting himself. his food no longer views him as its only source of safety, has rejected him, and it's entirely due to sebastian's own negligence.

he's been ignoring his weaknesses. he's been reliant on ciel looking past multiple instances of helplessness in light of how terrified the kid is and how powerful sebastian makes him feel. it's not a coincidence that ciel's near-death experience was exacerbated by sebastian disregarding the former's symptoms to go beat up a werewolf (leaving him ALONE in a foreign, SUPPOSEDLY CURSED castle) until those symptoms, literally, hit him in the face.

it doesn't matter how incapacitated ciel is - sebastian's presence should be enough to calm him, and it isn't, and it's his fault.

this is where sebastian really starts to change. (mind you, the chapter following ciel's initial rejection is titled "That Butler, Change", so do with that what you will.) though we aren't told this explicitly, i think he looks to instances wherein something other than fear drove ciel's attachment (BOA), as well as to the only person ciel would let near him while panicked (finnian, who ciel appears to be closest with amongst the servants and was projecting onto out of grief for his twin). he dials back on the demon vibes. he slowly begins altering his rhetoric.

enter blue cult!

remember what i said about sebastian not wanting ciel to see him struggle? to be cognizant of his weaknesses? as much as the situation was largely out of his control, it's interesting that sebastian allowed his expression to convey upset given that he views emotion of any kind as a weakness.

this isn't to say his sulking isn't genuine - i like to think his clinical narcissist brain was about to pop at the mere thought of not being praised; but! when put in context with his nature, his façade, how every single thing he does is calculated, especially around ciel, this Wildly out-of-character expression gains a new meaning.

another example after ciel returns from getting his blood thieved:

two things: one, sebastian is learning! he almost verbatim references his mistake in emerald witch, meaning he had to have acknowledged it between then and now. two, he does this verbally, explicitly, thereby allowing ciel to witness his panic AND be made aware that sebastian is capable of failure. he could have marched back into the music hall and wrangled the s4. he could have said "ah shit, that's not good, let's go find a doctor". instead, he rambles on about how this is all his fault to a degree that's so excessive it's kind of comical.

and you know what! i don't believe a goddamn word of it. it is so significant that he immediately switches gears after his instinctual big-scary-demon reaction. the sebastian we knew at the beginning of the manga would NEVER let ciel think he was genuinely upset or flawed to the extent of endangering his charge, as that would directly contradict ciel's perception of him as perfect, strong, and safe.

sebastian is thus playing on the dynamic shift that occurred in BOA: he is encouraging ciel to view him as a (rarely!) imperfect being who is struggling to maintain a façade. as someone willing to go to the ends of the earth for him, to care for him, to defy his nature for him, because there are now far too many factors beyond his control to rely on fear alone.

honestly? it's a masterful execution. sebastian's tweaks to his persona are subtle: he gets a little sillier, he offers more praise (under the guise of banter), he tries to make ciel feel bad for "leashing" him.

(i wasn't going to include these panels but. dude. the way he backtracks after the initial comparison between himself and elizabeth only to start pontificating about what the "heart" wants. that is such a purposefully dual-ended rhetoric and insane to hear from mr. evil personified.)

he even displays an artfully-skewed version of grief upon finding angi's body (again, that emotion might have been somewhat genuine, but it feels intentional that he chose to express it with ciel in the room) to foster belief that he is capable of like. Caring for people?

circling back to forces beyond sebastian's control, here are two examples of sebastian's reaction to r!ciel's return:

oh BABY. "neither you nor my love are real"?

on-the-nose dialogue aside, sebastian's expression between these panels had me stumped for years. it would make sense for him to convey sympathy to convince ciel of said "love", HOWEVER it's odd that he would continue to do this despite not actively being perceived while in the carriage. something about this feels a little too genuine - especially considering how he's visibly tweaking throughout all of r!ciel's reveal chapters. as much as looking distressed/concerned is likely a conscious decision, i don't think he's fabricating the emotion entirely.

which leads me to: why does sebastian feel the need to alter the dynamic? sure, it was precarious at best and ran the risk of ciel not liking his pet demon all that much, but there's no imminent danger in that. ciel needs sebastian to achieve his revenge and sebastian has made himself out to be the only dependable, constant person amidst ciel's friends/family inevitably leaving him, AND has a trump card of total autonomy over ciel's soul.

... unless, of course, one of the family members he'd lost miraculously came back from the dead, the exact family member sebastian had eaten right in front of him, and was attached at the hip to a creature familiar with sebastian's flaws far before the demon was ever aware of them, that has proved itself more than capable of killing him.

oh he's concerned alright; there is a very real chance that ciel might back out of the contract. he's forgone his revenge before while in a similar trauma-induced headspace; only, this time, sebastian would be powerless to stop him. in truth, at any point since BOA, his meal could have run off to undertaker and there would have been shit all he could do about it. sebastian was slow to acknowledge this, granted, but up until EW there had been virtually no reason for ciel to do something like that.

now there are reasons. and girl, not only is sebastian concerned, i think he's a little scared.

he's functionally lost all ground in keeping ciel dependent on him. it's no longer enough for ciel to regard sebastian as a maliciously convenient product of circumstance - he has to form some other connection.

so, sebastian blurs the line between servant and guardian. he plays on associations he'd established in the past: nagging over ciel's health, taking over his studies, complimenting him, disciplining him, crafting his own form to look remarkably similar to vincent (and no, i don't consider this an instance of same-face-syndrome, look at their bangs. tell me that's not intentional). choices once made out of cruelty, out of a desire to worsen ciel's emotional turmoil, now repurposed to convince him of a devoted, endearingly-demonic parental figure and hoping this will be enough should there come a time wherein ciel is given a choice between two blasphemous falsifications of his family.

sebastian pivots hard. he avoids relying on his supernatural abilities unless absolutely necessary, despite countless opportunities to do so, to the extent where you almost forget he's not human. he does not leave ciel's side. he lets himself appear dirty and exhausted. he allows ciel to see how uncertain he feels, how helpless he is, knowing the true reason will be lost in translation because ciel is a child, and no matter how conscious that child is of sebastian's nature, he will instinctively revert to seeking out a parent.

the whole "butler aesthetics" shtick flies right out the window at the end of 147. i cannot physically articulate how improper it would be for a servant to grab his master's face and scold him. in front of company. you know who does that? a parent. this is straight up panic on sebastian's part. he is willing to run the risk of acting uncouth in order to brand those fatherly associations right onto ciel's underdeveloped frontal lobe.

and. and this might just be speculation. but.

it's working.

i cannot think of a single goddamn reason for ciel to do this. you wanna know something? his excuse is complete horseshit. sebastian is dressed as a butler, something passengers in a first class train compartment would recognize instantly. even his undercover persona of a valet wouldn't warrant tea with an aristocrat. as much as i'd like to believe ciel is in on the charade, i can't find any evidence nor does it seem realistic that he, a child, would fully grasp that level of manipulation, regardless of how mature he acts.

oh, hey, sebastian's being a little cryptic with that snowfall line. i bet it's completely random and he's never made weather-themed references in any of the prior arcs!

this is. One page. after ciel tells him to take a day off in BOA. he is directly referencing the first time he was made aware of how effective a disingenuous father-son relationship could be.

in BOA, he appears slightly ruffled by the dynamic shift, as this endangered the status quo. in the train car, he's absolutely ecstatic. look at him! that's his "I Just Manipulated This Preteen Sooo Good" face. he looks like an animal. he looks like he's about to turn into a werewolf and jump for joy.

tl;dr: dadbastian is actually so insanely viable, but not in the way you'd think. sebastian in undoubtedly changing, but this isn't an accident or a product of him learning to love or care in any capacity. he is perpetrating the illusion of change, of personal growth in a creature that cannot posses a real identity, thereby humanizing himself in ciel's eyes to keep his food from slipping out of his grasp and it's working so unbelievably well that he's managed to fool a good number of kuro's readers too.

[asexualasshat]

Anyone else Thinkin about how Steve was 100% the subject of Eddie cafeteria rants during Steve’s senior year?? Maybe a jibe about how Nancy was right to leave him? She’s too good for him??

And it hurts cause he’s a lil raw but it’s mostly like “yeah I know” so it mostly brushes past him. He’s doing his best to be a decent person.

And so now after seeing Steve bite the head off a bat and also be kind and respectable? He’s like “woah. Steve is good. So good. Maybe the best. Deserves so much love.” And obviously that’s rapidly growing crush. But he doesn’t quite pick up on it so he’s like “this surely means he’s at least good enough for Nancy. I need to encourage them to get together because Steve is so good and deserves the best”

So he encourages it and Steve kinda explores it and he’s quickly like “hmmm no. She’s the best and we’re buds and will never kiss again.”

And Eddie is a lil crushed that Steve isn’t happy and in love. No he’s fr feeling very sad for Steve.

It’s like a month later, with Steve leaning against him while they watch a movie, that Eddie’s like “hold the phone! I don’t just want him to be happy and in love! I want him to be happy and in love with ME!”

Thus followed by Eddie’s bumbling attempts because he doesn’t really think he’s good enough for steve

But what he doesn’t know is that Steve sped through a sexuality crisis and had been ranting to Robin about how Eddie wasn’t picking up on his flirting (Robin says he’s too subtle) so he doesn’t know what to do. But oh man, he recognizes flirting coming at him with no question. Even if it’s so deeply awkward. So once he sees Eddie flirting??? Game on. Come to Stevie

End rant

[iwashie]

𝙄 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙄 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙚𝙭

Imagine Sevika breaking up with you; breaking your heart again as she sees your eyes fill with tears as you grabbed only a jacket and left her apartment, slamming the door on your way out and never coming back. She was sure she was doing the right thing. It was the best for you two, especially for you to stay away from problems. 

She had to get used to the new routine of coming home late at night and entering an empty apartment without your presence welcoming her home with a kiss, and the table set with delicious food, without your laugh and warmth, calling her by the pet names. 

While you sank in sadness, crying every night, thinking where you two went wrong, missing Sevika, she spent nights on end at the brothel, filling your empty space with another face, body, warmth, kiss and touches, just to still feel empty and lonely. But she faced her decision without regrets, without getting in touch, avoiding all the places you two could run into each other. 

She had to send your stuff back through Ran since you refused to go to her place to pick it up; all of your things were boxed in your living room when you came home from work. That was a definitive end to what you two were. 

That night, Sevika almost got kicked out of the brothel because of the chaotic situation she was in; sobbing and drunkenly calling for you, throwing punches at the men. 

You grow used to the new life, accepting her decision and moving on with your life, also avoiding all the places you could see her. Spending months without seeing each other, quietly living the new single life.

Just to one day while Sevika was strolling through the streets she listened to your laugh coming from nearby, and her heart stopped for a minute, the feeling of miss filling her. She followed your voice, hoping to see you after all this time, and make small talk with you; after all, you’re a Zaun citizen and she cares for her people. She stopped and her smirk died when saw you laughing, receiving a bouquet of flowers and getting hit on by another woman.

Sevika felt like hit by a punch, seeing you accept the flowers and touch the woman. Her world slowly crumbling at her feet as she felt a grip on her heart and her head filled with your image welcoming her home, your smiling face, your laugh, your shine eyes, your touches and kisses, your voice calling her and your body moving inside her apartment, dancing in the kitchen with her jazz disco collection, your body dancing on her hands while you two made love. She could feel your body glued on hers, your arms and legs tangled on her body while your face is crushed against her chest, and all the domestic moments you two lived. All of it disappears while she’s alone in her room, your scent long gone, the apartment empty and dark without your shining presence there, making her happy and loved.

The memories hitting her differently.

Sevika felt triggered knowing that someone out there is buying you roses, possibly making you happy the way she couldn’t, that you moved on like you had enough, quitting her like a cigarette. And now she’s six feet deep seeing roses everywhere, killing her that someone is stealing her girl for good and she can do nothing about it. 

Sevika was in front of your door, banging on it, hoping not to see that woman with you, and when you opened, your face rapidly changing, she was speechless for a while. What was she doing at your door late at night, maybe drunk, holding a bouquet of flowers and looking at you with anticipation, her words stuck to her throat. 

“Think I got it bad if i’m honest, thought that I was good, turns out that I’m a little far from it. You didn’t call me. You moved on… And I am still stuck in the past, overthinking my actions and words, they were all lies.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest, and Sevika gulped, her eyes scanning everywhere just to stop at your pretty face. She opened her mouth and closed again, gesturing her arms.

“I saw you with that woman and I… I went crazy. I was a fool to break up with you. I can’t live without you… I’m so fucking empty without you. Everything reminds me of you and I just think about the good time we had together. I… Doll, I need you.”

You uncrossed your arms, stepped outside your house and grabbed the bouquet she extended to you, smelling the flowers; your favorite flowers and your perfume that never came from her house. 

“Baby, please… give me another chance.” She begged, almost kneeling in front of you. “Give us another chance. Please.” 

You shook your head, a little sigh escaping your mouth as you passed the bouquet to one arm and with the other pulled her to you. Your lips touching in a soft kiss as her hands find its place on your waist, bringing you closer. “I hate you, Sevika.”

“But I love you, doll. And now you’re stuck with me forever.” She said, giving you a lingering peck and pushing you inside your house, closing the door with her foot.

@iwashie 2025, please do not translate, modify or republis my works

[beyscape]

pillow talk

Aemond Tagaryen x reader

Summary: Aemond's wife is upset when Prince Regent does not pay attention to her, so she takes the matters into her own hands.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Mostly fluff with some mild suggestive content, just something quick!! Requests are open for more Aemond—we can never have too much of Aemond, tbh.

“Are you too busy for your wife, my Prince? Or shall I say Prince Regent?” You raised an eyebrow at Aemond, the slight smirk on your lips not quite reaching your eyes.

“I must finish reading this, wife.” Aemond did not look up from the papers he was bent over, not even deigning to answer your teasing.

You rounded the bed with a disappointed hum, taking in the figure of your husband; he had already shrugged off his leathers he was fond of wearing during the day, his sword and daggers discarded around the room. Now remaining in his linen breeches and shirt, he had even thrown off his eyepatch in an annoyed huff; beneath his furrowed brows, the sapphire gleamed in the candlelight that illuminated your chambers.

Careful to not disturb the papers strewn on the bed, you sat down next to him, head tilted to the side. “Urgent matters?” You asked, though you had a feeling that you knew the answer. 

Being named Prince Regent had placed a great burden on his shoulders—those very same shoulders that were now tense as Aemond bent over the papers, the very same shoulders you loved to run your fingernails over as he made love to you.

Your husband only hummed in response. You tried not to feel hurt—you understood it, after all; how much he had waited for this moment, to finally be in charge, to finally have power over the way the Realm was ruled, and yet…

And yet.

You still felt hurt by the way his attention had shifted off of you completely—even when he shared your bed at night it was to spend couple hours in fitful sleep, he would come to the bed long after you had already fallen asleep and would often be already awake and busy with his duties long before the sunlight would break through the windows. 

“Aemond…” You sighed, lips pursed in annoyance. “Have your duties not disrupted our lives enough? Must they join us in bed also?” 

“Just a moment more,” His low voice trailed off, his focus on the papers unbroken; it was all-too-clear that your words had not even registered with the Prince Regent. 

You looked at him for another moment, watching the way his jaw tensed and the way his eye trailed the words of some war report or another from the Realm. He was bent over the documents, his long, unbound hair falling off of his shoulder like a silky curtain. 

“Fine, then.” A huff escaped your lips. “I am going to bed.” You blew off the candle by your bedside before laying down, your irritation with your husband growing rapidly as he still did not grace you with a single word or look of acknowledgement. 

You laid there for a moment, listening to the crackling of the fire and the occasional shifting of papers.Any other night the sounds, accompanied by the deep, steady breathing of Aemond, would have lulled you to sleep—but not this time. Not this night, certainly not after having been all but ignored by your husband for days on end. 

Unable to stand the silence and Aemond’s treatment of you any longer, you knew you had to do something, anything to finally snap him out of his deep focus. Quietly, your hand trailed to Aemond’s side of the bed, your fingers gripping the edge of his pillow. You held your breath for a moment, a silent debate ongoing within you, trying to estimate his potential anger and your chances of finally getting some quality time with your husband.

Your desire for the latter greatly exceeded your fear of the former—so you did what you had to do. You smacked Aemond’s tense shoulders with his pillow. 

Aemond’s hands stilled as a moment stretched between the two of you. His head turned towards you ever-so-slightly, brows still furrowed. “Did you just… hit me? With a pillow?” He asked, incredulous. 

You shrugged at him. “Whatever else was a displeased wife to do? Seemed like the tamest of the options I considered.” You raised an eyebrow, a gesture of a slight challenge. 

Aemond let the paper clutched in his hands fall back onto the bed, blending in with the rest of the documents. In a flash his slender hand was wrapped around your ankle, you let out a shriek as Aemond pulled you towards himself; suddenly the previously monumental duties were forgotten as his hands travelled the length of your body rapidly, teasing and tickling at every turn and moment. 

A wicked glint was in his eye as he rendered you a breathless mess—laughter came out of your lips in gasps as you tried to hold onto his arms in a vain attempt to stop him. “Aemond—I,” you breathed, “Stop, I’m sorry, stop!”

Accepting your retreat Aemond stopped, pinning your hands above your head, a slight smirk still playing on his lips. “You cheeky, insolent thing,” he chastised, leaning in as he hovered over your figure on the bed. “However shall you pay for this, wife?”

“I think I already have,” your chest heaved beneath him, still smiling as you tried to catch your breath.

He looked at you for a moment, his eye tracing your face with a careful look—one that was hungry to take in every little breath you take, every little expression on your face. His smirk faded, leaving its place to a look that seemed…apologetic, almost.

It was such an unfamiliar look on the handsome face of your husband, it sent a sudden pang of ache through you. You tilted your head a little to the side, taking in his pensive expression, the way you could practically see him process his thoughts and figure out the best way to express them. Such an intimate knowledge this was—to know Aemond so well was a privilege no one else had… Not a single soul in the Realm but you.

“I suppose,” He began, tentatively. “I suppose I have not had much time for you, as of late.” His thumb rubbed the skin of your pinned up wrist; it was still unbelievable, how the smallest of Aemond’s touches managed to affect you so monumentally. 

“Any time, more like,” You offered with a pout, his gaze immediately falling to your lips.

He hummed, a low and guttural sound—his sombre air tinged with desire set a flame burning in the pit of your stomach. “Then I am the one who should make it up to you.” 

Aemond’s head dipped down, pressing a long kiss to your lips. He let go of your pinned wrists in favour of his hand cupping your cheek, his other hand running down your side to tighten on your waist. He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, his weight pressing down on you. One of your hands sneaked into his hair while the other wrapped around his shoulder—you held onto him as though if you let go, the world would shift from underneath you. 

He pulled back slightly, reluctantly, to inhale, his eye never leaving your face. “Are you truly displeased with me?” He asked, his voice tainted with a vulnerable insecurity that never surfaced outside of the confines of your chambers. 

“Aemond,” you sighed, raising your face to press a kiss to his jaw, then to the corner of his mouth. His eyes fluttered close at the contact, your name tumbled out of his lips as a plea, as a prayer. “I have missed you is all. I am not vexed with you.” 

He looked into your eyes deeply, looking for any signs of insincerity or deception; he nodded once, twice, when he only found unwavering affection. Aemond dipped down to kiss you again and again, the first one being heart-achingly tender. 

“There was…” You said in between kisses, “a matter of making it up to me?” 

“Indeed,” His kisses trailed down your skin, his lips finding the spot connecting your neck to your shoulder. “I am in your service, dear wife.”

Your head tilted back almost instinctively, overcome with the desire to give him more access to you—to give him everything and anything he asked for. 

“Tell me what you want,” he breathed as his kisses continued to trail down, his gravelly voice reverberating against your skin.

“You,” a small gasp escaped your lips as his hand caressed the length of your leg, travelling up, up, up until he reached his destination and squeezed in triumph. “No more teasing. I just want you.”

Aemond pulled back with a satisfied little smirk that widened when you whined at the absence of his touch and his kisses. “As my dear wife wishes.” 

He looked down at your figure sprawled on the bed with a distinct hunger in his eye—like his appetite would never be sated, no matter how much he devoured you, like he would never be able to get enough of you. 

As he took off his white shirt, revealing the toned slender figure beneath, you knew one thing: Prince Aemond was going to take his sweet time giving you all the attention you desired and demanded from him—that is, at least, until the morning rays brought back to the mind the weight of duty and Crown alike, until your new reality returned.

You pulled Aemond down for another kiss, letting the taste of his lips ground you to the moment—you felt aflame, your skin flush and fingers tingling with longing to touch, to feel, to hold. It was magic; it was a blessing, a curse—to want someone so much, to be rendered half-mad with just a look, a touch, a gasp. 

Damn duty and the Crown, you thought hazily as Aemond pressed a kiss to the spot above your heart—they could wait their turn. In this moment, Aemond was all yours, unburdened by the troubles of ruling the Realm, by the waging war. 

In this moment, Aemond was all yours—and you would cherish every second of it.

[luxcuriousao3]

Not-So-Creepy Landlord!König Part Three

Masterlist

Warnings: none Notes: he baby WC: 843

Your landlord was odd.

That wasn’t news—you’d known from the second you met him that he was a grade A weirdo—but what was news was that he was also strangely… sweet?

You supposed he had always been sweet—he had started helping you with your groceries after only a few weeks of you living there, after all—but you hadn’t noticed, too busy thinking he was plotting your murder.

(You weren’t yet entirely convinced that he wasn’t. Just… mostly convinced. Enough to let your guard down a little bit more.)

But it was hard not to see it, once your eyes had been opened. His awkward attempts at conversation, when he told you little bits about his childhood in the apartment where you now lived, were less offputting, and more endearing. The way he pretended to be sweeping the lobby so he could carry your groceries to your door was no longer creepy, but kind. And the grin he gave you when he sat down at your too-small table as you poured him a glass of lemonade was honestly kind of adorable, despite the gruesome scars twisting the expression of joy into something straight out of a horror film. The happiness just radiated off him, his massive form folded and squished and hunched over to fit into the chair. He did it with ease, and you wondered how long it had been since he’d fit in one.

It was the third time you’d let him into your apartment to put your groceries away, the little routine the two of you had established finding a permanent place in your schedule. You expected him to wait at your door instead of running off, now, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager for his reward. He was a little like a dog, in that way. A huge, scary-looking, stray that just wanted to be told he was a good boy.

You’d always liked dogs. Especially the big ones.

“I planted lilies in the garden,” König said as he drank lemonade. “Did you see?”

“I did,” you answered, leaning against the counter. “They look beautiful. Lilies are my favorite, you know.”

“I know,” König said earnestly, looking very proud of himself. “You told me before, when I gave you a tour of the apartment.”

“And you remembered?” You asked, surprised and more than a little touched.

“Ja,” he replied, nodding. He went to take another sip of his lemonade, but then frowned down at the cup when it came up empty. “I remember everything you say.”

And… that was kind of weird, but again, also weirdly sweet.

“Do you want more?” You offered, and König looked up at you, blinking those perpetually sad, perpetually big blue eyes at you. If you stared at them too long, you started getting the urge to wrap him up in a blanket and give him hot chocolate. It was unnerving.

“You usually shoo me away as soon as I finish,” he pointed out, and you coughed in embarrassment, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Well, I can certainly do that, if you want—” you started, only for König’s eyes to widen as he shook his head rapidly.

“Nein! Nein. I would like some more, please,” he answered quickly, holding out his glass to you. You huffed, half annoyed, half amused, and refilled it before giving it back. He smiled shyly at you. “Danke.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed in reply, then turned towards your sink and made a face at the pile of dishes that had accumulated. Not having a dishwasher was turning out to be quite the adjustment.

“Is something wrong, Ma— Fraulein?” König asked, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him watching you with a furrow between his red brows. You waved a hand at him dismissively.

“It’s nothing,” you insisted, turning on the faucet and starting to tackle Mount Dishware. “Just not a fan of doing dishes by hand, is all.”

König was quiet for so long, you almost forgot he was there. By the time he spoke up again, you were already halfway done.

“I have ordered a dishwasher,” he declared, and you nearly dropped the plate you were holding in your shock. “Someone will come to install it in three days.”

“Wait, what?” You stuttered, clutching your chest with a soapy hand as you waited for your heart to stop racing. For such a big guy, König could be worryingly silent.

“The dishwasher will get here tomorrow. I chose overnight shipping. But I could not get someone out here until Thursday.” König’s shoulders were hunched, his chin tucked to his chest. “I am sorry, M— Fraulein. I will do your dishes for you until then.”

“What— I don’t have the money to buy a dishwasher!” You replied, a tad hysteric. “Or pay for its installation!”

König’s frown deepened, and he tilted his head to the side a little, like a confused puppy.

“You did not buy it,” he said. “I bought it. Just now.”

You gaped at him, wide eyed and speechless.

Yeah. Your landlord was so odd.

[affableramen]

how they cup your cheeks

fluff, established relationship (pantalone and dottore are angst)

Pantalone

Dominantly grips your chin which causes you to flinch in slight disgust. No one asked him to grab you so roughly. Pantalone gives you a condescending look as if you were but a lowly ant to him before his looks shifts from egomaniacal into something soft and tender. His grip loosens in your chin and he gently cups your cheek from the both sides, looking deeply into your eyes with tad of regret.

Pantalone, then, rubs his thumb over your cheek, a perplexed “oh” escapes his lips when you pull his palm to your mouth and kiss it gingerly. He breathes in and out, hardly believing someone could ever be so forgiving, so patient and kind with him.

Wriothesley

He is much taller than you so he needs to slightly lean to you in order to lovingly cup your cheeks. He likes those sincere, private moments between you too when Wriothesley can do nothing improper and be quite chaste with you. He loves being with you innocently, too. His big calloused hands bring your face closer to his as he rubs his thumb across your face with utmost serenity. You do not expect that from an ex-inmate, but the duke is nothing but a loving puppy when he is around you.

It’s quite tough with the specifics of your job to find quiet moments like this with him, that’s why Wriothesley keep them close to his heart. The both of you are tired enough to bicker too much at some point, so if there is any misunderstanding between you two he would apologise with a lightweight touch against your cheek.

Neuvillette

The judge loves cupping your cheeks. He is a very quiet and serene man by nature so he will never do anything very rapidly, he’d never allow himself to touch you in a way he finds improper, especially without your consent. However be it a touch against your hand with his finger gently or cupping your cheeks when he passes by, he will do it, most gallantly.

When Neuvillette cups your cheeks he always gives you a tiny smile, even his eyes seem to be laughing for you. You smile back to him and place your hand on top of his gloved one, leaning onto his palm. It’s a regular occurance for him to also kiss your forehead after cupping your slightly blushed face. There is a tad bit of greediness on your face, as you seem to not get enough of Neuvillette’s caring hands.

Tartaglia

Ajax cups your face mostly in a humorous way, not romantic, unless you ask him specifically for that. He likes playing with your curls and pinching your cheek. He’d laugh at your surprised and slightly bashful reaction. He is very open with expressing his affection and attachment to you and never skips a single possibility to show it to you in the most obvious way possible.

When Tartaglia cups your cheeks you jump at the unexpectancy mostly, but his touch undeniably feels like home. Looking into his ocean-blue eyes you smile and attempt you cup his face back too.

Capitano

Capitano doesn’t often show his affection openly for he has very ancient manners and understanding of affection, as well as his stiff, restrained personality not allowing him to do so. It’s common knowledge that he would even speak words of affection quite rarely, but what makes him so attractive and your beloved man is not his words.

His actions mostly. Because no matter how stiff he is he will still come to you after a tiresome day and kiss you in the forehead. After delivering a cute kiss to your forehead he will sit close to you and just hold your face for a long while, simply listening to your heartbeat and go about questions like “how was your day? is your health well?” etc.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham’s touches consist of sly diffidence and bashfulness, for he is a convinced introvert. Although you cannot deny that he touches you very gingerly. In the pale moonlight he will place your hand to the sight of your face, for you to lean on it and gaze into his eyes with affection and feeling he had never known before. He considers himself lucky to be the object of your love.

His face remains solemn and serious, the scholar’s eyes remain wise and his whole composure almost unnoticeably morphs into the more relaxed one as you let him touch your face gingerly and carefully. The quiet night breeze enters through the window, the coolness of it brings Alhaitham’s light, herbal-like cologne into light. You find yourself attracted to this tiny smell of his and shut your eyes, enjoying the sense of tranquility, while the scholar’s hand still cups your cheek.

Dottore

Dottore is not exactly touchy-feely but when he is feeling frustrated or either irritated it will in most occasions end up in seeking comfort from you. Even if he inevitably offends you with his words or movements that are too much, he will fix whatever the mess he has done.

Gripping your chin in his fingers Dottore looks at you judgementally. He cannot believe how a tiny thing like you would case him so much trouble. But he finds himself smitten, drawn to you. Crawling back to you in the hopes of seeking comfort. You say that his grip is painful and he should not project his anger issues onto you, and Dottore immediately drops you with a horrified expression. He was not even aware of the term “projecting” before. Carefully he places his hand back to your face but this time without gripping your chin forcefully. His fingers gently graze over your cheek with quiet “I’m sorry, doll”.

Dainsleif

Most of the times you are the one who cups his cheek so Dainsleif would like to return the favour one day, and he does it successfully.

When you cup his cheeks you do it playfully and with a smug smirk on your face, coz your boyfriend has a consistent ominous expression with which you have been used to living for quite a while. He is not exactly above depressed and menacing, but Dainsleif also has his soft spot and you were dying to find them. Gentle, innocent touch did him justice and Dain returns it to you with no less kindliness as you have given him before. His blue eyes gaze at you seriously and gloomily, but you certainly know what the love looks like. It may not be in his face, but in the movement of his hand, in the gentleness of his touch, undoubtedly.

Baizhu

Baizhu is a sly person who is also very emotionally intelligent and distrusting to many people. However with you he feels himself burning with strong feelings considerably. You love when he touches your face, because of how gentle his fingers, despite of having been in so many dangers, are. They are thin and elegant; and nothing about them can make you unhappy.

Baizhu gently cups your cheek, pressing his face close to yours so your noses touch. The action is very personal and intimate. You try to slowly move your hands through his emerald hair, but so lightweightly so it does not rob you of the precious moment. Baizhu hums in respond, saying the words of comfort to you and asking if your day has been well or if you want to share something, anything - he’ll be there for you. You can tell him absolutely anything, he persuades.

[essektheylyss]

Strictly speaking, the Scrying spell leaves the definition of "secondhand knowledge" of the target largely up to the litigation of the DM. The clarification given only specifies that "you have heard of the target" but does not specify in what form that knowledge takes, so the general knowledge that a certain person exists could arguably be enough to qualify.

Additionally, as Matt has described the experience of attempting to Scry on someone wearing an amulet of nondetection, it has a distinct feel to a target passing their save; at one point he describes it as the feeling of a "magical barrier" when Fearne attempts to Scry on Caleb and Beau.

At least one member of the Crownsguard in Zadash was aware that another person with the appearance of a guard walked away with the beacon, and it is not unlikely that that information got back to Trent quite rapidly.

It is also likely that the Assembly would've immediately pursued back channels to find out if there were any other Dynasty agents or Empire turncoats involved in the attack. As it's suggested that Essek had been involved in attempts to retrieve the beacons, he would've been the simplest and quickest inital contact for that investigation.

Ergo, it is relatively within reason to imagine that, having been informed that someone stole the beacon from custody of the Crownsguard, Essek himself could've attempted to Scry on the person who walked off with the beacon on that description alone and upon hitting that barrier was instantly bitch slapped by the knowledge that he was absolutely fucking COOKED.

[luminiamore]

STRETCH.

yoga instructer choso x black man-eater reader

a/n: this is heavily inspired by jennifer’s body (・_・ヾ

also 1000 followers WHATT? (つ✧ω✧)つ

no branding included in this fic actually, so yk what that means. part two in the future asf (ﾉ´ з `)ノ

warnings: murder, reader is a succubus who eats boys & the girls she sleeps with (not choso), reader has fangs, big dick choso, he’s shy, he do be eating ass though, sloppy eater, whiny choso, pussydrunk cho, breeding asf, soft dom choso but like (￣ω￣;) subby, he makes reader submit, just nasty, also frens with satosugu

masterlist

man-eater

Noun

man-eater (plural man-eaters)

An animal that attacks and kills humans for food, such as certain tigers or sharks; any animal that consumes human flesh. quotations 

A cannibal; a human that eats other humans. quotations 

(by extension, slang) A seductive dangerous woman, often readily taking and discarding male romantic partners. 

One thing you loved about the 21st century is that there was never a shortage of people. They were everywhere. Crawling around like little ants and fucking rapidly like rabbits. You never ran out of your source of food, your source of life. 

Your species have been around for a long time. You don’t remember how you came to be, but when you first opened your eyes, you were in the center of hot molten rock from the middle of the northwest Pacific Ocean. Tamu Massif, the world’s massive underwater volcano, just 1,600 km east of Japan, was your home. 

Your first feeding, your first kill, happened off the coast on the Seychelles beaches about two days after you were awakened. Your brown body was paling by then, but you didn’t know why. At first, you didn’t know what you were, but you knew you were weak and physically unable to move at some point. While still beautiful, your eyes lacked any life in them. You needed energy.

In your defense, they came to you. The wife did, more specifically. You were under the sun a lot; it was the only thing that could at least give you some life. You suspected she and the buff man with her were here as tourists, a honeymoon vacation spot perhaps. But, even after just being introduced to this world, you knew what you preferred. You were selective.

Her husband wasn’t all that interesting to break, but her... 

She was gorgeous, downright angelic. And you had such a strong desire to fuck her. And weirdly enough, your mouth started savoring at the thought of eating her. 

It seems you hadn’t known just how insatiable you can be, just how powerful you really are. It wasn’t on purpose; you swear it wasn’t. But you know what they say about firsts. She was addicting. How soft she was, how perfect her body fit with yours. She taught you how to feel, how to let go. You were so high on pleasure.

So, you can imagine your distress when you wake up to her unmoving body on top of your naked one. When you shift your eyes to the left, you notice her neck, specifically the missing chunk of it. You lick your lips and immediately grimace at the saltiness. You pushed her body towards your side with a huff. 

At first, you felt quite hysterical. You ran toward the mirror and saw something that caused you to gasp.  

Was that blood?

Red spots were all over your face, and your mouth area was even more adorned. Your locs are messy, cascading down past your hips. It wasn’t difficult to figure out what occurred while you were intoxicated with pleasure. 

Your face is grim as you grasp onto the skin of your forehead, groaning. Flashes start to appear in your mind. A glimpse of her face, body, her pussy. Flashes of you leaning into her neck, flashes of her neck being torn apart, and flashes of her body shaky under your firm hold. 

Oh.

After about ten seconds had passed of your staring in the mirror, you accepted that this woman was now dead. You had killed her. 

But.. you weren’t overwhelmed by dread. Not upset or guilty that you completely depleted this woman’s life force. A strong feeling coursed through every nook and cranny in your veins, and you felt rejuvenated. The eye bags that had formed beneath your wispy eyelashes were absent, you could tell that much despite the amount of blood splattered on your face.

You had a liking for this feeling. Your strength was apparent, and your skin was brighter and clearer. You experienced such a state of euphoria. And well, you would die if you didn’t get more. Literally and figuratively.

You didn’t make an effort to conceal the body; you felt no need to. You felt compelled to go somewhere, but when you looked in that direction, all you could see was the moving water. You escaped into the ocean at the exact moment, moving as fast as you could away from the small island and following the intense pressure calling out to you.

Since that incident, you’ve stayed in Japan. A black woman with unnatural beauty stalked through the night, undeniably being the center of attention. You were the talk of everywhere you went; people often compared you to a witch, a vampire was the funniest one you’ve heard. You were unusual and feared a little by the public. Although you were beautiful, every step you took was infused with a sense of danger and mystery. Death, even. 

It’s common for people who left with you to never be seen again. In the event that they were, they weren’t the same. People had this inexhaustible attraction towards you. They wanted to know more, they tried to discover the secrets you held. But unless you choose them, all people could potentially get out of you was a meaningless glance.

The more you kill, the stronger you become. You became aware of this shortly after your second kill, and you could soon hold off on feeding for weeks if you needed to. Though you’ve grown to realize that you’re superior to a particular breed, you were never the type to go crazy with power. Many of your species, you could tell, were famous and had the most influence on the public. 

Take the city’s most well-known billionaires, such as Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo. Their ownership of many corporations and businesses allowed them to have multiple connections with dangerous parts of Japan, such as the Yakuza. However, they also contribute significant amounts of income to the city annually. Their support of the most popular things in the population was indisputable, making it impossible not to like them. It wasn’t because they wanted to; they weren’t that generous, but because they loved power. 

Passing them on your stroll, you could tell they were similar to you. Their scent was unlike that of humans, and their energy and absolute pheromones were ridiculous. They were looking for prey that night, you could tell by how potent it was. And perhaps if you were human, you would have fallen for their charm when they called out for you. 

They had plans to make you their meal for the night, but unfortunately, their hypnotic effect on humans didn’t work on you. That’s when they realized that you were like them, and well, they were both amused. 

“Aw, how cute,”

“Bet you would’ve tasted real good too.”

To this day, you don’t know if Suguru was talking about eating you or your pussy. Even so, you became a close friend of the pair from that moment forward. There were days when they would pop up to your apartment unannounced and grace you with their antics. It was more of a domestic setting, not sexual, but they enjoyed being around someone who deeply understood them. 

Today was one of those days. Your peaceful nap ended when they entered your bedroom and plopped down on your bed, discussing the last feeding they had. Satoru’s voice reaches an enthusiastic pitch,

“She was so bendy, Suguru! She bent over backwards, and she was still taking my dick,” 

The long-haired man shifts his eyes carelessly towards his best friend, who is resting on your thighs and intensely focused on something on his phone. You were oblivious to the words spewed out by Satoru, fighting against the sleep you had gotten before they arrived. The latter raises a brow,

“Hmm,”

“She told me she takes something called yoga classes? It’s a shame she’s dead now, she was fu- Wait! Hey, Y/n?”

Your response is a hum as he shifts his head to your face and speaks with a sly smile on his lips,

“Do you take yoga classes?” 

You were not very fond of modern activities, so you rarely indulged in them. You rarely attempt to learn about human life and what they do for fun or work due to that knowledge. Their values never weighed down on you, and as a result, you lived a peaceful life. When you glanced down at piercing ice eyes, the confusion was evident on your face, 

“What’s..yoga?”

Suguru gave a response instead, knowing that Satoru would give you a misleading description of the exercise, 

“It’s just an activity humans do to calm the mind and stretch the body.”

“I see. Does it bring pleasure?”

“Maybe, they seem to be very satisfied afterwards.”

You twist your head in thought, interesting. Satoru pokes at your shoulder, and when you glance down, he shows you his phone screen. Plentiful pictures of women in various positions, very flexible..positions. Was she holding herself up on her forearms?

“Where can I find this? I’d like to.. learn.” Your own words caused you to startle yourself, and now you’re completely awake. 

Since when? 

You hear a breathy laugh coming from beneath you. “Oh yeah? Didn’t peg you as the type to like playing with your food.” His fingers move to find the nearest yoga studio by your building, despite his taunting, and he feels internally happy when he discovers it’s one he knows. 

You flick his head, giggling while he grunts a bit. “It’s interesting. I didn’t know the body could shape itself like that.” In all honesty, he presented you with some pictures that made you grimace a little. 

“There’s a place called Kamo’s Zen Sanctuary a few blocks from here. Of course, Suguru and I are friends with the owner.”

The mentioned man hums in assurance, 

“We can send a car to take you tomorrow afternoon if you’re up for it.” He wiggles his brows as he waits for your response.

As always, they kept their word without fail. Before the car arrived the next day, a large package was delivered to your door with a flimsy note that said, ‘You’re welcome.’ 

It’s probable that you only needed one yoga set, but your friends wanted to give you a wide array of choices to pick from. Ultimately, you opted for a lightweight black set. When you looked in the mirror, you really saw how the clothing accentuated your body, especially your ass. Oh, you liked this.

Stopping outside the studio, your mind suddenly became well aware that you didn’t know how human establishments operated. You took pleasure in the decorative pieces that this place had. Cold air, a Buddha statue spilling water steadily in a bowl, and soothing violin music immediately welcomed you upon arrival. 

Despite not being familiar with the environment, you still entered it with grace. You would have left if it weren’t for the tall, handsome gentleman who sneaked up on you from behind. His silent demeanor made it impossible to hear him, and when you saw his face, you indeed weren’t disappointed.

“Do you need help, miss?”

Smooth was how his words came across. When you faced him, his face was smooth, too. Your body vibrated, your fingertips were slightly twitching, and your mind was reeling in the fact that you were suddenly very, very hungry. Although it’s been a week since you last had anything to eat, you’ve already found your next prey. 

Him. The quite pale man with a pair of beautiful, solemn eyes. The dark line across his face is a perfect fit for him, and it’s hard not to notice. His plum lips are almost puckered, but they look so soft you want to sink your teeth into them. You want him.

You eye his exposed biceps in the black shirt clinging onto his pale skin, “Yes, I want to learn yoga. How can I?”   

Even as his ears flush, he maintains a steady tone and unbothered expression when addressing you, barely making eye contact, “I can get you started with that. My name is Choso. I’m an instructor here. Come with me, miss.”

You nodded without reason because the man had already turned and started walking to a different room. You’re staring at him, more so the way his muscles ripple with every step he takes. There’s an intangible desire on your part to fuck this man, bite every inch of his body until he was withering in pleasure. 

Choso seemed shy, but you liked that he was nervous and fidgety around you as you faced him in a larger room with a mirror covering both ends. There were no lights on, only candles surrounding the black walls. The echo from the fish swimming in the small pond could be heard throughout the space. 

His back could be seen through the clear glass. As you looked around, you also noticed red mats and..blocks? This place was strange. You lick your lips when he speaks again, 

“This is where we do the practice. I sense that you’re new to this. Do you want to start with a small stretch first?” His hand reaches behind him to pick up a thin mat, his low purple eyes flickering between the object and you. 

“Of course, Choso.”

Choso has a sweet scent, almost like a bakery. The moment you walked inside, his scent infiltrated your nostrils. The sheer proximity of his body when he guided you into what he said was the downward dog position made you feel like you were floating. You felt hot, even on fire, when he touched you. The fabric you wore was so tightly held onto your body that it felt like he was touching your bare skin.

He was exerting pressure on your lower thighs, making them conform to the position. When you glanced in the mirror, he seemed so focused on what he was doing. You swear your pussy had a heartbeat. His gaze catches yours,

“Head down, miss.”

You listen wordlessly, your locs making small thumping sounds when they hit the red surface. Maybe Choso could feel the heat and craving radiating off of your body. Maybe he couldn’t. It’s impossible to read his thoughts, no matter which way you look at it. His face remains blank after he says ‘good job’ for maintaining the position after a minute. If he can feel your body heating up like you can, his expression doesn’t make it known. 

His body, however, does. More so, how red he gets, as if he’s heating up too as if he’s experiencing the same shit you are. Could he be?

Choso tells you about the next position he’s going to put you in,

“You’re a little tense on your outer hips, so we’re gonna do something called the Pigeon pose.”

You’re almost about to ask, ‘What’s that?’ but he shows you before you can even part your lips. Your right leg is flat against the floor, twisted in front of you almost perfectly, while your left leg elongates towards the back. Choso observes the difficulty of your arms in holding you up, so he goes in front of you to help. The firmness of his hands on your hips reflects his strength, especially when he presses down slightly to stretch the area. 

“It’s okay. Your legs are supporting you. You can relax a bit.” Can you, though? With the way, he’s pressing on an area that’s suddenly very sore to you. His voice is scratching some primal part of your brain. You think it’s impossible.

“Am I supposed to be doing something while in this position?” You intentionally lower your voice to make him look at you. He does, just not in the way you want. That stupid, blank expression is still on his face. You rub your lower body on the mat, shivering a little as it barely touches your clit through the fabric.

“You’re supposed to breathe. Just be.” He speaks softly against your face. You were fond of his closeness, the sensation of his breath being directly on your skin. 

“When will this feel pleasurable?” You exhale. You honestly weren’t seeing any interest in human activities again. You were only getting a slight burn on your legs, and that was due to the grip Choso still had on you.

You don’t know what it is you said, but you watch Choso intensely. You can see his eyes widen for a split second before returning to their original state.

“Pleasurable? You came here.. for pleasure?” 

There was a slight hiccup in his voice at the end of his question. You got him, you think. It shouldn’t be much to get him under you now. He taps his long fingers on your hip twice twice in an attempt to make you shift to the other leg, causing you to jump. 

A wince escapes your lips as he releases his grip on you, “I hear that this practice can give that. Is it true?”

You finally caught Choso’s eye on you. In fact, his gaze remains on you even after he observes your body shift its position. You believe that you like his eyes on you. He lowers himself to your level to help you still your body.

“I suppose it depends on what kind of pleasure you’re looking for, miss.”

You hum softly as you breathe him in once more today when his palms rest against you once again. What did he mean by that?

You reply, but your gaze never leaves his, “What kind of pleasure can you give me, Choso?” 

Choso was quiet, reserved from the public, and honestly tried his best to avoid any eye contact with you during your entire time in his studio. But he only has so much self-control, as did you. The only conversation was a series of intense squelching sounds as Choso sucked on your pink bud obscenely. 

“Oh fuck- Just like that, Cho!”

He moaned fervently against your brown lips, pulling your hips against his face and keeping your cheeks apart with his large grip. You were on your knees, back shaped into a perfect arch. He was not letting go, squeezing his tongue down your wet pussy lips. Your body shakes as his tongue licks a stripe through your folds, circles all over your puckered hole, and drool slips onto the thin mat.

“Ah-!”

Your cries made Choso even more red in the ears. He thought he was pretty dull, not exciting or engaging to talk to. He didn’t pay much attention to his looks, girls always found him too.. weird. It wasn’t something he expected to happen on his day. He knew who you were before you came in, Satoru had the pleasure of letting him know you were on your way. But the minute you came into his place of work, he found it very hard to resist you. That’s why he didn’t make any eye contact. 

The truth is, Choso was deeply attracted to you and found it terrifying. 

Choso’s pretty head was puzzled by the fact that he was responsible for the angelic sounds that emerged from your plump lips. He couldn’t fathom that he was on his knees licking the most sensitive parts of your body. But, he welcomed it, letting himself sink into the essence of you with a feeling of overwhelming desperation. 

“Want more. Come on, miss. Give m-me more, please.”

How much more can you give him? He already has his face deep inside of you. You understand what he is trying to say when he inserts two fingers into your wet mound, dragging them in and out and carefully grazing the spongy spot that makes you thrash around. You immediately clench at the intrusion, feeling the overwhelming pleasure burn in the pit of your stomach. 

Choso is eager to pay attention to all parts of you but doesn’t know where to focus. Every part of you tastes so celestial, he wanted you to give him everything at the same time. His finger-fucking is swift, and your mind is entirely absent when the man pushes his tongue into and out of your ass simultaneously. Choso was so turned on that his precum was making a stain on his shorts from how much he was leaking.

His moans vibrated against your lower lips, and you swore in all your existence that you had never been eaten so nasty like this. He was going to make you cum so fast that you couldn’t even be mad about it.

He can feel it. The fatness of your pussy is pressing against Choso’s two big fingers, forcing him to use more strength to maintain his rapid pace. Your wetness creates a beautiful clear puddle under his attack, and he can feel it. Could you also do that on his dick? Milk his cock over and over and over again until he couldn’t cum anymore? Choso has been an atheist his entire life, but he almost prayed for this one favor.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Ouuu fuck! I’m g-gonna-”

The man doesn’t respond at first, only presses into your G-spot harder and more forcefully, as if he has a point to prove. He circles at your clit, wrapping the twitching bud around his lips, and sucks hard. What does it for you is the drunk whispers vibrating against your core of ‘Please, give it to me. Just cum. Fuck, it’s so wet.’

Your stomach tightens, your hands grip the carpeted floor in front of you, and your mouth releases pornographic moaning as cream pours out of you and onto his waiting tongue. Choso is clamoring for your taste, and as a result, he moans out with you. You have a strong desire for him, but for some inexplicable reason, your body is unwilling to eat him. Instead, you never wanted to fuck a person so badly in your life. 

Choso’s close proximity makes him ignore your little whimpers while rubbing his blushing, leaking tip up and down your sloppy cunt. When did he even pull his dick out? 

“Bet it’s so w-warm inside. Ah-” When his flushed tip accidentally slips in, and he gets a taste of the warmth you bring, his breathy voice cracks. You’re whining now. Pushing back on Choso, sucking his wide cock in your greedy hole, feeling impatient to force him down far enough to rip your pussy. 

Choso has the most beautiful moans you’ve ever heard. His voice is deep, but his tone gets so high in pitch when he’s like this. It’s so whiny it makes you cream. Literally. His voice cracks, just like his resolve does when you slide all 7.8 inches of him in so that your hips are flush against his pelvis. The feeling of his dick inside of you is so good that you’re so close to begging.

He thought he could have some self-control, but he barely kept it together when he was just eating you out. Your drooling pussy convulsing and contracting against Choso, against his cock, is a sign that his soul has reached a part of heaven. He couldn’t stop himself, really. He couldn’t do anything but relentlessly fuck you at an inhuman pace. 

“So good. So good. Pussy’s so fucking-” He cuts himself off with a loud groan when he witnesses your soft brown cheeks being spread apart for him, revealing a magnificent view of your pussy being stretched beyond their limits. Giving him a beautiful view of your messy pussy creaming the more his dick repeatedly punches your g-spot again and again and again.

You’re wailing. You’re trying to find something to hold onto that can bring your mind back to reality. Choso makes it so hard. He is becoming more and more clingy to your liquids, and his hips are vibrating violently against yours, making you believe he might be bruising your cervix. You love it. You love every speck of pleasure flowing and rippling through your body. You love everything he’s giving your body at this moment.

“I-I know what you- Oh fuck. W-what you are,”

Huh?

The thought is almost pushed out of your head when he angles his hips to get deeper inside of you. Wet and dirty sounds of his balls hitting your clit are filling the air of the stretch room. Choso is rambling now. Your pretty pussy’s attempt to milk his cock until there was nothing is making him feel delirious. It just feels so good, so safe, so wet. God, you were so fucking wet for him. He continues his fucked out declaration,

“A-And I can tell y-you don’t like c-commitment, but please. Please let me k-keep you satisfied for all e-eternity.” His rough and insatiable pounding sends your mind to distant places while he pleads. 

With whatever coherent part of your brain is still there, you cower away at the proposition. Shaking your head rapidly in a ‘no’ motion. His harsh thrusts are practically felt in your womb, pushing your hips away when you scramble to grab something stable to hold you on the floor.

Of course, Choso doesn’t let you run away like that. He quickly brings your waist back against him, making sure that his cock is nestled in the deepest parts of your warmth for a moment before starting to thrust again. You’re forced to take it all, and he doesn’t even need to say a word to prevent you from trying that shit again.

Still, you whimper out,

“Chooo baby, I can’t- Ahhh! Can’t l-let you do that.”

Choso only frowns at the evident lie on your lips and pushes your entire body harder onto the mat. A loud gasp escapes your lips when you unexpectedly squirt all over the thin object due to the sudden pressure you feel on your cervix. He was so deep.

Choso doesn’t slow down; he only moans with staggering moans when your pussy sprays its juices on him. In fact, he goes faster. 

“P-Please, miss. I can make you feel this g-good whenever you want. I can- Fuckk. I promise I c-can always fuck you deep like t-this. I’ll worship you. I’d do anything you- anything you ask, just please. L-Let me.” 

It seems that Choso understood precisely what you needed, a bit of prodding and persuading. He’s sure that if someone happens to walk into the lobby, they’ll hear exactly what’s going on due to the loud squelching you both are making. But why does he want that? Why does he want everyone to know that he is the one making you cry out so pretty as if he were your god? Despite your brief resolve, you give the handsome man exactly what he asks. You.

“Yes! Oh fuck yes! M’all yours, Cho! M’cumming- Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m-”

The sounds you both made at the same time were too much for your lovemaking to drown out. With your dam breaking, your pussy twitching open and closed, and your tight pussy covering his heavy cock with splashes of clear liquid and your sweet, sweet cream, Choso gets a taste of heaven. He cums with you. His hand grips the sides of your hips so hard, even through your dark skin, that it might leave bruises. Your perfect pussy squeezing a heavy load out of the man so much that he was shaking when he felt it overfill your cunt. Fuck, you’re too much. 

Heavy breathing and a light pap sound coming from his cum dripping out of your poor pussy could barely be heard by both of you. Choso was in such a headspace that his mind needed to take a breather to gather what the fuck he was going to say to you in a few minutes, his dick softening inside you. You were feeling the after-effects of being fucked so good, buzzing in your right ear, spasming on a cock that’s still buried deep inside of you, and aches on your lower body.

You start to pull off of him, thinking that’s what he wants, but he immediately grabs your hips and keeps you still, still not getting over the euphoric feeling of your pussy on him. Choso realizes something, and at this moment, he feels the most embarrassed he has ever felt. He managed to get a girl's commitment without even knowing her name. 

“Um.. miss?”

You barely let out a whisper, “Yes, Cho?”

“… What’s your name?”

There’s a beat of silence. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me. Choso is pleading that you won’t hate him.

His thoughts were disrupted by a melodic laugh and a honey voice, “It’s Y/n, cutie.” 

Y/n? He finds that name so.. pretty. Almost as pretty as your body. Almost as pretty as the sight of your tight pussy creaming up and- 

Well, now he’s hard again. You won’t mind if he pleases you a little more, right? After all, he made a promise, and Choso is never known for breaking his promises.

tags🏷️:: @hatake05

tags🏷️:: @thickbihhwitdagapp

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Teacher's Pet Baby

First Time

Cg!Professor!Wanda Maximoff x little!student!reader

Summary: You slip during class for the first time and it doesn't go unnoticed

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: Age regression, mild anxiety, emotional vulnerability, fluff and comfort

Authors notes: After writing the first part this had started to come to mind so it was nice to get it all written out~

Also, to all the littles, seeing this, please tred lightly on this blog! This is my big 18+ blog, but I do have some little!reader fics. Everything is marked accordingly!

The first few weeks of class were nothing out of the ordinary—except for the way you found yourself drawn to Professor Maximoff. There was something about the way she spoke, how her voice carried both authority and warmth, that made you want to listen more intently. You were eager to impress her, to ask every question that popped into your head, just to see that soft smile she reserved for students who showed genuine curiosity.

You didn’t know what it was that made you crave her attention so badly, but you knew that every time she praised you, something deep inside you warmed, a feeling of safety and validation that you couldn’t quite explain.

Then, one day, as you flipped the page in your textbook, your eyes landed on the title printed in bold letters at the top:

Coping Mechanisms: Age Regression

Your stomach twisted immediately.

Two whole pages on the subject, defining it, explaining how it functioned as a response to stress or trauma. You barely heard Wanda begin her lecture, your mind spiraling as you felt yourself slipping, your fingers tightening around the edge of the book.

It wasn’t until you heard the soft laughter—quiet, but unmistakable—that the dread fully set in.

"People actually do this?" one student muttered under their breath.

"That’s so weird." Another scoffed, shaking their head.

Your breath hitched, and you had to blink rapidly to stop the tears from forming. They didn’t know. They had no idea that right here, in the same room, was someone who did—who couldn’t help it, whose mind sometimes reverted without warning. You wanted to shrink, to disappear, but before the panic could settle in further, Wanda’s voice cut through the murmurs, firm and unwavering.

"That’s enough," she said sharply, silencing the room in an instant.

All eyes snapped toward her, and you dared to look up. Her expression was serious, her usual soft demeanor replaced by something strict and protective.

"I expect professionalism in my class," she continued, her gaze sweeping over the students. "We are here to learn, not to ridicule others for coping mechanisms that are valid and often necessary for mental health." She let her words settle before adding, "If anyone here finds it difficult to show respect for psychological concepts that people actually experience, then perhaps this is not the right field for you."

Silence.

Your hands trembled slightly in your lap, but for an entirely different reason now. No one had ever defended you like that before. No one had ever made you feel like what you did—what you were—was okay.

Wanda’s gaze flickered to you for just a moment, softer now, like she knew. Like she had already pieced something together but wouldn’t call attention to it. Instead, she resumed her lecture, effortlessly guiding the class back on track, leaving you sitting there with a heart racing for a whole new reason.

From that moment on, you weren’t just drawn to Wanda Maximoff. You needed her.

As the lecture came to an end and you were trying to pack up Wanda called you over, "Have a good night everyone and remember to do the reading and get your assignment done for Monday's class! Oh and y/n please stay a moment. I'd like to discuss something with you." 

Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure Wanda could hear it. You weren’t in trouble—at least, she didn’t sound upset—but you still couldn’t shake the nerves twisting inside you.

She had never asked you to stay after class before.

You stayed frozen, hands gripping the edge of your desk as you watched her move. But instead of standing over you like a professor scolding a student, she did something entirely unexpected—she walked to the door, locked it with a soft click, and then made her way over to you.

Wanda crouched down in front of your desk, leaning against it with an easy, open posture. Her smile was gentle, and when her warm eyes met yours, something inside you softened, though your body still trembled slightly.

"Hi, sweetheart," she murmured, her voice filled with nothing but kindness. "You're feeling pretty small right now, aren’t you?"

You swallowed thickly. It was impossible to hide, not when she knew, when she could see right through you. Words felt too hard, too big, so you just nodded, blinking rapidly as emotion threatened to well up in your chest.

"That’s okay, sweetie," she assured, her tone soothing as she reached out, resting a hand over yours for just a moment. "This was your last class, right?"

You nodded again.

"I have papers to grade," she continued. "You and I can stay right here, okay?"

Another nod. This time, accompanied by a tiny, shy smile.

Wanda’s expression softened even further. She stood up, her fingers reaching out to gently comb through your hair, the touch grounding in a way you didn’t even know you needed.

"You’re safe with me, Malyshka," she whispered.

✎✐ ✎ ✐ ✎ ✐

While Wanda graded her papers you decided to draw, pulling out your crayons and drawing pad. Wanda let her eyes flick up every so often to watch you. Her expression softened as she saw you so concentrated, your tongue just poking out past your lips. 

She wanted to giggle, but worried it might upset you so she held back, turning her attention back to her papers until she heard you get up, feet padding over to her. She looked up past her glasses. 

"Yes sweetheart?" She asked softly, "Do you have something to show me?" You nodded eagerly and turned the page around.

Wanda let a warm smile tug at her lips as she examined the drawing, her heart melting at the sight of it. You had drawn yourself much smaller, hand held securely in hers, your features simple but unmistakably you. Wanda’s own figure was a little more detailed—her hair a mess of crayon strokes, her glasses perched delicately on her nose—but the most touching detail was the way your hands were clasped together.

Wanda ran her fingers over the crayon lines, her chest tightening in the best way as she admired your drawing. It was simple, childlike, but so full of love that it made her heart ache.

"You did such a good job, sweetheart," she murmured, looking up at you with a soft smile. "I love it, Malyshka."

Your lips curled up, eyes sparkling at her praise. You rocked on your heels, waiting, hopeful, and Wanda knew exactly what you needed. She set her papers aside, focusing entirely on you.

"Come here, baby," she said gently, opening her arms. "Come sit with Mama."

The second the word left her lips, she felt it—the way you froze. Your happy sway stopped, your hands clenched slightly at your sides. You blinked at her, uncertainty flickering in your expression as you searched her face.

"Mama?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda stayed perfectly still, giving you space to process. She hadn’t called herself that before, at least not out loud, though she had thought about it more times than she could count.

"Only if you want me to be, sweetheart," she assured softly, her voice steady, warm. "I would never make you do something you’re not comfortable with."

You shifted on your feet, fingers curling against the fabric of your sleeves. "But... do you want to be?"

Wanda’s breath caught for just a moment before she exhaled, nodding. "I do," she admitted, her hand resting gently on her knee, not reaching for you, just waiting. "I’d love to take care of you in whatever way you need."

You stared at her, the hesitation clear in your expression. But beneath it, Wanda could see something else—longing, hope, the deep desire for safety and care.

She kept her voice soft. "You don’t have to decide right now, Malyshka."

You bit your lip, shifting your weight from foot to foot before, slowly, you stepped closer. Wanda didn’t move, letting you take the lead, and after a brief pause, you finally climbed onto her lap, settling hesitantly against her.

Wanda wrapped her arms around you carefully, rubbing soothing circles along your back.

You stayed stiff for a moment before you melted into her, resting your head against her shoulder. A soft sigh left you as your fingers grasped at her sweater, holding onto her like you were afraid she might disappear.

Wanda pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, her lips brushing against your warm skin. "I've got you, sweetheart. Always."

And this time, you didn’t hesitate to believe her.