#but he's earnest and naive enough that he could grow out of it

[blackmosscupcakes]

When the latest Fantasy High episode aired, a lot of people in the comments were like "I know INSTANTLY who Bobby Dawn is and I HATE HIM"

And now I've watched it and I was unprepared for 1. How little he actually spoke in the episode, and 2. Just how much I REALLY WOULD instantly hate him just based off 1-2 lines of dialogue

[anto-pops]

Lost and Found - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: You’d both fucked up, and you both knew it.  But Sebastian was starting to lose himself, and you couldn’t stop sobbing. The air was too thick for words, the pain and the anger and the fear combusting into a shrieking tempest. It was too much to bear in the cavernous room, and you both cracked.  Two years of your steady cadence shuddered and fell like leaves when Sebastian found his voice first.  “I’m fucking done.”

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian dealing with the aftermath of your break-up and working through his feelings.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Mild injuries, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 

Mostly Sebastian’s POV following the argument because I wanted to put him through it 

Maybe you were naive for believing your last year at Hogwarts would be easy, but after Ranrok, Rookwood, the Keepers, and the whole debacle with Sebastian in the catacombs, you were desperate for a sense of normalcy. You had deluded yourself into thinking that things could only get better from then on, and for the most part, they had. 

There was something about this semester, though. Something in the air, or in the water. Something in your clothes and in your bed and in your chest that just kept digging deeper and sharper, leaving you uneasy and on edge. 

You and Sebastian had been tense with each other, even though you didn’t mean to be. Neither one of you meant to be assigning blame so harshly, or to be getting so worked up over nothing at all, ending up angry more often than not. Growing up had proven to be fucking scary, though, and the learning curve could be enough to knock most people on their asses and keep them there for a good, long while. You and Sebastian had juggled these fears and told one another about them after you’d both already blown up, and you had apologized quietly for snapping so hard over dumb shit like spilled vials of Wiggenweld, and sometimes it was enough. 

Sometimes, it wasn’t. 

It wasn’t enough when you threw your hands up one night to scold Sebastian too loudly for staying up late, cutting one too many corners, and getting busted in the restricted section. The weeks worth of detentions had only served to set back his schedule, but it was his own damn fault, so why was he complaining in the first place? You clenched your fists and your voice was shaking when, halfway through wondering aloud when Sebastian was going to learn to be fucking responsible, you realized you didn’t mean that, and that it was kind of a fucked up thing to say.

You might have tried to backpedal– to apologize– but Sebastian was tense. He was scared. He had fucked up his end of term project for Potions, and he was positive he’d basically failed an exam in History of Magic earlier today because of how scatterbrained he had been. He had yet to narrow down a potential career path for after school ended, which his professors never let him forget, much to his annoyance. So as you drew in a breath to stutter out an apology, Sebastian was too afraid of hearing more about what a fuckup he was to let you start. 

Blindly, he picked up the closest thing to him on the desk situated between you both, and shot out of his seat to throw it at the wall. It turned out to be an ink container, the black, murky liquid spilling down the walls of the Room of Requirement, and the sound of the shattered pieces of the bottle cascading to the floor was muted by the volume of Sebastian’s cruel words.

When Sebastian was finally out of breath from screaming and your tears were streaming down your cheeks in earnest– the salt trails equal parts rage, disbelief, and guilt– the two of you stared at one another for a long, heavy moment. 

You’d both fucked up, and you both knew it. 

But Sebastian was starting to lose himself, and you couldn’t stop sobbing. The air was too thick for words, the pain and the anger and the fear combusting into a shrieking tempest. It was too much to bear in the cavernous room, and you both cracked. 

Two years of your steady cadence shuddered and fell like leaves when Sebastian found his voice first. 

“I’m fucking done.” 

—

It had been three days of Sebastian actually staying in his dorm. He hadn’t been sleeping at all, but he was there during the night, and Ominis had been forced to listen to his friend toss and turn fitfully since he’d ended things with you so terribly. 

Sebastian could still hear the echoing slam of the massive oak doors of the Room of Requirement. He could still hear the way you’d choked on your words, and when he closed his eyes in his vain attempts to quiet his mind, all he saw was you. Your hands curled into fists, teeth savaging your bottom lip, tears coursing down your face and dripping from your chin as you’d squeezed your bloodshot eyes closed and started erasing him from your mind. 

At least, Sebastian imagined you had. 

Given his shitty academic performance in recent weeks, Sebastian couldn’t afford to skip classes in order to avoid you, but it turned out that he didn’t have to. You hadn’t shown up once to any of your classes– even the ones you didn’t share with him. It hammered home the finality of what had transpired three nights ago, and if he drank a little too much stolen Firewhiskey to cope with the sinking feeling in his chest, Ominis elected not to say anything about it. 

“You’ve been under a lot of stress recently,” Ominis said later that night, squeezing Sebastian’s shoulder as he used the brunet as leverage to lower himself into the couch cushions. The common room was deserted, and Sebastian was grateful for the lack of prying eyes, curling his hand tighter around the neck of the bottle between his legs. “Both of you have. Sometimes, things just boil over.” 

Sebastian didn’t reply at first. He didn’t even know where to fucking start. Stress couldn’t begin to excuse the shit he’d said to you right before he left. In-between your gut-wrenching sobs, he was certain he had heard your heart crack in two at some point, and it was his own fault. Running his hands down his face, Sebastian heaved a trembling sigh, trying to sort out the crappy thoughts bouncing around his tipsy brain. 

“Was she in any of your classes with you today?” Sebastian asked, his gaze trained on the ceiling as he willed the watery tone in his voice away. He had cried enough over everything�� his eyes and his throat fucking ached from it. 

Ominis sighed, reaching to the side table for his steaming cup of tea. He worked it into a safe grip before blowing softly, taking a tentative sip. “Not today, no. None of her roommates have seen her in her dorm either– I already asked.” 

Sebastian just wanted to know how you looked. Maybe it was awful of him to think as much, but he liked to imagine you were faring as bad as he was. You were an impossibly strong and powerful witch, willful and understanding, and you got mad so rarely that Sebastian couldn’t help but loathe the idea of you putting on a brave face and smiling until you were over him. 

What right did he have to be thinking such things, though? He was the one who had walked out. 

Ominis said nothing when he heard Sebastian lift the bottle to his lips again, taking a hearty swig that burned on the way down. Tears welled up in his swollen, brown eyes, and they slipped down his cheeks silently, a metaphorical rain cloud looming over his end of the couch. The two men didn’t say a word, but after a while, Ominis tugged Sebastian against his shoulder, letting the heartbroken man cry softly into his pajamas. 

—

“Bloody hell, mate,” Garreth muttered, leaning over his cauldron to get closer to Sebastian. “Two years, though?”

The classroom was quiet, save for the steady bubbling at everyone’s stations. They were supposed to be working on brewing an Edurus Potion, but Garreth seemed more interested in his friend’s failed love life after hearing through the grapevine what had happened. Sebastian didn’t answer, choosing to focus on adding in the Mongrel Fur to his silvery concoction. 

“Together that long and this close to graduation, I thought that was going to turn into fucking marriage, you know? Are you sure it’s–”

Garreth stopped talking when Sebastian slammed his hands down on his table, shattering a flask under the weight of his fist so suddenly, the redhead jumped back with his green eyes blown wide. Sebastian’s stare fell from Garreth to the blood pooling under his palm, biting his tongue through the stinging pain and unintentional tremors while Professor Sharp strode over to see what the commotion was about. 

Docked five house points and dismissed to the Hospital Wing, Sebastian shuffled up the winding staircases in a daze. His head hurt when he walked through the double doors to the infirmary, but he ignored the dull ache and got to dealing with his hand so he could leave faster and sleep through the impending migraine. Once all the glass had been picked out of Sebastian’s cuts and he’d been disinfected, bandaged, and fed a Wiggenweld potion for extra measure, he made his way back to the dorms. 

He dimly realized on the trek down that it wasn’t how long he had been together with you that was preventing him from getting over you. 

—

“You’ll be back on your feet in no time,” Leander said from two tables away, raising his Butterbeer towards Sebastian and Ominis. The two were tucked away in the far corner of The Three Broomsticks at Ominis’ insistence, in some feeble attempt to get Sebastian out of the permanent rut he had found himself in for five consecutive days now. The brooding Slytherin just picked at his bandages, gritting his teeth together and silently hoping that the dirty bar floor would open up and swallow him whole. 

There were too many students around for comfort, and a number of them glanced cautiously between Leander the Sebastian, checking to make sure that the Gryffindor wasn’t at risk of having his nose broken. He meant well– especially after 6 Butterbeers– but Prewett was famously not good with words, and Sebastian didn’t trust himself to speak anymore. 

Leander motioned to Sirona for another drink, and once she’d deposited it on the table with an amused shake of her head, he walked the pint over to the dreary corner. “On me. You don’t need her, mate. Chin up.” 

With a rough clap on Sebastian’s shoulder, he left just as suddenly as he’d appeared. Ominis listened warily for any signs of anger or sadness, but all he heard was the sound of liquid sloshing as Sebastian lifted the drink to his lips and chugged down two thirds of it. 

As he set the tankard down on the table, Sebastian looked up at the cobweb covered beams overhead, acknowledging that no, he didn’t need you. 

But that wasn’t what was keeping him so low, either. 

—

After a week without so much as a glimpse of you, Sebastian took to wandering. He was restless– constantly fidgeting– like he had a fire burning under his ass all hours of the day. His chest was perpetually heavy, as though there were a Graphorn sitting on him, and his hair was in a constant state of disarray from running his hands through it. 

Sebastian was a mess. He knew he was. 

Shit, there really weren’t any other excuses for standing in a fucking fountain in the middle of the night, staring daggers at a stone dragon because there was no one else around to focus his frustrations on. There were probably better places to be shifting through his jumbled thoughts than in the middle of the Transfiguration Courtyard, but at this point, he felt bad keeping Ominis awake all night with his inability to sit still and sleep. 

Either way, Sebastian halted his wading through the water to glare firmly at the statue again, doing his best to imagine a future without you in it. 

Thus far, you had been Sebastian’s first and only love– aside from dueling. You knew him inside and out. You could look at him from across a room and know instantly how close he was to punching someone, how tired he was, or whether or not he was actually listening to a conversation. You had a million different smiles for a million of Sebastian’s petty annoyances, and all of them struck hard and true and left him feeling at peace with the state of his life. 

He knew you just as well– it wasn’t like you were some all powerful Legilimen living in his head. You had your flaws, your insecurities, your anxieties. You made mistakes, and you had inhuman levels of empathy and understanding– which was probably how you had managed to deal with him after your tumultuous fifth-year. 

There was something viscerally calming about you, something that never failed to keep him in line when he was acting like a piece of shit, and that kept him steady when he was feeling anxious. It had been too much, though, and Sebastian knew you took on the burdens of others far too heavily without stopping to think of yourself. It weighed on you. 

You weren’t perfect, but neither was he. 

Leaning against the dragon, Sebastian closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, the water in the fountain lapping at his calves and trickling soothingly in a short arc from the dragon’s parted lips. 

Maybe Sebastian just couldn’t comprehend people as well as he thought he could. That was probably it. 

You were the brains, and he was the brawns. You were philosophical, seemingly making sense of everything that crossed your path, while Sebastian understood too little despite trying. Between the two of you, you managed to make just enough sense of the world to be comfortable. But now everything was over. 

Sebastian kicked at the water idly, dodging under the dragon’s stream to make another lap around the fountain. 

He liked dueling. He appreciated how simple it was– it was do or die, realistically speaking. Cast or get casted on. Win or lose. Whoever he would go up against would inevitably let their mask slip, cluing him in on their thinking, their pain, their weaknesses. It was logical for him, and most of the time, he found his opponents predictable. 

Sebastian never could have predicted that he would walk out on you, though, and he definitely wouldn’t have ever predicted that you would let him. 

It took him a few minutes to realize that he was standing under the dragon’s stream, and it was soaking through his hair and into his shirt. He sighed, slicking his bangs away from his face before letting the cold water rain down on his flushed face for a moment, and then he was stepping out of its way. 

There had to be a reason Sebastian was having so much trouble with this. 

Leander had been unwittingly correct; Sebastian definitely didn’t need you, as in, it wasn’t like he couldn’t breathe without you. He was his own person with his own strengths, and you were the same. It wasn’t even that he had put ‘too much time into it’, as Garreth had implied, because loving you had never felt time consuming. He couldn’t even begin to move on from this, and it was pissing him off, because he was really fucking tired of crying and of staring at walls, unfocused and feeling hollow. 

Sebastian was especially tired of his hands turning over all the time to find yours, because he knew you weren’t there anymore. Still, he couldn’t stop his fingers from spreading to make room between them for yours, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from scanning every room for you. He would never be able to stop his body from shifting to accommodate someone who would never occupy that space again. 

Sebastian fixed his stormy gaze on the dragon again, deep in thought about you. You, who always understood a little more than you probably should have, and who always knew how to read him like a damn book. You would lay beside him every night tangled together, tapping in time to the steady beat of his heart under your ear, quieting the restless drive that seemed to always exist within him.

He could move on from you. He could focus on his studies, the two of you would graduate, and eventually you would both find someone else. But ultimately, Sebastian seriously doubted he would ever feel the bone-deep comfort that stemmed from you again. It seemed highly unlikely that he would ever meet someone that made him feel the way you did. It was like… no matter how long the two of you sat and watched clouds, or meandered through the woods, it was never time wasted. It had always been okay to just exist for a while without doing something, or making something, or going somewhere. When he was with you, it had always felt okay for him to put his problems on the table and walk away from them for a while, instead of obsessively stabbing them and getting more and more frustrated. 

No matter where he went or how successful Sebastian could potentially be, he had a sneaking suspicion that his fingers would always spread just far enough for yours to slide between them. 

The sound of sloshing water filled the courtyard, and then Sebastian’s soaked shoes were slapping against the grass with each pounding step that led him full speed towards the Room of Requirement. The only thought in his mind as he skipped up the steps two at a time was that the peace that came over the both of you when you were together had to be worth fucking trying again. 

There was something to be said about how the normally concealed oak doors were already displayed, as though beckoning him to where he knew you had been hiding for days now. He eased his way inside without a second thought, noting the messy state of the desk in the corner and the stacks of books that had toppled over on themselves beside the entryway. The entire space looked lived in, and your unique scent hit him full force as he strode further into the room. 

When Sebastian reached the bottom of the tiny stairwell leading towards the larger living area, you were looking up from your seat in front of the fireplace that lit the otherwise dark chamber. The look on your sleepless face and the way your unruly hair curled wildly around your temples clued him in on the fact that he wasn’t the only one who had been feeling like utter shit this last week. Your lips parted around a silent gasp as Sebastian stumbled towards you, still panting from having sprinted to get there. 

“Hi,” he wheezed, leaning forward on his knees and forcing a deep breath into his lungs in a bid to prevent himself from passing out. 

“Sebastian?” Your voice was small and raspy– as though it hadn’t been used the entire time you’d been holed up here. “Why are you so wet–” 

“I love you,” he interrupted, his labored breathing filling the silence that followed the declaration. “I love you and I’m so fucking sorry that I’m such a prick and that I hurt you. I fucked up and I can’t take back anything that was said but I wanted you to know how sorry I am, and that I don’t want to be done, and if you aren’t tired of me yet I have a really stupid dueling metaphor for why we should stay together– mmph–” 

You had crossed the space between you both in a flash, reaching out preemptively until your trembling hands clasped Sebastian’s soaked tie to yank him towards you. 

“I missed you,” you whispered as you leaned your forehead against his, your breath warming his chilled lips– just a hair’s width away from kissing– but your hesitation burned like fire between the two of you. “Merlin, Sebastian, I’m so sorry–”

Sebastian reached up to tangle his fingers in your hair, and his damp skin caught on the tiny knots that were scattered throughout the normally tame strands. His sighs mixed with yours, the two of you murmuring tense little ‘I love you’s and ‘I missed you’s until the sounds mingled and settled in time. 

Looping an arm around your waist to guide you towards the modest bedroom the room had conjured up years ago, Sebastian maintained the tentative space between your lips, whispering your name as he led you through the hallway. Your fingers were already working open the buttons on his soaked shirt, trusting him completely to walk you safely backwards to your once shared bedroom. Sebastian slowed, taking his hands off of you only once to shrug out of his button up, dropping it haphazardly behind him. Your strikingly warm hands blazed over his shoulders, then down his chill-ridden arms, before he was bending over to rid himself of his waterlogged shoes and socks. Sebastian stood straight right after, resting his hands on your waist while your shaky hands slipped down to work at the wet catch of his trousers. 

The bedroom door was shut, so your heads banged together when Sebastian accidentally walked you into it. He blurted a string of curses, leaning down to press his lips gently against your forehead apologetically. Blindly, he reached behind you in search of the doorknob– which was quite frankly the only unfamiliar part of the entire room– because the door had never been closed before. 

Sebastian realized belatedly that oh, the door had never been closed before, and the couch you’d been perched on when he walked in had been covered in a nest of thick quilts and extra pillows. 

Oh. 

He trailed his lips slowly across your brow, then down the curve of your nose, before kissing the corners of your mouth so tenderly that the affection left you wanting to cry. Pressing one more kiss to the tip of your nose, he whispered, “You slept on the couch?” 

Your breath caught in your throat, and your fingers stilled in their efforts to remove the damp material from Sebastian’s clammy skin. Shivering slightly, you could only look up at him through your lashes, understanding that he wasn’t asking so much as he was stating. Of course he knew you had slept on the couch. 

Silence crept through the dark hallway, broken only by your meek sniffles, before you were nodding against Sebastian’s chest. He lowered his head in an instant, pressing his lips to your cheeks, but the sudden taste of salt and the slip of water had him pulling away to look at you. You were quick to wipe away the fresh tears dripping down your face, your breath hitching on barely-caught sobs and your bloodshot eyes squeezing shut against them. 

Sebastian captured your hands in his and twined your fingers together, nuzzling away your tears without a care for his own, and he hovered cautiously for a beat before finally closing the space between your lips to kiss you. 

It lasted for a moment, then a minute, then a lifetime as Sebastian leaned in closer and breathed love into you, receiving in equal parts the taste of his tenderness returned. He freed one hand to gently cup your face, his thumb wiping through the wet trails that still lingered, and your arm around his waist tightened immeasurably further, tugging him flush to you. 

You whispered against his soft lips then, your voice cracking, “What brought you back?” 

Sebastian pulled back enough to look at you– really look at you– and take in every bit of your face like he would never get the chance to again. It wasn’t like he didn’t already have every expression of yours memorized, but in the last seven days without seeing that warm light in your eyes, the world had seemed a whole lot darker. He sighed, swallowing thickly as he wondered how to begin phrasing every bottomless thought that he’d had since he realized why he hadn’t been getting over you. 

He didn’t need you to function. His relationship with you wasn’t an investment or something that could be measured with time, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t imagine a future without you. It was just that he didn’t want to. 

Sebastian didn’t want to live without you beside him. He didn’t want to grow old without you, and he didn’t want anything but to be surrounded by your warmth every day for the rest of his life. 

He leaned forward and kissed you again, just as gently as the last dozen times, and you reached up to cradle the hand he still had cupped against your cheek. Breathing a long sigh, Sebastian stared at you longingly as he murmured, “Wherever you are is where I want to be. It’s home. I wouldn’t be stranded without you, but the place I like best is wherever I can be next to you.” You trembled against him, both of you biting back resurfacing tears and failing miserably. “If it’s okay, can I come home?” 

A tiny whimper slipped from your throat as you nodded, wiggling your arms up to throw them around Sebastian’s shoulders, and then you were sniffling feebly into the crook of his neck. Sebastian wrapped his arms around your wait, holding you tightly as he fumbled for the doorknob, and by the time the two of you had crossed the short space to the bed, you were somewhere between laughing and crying. 

Your hands moved back to Sebastian’s glued on trousers, leaning up into his kisses eagerly as you swiftly got to removing the painfully cold attire. With a little assistance from the brunet, the two of you managed the pants– by the grace of Merlin and more than a little shimmying. Sebastian’s briefs and the oversized jumper you wore vanished significantly quicker than the rest, and he quickly eased you down onto the soft, familiar sheets. 

Sebastian rolled over beside you, lifting his hips to haul the covers over you both before he pressed his still-chilled body into your welcoming embrace, and he relished in the shiver that coursed over you from the contact. 

When your lips came together the next time, neither one of you pulled away, leaving your tears outside of the safe, blanketed world you’d created for yourselves. The whispered love that twined like smoke alongside the quiet sounds of your hands relearning each other’s skin filled the air for hours. Gasping breaths and soft moans of your name were all you could hear, Sebastian’s gentle affirmations of reverence making your heart swell with unbridled affection. 

You stayed like that all night, wholly content for the first time in a good, long while. When the sun finally began to cast its waking rays through the paneled window, bathing you both in a golden glow that illuminated the drying sweat on your skin, Sebastian’s soft murmurs and twin heartbeat lulled you into a blissful sleep.

Just before unconsciousness stole you away, you threaded your fingers through his own, letting your intertwined hands rest atop his chest in the same way Sebastian had so dearly missed. He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, closing his eyes against the growing morning light, and he felt lighter than he ever had as you thoughtfully whispered, “Welcome home.” 

[thewickedkat]

'How am I more useful to you, Imogen?'

and, like, that right there, to me is the most obvious tell of Liliana's. it's so raw and earnest, so open the way a child would be, and so at odds with her own actions that we know of (both having seen ourselves as an audience, and what we have been told through the lens of other characters), because here is a woman who has demonstrated consistently that her interests do not lie with her daughter or the safety of Exandria as a whole. she has routinely shown that her loyalties lie with Ludinus Daleth first and the Ruby Vanguard second. her daughter maybe has a slot in the top five; more likely the top ten of her concerns (seeing as how Liliana did tell Imogen to run when Imogen dreamt of the storm).

i don't buy this version of Liliana. not at all. immediately after the attempted assassination, Imogen heard Did she know?! from Liliana, all anger and fear and surprise (especially given the last conversation they had), and then after losing FCG...no one says anything? what, just playing at the polite fiction that no one heard Liliana lose her temper at that? what, are they secret Midwesterners? or are both sides just waiting to see what kind of hanging the other will do, if given enough rope? i know Imogen doesn't trust Liliana (and thank god she said so out loud, because i was about to genuinely question if Imogen was really that naive), and maybe that distrust cuts both ways. i almost hope it does, because that brings me to my next point.

with regard to being the presumptive Vessel, Liliana is either terribly stupid, having abdicated her critical thinking skills ('As far as I understand it,' she phrases it; 'the Ruidusborn have something the gods can't stop, and only we can truly reach him [Predathos].'**), and not questioning the absolute bullshit she has been fed from Ludinus for the past couple decades. if we entertain this notion, the idea that she was nothing more than some naif from a backwater town, maybe Liliana Temult was just looking for answers about why she was tormented with visions she didn't understand, or why she had to endure listening to everyone else's mind the way Imogen did growing up. maybe she wanted a reason for suffering the stigma that most Ruidusborn do on Exandria, being shunned and side-eyed simply for an accident of birth. maybe she just wanted to be Special, and Ludinus gave her that reason when he plucked her from whatever detritus she was languishing in.

after all, everyone wants to feel special, everyone wants to know why them. maybe Daleth simply provided. who knows?

on the other hand, if Liliana is not in fact terribly stupid, then she is morally bankrupt and ethically bereft: she abandoned her family with little to no reason--at least, none that satisfied Relvin and certainly didn't leave Imogen at ease--and no contact with nearly thirty years, and she aligned herself with the Ruby Vanguard, to sit at Daleth's right hand and orchestrate whatever machinations are underway on Ruidus, to hop planes and build terrible weapons of unmaking; to aid in the attack on a leader of a sovereign people of Exandria, one of the most powerful ArchDruids of the time; to assist in the Exaltation of already-disenfranchised people of Exandria in order to utilise them toward the Vanguard's ends--to let Otohan Thull hunt the child she professes to love--

no. i don't buy her spiel about being 'useful' to Imogen or the Hells. she wants to be useful? she can make herself useful and choke on something.

because someone who wants to 'do good,' or curtail the horrors Daleth is allowing, would actually do something, or would have networked more assistance over the years in an effort to stop him, not just half-heartedly reach out to their estranged child after so many years. i can't help but think that, once confronted with the Consequences of Their Actions, would do everything they possibly could to unravel what has been done.

instead, Liliana just mouths platitudes and 'oh, he's different with me, I understand him, you don't know him like I do; without me he'd be so much worse,' and i find that to be tremendously mealy-mouthed and awful.

**i can't help but wonder, idly, if Liliana doesn't believe there have been other Ruidusborn throughout Exandrian history. i mean, i know we as an audience haven't been informed for certain one way or another, but i personally assumed that Ruidusborn have been present in Exandria's populations since...well, since the containing of Predathos, maybe a little bit afterward (say a generation or two, because god-time is different than mortal time). given her words here, it makes me think that she believes the Ruidusborn are a more recent phenomenon, only occurring in the past couple-three generations, as if perhaps there had to be a critical mass of them reached, or maybe an increasing urgency coming from Predathos. because if there have been Ruidusborn throughout history, then...the gods don't really care? and maybe they don't care because left on their own, the Ruidusborn are just...an unfortunate side-effect of Predathos' containment? until, of course, Ludinus Daleth had to come along and fucking meddle.

[ladyloveandjustice]

Spring 2023 Anime Overview: Skip and Loafer and Birdie Wing Season 2

Skip and Loafer

Mitsumi comes from a small, under-populated town and her dream is to become a government official and help her town out. After getting into an elite high school in Tokyo, she moves there and finds that there are a lot of challenges in the big city and new people to meet. Her new friend, Sousuke, is a nice, popular guy, but he also has a troubled past. But Mitsumi is determined to face anything life throws her way!

Skip and Loafer is just one of those shows that’s like a warm hug. Mitsumi is an instantly endearing protagonist- dorky, earnest, and driven. She's overwhelmed moving from her small town to Tokyo, and a little naive about some things, but she's  a can-do gal determined to make it work! There's an overwhelming kindness to Skip and Loafer that permeates every inch of it. Characters that would just be a simple antagonist or "mean girl" in other anime have their struggles explored and become whole, realized people with good points and bad points.

Sousuke is a troubled former child star who experiences some conflict, but it's not like Mitsumi 'fixes' him-  he simply learns and grows through his experiences with her, both through their conflicts and moments of connection. There's some great female friendships too, and they focus on girls from different social spheres working to find real connection to each other and trying to look past stereotypes and misconceptions. It shows why labels like 'popular girl', 'nerd girl', and so on, are no reason to judge someone.

There's also some nice trans representation with Mitsumi's aunt, Nao, who is a trans woman. Nao-chan's a fun character, who tries to guide her overwhelmed s niece and forms a surprising connection with one of her friends, while still showing off her own sweet and goofy quirks and giving hints about her own life story and how it shaped her outlook. She is also truly wise:

Some brief transphobia towards Nao is shown in the form of people whispering about her on the train, but Mitsumi immediately holds her hand and shows support. Skip and Loafer's kindness extends to the treatment of Nao-chan, and we're clearly meant to cheer for her as she thrives.

All-in-all, Skip and Loafer is a relaxing, entertaining and funny- it has a light touch and a focus on relationships, treating the conflicts and complications high schoolers can face with nuance and empathy. The characters are loveable and the setting is fully realized. The animation is very cute and delivers a couple of beautiful moments. It was the most consistently excellent show I watched this season (even if it didn't reach the highest highs of some other shows) and I think anyone who enjoys slice of life shows, or just wants something that's pleasant to watch but has enough depth to remain entertaining, should definitely check it out.

Birdie Wing Season 2

Premise: Season 2 of the saga where two girl golf geniuses just want to face each other one the green and have their homoerotic sports rivalry like they were MEANT TO, but weird family drama and the actual mafia keep getting in the way.

In my review of Birdie Wing's first season, I completely enjoyed the show's absurdity, but was worried it could all come crashing down in the second season. Fortunately, it did not! Birdie Wing: Golf Girls' Story remains a bombastically absurd sports anime that is fun to watch all the way through. Please come watch these girls get ridiculous sports injuries, scream their super golf attacks, and be ten times more intense than your average shonen sports show.

Birdie Wing also pulled some great moves this season, like having Eve's caddy from golfing high school be pulled into the absurd world of the golf mafia and react to it with the same panicked confusion the audience might. "They're going to KILL you if you LOSE A GOLF GAME? Why is the golf course like this? How much does this cost?" she cries while Eve just shrugs everything off.

Meanwhile, the show finally brings in the bread and butter of sports anime- injuries and diseases that the main characters are going to ignore for the love of sport. But the tired trope becomes wonderfully absurd and almost verges on pointed commentary when it's GOLF, the sport of retirees, causing these ridiculous injuries. Seeing Eve gets covered with bandages because she golfed too fucking hard, or having this line:

...It really throws into perspective how ridiculous sports anime is when it glamorizes people destroying their bodies for the 'love of the game'. I don't know if that was intentional, but it is very funny.

I am immensely grateful that the plot twist I was fearing didn't come to fruition in the show- instead, in classic Birdie Wing fashion, they teased that terrible plot twist, but instead gave an explanation that was a thousand times more soap opera-esque and ridiculous. I have to to applaud that moxie.

But what's important is that the true believers made it through. We're okay. (If you want to know what I'm talking about and don't mind spoilers, please enjoy this meme I made based off a famous tweet by Crunchyroll).

I must share an anecdote- I had to watch the finale while on vacation with my Mom. When she overheard all the yelling, she was like "are you watching a magical girl show?" "no it's a sports anime- they're playing golf" "Oh...why does it sound like a magical girl show?"

Sadly, the finale was a little bit of a let down- it was rushed compared to other parts of the show and felt like less than it could be. (Considering G-witch had the same problem, I wonder if it was a Bandai wide issue).

But it was still fun. While Aoi and Eve sadly do not kiss or become an explicit couple (despite Aoi very much wanting to!), there is at least absurd golf team up moment you could read as being a Super Deep metaphor for their love. Not much of an excuse, but it's something. The end of the show didn't go as hard as it could have (or, I think, should have) but it was still ridiculously, wonderfully Birdie Wing.

 I was disappointed Aoi and Eve were separated this season so much (and unlike the first season, did not pine for each other nearly as much during separations since they were busy contending with ridic plot stuff), but on the plus side, there weren't really many 'sexual menace' or jarringly mature moments like the first season had. 

Overall, I think it was a really solid follow up, and I can now wholeheartedly recommend Birdie Wing as a show. Just heed the content warnings I left in my first review so you too don't get killed by golf! Once you're ready, let the glorious golf wash over you. You won't regret it.

[an-au-blog]

I was scrolling through my drafts, "Keep Lying" by Donna Missal came on and I remembered the love jumble au. It had me thinking...

Sanji doesn't respect himself enough to say no. He would never have the opportunity to be with the one he truly loves, so when Usopp was down because he was homesick, Sanji comforted him. He always would.

At the island they were at, they passed a shop that had a dress on display, "Kaya has one that looks just like that one", Usopp said offhandedly. Sanji didn't respect himself enough not to come back while the crew was having dinner. No one would notice he was gone... right? Wrong. Zoro noticed that Sanji was acting off. He had let his hair grow out and now he was sneaking out in the middle of the night, sprinting to a store for dresses. He watched as the cook spent an ungodly amount of money for a dress that he was sure wasn't for Nami or Robin. He waited for him outside and when Sanji finally noticed him, he acted dumb and told him it was none of his business why he bought it. Zoro asked Sanji if he wanted to be a girl, if that was the case, they could talk to Iva, but Sanji told him he didn't want to be "a girl", he wanted to be one specific girl. But since he couldn't, he was fine with being a rebound.

So when Usopp said that he'd do anything to have had the courage to tell Kaya how he felt before leaving. "I'm not naive enough to think she'd wait for me, but I wanted to kiss her goodbye, you know?"

Sanji braised himself for rejection. "Maybe," Sanji started, praying that his nervousness is too obvious, "maybe if you talk it through with someone... pretend its her, you'll feel better?"

Usopp laughed with no bite behind it. "Sorry Sanji, but you don't strike me as a Kaya doppelganger." It was said as a lighthearted joke, but it stung the blond more than expected.

"What if I put on one of Nami's dresses?" He said it as a joke, as to make it sound more believable.

But then Usopp's eyebrows shot up. "You'd do that for me?"

He had no idea how much Sanji would do for him... "Yeah, sure, why not. You're my nakama after all." He was so much more...

They arranged to meet in the pantry, so the rest of the crew wouldn't see them, because they both knew they would have been made fun of for the rest of their lives. Zoro found Sanji in the bathroom - shaving his goatee and brushing his hair down. He was already dressed in the dress Usopp said looked like Kayas, hoping Usopp didn't remember it. He almost felt like he was going on an actual date.

"This is a mistake," Zoro told him, snapping him out of his concentration.

"Yeah, you'd say that mosshead. You have no idea what it feels like to have the one you love talk about someone you can't reach. At least Luffy isn't in love with someone else. You still have a chance." He put his hairbrush down, "I never did."

Zoro only scoffed. He didn't have the heart to tell it was him, not Luffy. And he wasn't going to correct him now either. He just stood out of his way.

When they met up in the pantry, Usopp tried to make a remark about the fact that Sanji was putting in so much effort, but Sanji brushed it off by saying he's a method actor and hoped that he wouldn't see through it.

"Kaya, I just wanted to say, ever since we were little I've always thought that um... I've known that you were the most beautiful girl I would ever see. And then I got to be your friend and I realized that you were beautiful on the inside." He cupped both Sanji's hands, "Before I sail off, I want to tell you that I- I love you. And I always will."

Out of all of Usopp's lies - this one was he favourate.

Sanji hoped the room was dim enough that Usop didn't see how red we was. Or how earnest he was when he responded. "Oh. Usopp. I love you too! You're the most amazing person I- I-... can I kiss you?"

Usopp took a small step back and let go of his hands. "Oh, uh, you're a really good actor. But, uh you don't have to do that."

Sanji cursed himself internally. He needed a cigarette. "Oh, I was thinking, since I was in the zone and you said that you always wanted to..." his mind raced. He had ruined it all now. "I mean it's no problem I don't mind either way, this is for you after all."

Usopp hummed "Well, if my eyes are closed maybe just a peck?"

Sanji felt like the scum of the earth. He felt like the luckiest man alive. "Sure."

Usopp closed his eyes and put a hand on Sanji's cheek. Sanji couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. He needed to commit this to memory as well as possible. And just like that, the moment was gone. It lasted two, maybe three seconds. And Sanji's dream had ended. What he would have done to have Usopp keep lying to him...

"haha, okay, that was a bit weird now that I think about it. Sorry Sanji." Usopp laughed nervously. "Can we pretend it didn't happen? Not that I'm ungrateful but... you know..."

Sanji took out his pack of smokes. "Yeah, I know. Don't worry about it." He lit one taking a deep drag. "Don't worry about it. You can head out, I have some restoking I gotta do here now. Zoro's been drinking without telling me, I gotta see what else is missing." A lie.

"Okay. Thanks a bunch and uh... bye." Usopp left.

Sanji took another deep drag from his cigarette. He could finally let himself cry. Usopp looked so uncomfortable, he just knew that they'd drift apart after this. He was such and idiot.

This was simultaneously the best and worst day of his life. He just wanted to vanish...

[anya-ackerman]

I made myself sad over Levi x reader angst so here’s a little drabble as an attempt at angst with comfort in the end because we’ve grown past wallowing in misery and assuming the worst ✌🏻

I do promise to sometime write something that DOESN’T involve Levi or Anya being sad in bed. I’ve only written it twice but it’s also weird it’s happened twice. Slight NSFW suggested I guess but it’s not explicit because I don’t really write that kind of stuff.

Also sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors, I can be crazy dyslexic.

In the back of her mind, Anya knew it was only a matter of time before things ended. They always did, after all. It was one of the first things life had taught her.

Maybe it was why she had always worked so hard. Studied so diligently, practiced and practiced her skills, perfected her manner of carrying herself and speaking. If she were the perfect girl, a perfect lady, then maybe, maybe, maybe it would last.

It never did.

Her parents had all but neglected her while growing up. Not out of cruelty, mind you, but more out of a lack of any maternal or paternal instinct on their parts. They produced a child only out of duty.

She could garner the occasional praise at her accomplishments, however, so long as they reflected well on her parents. Her pedigree, after all, her family name was important. Born from a noble family in the capital, she had appearances to keep up.

But it would never last. Eventually, they’d be off again, focusing on their own business. and Anya would be left with the nanny and her tutor until the next blue moon when she’d be graced with their presence again.

Friends too were fleeting. On the rare occasion she was able to make them, the friendship hardly ever lasted. No meaningful connection was made. Anya was too quiet, too reserved, too “goody-goody”. Too naive, too soft-spoken, too small. But if she tried to be open, to start from a place of confidence, she was too assertive. Too opinionated, thought too highly of herself. Too boorish for a lady.

Eventually, Anya decided that perhaps not saying anything was best.

And even suitors were non existent. Despite her breeding and status, her family’s fortune and wealth and Anya’s accomplishments, it was always her that managed to dash any chances of a romance, even a simple practical marriage offer, being made. She was pretty, at least others had said. But there was always someone prettier. There was always someone smarter, someone cleverer, someone better.

So it was only a matter of time before Levi realized that, as well.

Anya hadn’t known what to do when the Scouting Legion’s Captain, “Humanity’s Strongest Soldier”, had first asked permission to court her. At first she’d thought it was a joke. Surely it must be. Yes, she and Levi had spoken on several occasions, and had to all appearances become friendly (she hesitated to admitting to a friendship. Giving it a name like that would only make it worse when it eventually fell apart).

But for him to have a genuine romantic interest? It must be a prank. Just some joke that military men played with one another, seeing who could get a girl gullible enough to enthusiastically agree before they were eventually brought back to reality. After all, Anya had fallen for him from the moment they had met. Surely, Levi knew this and that’s why he was playing into this.

But, despite everything, Anya had agreed. Because, in the end, she was that naive, gullible, stupid girl. And Levi never revealed it to be a prank. In fact, he was quite earnest.

And for the first time in what felt like years, Anya felt happy. Happy, in another’s company. Happy to have someone to share the silence with. Happy to have someone to care for and someone who cared for her just as deeply, just as much.

It was terrifying. Because Anya knew this only meant it would hurt all the more when it ended.

She wasn’t sure when, but she knew, eventually, it would happen. One day, Levi wouldn’t look at her with that soft gaze. One day, he’d stop reaching out to take her hand. One day, they’d stop sharing a bed or their meals together. One day, Levi would turn cold towards her and she would no longer hold any interest to him. Weeks, months, years from now, eventually, this love he had for her would be gone.

And one day, surely, he’d ask for the ring that he had placed on her finger back.

Hopefully sometime before the actual wedding day, Anya thought occasionally. It’d be a burden for Levi to have to also worry about divorce papers later on top of his work load from the Corps.

She stared up at Levi, watching his sleeping form, tucked in against his chest and simply enjoying the feeling of him holding her. Of him keeping her safe and secure against himself.

Some nights, when her racing thoughts kept her up like this, she’d simply lay like this and memorize every inch of his face. The way his hair falls in front of his face, the sounds of his soft snores, the way he looks so at peace when he sleeps compared to in the waking world. Anya didn’t want to forget. No matter how things ended, amicably or poorly, she wanted to remember this.

She wanted to remember the time she was once loved by him.

Anya knew there were plenty of women who sought him out. Other noblewomen who saw marrying an Ackerman as a step upwards. Ordinary civilian women who saw him as a living god and hero. And even other women in the military, some who probably owed their lives to him.

It wouldn’t be long now, would it? Until Levi found someone better. Until he found better and had something to compare Anya against.

It’s a shame, she thought. It would have been nice to be married. To be a wife. To have been able to wake up beside Levi every day. To be by his side and to be loved by him. To maybe one day have a family of their own. It would have been nice, that impossible future.

“You’re shaking,” came the smooth, calm voice, despite the sound of sleep laced through it. Anya jumped slightly, startled. She hadn’t realized he was awake.

She simply tucked her face into his chest and tried to focus on keeping her voice even, despite her body betraying her.

“I’m just cold,” came her soft reply. “Please don’t,” she said, catching him in a gentle hug when she felt Levi move to get out of bed, no doubt to fetch another blanket. “It’s fine. I’m sorry. Please go back to sleep.”

Anya hated how her voice wavered. She had no right to be upset. She couldn’t be selfish about this. Even if it hurt when Levi left, even if it tore her asunder when he too eventually replaced her, she couldn’t be selfish enough to let it show. It wouldn’t be fair to make Levi feel guilty over something inevitable.

“Anya,” he spoke softer now, a hand reaching to card through her hair gently. He could always read her as easily as any novel. She knew he could tell she was upset. There was no point trying to hide it now.

“Je suis ici,” he murmured against her golden hair. It was a simple reassurance but it proved to be too much.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, Levi holding her close to him, stroking her hair as she sobbed into his chest. She broke and surely, surely this had to be where it all ended.

Levi would hold her, because he is kind. He would allow her to get it all out, to stay close to him until she calmed down, because he is kind. And then he would tell her that, perhaps, this isn’t right after all. That she proved to be too much. That he needed a wife who was stronger, not so weak in will and body and heart. That despite everything, everything, everything she had done, had tried to do, wanted to do, it wasn’t enough.

And in the morning, he’d ask her to pack her things, leave the ring behind and be on her way. Eventually, she’d hear the news he had married some other woman, a woman in all ways her better, and she would be alone again.

She hadn’t even realized she’d said all that until she felt herself being gently pulled up into his lap. At some point, Levi had moved, his back resting against the headboard of the bed. He situated Anya in his lap, forcing her to look straight at him, her legs straddling his hips. He cupped her face in his hands, gently, as though she were a delicate orchid he was terrified of accidentally crushing. She felt his lips on her face, kissing away the tracks of her tears.

She hadn’t realized she’d voiced all her fears aloud until she heard his voice.

“Do you really think I’d ever leave you?” He pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Do you really think my love for you could ever fade like that?” He kissed just under her eye.

“Do you really think I would ever regret anything when it came to you, ma colombe?” He kissed the corner of her mouth.

Anya hiccuped softly, her tears still flowing but her sobs subsiding. She didn’t trust herself to speak, but it was okay. Levi and she…they understood one another without ever needing to speak a word. Levi caught her chin in his hand gently, making sure she kept her eyes on his.

Steely blue met Anya’s tentative gaze.

“I know it hurts. I know you’ve been hurt before. And I know…it takes time. To feel safe again.”

Levi’s hand moved from her chin, satisfied she wouldn’t look away, and moved to the nape of her neck. His other hand locked with hers, squeezing her smaller hand gently.

“And I don’t care how long it takes. I’m yours, Anya. And I’m going to spend every day showing you how perfect you are.”

Another hiccup, a slight sob as her voice caught in her throat. Levi moved quickly, kissing her neck, squashing the tendrils of self-doubt and pushing away the weight of years of self-hatred. Shielding her from it the same way he’d shield her from any harm.

“None of that now, mon petit. None of that. You know I don’t lie. And I’m not going to start now.”

His lips moved from her neck to her jaw, hovering over her lips as his eyes met hers. Anya felt her breath catch and felt herself cling to him all the tighter.

“Do you trust me?,” he asked, his voice just above a whisper. The response came quickly and easily.

“Yes,” she said, just as softly. “Above all others.”

“Do you believe that I’d give my life for you, willingly and happily?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Though I pray you never do.” I couldn’t bear for you to leave me, she thought. I couldn’t bear to be alone again after having known you.

Levi smiled softly, catching the words she left unspoken, his thumb running over her cheek lovingly.

“And do you realize how much I love you? How much I need you too? How much I can’t part from you either?”

Anya looked at him, watching how his eyes softened with that flash of devotion that only Levi seemed capable of. Looking at her as though she were the only thing he needed, as though he’d do anything she asked of him. As though he would slay entire nations if it were her whim.

She nodded.

Levi smiled, pressing his lips against the corner of her mouth in a gentle kiss before pulling away ever so slightly, hovering so close.

“And would you do anything I ask?”

“Yes,” she breathed out. “Anything.”

“Then just focus on me, darling. Focus on me.”

He pressed his lips to hers and Anya was all too happy, too willing to let herself give in.

Come morning, Anya knew she would be exhausted. Levi would spend the rest of the night, showing her in every way how much he loved her, needed her, craved her. She’d be sore and tired and covered in proof of their love, of Levi’s claim on her.

He’d hold her to his chest when it was all said and done, when even he was too tired to continue and she was certain her mind couldn’t focus on anything but him. He’d whisper reassurances to her. Reminders and promises and vows. And while normally, that dark part of her mind would disavow all of them, critique and pick apart each and every one, that voice was silent.

Perhaps even it knew that it was useless against Levi’s brutal honesty, his brash truthfulness. Levi doesn’t lie. And Levi doesn’t do something without wanting it himself. He speaks his mind, regardless of what that may bring.

It was only a matter of time before things ended. Summer turned to autumn, lives are too often cut short at the hands of other humans or Titans. Things ended, they always did.

But even if some things ended, didn’t mean that all things did. It was these words that Levi spoke to Anya through his actions; through how he held her, how he kissed her, how he whispered over and over to her “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours” as he pulled her euphorically apart.

And there are always guarantees in life, after all.

The sun will always rise in the East and set in the West. An apple tossed in the air will find it’s way back down to either your hand or the earth below.

And Levi Ackerman would always love Anya Gardner.

[moemoemammon]

Do you mind if request headcanons for the brothers where MC is just a lovable idiot and the brothers realize they’re moronsexual?

Lovable Idiot MC!

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

He saw your carefree airheaded-ness from a mile away, from the moment you popped through that portal and your reaction was.... well, it was definitely enough for him to get a rough estimate of your IQ.

And honestly? He didn’t expect you to last long, yet by some literal miracle you’ve survived. If anything he thought you'd have wandered into a demon's clutches by now, so maybe you've got extraordinary luck?

A moronsexual in denial, he'll be damned if he said you didn’t somehow...grow on him..... He REFUSES to acknowledge how he finds your clumsy but earnest attitude endearing as hell. The way your brain finds the most obscure ways to solve problems is adorable for sure, but kind of reminds him of Mammon.... ugh...

You're going to give him new grey hairs, you know that? The stress of being surrounded by seven idiots was enough, but EIGHT?? Lucifer needs a vacation. Of course, he'll happily invite you along, too (paired with a child leash).

Mammon

Eyyy same brain 🧠🤝🧠 With your two brain cells combined, it's a wonder the House of Lamentation hasn't burned down yet. You both seem to cause chaos wherever you go, like some kind of cursed dynamic duo.

But seriously, that numbskull of yours is gonna get you eaten some day! Guess the Great Mammon has to do his best to keep you out of the clutches of nasty demons! But his services don't come cheap, understand?

You thought Mammon was protective before, just wait till he realizes how scatterbrained you can be. Won’t let you out of his sight, INSISTS that you summon him to accompany you when you go somewhere, even if it means he's gotta wait outside the bathroom for you. And don't think of saying no!

He's never had to work this hard in his life! He swears keeping you alive is like trying to brush Cerberus's teeth! But... it's kinda nice having someone around that he can get along with so well! Seeing as he isn't the only dumbass (affectionate) around.

Levi

Was an ass when he first met you. There was no way he’d let a klutzy human like YOU anywhere NEAR his room, let alone his precious merch collection! Go put your normie brain to use and binge watch TSL! THEN he'll be willing to talk to you!

But then he realized that you were kind of m-moe, in an annoying way.... You might not have understood anything when he suddenly dumped mountains of TSL trivia on you, but you were happy to listen anyway! It was like your smile was giving him the strength to keep info-dumping... 👉👈

He’s watched enough anime to know someone in need of protection when he sees them! And you’re definitely the 'lovable, airheaded sidekick/fan favorite’ character trope! If he's not careful, you'll fall into the evil clutches of someone horrible when he's not looking-!

Levi’s not usually into those types because of the cliches, but there’s no way he can resist the goofy smile on your face when you agree to play video games with him....

Satan

Satan would’ve ignored you in the beginning had it not been for how... spacey you could be. And being the bastard man he was, his first idea was to see what kind of trouble he could get you into. You seemed the easy type, anyway.

And yet as time went on and he started actually caring about you, he realized that you were just... a little.... uneducated. Luckily for you, Satan has enough knowledge in his nog for the both of you! He wouldn't mind teaching you a few things?

Aaaand that's a bust. He can't seem to get anything to stick in that thick skull of yours, but he can't be annoyed when you seem to be giving it your all. You're really determined, and that face you're making while you study is...

Ehem. Maybe that's enough book work for the day? He'd much rather learn the wonderful things about you, and enjoy the things you like to do. Teach him carefully, okay?

Asmo

You’re Asmo’s favorite kind of person! To manipulate- So soft and innocent, and he finds you absolutely ADORABLE! He can’t get enough of your cute, dazed looks! Ah, the way you stare blankly at people when you don’t know what’s going on... So cute! ❤️

Having a thing for corruption means you’re the apple of Asmo’s eye. But as he starts liking you more, he realizes that you... get into trouble a lot. You're way too gullible for your own good! You should realize how dangerous it is to be that cute!

At this rate, ANYONE could gobble you up and Asmo would die! He's got to make sure his cute little MC stays safe and sound, so he spends lots of time making sure to leave his mark on you one way or another, be it the lingering smell of his perfume, or other more.. physical marks. That seems to keep the nasties away!

He doesn't mind being a moronsexual. If anything, he's an everyonesexual. Now come to his room! He's been missing your terribly, so why don't you tell him about your day?

Beel

Beel isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer to begin with, so it takes him a long while to realize that you aren't either. What makes it obvious is how much of a knack for trouble you seem to have. It's almost like you're doing it on purpose... but at least you're nice..?

You only seemed like an easy snack to him at first, but now he finds himself saving you constantly from getting yourself into dangerous situations. Like when he caught you standing at the top of the stairs, probably contemplating whether or not you could jump to the last step.

Get used to Beel just picking you up all the time. He'll carry you away from danger and keep you close like the overactive toddler you are. He'll offer to do little tasks for you, too.

He's not saying he's worried that you're somehow hurt yourself using the microwave, but…he's worried that you're somehow hurt yourself using the microwave-

Belphie

He can only think that your personality is exactly what made you such an easy target. Who in their right mind would trust a shady guy in the attic anyway, let alone set him free? YOU, that's who. You were so naive, it was hilarious!

But now it's not so hilarious unless he's e one teasing you. You seem to fall for ANY prank, and while he thinks that's cute, it's also worrisome... He knows there are demons that'd love to eat you, so what if they tricked you into going with them?

Guess he's gotta go to school to protect you.... Jk. He'll just keep you from going! You're much safer if you just nap all day with him, right? Ah, he and Beel were gonna play video games together. Wanna join?

Oh yeah, and don't think you're safe from still being harassed. It's all harmless fun but he can't get enough of how easy it is to trick you. The kind of bastard to tell you to go into the auto-shop and ask for blinker fluid. He loves you though! ❤️

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Could i request hcs for the first years with an gn!s/o who is like elsa from frozen? Like they have ice powers, they freeze things when theyre nervous, wear gloves to contain their powers, theyre scared they might hurt someone, etc?

Hot take, Tangled > Frozen--

Curiouser and Curiouser...

While Ace is wowed by your magic (and, truthfully, a little envious of them), he doesn’t entirely ‘get’ your hangups about them. According to him, there's no use in having super (literally) cool powers if you're too busy brooding to use them. "If you've got it, you might as well flaunt it!" he tells you. "Stop worrying so much, it'll be fiiine."

His cheery demeanor and humor help to ease your nerves. Ace acting so nonchalant about your powers makes you feel just as normal as anyone else at NRC—and when you’re preoccupied laughing with him, it’s hard for fear to freeze over your heart. In a way, his smile’s like the sunshine that drives the snow away.

Ace encourages you to use your powers to do irresponsibly dumb but fun things. Think you can freeze the floor of the basketball court so he can slide around on it? It'd be easier for him to shoot hoops like that. How about walking on water? Just freeze the lake under your feet when you make contact with the surface. Or--and this is the idea Ace likes the most--how about you conjure up a snow day so he can skip class and take you on a date?

As much as Ace likes to see you happy and confident, he’s not naive enough to think that you can always be fearless. When the chips are down and you feel like the walls are closing in, he’ll offer his hands to hold yours. They’re tricky hands, ones that you’ve watched make the cards dance time and time again, with nimble digits that tease and delight.

With his palms pressed against yours, and fingers laced together, Ace makes you feel stable and secure. A pleasant warmth sweeps from where your hands meet to the rest of your body, banishing the cold from you and lighting a fire from within. Suddenly, all is right with the world, and you feel as though you are capable of taming any storm, any blizzard.

If you’re the ice and snow, then Deuce is the rock that you’ve frozen over, the one that grounds you when you’re about to be whisked away by the snowstorm, or by your own fears. He's nothing if not stubborn, so you can expect Deuce to dig his heels in and offer his unwavering support.

Deuce knows exactly what it’s like to be fearful and disappointed yourself when your powers rage out of control. He feels the same when his delinquent side gets the better of him. “I worry that I won’t be able to control myself. That I’ll mess up and accidentally hurt the people that I love... and that’s scary to think about—so I understand why you’re scared, too.”

He speaks about his own experiences in earnest, and lets you know that it’s okay to feel how you do. All Deuce asks is that you’re just as honest with him when it comes to you sharing your experiences with him. If you’re nervous or apprehensive, then tell him. He’ll happily be there to lend an ear and uplift you.

Deuce makes a vow to improve with you! You’ve both got something you want to overcome, so you swear to work toward those goals. He’ll aim for being a star student (granted, you’ll probably need to join him for quite a few study sessions), and you’ll hone your icy abilities (with Deuce offering to be your sparring buddy). You’ll grow together—both as individuals, and as a loving, supportive couple.

He won’t protest your decision to wear gloves. (If they make you feel more comfortable and in control, then you should wear them!) Deuce usually lacks the boldness to outright hold your hands anyway, but he’ll often go for a high-five or a fist-bump instead. He considers you reciprocating those gestures as a sign of great trust—after all, who else would you allow to come so close to your icy touch? Perhaps one day, Deuce’s burning spirit will thaw you completely.

Jack’s used to the snowy regions of Pyroxene, so the cold never bothered him anyway is something he can easily endure. He’s of the opinion that with great strength comes great responsibility—so rather than fearing your gift, you should take action and hone it. Jack even volunteers to be your personal coach and fitness partner!

“Heavy duty spells have a bigger knock back if your body is weak,” he explains. “That’s why you need to train yourself physically, not just practice incantations. Physical strength and endurance is important for developing and controlling strong magic.” And not only that, but he argues that exercise is good for calming the nerves and regulating your body temperature—thus keeping the icy magic at bay.

Of course, Jack doesn’t expect you to immediately be at his level, but he expects you to put forth an honest effort if you want to get a proper grasp of your powers. He’ll help you up and grant breaks when you ask nicely, but he also won’t hesitate to push you to exceed what you believed your limits to be. Jack wants to see you succeed—he wants to see that beautiful moment when you can tear off your gloves and cast them into the wind, even if it means giving a little tough love.

After your sessions, Jack fetches bottles of water to keep you hydrated. Unfortunately (depending on your post-workout mood), there’s a chance that the water freezes over when he hands you a bottle. Jack doesn’t let that get to him, though—and he won’t let it get to you, either. He’ll simply take the new ice pack and press it to your forehead or cheek with a small smile and a gruff “... Good job today.”

There’s a part of him that can’t help but worry that all of that ice magic you use is bound to leave you feeling chilly yourself. Because of this, Jack often offers you the shirt off his back (well, more like his blazer or jacket) or asks if you feel cold out of the blue. (And, while he won’t blatantly make the offer himself, Jack won’t protest if you decide to snuggle up against his fluffy tail to get the warmth you need.)

As the descendent of a family of farmers, Epel knows firsthand just how dangerous a touch of frost can be to life, farmhands and apple trees alike. Still, Epel's got guts—and he won’t back down from just some ice. In fact, he finds himself entranced by your magic and wanting to see more and more of its beautiful, raw power.

He gets you a pair of gardening gloves for your hands. They're the same kind that they use back home to protect their hands while working out on the fields, so they're nice and sturdy--surely, they'd help you with your ice magic, too. They might look a bit plain, but Epel can help spice them up with some custom patchwork. "It's like you're already a part of the family," he mumbles shyly. "And this way, you can look at something bright and colorful when you look at your hands."

Epel helps you find practical uses for your magic. With your ice, you can freeze his apple carvings and prevent them from oxidizing--and that way, they can be appreciated for all the longer. It helps you realize that your powers aren't capable of just hurting others, but also preserving beauty and spreading joy to the world.

Epel understands that there are times when the facade cracks, and you just need to... let it go. For times like that, he'll take you to a "secret spot" that only the two of you know--a little open field where you can unleash your magic as you like, summoning snow and raising castles of ice when the temptation hits you. He loves watching you create, seeing all the power surging around--but, most of all, he loves that wild smile of yours coming loose as you throw all caution to the wind.

When you've let it all out, Epel's got a warm blanket and a cup of hot, spiced apple cider for you. He throws the blanket around your shoulders and huddles with you under it. His presence is cozy--far more than what even the drink and the blanket can provide, and it stills your fears.

Frankly, Sebek is insulted that you underestimate him! He has trained since his childhood (and under the grueling mentorship of Lilia!) to protect others--do you really think the threat of some frost and ice could deter him from being at your side? Perish the thought!!

Sebek doesn't bother hiding his distaste for the gloves you choose to wear. He sees them as a symbol of shame and weakness, so he often makes his displeasure known to you. "Hmph! Why bother with wearing such needless accessories? It is as though you are already admitting defeat before the battle has even begun. YIELD NOT IN COWARDICE, BUT BOW OUT ONLY WITH YOUR FINAL BREATH!"

It's also common for Sebek to go on rants about how you should be embracing your powers rather than pushing them away. Ironically, he sees no problems with others fearing you (it simply makes those other people weak-willed and unworthy of being in your presence). In fact, he's convinced that your abilities put you on a different level of might compared to everyone else, and you should be properly respected for it!

Sebek only expresses concern when he realizes it's you that fears your powers the most. Unfortunately, he's not the best when it comes to being subtle or speaking with tact, so his attempts to comfort you end up being loud reassurances that your magic is a source of pride. No matter how much doubt you may harbor, Sebek will always be your greatest cheerleader and hype man.

When shouting and hyping you up doesn't help, the least Sebek can do is provide you with something to soothe your soul. He'll set you down somewhere comfortable and set to brewing a pot of your favorite hot drink. Served to you in an elaborate cup, the steam puffing up from the drink colors your cheers and warms your frigid fingers, restoring the smile that Sebek cherishes so very much.

[regali-s]

nsfw kaeya x female reader // wc: 2.7k // minors please dni with this work

he can’t help the way his eyes immediately fall to you whenever you enter the room.

it’s like gravity, almost — the same helplessness he faces under nature’s relentless pull, only it’s towards you. you and everything about you. in the way your presence overflows with demand, calling to attention all around you; in the way your voice flows from your lips like the sweetest honey, how it melts against his tongue in phantoms of forbidden flavours he so often fantasizes about. he’s pulled into the way your words drip with the most intoxicating cup of death afternoon, how your smile is lined with its flavour sends fire coursing through his veins until blues turn to yellows and he can’t breathe when you smile at him.

and, gods, when your eyes find his, when you let your gaze seemingly wander to the icy blue that paints frost across your bare skin, you make it seem as if it were all accidental, a mere happening of chance when your gaze grows dark and your smile draws on innocent poison. of course, it’s all by chance when kaeya finds his breath vanishing on memories of you, of your body, of the way you felt wrapped around his cock as you edged him further and further to the edge.

when you speak, it’s so hard to hear the strategies and important topics that, really he ought to be paying more attention to. but, gods, it’s so hard when his dick is straining against his pants and it’s all he can do to hang on to your voice that he yearns to feel against his skin again when you ask with such concern, “captain? you seem a bit distracted.” and the poor man, he’s such a glutton for the way your lips pout at him, for the knowing glint that dances on daggers when you ask if he’s alright. he can’t help but to devour it all, let it run its course until his body burns with frostbite and he gives you a chilled smile as the air between you two sparks with a deadly static. he’s addicted, so terribly lost to your poison, and he finds himself impatient for this stupid meeting to call to an end, for the doors to close behind the last knight, and for him to be left at the mercy of the lion.

“what could it have been,” you muse from your place between his legs, smile devious and so, deceitfully ignorant as his cock twitches painfully against your lips, “that kept you sooo distracted throughout our meeting, hm?”

kaeya can’t help the strained grunt that escapes him as you take his tip inside your lips. the way you suckle him is so devastatingly slow, near gentle in the way it maddens him and causes his body to sink into the mattress. he wishes so badly to grab you, to touch and feel your throat taking him as far as you could, but he’d be damned if he gives into you so soon. it’s already a struggle enough as it is, it frustrates him to no end that you’re able to draw him close to cumming so quickly — mere moments after you close the door and push his body down into your shared bed, and his breath leaves his body on trembling groans as you slowly suck his cock. your eyes stay fixed on his face as you study his expression. it’s terribly telling by the furrow of his glistening brow, by the way he bites his lips and throws his head back as his hips begin to buck, he’s close and you know it, and he’s on the verge of cumming inside your mouth just as he’d so guiltily fantasized throughout the day, until—

“fuuuuck!” the cry he releases is embarrassingly desperate, cracked around its letters as he stares at you accusingly. how utterly cruel of you to pull away before he could cum, and how utterly naive of him to have believed you’d let him before you’d had your fill. your smile tells him just as much as your tongue ghosts against his sensitive tip, humming in amusement as a shiver runs through his body and he pouts down at you.

“ah ah ah,” you tut. “a little impatient now, aren’t we?”

kaeya wants to retort with the words bubbling on his tongue, and he’s ready to blame it on the you who so relentlessly pushed his every button until he’d crack, but it all dies behind his lips as you climb up his body. your skin against his is almost too much as you kiss him, the very room spinning as he groans into you. your pussy grinds deliciously against his aching cock as you drag your hips — to and fro, repeatedly you tease him as his strength fades him and his voice leaves him unrestricted. choked moans are close to sobs as he grips on to your hips, he throws his head back and tries so desperately to match your movements by bucking his hips up, but oh, you can’t possibly let him have it so easily can you?

“not yet, kaeya,” you say gently as your teeth graze his neck, and the poor man groans pathetically beneath you as he forces his hips to still. “patience, remember? i can’t let you cum like this.”

the implication of your words isn’t lost on him. as realization swims within his blue eyes, you feel his heart beat stutter against you. the delicious rise and fall of his chest fills your own veins with euphoria and you greedily drink in every pretty little moan he gives you when you suck against his skin. you know every little weak point of his, know where to tease him to break him, and the results are always so mesmerizing to you — the way the cavalry captain melts against your palm when you caress his face and trace your kisses along his jaw. and oh, gods above, he has such a lovely voice. to hear the room fill with his moans and gasps is a reward greater than none other, and tonight — just as all nights before — you plan to make him sing for you.

you’ve teased him for far too long, you decide as you finally reach down to take his cock into your palm. he’s heavy against your fingers and twitching, slick with your spit and his precum. his breath catches in his throat as finally, finally, he feels his tip rubbing against your entrance. you’re so terribly wet, your juices spill down the length of him and between your fingers and kaeya wants nothing more than to be inside you.

a long, drawn-out curse pours out from him as you sink down on him.

immediately, he feels your walls clamping down around him, sucking him in as you adjust to his size. there’s a terrible satisfaction he finds in watching your concentration break, as your own moans escape you and your breath dances on staccatos when he stretches your pussy.

“fuck, kaeya,” you swear, hands pressed against his chest as you take all of him inside you. lips agape, your hair messy and eyes unfocused, you’re a work of art like this, and kaeya can’t resist the temptation to pull your body down, to press your lips against his as he grinds up into you. you reward him with a gasp of his name, but you don’t push him away. against him, you fall apart just as you’d unraveled him in your hands, surrendering to him and the pleasure he’d give by filling you up. his cock drags against your walls in a steady rhythm, pumping with his thrusts and jolting your body till shaky moans of his name are all that you can utter.

“kaeya, kaeya, slow down—”

it’s so hard for him, to slow the motion of his hips bucking up and driving his cock further inside your walls, but he listens. you push yourself up with your palms as you try to regain your breath, the sight of your chest rising and falling so terribly mesmerizing to him. the sensation of your pussy fluttering around him with each intake of air drives him insane, it’s maddening — how can he hold himself back when your eyes peer down at him with so much lust and desire, unadultered want that causes his cock to twitch inside of you? you want him so much and the thought itself is a drug, dangerous and deadly in a way nothing else could ever satisfy him.

“thank you, baby,” you sigh, bending down to kiss him. you reach to tangle your fingers between his and pull him towards you, until he’s sitting up fully with you in his lap. the new position causes his dick to shift inside you, it’s tip pressing against a dangerous place that almost has your body fold into his chest. slowly, you guide his hands to wrap around your back, and he obediently follows, pulling your waist flush against his while your own hands reach to cup his face. and once more, you lean in to kiss him and drink in everything he gives to you. liquor and wine falls from his tongue and pours down your throat, filling up every part of you so that you grow drunk on him, on his taste, on his everything. fire burns beneath your skin where he touches you, and you pull him closer — ever eager and ever wanting more, to feel him in earnest and to drown with him.

“i’m gonna make you cum, okay?” the words leave you on a breathless gasp that barely manages to escape, because you’re both on each other again, kissing with such greed and desperation as if you’d never get enough. “i want you to cum inside kaeya, please.”

oh, by the archons, your plea is almost enough to send him over the edge. kaeya groans, finally pulling back so that he can look up at you, to meet your lustful gaze. “after teasing me like that?” he challenges with a raised brow, and it’s immediate the way your lips grow into a responsive smile. “i don’t know if i wanna do that for you, sweetheart.”

you scoff playfully, shoving his shoulder. “don’t ruin it, asshole!” you can’t help the laugh that escapes as he buries his face against your neck, leaving kisses that send butterflies through your stomach. his smile imprints against your skin as he hums, and it’s a playful feeling until he grinds his hips up into you. you’re left grasping for his shoulder, head lulling back as a choked cry leaves your lips.

“ah—!”

“ruin what?” he asks innocently, and you know it’s your karma for teasing him when his teeth graze your skin tauntingly. he chuckles as your own hips start to move in tandem with his, desperately seeking to set a quick pace until his hands ground you. the way you grind against him is almost mindless, instinctively chasing after that feeling of his cock hitting deep inside you, and you’re so close to getting lost in it all until he teasingly blows cold air against your ear.

“ah ah ah,” he mocks. “patience, remember?”

you scowl at him — how dare he use his words against you like this?

your expression melts away when he leans in to kiss you. his hands on your hips slowly begin to guide you, his pace lulled and unrushed to extend the both of your pleasures. “thaaaat’s it, honey,” he purrs as he begins to match your movement. “nice and slow, just like that.”

he laughs as he feels your pussy fluttering at the praise, but he makes no move to tease you while he’s caught up in this moment. your brows furrowed as your arms latch around his shoulder, holding on so desperately as if letting him go would cause this moment to end — sin is etched all over your face while you grind against him just like he showed you, crying out his name on the sweetest moans as he pumps himself into you.

“oh, god, kaeya…”

“mhm?” he responds to your lewd sigh with a kiss against your chin, before pulling back to admire you. “feel good baby?”

“yes…” you throw your head back, whining at the depth of him inside you. “yes, you feel so good...” it’s almost too much for you as you moan softly. the pace he set for you allows you to feel each drag of his cock inside you in great detail, for the feeling of him rubbing against you to fully sink in as he fills you up.

kaeya grunts as he feels you tighten around him, arms pulling around your waist to press your hips closer, selfishly wanting to feel more and more of you, to taste more of you. “shit, (y/n),” he swears, and his words are almost a chuckle as he helplessly looks up at you. “i don’t think i can last like this.”

“just a little longer, okay?” you beg him. your voice is pitched high on needy whines that only tighten the coil in his gut. “i’m almost there — nnh, fuck — just a… just a little more, please…”

you reach your hand down between your bodies and rub small circles over your clit, keeping your motions in riding him as you chase your own high. your other hand wrapped around the back of his head is what helps you keep balance, and you bounce a few more times on his cock before, finally, you feel that familiar wave rush over you. “fuck fuck fuck, aaaah, fuck, kaeya i’m cumming—”

the sound that escape you are so filthy, yet they pour out on soft, almost whining moans as you finally cum, crying out his name while you come undone. all the while, kaeya never takes his eyes off of you, drinking in your sounds and your image as you ride your high, coaxing him close to his own end as your hips continue rolling against him.

“shit, (y/n),” he groans, long and loud as finally, he cums inside of you, drunk on the way you continue to grind down on him while he empties his load into you. the sensation of his warmth causes you to purr happily, feeling it being pushed deeper inside you with every thrust of his hips. you pull him in for a long kiss, as messy as it is passionate as his body melts against yours, your arms the only thing holding him upright. when your lips part, his forehead falls against your shoulder and he pulls your body until you’re fully pressed against him.

“fuck!” he laughs breathlessly, and you respond with a chuckle of your own as your hands begin carding through his hair.

“you were really pent up, hm?” you hum. the man scoffs against you, but doesn’t make a move to lift his head; his words vibrate sweetly against your skin as he pressed lazy kisses to your shoulder and neck.

“naturally,” he sighs. “with a meeting so painfully boring and you basically fucking me with your eyes, how could i not be?”

your response is to gasp, as if wounded by his words as you pull away — much to his harmless frustration — to meet his eyes.

“me?? how could i do something so provocative?” and despite your words, your smile is very telling as you press your nose to his, swooping in for a quick kiss that he immediately chases.

“how could you, indeed!” kaeya chastises you. “can you imagine just how tempted i was to fuck you right then and there inside that office? i’m surprised i managed to wait until we got home.”

you smile playfully, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him once more, though this time, you don’t pull away. you’re content in letting your forehead rest against his as your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, biting your lip with mischief as you whisper seductively. “well, i can’t say i have anything against that idea.”

“is that so?” kaeya drawls, eyebrow raised in challenge. suddenly, he flips you over on your back, causing you to laugh at the surprise until you feel his cock hardening inside you once more. the sight of him hovering over you, resting on his palms causing your pussy to suck him inside you — clearly neither of you have had enough.

you smile up at him, meeting his challenge as you roll your hips against him, one leg lifting to rest on his shoulder as you beckon him with one finger.

“you’re a baaaad, bad girl, you know?” he takes pleasure in the way your expression melts out into bliss as he rolls his hips into you, a sinful moan escapo you as he stirs his cum inside of you. you truly are a work of art, he admires — the way you looks so utterly fucked out beneath him and yet wanting more of him sends desire coursing through his being. heavens above, he wants to ruin you.

“well then, captain, you aught to set me straight.”

please come talk to me about my work and if you liked it or not. validate me or shame me please i’m lonely and seeking attention of any kind. please i’m begging i’ll give you anything you want just please come talk to me <3

[ava-achlys]

The Boyz NSFW Scenarios

Ju Haknyeon - Teach Me [Requested]

Request: Reader is experienced/bad girl and Haknyeon is innocent and wants to learn about sex. They meet at bible study.

virgin! Haknyeon x mean girl! reader

Warnings: corruption kink, losing virginity, underage sex, unprotected sex, mild humiliation, slight dubcon

Thanks for the request love, I hope you enjoy!💕 Also goes without saying, don't manipulate/coerce someone into doing sexual things if they're not ready or comfortable yet okay? The bad girl reader trope was requested 😅

Haknyeon is willing to learn, and who would make a better teacher than his crush, you?

You blink blearily, barely registering the pastor's teachings, and subtly stifle a yawn. You look around the room to find some sort of distraction and a certain boy catches your eye. Haknyeon is furiously scribbling in his notes, listening intently to the pastor. You scoff slightly at how earnest he looks, catching his attention. He glances over to you, meeting your eye and flushes pink as he shoots you a shy smile, before going back to scribble in his notebook. How cute.

Finally, the pastor dismisses your class, and you're the first one out the door. A patter of footsteps sounds behind you and Haknyeon appears, slightly out of breath. "Hey!" he beams, still rather pink in his cheeks. You nod curtly at him and continue walking. "Mind if I walk you home?" he chirps, still ever so cheerful despite your disinterest. You give a non-committal shrug, and he takes that as a yes, falling into step with you, babbling about everything, from what happened during class, to what he's going to have for lunch. You're barely listening, but you're watching him. Everyone at Sunday school (and your high school friends) knew he had a massive crush on you since middle school, but he was never very subtle about it to begin with.

High cheekbones, golden skin, sparkly clear eyes and full pink lips. He wasn't really your type, far too naive and innocent, but you suppose he was rather cute. Your eyes travel downwards, and nearly bulge out of their sockets. The dorky boy you knew as a pre-teen was barely recognizable. Instead, he'd grown much taller, shoulders broad and fuck, thick thighs and perky ass flaunted in his tight blue jeans. His white button-up was clinging to his broad frame, his strong biceps peeking through the translucent sleeves. You feel your heart skip a beat as you take it all in, wondering when exactly he changed and why you hadn't noticed it sooner.

"We're here! I hope you have a great day, I'll see you tomorrow at school?" Haknyeon grins, and you snap out of your shameless staring. You finally decide to humor him, and give him one of your most dazzling smiles. You brush your hand against his arm, and Haknyeon shivers, breath hitching as your fingertips graze against his skin, blushing an even deeper red. You thank him for walking you home, and shut the front door with a final wink, leaving Haknyeon speechless on your doorstep. You spend the rest of the afternoon thinking about how attractive he suddenly seems to you, hand slipping under your waistband, fingering yourself as your imagination went wild, picturing yourself underneath him and more. You hadn't gotten laid in a while, and now you've decided on your target; the cutie from Sunday School.

The next day at school you decide to mess with him a little. You linger at his desk to make small talk, his usual chatty and confident demeanor suddenly faltering now that you're giving him your full attention, keeping eye contact throughout the whole conversation. You continue this through the week, getting bolder each time. You'd plop into the seat next to him at lunch, you'd lean just a little too close to him when you talk, you'd walk home together, hands accidentally brushing against each other's. You enjoyed the way he gets all nervous and riled up just for you, sparking a new interest in the boy. All the boys you've been with before have been the popular jock type, typically dominant in bed. Haknyeon seemed like a nice change, the goofy but good-natured kid that everyone liked; meek, submissive and eager to please, just for you. You can't wait to play with him.

Friday afternoon finally rolls around and your grand plan is about to fall into place. Your friends shake their head wearily when you told them what you were going to do, but they're used to it by now. You catch him after school, which was easy considering he was waiting patiently for you, like a little puppy outside your classroom. You hook your arm around his and head home together like you have all week, and yet another round of pink dusts his cheeks when you touch him. You're almost home when you exclaim "Ah! I forgot to ask if I could borrow your notes for bible study! I wasn't paying attention at all last week, and I don't wanna get in trouble the next lesson," pouting cutely.

Haknyeon lights up, enthusiastically offering to let you copy his notes. "You can have mine! But they're at home, do you wanna come over?" He gushes, pausing when he realizes what he said. "O-or I could, uhh, send you the pictures of my notes tonight?" He stammers, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. You beam at him, like he's your hero, clutching his arm. "I'd love to come over, Haki! Thank you so much, you're a lifesaver," you croon, secretly enjoying the way Haknyeon turns crimson at the new nickname and skinship. You detour to his house and he leads you up to his bedroom, the empty house rather quiet except for the idle chat from the two of you.

He stands awkwardly as you enter his room, movie posters lining the walls and his books neatly arranged. "Would you like a soda? Cookies maybe? Make yourself at home, sit wherever you like! I'll go get my notebook," he rambles. You plop onto the edge of his bed, making yourself comfortable, patting the space next to you. "No need for that, Haki, thank you," you smile sweetly at him. He nods and starts looking around for his bible study notes, finally picking up the cute orange spiral notebook he always carries to bible study classes. He turns around, triumphantly holding the book, and promptly drops it when he sees what you're doing.

"W-what are you doing?" He whispers, his voice failing him as he gawks at you unbuttoning your blouse, exposing your lacy black bra. "Nothing, sweetie, why don't you come over here. Leave the book," you smile at him, beckoning him over with a crooked finger. Haknyeon walks over to you in a trance, his eyes never leaving your chest. He sits next to you as you take your blouse off and chuck it on the floor, pushing your chest out for him to take a good long look. You're gorgeous and you know it, and Haknyeon definitely thinks so. He gulps audibly and seems to snap out of it for a second. "Are you warm? I-i'll go turn on the AC!" he tries to get up but you pull him back down and into a fiery kiss.

He lets out a surprised squeak that quickly turns into a moan, eyss fluttering shut as you move your lips passionately against his, tongue licking into his parted lips. His hands are balled into clammy fists, not knowing where to put them. Blood is thundering through his veins; he can't believe his first kiss is with someone he'd been in love with for so long. His eyes remain shut as you pull away, wiping the spit from your lips, appreciating the dreamy look on his face. If he gets this much pleasure from a mere kiss, then you can't wait to see what happens later.

You caress his thighs with your hand, and he opens his eyes. Your fingertips dance across the muscles in his leg, hovering dangerously close to the tent in his pants. Haknyeon gasps, understanding what you're about to do, clutching your hand before it could wander any further. "N-no, we shouldn't be doing this..." he trails off in a terrified whisper. You turn cold immediately, feigning disappointment, and Haknyeon feels stabs of guilt when he shouldn't. "You don't like me anymore, Haki?" you pout, trying your best to sound hurt. His eyes turn round as saucers and he holds your hands close to his heart, his heartbeat thrumming beneath your touch. "No no! I still really like you, it's just... we're not supposed to do this until we get married right?" The sincerity in his voice and actions almost makes you give up the act and leave the boy alone. Almost.

You carress his cheek and give him your best puppy eyes. "But we're going to get married one day, so it shouldn't matter anyway, right?" you bat your eyelashes at him, watching his eyes light up at the mention of marriage. You almost scoff at his naivety but you have to keep up the act. His sweet innocence is making you wetter by the minute and you'll be damned if you screw up the opportunity to play with your new toy. "Please, Haki? I really like you..." your trembling lips and puppy eyes have him crumbling, his resolve and devotion to his Lord ebbing away in the face of temptation that is you, the girl of his dreams.

Haknyeon gulps and after a painstakingly long pause, he nods slowly. "Okay... but, do you know how?" Puzzled, you tilt your head. "How..?"

"I've never done this before," he mumbles, avoiding your eyes. You giggle and press a kiss to his cheek. "Silly boy, I'll teach you everything you want to know." He gasps when you dig the heel of your palm into his bulge. "Aah, it feels weird. Good, but weird." he whispers, shutting his eyes. "Never touched yourself before, baby?"

"N-no..."

"Really? Never jerked off thinking about me at night?" you tease, now slowly rubbing his growing bulge through his pants, causing him to tremble. He shakes his head shyly, soft moans falling from his lips. You unzip his pants and pull them down along with his boxers, just enough for his cock to spring free and your mouth waters at the sight. Thick, veiny, decently long and twitching with precum. "Fuck, baby look at you. Such a pretty cock. Am I the first girl to see it?" you trail a finger up his shaft and he bucks his hips, already too sensitive. He nods furiously and you giggle, finally grasping the base of his cock. "What an honor."

You slowly drag your fist up and down his shaft, and he lets out a lewd moan, throwing his head back. You kiss his neck and decide to grab his hand, making him close it into a fist around his length. You wrap your hand around his and guide it up and down just as you've been doing. "Open your eyes and watch, Haki. This is how you jack off, yknow, when I'm not there to help you," you smirk, twisting your wrist every so often. His bottom lip quivers as he jerks himself, slowly gaining confidence to take over and stroke himself faster, moaning loudly as you switch to playing with his balls instead, carressing and massaging them.

Haknyeon cums unexpectedly, some of it spilling onto his shirt, all over his hands and some on yours too. You dip your fingers in his cum and suck on them, making sure he's watching the way your tongue laps eagerly at the sticky fluid. He's panting so harshly he might pass out, so you hold him close, his face resting on the plushness of your breasts as you stroke his hair. A few moments pass and his heart rate steadies, and he plants a grateful kiss on your lips, before shyly rubbing his neck, an awkward question on his tongue. You sense it, and you convince him to ask. "So how do girls... masturbate then?" He mumbles. You laugh sofrly at his question, spreading your legs wide so he can see how wet your panties have gotten.

You take your panties and skirt off and start playing with yourself, middle finger toying with your clit before dipping into your folds. "I always pretend it's your cock inside me instead of my fingers, Haki, but I have to make do with what I've got." you drawl. You can't miss the way Haknyeon's eyes follow the movements of your fingers, rubbing yourself desperately pinching and flicking your swollen clit, moaning shamelessly just to rile him up. Indeed, he's hard again, cock standing proud against his soft tummy. "I'm really close baby, but I don't wanna cum without you," you whine. He licks his lips, his voice hoarse with excitement. "What do you want me to do?"

"Fuck me."

He wastes no time scrambling over to you, pressing his tip into your folds. You gasp, nails scratching at his arms at the sudden intrusion. "Fuck, fuck, wait baby you c-can't stick it all in at once- aaAHH!" you squirm as you feel every inch of his thick cock stretching you out, thrashing beneath him in a mix of pleasure and pain. Haknyeon hovers above you panting, gripping your hips as he slowly bottoms out, your walls clenching deliciously around him. You can feel your skin start to bruise with how hard he's pressing into your flesh, but you like it. "Mmmhh, you're so big, baby, stretching out my cunt like that. Gonna fuck me good? I'll teach you how, baby, don't worry," you smirk once you've adjusted to his size. He starts thrusting shallowly, and even that is toe-curling pleasure, the drag of his cock against your walls like ecstasy. He picks up speed with your encouragement, neither of you going to last long. He fucks you harder and faster, the wet sound of his balls slapping against your ass like music to your ears.

"F-fuck you're already so good at this, a natural, huh, baby? You learn s-so quickly, fucking me so good like the little - ah - fucktoy you are. How does my p-pussy feel after dreaming about it for so long?" your words stilted by the force of his thrusts. He sobs, actually grateful that he gets to have a taste of your pussy after loving you from afar for so long. "So good, you feel amazing, ahhh, thank you my love," he mewls as he pummels into you. "Make me cum first, Haki," you command. He nods shakily, biting his lip with the effort of staving off his orgasm that it's starting to bleed. You cum all over his cock screaming, almost forcing it out with how hard your pussy tightens. He whines, pulling out and roughly jerking himself off, shooting spurts of cum on your tummy, emptying his balls with a loud groan.

He collapses onto you, exhausted but grateful. Your head is spinning from (surprisingly) the best orgasm you've ever had, and your legs feel like jelly. At least you're looking forward to the pretty finger-shaped marks on your legs and hips to remind you of the fun you had today. Haknyeon is almost falling asleep on top of you so you push him away before he suffocates you. He grins dreamily at you, his eyes glassed over and looking thoroughly fucked out, euphoric that he lost his precious virginity to his first love. He looks so sweet and grateful that you almost feel bad for saying everything you had said to get him tl fuck you. Again, almost. You press another soft kiss to his lips and watch as his eyes flutter shut, a dopey smile on his lips as he falls asleep. You quickly clean up and get dressed, snatching up his orange notebook and sneaking out before his family got home, wincing at the soreness in your lower region.

Sunday comes around and you return Haknyeon his bible study notes with a wink, and he smiles brightly at you, completely forgiving you for leaving him to wake up alone, sweaty and covered in cum two days ago. He walks you home again after class, and again the next day after school, and the next day and the next. As much as you don't see a real future with Haknyeon, you decide to roll with it and keep him happy, as long as it promised you earth-shattering orgasms in the form of after school 'study sessions' or bathroom quickies during lunch.

~

Haknyeon knows. He knows you never truly liked him the way he loves you. He knows you're just using him for a good time, but he thinks, no, he hopes, that if he lets you do whatever you want with him, that maybe, just maybe, you'll start to like him too.

A/N: I think I got too carried away with this one too, sorry 😅 poor bb Haki ❤

[nevermindirah]

director's cut: not a gentle laughter, anything you'd like to talk about!

It took me like a whole damn week to reply to this ask (I'm sorry about that!) because I just have so many feelings about this fic.

Quarantine has been really, really hard on me. I think it's zero percent an accident that The Old Guard spoke to so many of us so deeply last year — their tragedy is that any social contact they might have with a mortal could lead to a picture or a story on social media getting picked up by a CIA agent that could lead to them getting locked in a cage for eternity. Social connections outside their group are high-risk, just like in-person social contact is high-risk for us these days.

Booker speaks to me so much as a character because he was profoundly isolated even before he got exiled. Booker struggles to actually communicate about his needs with the people who care about him. Jewish Booker speaks to me so much because it's the mark of antisemitism to assume you won't be wanted, to assume you'll be exiled if you're not useful enough or entertaining enough or whatever enough. I'd love to not know so intimately how depression and trauma fuck with your brain and make it hard to believe people care about you, let alone ask them for what you need, but I do, and here's this character who's seemingly hand-made for me to work out this shit through.

And Jewish Booker speaks to me because I don't have much in the way of Jewish community these days. I'm coming up on another High Holidays that I'll be spending alone, when there are certain prayers you can't say by yourself, and knowing that this niche headcanon of this fictional character is alone too makes it a little easier.

So I sat down to write "5 times Booker gets wasted on Purim and one time he doesn't" and instead all these FEELINGS came pouring out. Feelings about what it would mean for a small group of immortals to be the only long-term source of human connections for each other. Feelings about being able to spend time with an ancestor who survived. Feelings about how beautiful it is when we get creative and find new ways to keep going, as Jews in the face of violence and erasure, and just generally as people in the face of traumas big and small.

Once I accepted that this wasn't gonna be a silly romp and started writing in earnest, I started having a lot of feelings about how Nile might relate to all this. Which led to one of my favorite passages in the fic:

There's a hell of a lot more between the two of them now than just the shared life experience of modern immortals who carry the weight of their ancestors, but it's still one of the things she treasures the most about their friendship. Sometimes she carries her ancestors like a teddy bear, dangling them by the hand as she runs off to explore everything the world has to offer, or clutching them to her chest for comfort. Sometimes it all feels like an albatross around her neck, all these boundaries and expectations for her life set long before she was born, and to ignore it would be naive or a betrayal but maybe a relief as well. It's not the only or most important thing about her, but it's there, all the time, an essential part of her. Booker is the only one of their little family who understands.

That imagery is inspired by this post by @victimhood that I like to think of as the Book of Nile Manifesto 2.0. So much of our understanding of ourselves and our experiences of the world are intimately linked to our context, what's happening around us in the times and places where we live. Booker and Nile were born into a world that had so much context foregrounded for them, and Nile and Jewish Booker are members of diasporas who were forcibly disconnected from so much of their peoples' original contexts. That's a RADICALLY different experience of the world than Andy and Quynh and Lykon, or even Joe and Nicky. The older immortals lived through things that were foregone conclusions before Booker or Nile were even born, and now they're each a diaspora of one as a result of their immortality, but first living a mortal life of longing for impossible connections? It all hits different for our baby immortals.

Telling stories is the very most human thing. Telling stories about what awful things happened to us and what we learned as a result and how we're choosing for it to shape us — that's the crux of so much Jewish storytelling. And I think that survivor's outlook on telling stories would speak deeply to Nile.

It's not an exclusively Jewish way of telling stories, of course. And we even get some of it in the movie, when Andy tells Nile, "You come from warriors." I don't think she's talking about the Marines there — she's talking about what it takes to fight for your survival.

Anyway, I just have a million diaspora feels, and I think that Nile would learn from Booker about Jewish rituals and Jewish ways of telling stories and she would have her own pile of diaspora feels about it. Nile walked into a family in crisis, and she shouldn't have to fix anyone else's shit, but she deserves agency in shaping the next iteration of this little broken family she's been forced into, and I think she'd see all the mess that came from people not fucking talking to each other, and she'd continue to be rightfully pissed that Andy welcomed her to immortality with a bullet to the forehead, and she'd take everything she learned from her parents and grandparents and church elders and everyone else she might've looked up to growing up, and she'd take everything she's learning from Andy and Joe and Nicky, and she'd take what she's starting to learn from Booker, and she'd start building into her life rituals to help her feel connected.

And as much as there's pain in diaspora, there's beauty in it as well. Writing non-Jewish Nile seeing the value in these Jewish practices makes me feel a little more understood and wanted, a little more connected myself.

Thanks so much for asking about this fic, friend. <3

[dameafterdark]

Fanning the Flames [Roy Mustang x Black Femme Reader]

CW: workplace sex, oral sex, vaginal penetration, blow job, body worship, pubic hair, making out, light femdom, tickling, enthusiastic consent, boss/employee relationship, semi-public sex, porn with plot, BBW reader

WARNING! The contents of this fic are NSFW! Read at your own risk!

word count: 5769

summary: After transferring to Central Command, you’re determined not to let a certain smooth-talking colonel distract you from your job duties.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You never could have imagined meeting a man like him when you walked through the doors of Central Command. But then again, trivial things like infatuation and love making were the last thing on your mind. Bright eyed and eager to impress, what mattered most to you were your ambitions. You didn’t have time to fool around with romance; a cushy job in Central was everything you could have hoped for as a fairly new recruit. And besides, the higher ups didn’t look too kindly upon fraternizing. 

You had heard of the twenty-something aspiring general long before you sent in your letter of acceptance, but didn't think much of him. You learned long ago not to get involved with military gossip, especially the kind that involved sleazeballs like him. You know, the type of man that flirted with anything on two legs with a pretty face. You barely liked guys on a good day, so you were certain you’d have no trouble rejecting his advances. Lay low and work hard was the motto you repeated to yourself every morning as you ironed your uniform.

Unfortunately, your name was on everyone’s lips before you had the chance to introduce yourself. It couldn’t have been avoided, and you were naive to think it could. Being the only non-native Amestrian in the Central forces was mostly to blame, but you figured your looks also had something to do with your sudden popularity. After all, you were below average height, and your round curves rivaled the thin waifish figures of most Amestrian women. It definitely wasn’t the “ideal” body of a soldier, but that never stopped you in the past. Your brown skin, head full of tight curls, and full lips were impossible for others to ignore. You demanded attention whenever you entered a room, whether you wanted it or not. 

And as soon as the two of you made acquaintances, you knew something was bound to happen eventually.

From the moment he uttered that first sultry “Hello” and took your gloved hand in his, kissing the back of it like he was some sort of prince out of a fairy tale, your heart decided on its feelings faster than your brain could process. He pushed the knife in deeper with a little coy smirk that made your breath hitch and your stomach tighten.

“(Y/N), at your service,” you stated, doing your best to hide the tremor in your voice. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Colonel Mustang.”

“Please,” he said as he let go of your hand, his eyes never leaving your own. “Call me Roy.”

Those four little words sparked the first ember, and from then on you walked with fire in your chest and heat pressed against your cheeks. And no matter how often you dampened those flames, they always reignited into an inferno.

You weren't the one to give into your primal urges, though. You were a professional, for God’s sake, and after clawing your way up through the ranks you’d be damned to throw away years of hard work for a pair of bedroom eyes. Especially when so many others only saw your job offer as an Affirmative Action-esque handout. 

It’s not worth it, you’d mumble under your breath while sorting through piles of paperwork, doing your best to avoid meeting the colonel’s gaze as he sat across the room from you. Knowing what might transpire if you did. For weeks you daydreamed about making that connection with those steely grey eyes that followed your shapely figure wherever you walked, most likely imagining what was underneath. Truthfully, you wanted him to want you. You desired to be desired by the man that tossed out flirtatious remarks right after another, remarks you pretended to hate yet secretly made you giddy. Steely eyed with a boyish charm, he was 100% your type. And you had no idea what to do about it.

At first, you resisted him under the pretense of “work professionalism” and your “commitment to duty”. Sure, you'd play with him a little every now and then just to watch him squirm. Pursing your lips in the shape of a kiss whenever you caught him staring, bending over with the right side showing after “accidentally” dropping something in front of him, giving him a peek at the black skin tight crop top you wore in lieu of a bra whenever you stretched your arms. 

And he'd respond by taking every opportunity to get close to you. Like placing a hand on your waist whenever he moved past you and letting it linger a few seconds longer than it should have, or coming up behind you to whisper something in your ear until goosebumps lined your spine. 

“Your uniform is looking pristine today, (Y/N),” he complimented you one day after you dropped off another pile of urgent documents on his desk. “But I know something that will look better on you.”

You rolled your eyes in response, but decided to humor him.

“And what would that be, sir?”

“Me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you made your leave. Sure, it was predictable, but it was earnest, and the more desperate he got the more it amused you. 

It was all in good fun, at least in the beginning. But after the first couple months, you could sense his growing agitation as each day passed. His movements became strained, his eyes hungrier, his muscles more tense. One day, as you sat at the edge of his desk with your ass just inches away from his hand, you could visibly see him clench his fist as if fighting against an insatiable urge. The sight gave you a rush of power unlike any other.

By the end of your three month mark, the entire department was making bets on when the two of you would finally hook up. Which became a nuisance in the eyes of one person in particular.

That’s right, it wasn’t just your position you had to worry about. Although most of the other military members were quite welcoming to you on that first day, First Lieutenant Hawkeye was the exception. She gave meaning to the phrase “if looks could kill”. Sure, you pretended not to notice the daggers she shot in your direction every time you dared to banter with the roguishly handsome colonel, but that didn’t make it any less intimidating. However, you were no stranger to workplace rivalry, especially in the military. No blondie was going to run you out, not after you worked your ass off to get there.

All of your resolve, however, was put to the test one fateful Friday evening.

Central Command was nearly empty. The rest of the officers had gone home for the day (or were sent home, in Hawkeye’s case, but you didn’t find that out until much later). Apart from a few stragglers hanging around in the hallways, you were pretty much the only one left… apart from him, of course. You’d only been there for a few months, so you had taken every opportunity to build your reputation as a workaholic, refusing to go home unless ordered to. You were hoping it would show your diligence and dedication to the right people. You could practically taste the promotion, you just had to hang in there a little longer. If you could resist the colonel for another few months, you’d be a shoe in. You just knew it.

You headed towards his office to drop off one last pile of paperwork. One he was certain to ignore until the following week, but at least it would’ve been out of your hands and his responsibility. You gave the door a quiet, yet firm knock with the back of your knuckles and waited for permission to enter.

“Come in,” he crooned, his voice sounding more alluring than authoritative. 

You opened the door slowly, clutching the thick pile against your chest before heading inside. When it closed behind you, you clicked your ankles together and gave your colonel a firm salute.

“At ease,” He said off-handedly, placing the file he had in hand onto his desk. You heard him crunching on something, most likely one of those peppermints he always kept by the phone. He focused his rigid eyes onto you, clasping his hands together to form a small tent for his chin to rest on. 

“The paperwork you requested, sir,” You gave a staunch reply, hoping to hide the nervous butterflies that suddenly began to flutter about in your belly. Ah, what was it about that look in his eye that made you feel so skittish? It wasn’t so intimidating when there were people around, but now that you were finally alone...

“I told you, there’s no need for these formalities when it’s just the two of us.”

“With all due respect, this was how I was trained. Sir,” You put extra emphasis on that last title and flashed him a cheeky grin, knowing how much he loved hearing you call him that. It did something to you, seeing his breath hitch and his grip tighten. If he was attempting to hide his arousal, he was doing a pretty shoddy job.

“Were you also trained to put in 12 hour days without clearance?”

Welp. He got you there. So much for all that overtime pay. Not like it would've been approved by HR, anyway.

“...No, sir. But you asked to have these forms done by the end of the week, and I promised to follow through.”

The colonel raised an eyebrow in amusement, not bothering to show restraint as he looked you up and down. The way his eyes were devouring you was enough to make you question all your morals.

“Or maybe you were just looking for an excuse to get me alone.”

You felt your face heat up at his comment, which only got worse when he flashed that usual shit eating grin of his.

“And what if I was?”

“Then I’d forbid you from working so hard and offer to take you out instead.”

You blinked a few times in disbelief, unsure how to interpret his words.

“...What?”

“You’re still pretty new to Central, aren’t you? You’ve been working so much, I doubt you’ve gotten the chance to really explore the city. I could be your tour guide.”

“Are you…?”

“Asking you out? Affirmative.”

Your lips parted in shock, then formed into a grin as the corners of your lips crept up.

“Isn’t that a bit inappropriate, colonel?”

“It could be. But only if you wanted that.”

“Sir.”

“Please, (Y/N), I said call me Roy. We’re close enough now, aren’t we?”

“...Roy,” his first name was unfamiliar on your tongue, yet rolled off like smooth silk. It felt odd to call your superior out of his title, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t excite you.

“Yes?”

“Your offer is tempting, but I’ll have to decline. I can’t risk losing my position.”

“Who has to know?”

“People talk, you know.”

“Then let's give them something to talk about.”

It was corny, but genuine. You could tell he was really trying, perhaps as an attempt to live up to his womanizer reputation. It made you wonder if that was all an act.

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Why don’t you come here and find out.”

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have hesitated to obey a command from your superior. But hearing him toss aside the suggestive comments for a more direct method of flirting had taken your head for a spin. After months of playful teasing that usually led to nowhere, you suddenly found yourself on a direct course to somewhere. 

It was foolish to fall for a man like him, but there wasn’t a single thing stopping you from taking the plunge. You were about to dive in headfirst without bothering to take a breath.

“Alright, then. I guess I’ll have to come to you.”

He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back so he could come round the desk and make his way towards you. Your heartbeat steadily increased the closer he got, pounding against your rib cage until it felt like you’d explode. In just a few short seconds, the colonel’s face was inches away from your own and you could practically smell the peppermint candy he had been sucking on just moments ago. You didn’t realize that you’d backed up against the wall until his right arm was suddenly beside your head. He leaned in close until you could smell of his expensive cologne wafting in the air. It reminded you of your dad’s aftershave, with hints of sandalwood and bergamot. 

You’d never been so close to the colonel before and hadn’t realized how much height he had on you. He wasn’t anywhere close to being six feet, but you had always been on the shorter side, and the confidence oozing from his aura was making you feel three inches tall.

“(Y/N),” he said with a stern tone. “I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to give me your honest answer.”

“Sure.”

“That’s an order.”

“... Yes, sir.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes boring holes into you as you waited with stalled breath for him to go on. A few moments passed; you noticed part of his face twitch before he took a big gulp.

Was Roy Mustang… nervous?

“Do you…” He finally spit out after several long seconds. “Do you… want this to go any further?”

You stood there quietly for a moment, wondering if you’d do permanent damage to his ego if you toyed with him any longer. You decided on a mix of genuine honesty and playful taunting, just to keep him on his toes.

“What kind of woman do you take me for, Roy?” you teased, crossing your arms while donning an amused smirk.

“A phenomenal one,” he half-whispered. “One I’d be honored to know more intimately.”

“And once you’ve known me?” you said, meeting his famished gaze. “What will happen?”

“Whatever you want. I could give you space. I could never give you space again. It’s your choice.”

“My superior has handed me the reins,” you goaded gleefully. “What will our colleagues think when they hear of this?”

“I’m serious, (Y/N),” he growled with an unfamiliar sense of urgency. “If you want this… whatever this is, to end here, just say the word and I’ll obey without question. This will never happen again, and everything will go back to the way it was.”

You fell silent, your smile fading away as the conversation began to fall out of your favor.

“But,” he continued, letting out a sharp exhale. “...If you’ll have me. We could m-”

You silenced him with a kiss on the lips, one that left him red faced and dazed. It was a risky move, but one you were more than willing to take. You pulled away after a few seconds and held back a chuckle when you saw his shocked expression; certainly, those long months spent building up tension had paid off. Armed with a silver tongued response, you let your words sink into him like teeth in supple skin. You leaned in close until your breath wisped across his ear.

“Does that answer your question?”

He stared at you with wide eyes and mouth agape for a few moments before pulling you into his embrace once more, kissing you deeply.

His kiss was ravenous, but his hands rivaled that hunger, taking in palmfuls of you as much as he could with all those layers of uniform covering your body. You felt his tongue against your own and relished the sweet peppermint flavor while strong hands slid under the fabric of your outerwear, causing your back to arch further into his grasp. You felt his hands on your back and then again on your hips, groping every curve until his appetite was satiated.

Desperate to get closer, he suddenly pushed you against the wall and grabbed the backs of your thighs as he prepared to lift you up. You let out a tiny yelp a little too late, a weak attempt to warn him of your weight, but your words failed to reach his ears and soon you found yourself in the arms of the Flame Alchemist. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as his hands rested comfortably on your ass, cradling each cheek in his wide palms. You looked down, realizing that your concern for his strength was unfounded. It was as if he was carrying a basket of feathers; there wasn’t any sign of strain to be found in his expression. Your anxiety returned to passion while your hands found their way into the jet black fields of his hair. You found yourself grabbing fistfuls of it as you kissed him deeper and deeper, smiling against his lips every time he moaned from the action. 

Abruptly, he pulled away, eyes soft with desire and longing. You opened your mouth to speak, but he silenced you with another wet kiss before carrying you towards the burgundy couch on the other side of the room.

He laid you down carefully on the velvet cushions, as if you were made of delicate porcelain. Your uniform was already in shambles; the hem of your top coat had ridden up, exposing your disheveled black undershirt and your lack of a bra, and your outer apron was practically on backwards. He took in the sight for a moment; his eyes lost in a lustful haze before finally doing something about it. He dug his fingers under the waistband of your pants in search of the buckle, causing you to let out a surprised squeal right before bursting into giggles. 

“Stahahap!” You weakly batted his hands away. “It tickles!”

You were doomed as soon as the words escaped your lips. With the narrowing of his eyes and a mischievous grin, he placed his fingers in the same spot you just pushed him away from and dug into your belly with a gentle, yet maddening touch.

“Ticklish?” He asked, already knowing the answer. You would’ve spat back a retort had you not been laughing so hard. Feeling him wriggle around in such a sensitive area was more than you could handle at the moment.

“Aaaaah! Roy!! Nooohoho!”

“Ah, now she calls me Roy. Who knew all I had to do to get you to obey me was to tickle you.”

“Nonononono- AAAH!”

Your little outburst was due to him raking his nails down the length of your now-exposed sides, which made you arch your back and push yourself further into his grasp once again. He quit the unbearable wriggling, trading them for soft and gentle strokes, but even those were enough to make you squirm. Your laughs quieted down to muted giggles, ones you tried to mask by covering your mouth with both hands. He took care of that swiftly, taking both wrists into one of his big hands and pinning them above your head. You could feel the heat radiating from his palm, and it made you sweat even more.

“There will be none of that,” He said with an amused smile, looking you up and down as you laid there at his total mercy. Heat crept up your neck and into your cheeks, and you quietly thanked whatever deity was out there for giving you so much melanin.

“Aaahaha… pleeease…” You half-heartedly begged, not for his hands to leave your skin but to continue touching the rest of you.

His free hand trailed up your side, purposefully tickling your bronze skin every inch of the way up until it reached your chest. Now only protected by a thin layer of dark cotton, he began to caress one of your budding nipples as it poked through the fabric of your undershirt. You let out a small moan, unable to hold yourself back. He gave the same attention to your other nipple, flicking the swollen tip until you began to whine. The gentle stimulation was enough to drive you wild, despite the fact that he had barely touched you.

“Why don’t we remove this troublesome uniform so I can find your other sensitive spots?” He cooed, eager to continue his exploration of your body. He released your wrists momentarily and waited for you to undress. You rolled your eyes but obliged, pulling off your unbuttoned top coat and white gloves while he got to work on his own clothes. You scoffed at him as he fumbled around with his own gloves and pants; you assumed the colonel would be a pro by now, with all the “experience” he bragged about having with the ladies, but seeing him awkwardly stumble around like a preteen about to lose his virginity was enough to make you laugh out loud. He put an end to it quickly, however, with another scurry of fingers up your sides. You shrieked again, curling up into yourself to get away from those torturous touches.

“How dare you mock your superior,” he joked, finally managing to undo his belt buckle. His pants slid off unceremoniously; he kicked them across the room and flinched when they landed on an expensive vase, subsequently knocking it over and shattering into pieces. You covered your mouth again, failing to hide another laugh. However, one look at his dejected expression made you regret poking fun at him.

“This is not exactly how I imagined this going,” He mumbled, furrowing his brows in frustration. 

“It’s alright. It’s cute.”

“How dare you call your superior officer cute. I should punish you for that.”

“You’re such a big baby. Stop whining and touch me already.”

“Look who’s giving orders now.”

“Shut up and do as you’re told.”

“As you wish, ma’am,” he teased as he leaned forward, pulling your pants down your thick legs and tossing them aside, this time with a bit more care so as not to break any other valuables in the room. All that was left were your black lace panties and matching undershirt.

He unbuttoned his top coat, removed his white undershirt, and placed both of them on the floor beside the couch, and finally it was your turn to admire his form. You knew the Flame Alchemist was strong after fighting in two different wars, but you had never gotten the chance to see his body in its full glory without the layers of his uniform hiding it away. The muscles in his arms bulged with every movement, complemented by thick veins that ran from the back of his hands to his forearms. He must have been committed to his core workouts as well; he had a well defined six pack that rose and fell with each haggard breath he took. It was enough to make you go feral. You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to caress his milky pale skin, which flinched at the sudden contact. It was warm beneath your fingertips, and after a taste you wanted more.

It would have to wait, though, for he was a gentleman and wouldn’t dare come before his lady. 

He crouched down and planted a gentle kiss on your stomach as he began his worship of you. Your skin quivered from the tender gesture and you struggled to hold back another tittered reaction for fear of ruining the moment. Biting your lip failed to stifle the giggles bubbling in your throat as he kissed, licked, and sucked every inch of your exposed belly. He flittered his lips along your sides, moving from waist to navel until his tongue dipped into your belly button. Each subtle movement sent electric currents throughout your body, filling you with pleasure as he adored every centimeter of your seldom touched skin.

Moving downwards, his lips grazed your thigh crease as they continued their descent, but when he went to spread your legs you grabbed his shoulders to stop him. He looked up, brows furrowed with worry at your tense expression.

“Wait,” you said as insecurity overcame you. “I don’t… like how I look down there.”

He said nothing, his gaze returning to the empty space between your thighs that he planned to fill himself. He rubbed the tops of your legs with the lightest pressure, making you writhe in place. He looked up at you again with puppy dog eyes, begging for you to let him in.

“May I?”

You hesitated, but nodded in response. He slowly pushed your legs apart, and suddenly you felt more exposed than ever before. The scars that dotted your pantyline were front and center, the ugly browns and bumpy red ridges garnering all the attention from your colonel. Your pubic hair was wild and unkempt, so much that he’d have to sift through the strands like a man on a safari. Surely, seeing these scars, along with the state of your pubic hair, had turned him off completely.

“It’s just… been a while,” you continued your lament. “A long while.”

Still saying nothing, he leaned forward and surprised you with more gentle pecks directly on the scarred skin you had spent years hiding away from the light. He added his tongue, pulling your thin lace panties to the side and carefully spreading your lips so he could begin to feast. That first lick sent your mind soaring to the heavens, causing your hands to clutch the stiff fabric of the couch for leverage. The space between your legs increased as you opened yourself to him, allowing him access to your seldom shared treasure. Your insecurities quickly faded into nothing, and you surrendered to him body and mind.

Admittedly, it took awhile for you to cum. Longer than you wished. But he was dedicated to your pleasure, keeping his face planted between your thighs through every guttural moan or sudden thrash. You made sure to let him know he was doing the job well, your moans growing louder whenever he licked your clit in just the right way. Alternating between sucking and flicking, he finally found the rhythm that suited you best after several long minutes of trial and error. He kept going, refusing to change his pattern until he heard those magic words.

“I’m gonna come,” you cry out in a breathy voice. “I’m gonna come I’m gonna come I’m gonna-”

An explosion of stars in your peripheral, plus the involuntary curling of your toes, told him all he needed to know. Waves of pleasure washed over your body as your mind went fuzzy, like television screens after a long day’s broadcast. Your chest rose and fell in rapid succession, and upon opening your eyes you were greeted by a victorious smirk from your baby-faced superior. He leaned his cheek against your thigh, lazily kissing along your path of scars until he reached your knees.

“You’re amazing,” he uttered in between smooches. His fingers traced constellations in your skin, making you flinch now and then from the ticklish sensations. You tried to grab his hands, but he was faster, and made sure to take advantage of your vulnerability and increased sensitivity by tickling your hips until you screamed.

“And you’re a menace!” You cried out, playfully slapping his cheeks while he laughed at your expense. 

Once you regained logical thought, you pushed yourself up and faced your superior officer head on. He had given you a taste of pleasure, but you craved more. You wanted him inside you, and you wanted him your way. It was time for Roy Mustang to take orders.

“Lay down,” You commanded, a sudden authoritativeness washing over you. Roy seemed just as shocked as you, but followed your command willingly. He laid back on the couch across strewn cushions and scattered pillows, allowing you to take full reign over him. He wasn't moving fast enough to your liking, so you pushed him down and wrapped your hand around his throat with enough pressure to hold him in place without affecting his breathing. You kept your thumb and forefinger in the shape of a V, careful not to press down too hard too quickly. Your fingers rested comfortably on the sides of his neck as he looked at you with eyes full of affection.

“(Y/N), I never took you as an aggressive one,” He teased, showing no signs of fighting back.

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Roy,” you ran your thumb over his bottom lip and caressed his freshly shaven face as he watched you, holding back from acting on his arousal.

“Well, I’d certainly love to find out.”

You released him from your grasp and carefully stood up on the unstable cushions, lifting your undershirt over your head and sliding your panties down until you were stark naked. Stark naked, in front of your superior officer, who was gaping at you like he’d just discovered the eighth wonder of the world. You crawled on top of him, seizing the waistband of his own briefs before yanking them off unceremoniously. They were discarded next to the couch with the rest of the wrinkled pieces of your uniforms.

Finally, you saw his member in all its glory. It was pale, with a hint of rosy hue, and exactly the right shape for your preferences. If you had to guess, it was at least 8 inches erect. He’d teased you with his dickprint for those long months, aware of how its size and girth demanded your attention every time you were lucky enough to sit next to him in a meeting. How long had you yearned to feel it for yourself?

You took his rock hard penis into your hand, gathering all of the saliva in your mouth before taking it in. You licked the tip with a flicker of your tongue, smiling to yourself when you saw him writhe where he laid. You wrapped your mouth around him as he cried out in pleasure, finally giving him the relief he desired. Your head began to bob up and down as your tongue licked the entirety of his member. You felt it twitch in your mouth every so often as he began to pulsate, grunting every time the tip hit the back of your throat. You suppressed the urge to gag, slowing down whenever that sick feeling arose, then returned to the same deliberate rhythm when the feeling passed. You could tell the ebb and flow was driving him mad. It was time to give him more.

“Do you have a condom?” You asked, ready to go all the way.

He nodded, reaching over the side of the couch in search of his pants. He fumbled around for a bit, letting out a frustrated curse every once in a while before he found what he was looking for. He ripped off the plastic wrapping and pinched the tip as he slid it down over his painfully erect penis.

When he was ready, you climbed on top and spread your legs.

“Do you want me?” you said, pressing the tip of his head into your vagina. He let out a groan and pushed his hips upward, desperate to get deeper inside of you.

“Yes,” he murmured.

“How badly do you want me?”

“I want you so bad,” his pleas became more urgent, almost turning to whimpers. “Please, let me feel you.”

You obliged, taking him into you. You were still quite wet from his masterful oral skills, so his member slid inside easily without much discomfort. The cry of pleasure that came from him almost caused you to stop in place. You lifted yourself up, then back down again, your cheeks making a smacking sound as they slammed against his thighs.

“Fuck,” he sighed with eyes closed, grunting with every long stroke. “You feel so good.”

You silently agree as your body rises and falls in a steady pattern. He feels so good, so unbelievably good inside you, and all you wanted in that moment was to make him feel as good as you did. You bounced around, testing out different angles to see which gave the best reactions, then settled on one and sped up your strokes.

“Tell me you love it,” you demanded, dripping with sweat, seeking affirmation of a job well done. 

“I love it. I need it. Please, give me more.”

You could feel him getting close. He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching your hips for dear life as you rode him into dawn and let out more than a few moans of your own.

Finally, he reached his peak. You could feel his warm cum bursting inside you, protected only by the thin lubricated condom. You sat there for some time, delighting in the random pumps and twitches as he continued to burst inside you. 

Exhaustion finally hit, and when he pulled you into an embrace you didn’t bother protesting. The two of you laid there for however long, lost in a world of ecstasy. One hand was wrapped around your shoulder while the other stroked your wild curls. You closed your eyes and melted into him, making sure to enjoy the moment as much as possible before it was over.

“Roy,” you spoke up after a long bout of silence. “What happens now?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, continuing to caress your frazzled curls and rubbing the back of your neck every now and then. Seemingly lost in thought.

“I told you,” he spoke up after some time. “You call the shots.”

You clenched your fist as it rested against his chest. You could feel his heart beating rapidly, unwilling to let the excitement go.

“I want more of this. I want more of you.”

He responded by cupping your cheek in one hand, pulling it towards his own face so he could address you properly. For once, you felt shy as you made eye contact with your colonel.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Uh, nothing. I have to tend to my garden, but that won’t take long.”

“Let’s do dinner at 7. Then I’ll tend to your garden afterward.”

He was truly something else. You scoffed at his ridiculous innuendo, gently backhanding him for daring to be so cheesy at such a time. He simply smiled back, pulling you in closer so he could kiss you again, and again, and again.

Work, promotions, envious colleagues… all of that could wait. Right now, you had everything you wanted. You’d figure the rest out later.

After all, you were a phenomenal woman. 

[brahkest-fr]

CW: some violence n blood n stuff | Mellow musings because comics take forever so have a lot of words instead

"Ma'am," a spiral with a swollen eye bows politely, shakily gesturing to the inside of a small hideout.

Mellow nodded with a frown as she stepped inside. It smelled like blood and liquor, something years ago she would have embraced with a flushed face and eager heart. But now she looked solemnly about the scantly furnished room, trying in earnest to avoid the figure slumped on a battered couch in the center. She squared her shoulders and journeyed further in, her grimace growing with each step.

Taro looked heavily beat, large chips missing from his antlers and blood caked to his torn clothes. He looked up meekly with a soft smile marked by purple and black welts. He knew what was coming.

"Hey."

Mellow strode over with a purpose, eyes wet with anger and soundly slapped him across a cheek unblemished by bruises but it was going to be soon enough. Taro didn't recoil but slowly lifted a hand to cup his face, looking up. Piercing beady eyes softened by her presence, regardless of how she presented it. 

"I know, I know," he whispered.

Mellow sat down next to him, quaking but silent as he planted his head on her lap. He was heavy against her soft legs that just hours before were cradling their son and daughter, playing cute little games of peekaboo. She laced her small claws through his hair, rough at first but soon turned gentle, untangling clots of blood from silken ivory. She wanted to pull on it, yank his head up and tell him what an idiot he was but she continued her kind strokes, hands now muddied with blackened red. She clenched her fists, eyes glazed over as the creases in her skin darkened.

Filthy.

In a younger time she would be on this very same couch with him, covered in equal amounts of bruises and cuts like it was a competition. Faces pressed together in tired unison, they'd recount who took out more thugs than the other, how their wounds would heal into funny scars, and how the fire in each other's eyes was the hottest thing they'd ever seen. She missed it. But not without a flood of sickness.

Mellow’s life was built around violence, stalking the streets of Hewn City with fangs bared and crowbar in tow. Taro was always at her side like a loyal hound, cracking his knuckles at any sour look thrown their way. The two were unstoppable back in those days where they graduated from vandalizing the cars of dragons they simply didn’t like to torching warehouses for a bit of clout with the local gangs. It was a mad rush of chaos and sleepless nights as they haunted the streets, waiting for the wrong person at the wrong time. Calloused hands held entwined as they kissed on rooftops with cheap beer and bloody noses. Foreign to idleness and placidity. They were living - crudely, but living.

Sometimes she wished he would stop her madness but he never did relent to follow her into the thick of the fight. A loyal boy. Before Mellow, Taro was a rather meek child who wouldn't dream of looking her in the eye while she bullied him for all he had which is to say not much. Like her, he drifted from his family, passing time by idly watching trains zoom by on noisy tracks or throwing stones into the dark entrances of old ruins. In another life, she could imagine him as an accountant or perhaps a gardener. She could never pin down why she found interest in such a loser. Maybe because he made it clear he was easy to mold, easy to persuade. He'd do anything for her, following like a lost puppy naive to world. He would admit to her, on quiet rooftop evenings, that he was afraid, unsure of anything, especially the future. She’d take his hands. Warm. Tight. She’d say she would lead the way with a grin and boisterous aura he couldn’t refuse. Like a fool, he jumped off the edge with her, right into the very unknown he feared. She loved that about him.

Even when he eventually grew a spine to compliment his muscles, she still loved him all the same. He was wild and reckless now, newfound self-assurance reflecting her own. He rose in the mob's ranks with such a swiftness one might have assumed someone simply dropped the crown in his lap. He changed. And Mellow, well, she was hungry to join him, wanting to hold his leash that much tighter. A beast of her own creation. And so she did.

But her grip was slipping.

Taro would come home, battered and bruised to a welcoming Mellow who licked his wounds and praised the gruff way he'd describe his work with venom in the delight. Sweet as ever she'd lap it up, knowing well his punches were thrown with her in mind, the two of them behind his fervor even when she had to stay home with the hatchlings.

But she grew so tired.

Even on the nights where Taro would watch the kids, she couldn’t bring herself to romp across Hewn City like she used to. The spark in her step to grind this town to dust just simply wasn’t there anymore. The “friends” she had were of no comfort and the vices she delighted in were now nothing but idle time wasters. She wanted to go home but...not the penthouse. Not this city. She really didn’t know where home was.

It wasn’t that she was unhappy but felt that fire of hers shift to something else, something more important than her fantasies of power and control. Mellow stared down at Taro’s broken form, hands tentatively hovering over his darkened neck. She imagined her children like this. Like him.

Hypocrite.

Over and over she’d care for Taro as later and later he would come home, drenched in blood, sweat, and the shards of bottles cracked over his head. Always smiling, eager to tell Mellow what happened even if he was a little doozy and toppling over from a concussion. She knew healing magic but it wouldn’t ever be enough to completely rid him of the scars that became a roadmap against his scales, crossing neatly with his dark stripes. She didn’t have the heart or energy to compare the marks on their skin anymore like it was a game, only forcing herself to treat him as she always did, gauze cut with her teeth and bones set with a strong tug.

He could feel it too, over time.

Instead of coming home he’d have his boys carry him to one of his bars where he’d spend the night cleaning himself up and drinking away the blooming pain in his ribs. His stupors were always hazy with visions of Mellow, her soft but strong hands holding him, her voice, though racked with grief, telling him to take better care of himself. He wanted her by his side so, so terribly but knew he was pushing her further and further each time, terrified of the moment she’d break. Though, he supposed, he knew it was coming regardless.

When it finally happened, he was furious.

Not at her.

No.

He could never be mad at her.

He was simply just upset - a primal sort of sadness, one that caught in his throat and trembled his body. He felt like a boy again, grasping desperately for the guiding hand he had become so accustomed to, the hand he expected. But again here he was. Alone. Despite this, he could never force her to be miserable, cooped up in their gilded tower let alone in a city she long since fell out of love with. Mellow knew well he wouldn’t stop her from leaving either. It was cruel of her, she thought, as she caressed his face one last time in a rare moment where he broke down completely and feebly clawed at her waist, sharp antlers painfully digging into her chest as if they wouldn’t let her go. Ugly, loud sobbing painted with garbled apologies he didn’t have to make.

He didn’t beg her stay.

He whispered, breath hoarse and weak-

Please, be happy.

[squidproquoclarice]

hey squid! if you're feeling like it, could i ask your thoughts on boromir? i just found out that you like lotr, and he's my fave and you're my fave!

Sure!  There was a great meta I saw on FB about Boromir (actually from @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels, small world, eh?) that essentially went with the thesis that Aragorn is the shining heroic paragon we dream of being, but Boromir is the flawed person we are, particularly as we grow older and inevitably encounter some of life’s disappointments and our own failures.   And I think that’s apt.  In a story populated with larger than life personalities, there are the more down-to-earth protagonists: namely, the hobbits and Boromir.  The hobbits are wonderful in their sensibility and humility and the illustration of “the most unlikely people are capable of being heroes”, but there’s also something in how Tolkien wrote them as somewhat childish and innocent.  I don’t mean that in a negative way, but in that there’s something naive and pure about the hobbits.  Which is part of the reason Frodo is so badly damaged by the whole quest and finds he can’t live in the world anymore, can’t go back to the Shire and live that life.  Obvious and huge parallel there to Tolkien relating the experience of combat veterans of WWI returning home and finding a dissonance with that former life, especially in the movies where the Scouring of the Shire didn’t happen to bring the reality of war to the home front, and therefore the Shire is still pristine and untouched.  But again, that’s the story rising from the experiences of young Edwardian men being thrown into an incomprehensible, scary, and violent world after a fairly idyllic life to that point.  It’s very well written, and it’s certainly relatable to more people than British men ~17-25 in 1914-1918.  But it’s only going to be deeply personal and relatable to a certain type of person about their experiencing a very sudden loss of innocence. Then you have Boromir, whom I agree is the relatable character in LotR for many of us.  Boromir has grown up in a country fallen from its former glory.  Boromir’s grown up in a country constantly under threat.  Boromir’s grown up with the weight of impossible expectations.  Boromir is afraid, and  Boromir is tired, but Boromir will fight all the same.  Boromir loves his people, loves his brother.  Boromir's a warrior, not the “wizard’s pupil” like Faramir, but his motives in fighting are still fairly pure.  Boromir knows he’s not given power as a lordly birthright, but he’s instead been entrusted with it as a caretaker, and he takes that charge seriously as the heir to the Stewardship of Gondor rather than bearing it with arrogant entitlement.

Boromir’s kind, showing the hobbits how to fight, demanding that they be given a little time to rest and absorb the loss of Gandalf.  Boromir’s eager to defend those in need, by fighting for the hobbits, by showing them how to fight, by caring about Gondor and its people, by constantly telling Fucking Asshole Denethor that Faramir has worth and talent and wants desperately only to please his dad.  Boromir falls to the Ring briefly--and who among us hasn’t made a poor choice we immediately regret?  But he makes that choice not for the lure of power for himself, but out of the idea that this will help him save those he loves.  Even his failure is generally well-intended.  And he realizes it and is horrified, and dies trying to make it right.  He even defends Merry and Pippin to the end.   Boromir falters.  Boromir doubts.  And alone of the Fellowship, Boromir dies.  And that could be taken as a sign of his weakness.  But I believe it’s a sign of his relatable human nature.  Most of us didn’t grow up in an idyllic bubble like the hobbits.  Most of us aren’t paragons and heirs to great power like Aragorn.  Most of us aren’t amazingly powerful like Gandalf, Gimli, and Legolas.  Most of us are people who grew up in some kind of uncertainty, and who have found the world is more complicated, exhausting, and disappointing than the tales would have us believe.  That even our best intents and best efforts sometimes won’t be enough.  That sometimes darkness wins a battle.  That we’re flawed and human, despite our best intents, and all we can do is own our mistakes as best we can.    He’s dying, afraid that he’s failed entirely, and his final exchange is with Aragorn, distant aloof near-elvish Aragorn who hasn’t really cared about the people of Gondor who are actually his responsibility.  Boromir has tried repeatedly to make Aragorn care, to make him love Gondor and its people as Boromir does.  And Aragorn does.  He swears that he won’t let Minas Tirith and Gondor fall into darkness.  Aragorn takes Boromir’s vambraces and wears them for the rest of the journey, openly bearing the sigil of Gondor and bearing the memory of a dear friend and Gondor’s fiercest defender. And that’s the legacy of Boromir--his absence deeply marks the Fellowship, and we see it moving pieces later with things like Aragorn’s love of Gondor, or Pippin’s offering service to Denethor and then helping Faramir.  Boromir died, he faltered when confronted with the Ring, but his life was no failure, his death no forlorn disgrace.  His memory lives on and helps his friends save the day in the end.  And Tolkien could easily have written Boromir as a boorish, selfish disgrace in this tale that’s often about larger-than-life fantasy archetypes, but he didn’t.  

He’s a deeply relatable man with fears and flaws, who loved fiercely and fought fiercely.  Who knew he was no grand hero fated to save the world, but only a man caught up in events far bigger than him, with a charge to do what he could to the best of his ability.  Who acted with as much honor as he could, and who felt his mistakes deeply.  Boromir’s an ordinary person who’s a major character in a high fantasy tale.

We admire Aragorn’s perfection, or the beyond-human abilities of Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf.  We adore the hobbits in their earnest naivete.  But at the end of the day, especially as we get older, we relate to Boromir.  

[holdhyuckshand]

[10:20 p.m.]

You wish you could say you didn’t know how you ended up like this, a foot of space the only thing separating you and Mark, a man you know only well enough to know he’s no match for you in this regard. He seems too sweet, naive even, with his pink cheeks and earnest expression. Still, you lean closer, and ignore the collective intake of breath from the circle surrounding you. Watching you.

Normally, you’d hate an audience, want something private, intimate, but this isn’t romance. This is a game. As bad as you feel for the boy who thinks he can win, you aren’t about to back down.

What’s a reputation worth if you can’t follow it through?

Maybe Donghyuck suggested the game as a way to test you, see if the competitive spirit you were known for around the friends group had any truth to it. Maybe the tilt to his brow and annoyance in his eyes is because he’d rather it be him instead of Mark. Or maybe him instead of you. 

Slowly, your heavy gaze slides back to the boy steadily pressing closer, to the nervous jump of his Adam’s apple when he swallows, and the way his breath shakes a little bit, and how he remains resolutely focused on your lips no matter how you try to catch his eye.

You can’t tell if it’s desire or distress caught between the darker flecks in his iris.

All the same, you tilt his chin lower, feel his warm breath against your lips.

“Mark,” you begin, trailing your vision over the sharp contours of his cheekbones, how his brows sweep upwards like he’s eternally surprised, counting every long eyelash with envy, and continue, “I don’t want to kiss you unless you want me to, but I’m not going to back down. Step away if you don’t want this.”

Mark squeaks something unintelligible, earning some laughter from the friends waiting with bated breath to see the victor, and you grin barely. It really does seem unfair that they pitted him, of all people, against you.

“Alright, then,” you murmur, and close your lips over his chapped ones. You find it cute, how he closes his eyes at the contact. Be it muscle memory or otherwise, something about it makes you want to giggle. You don’t. 

It happens exactly as you expected, so you don’t know why you’re disappointed when he doesn’t kiss you back. His lips are soft, though, pleasant and malleable when you suck lightly on his pout. You don’t pull away, but you take it slowly, lest you cross a line with a boy too stubborn to admit he’s bound to fail.

Fifteen seconds pass, and you grow bored with what little challenge he poses. “You’re out of your depth, dude. No one will fault you for backing off,” you mutter quietly, still close enough for him to feel every word.

Having yet to close your eyes, you look down at the breathspan between your mouths, something familiar tingling down your spine at the sight of the sheen you left on his lips, glossy and pretty. By the time your gaze makes it back to his, there’s a blush high on his cheeks so red you ponder for a second whether he’s breathing, but the unsteady rise of his chest beneath your hand answers that.

Then you note his eyes. 

They’ve hardened with something just on the heady side of determination, and he waits just long enough for surprise to reach your own expression before his hands find a home on your cheeks, and he presses back into you.

Before you’ve had the chance to find your bearings, his tongue pushes easily past your lips, soft and gentle as he invites himself inside of your mouth. There’s too much passion in the kiss for a stranger, and suddenly you’re rocking back on your heels, eyes slipping shut when he gathers himself enough to put up a fight.

Maybe he doesn’t know how to kiss any other way than with his whole body, and that’s why he moves one hand from your cheek to guide you closer with a hand at your back, why he wraps his arms loosely around your waist and all but dives into you. The thought melts something in your chest, something you didn’t know was tough and resistant in the first place until it was nothing more than goo sliding between Mark’s fingers.

It’s almost enough for you to forget where you are and what you’re doing, to remember anything other than the intensity of Mark’s kiss when his tongue massages yours, and when it flicks over the sensitive ridges of your palate.

Luckily enough, that nifty little reputation you’ve got isn’t for show, and you’ll be damned if you let a puppy like Mark be the one to take the crown from you.

Your hands fist in his hair and you find yourself backing him up, taking control as much as you can when he has your mouth at his every whim. As good as his tongue is, he’s sloppy with his teeth, and they clack against yours every few steps until the backs of his knees hit the couch. You leverage your weight onto your hands and push, swallowing his surprised sound when he finds himself sat below your thighs. The thought of coaxing sounds from him, as easy as that seems to be from something as simple as kissing, is not lost on you. The opposite, actually. It rattles in your head so much that for a second you lose yourself to the desire to chase it.

The vantage point you’ve gotten allows you to take control back over the kiss, tilt his chin up with hands just below his jaw, stroke your thumb over the vein in his neck. However, straddling his thighs may have been a mistake, as you find yourself more than slightly distracted by how they flex underneath you.

Not to be outdone, and with a grit you’re both impressed and irritated by, Mark spreads his knees so that you’re forced lower, tangles a hand in your hair and pulls until you have to crane your neck back. He sets upon your neck with abandon, determination now accompanied by lust, and you can’t tell if it's for you, or the win, or both. 

The others in the room have fallen completely silent, and at this point you’ve all but forgotten they are there. 

Admittedly, begrudging as it may be, Mark’s good. He’s good with his hands, with how he forces you to settle on his legs so that you’re flush against him, with his lips and with his tongue and, fuck, you’re more affected than you intended to be.

But you won’t lose. You won’t.

Your excitement doesn’t go unnoticed, as Mark has his lips poised directly over your pulse, intoxicated by it’s steadily increasing pace, and how beautiful you look above him. You’re just as inebriated as him, both of you close to your limit, panting slightly from the depth of his kisses.

But you have one last trick up your sleeve, one you’ve never had to use before.

He follows willingly when you guide him to one of your favorite sweet spots. The new angle has your nose pressed to his temple, and your breath stutters when he laves his tongue over heated skin.

A little embarrassment joins your lust, enough to leave you a bit flustered despite it being your idea in the first place, when you moan. Skin against skin, you know he can feel it resonate in your chest, the ghost of it fluttering the hair over his ear. The tips of which instantly turn a heavy crimson, and Mark’s hands squeeze hard over your hips before he pulls back as if he’s been burned.

“I give up!” he yelps, an amusing, endearing mix of squeaky and gravelly that has you laughing above him, body shaking with the force of your giggles. You slide off him quickly, not wanting to make him any more uncomfortable than he already must be, his face in his hands and his inhales few and far between.

“Chicken,” you gloat, before softening more than you’re used to. You reach to fix his hair, ignoring the rowdy shrieks and shouts of your friends. “For what it’s worth, you put up a better challenge than most,” you offer the praise gently, testing to see if he’s okay.

The ruckus is lost on Mark too, as you remain his sole focus. The look of his eyes once he lowers his hands catches you off guard, steals your breath in the best way. 

A few hours later, once everyone else has wound down for the night, Mark backs you against the kitchen counter after you’d gone for a late night snack. You accept his proposal of a rematch gleefully, enticed by the idea of a second victory, and the memory of how he felt on your skin, tasted on your lips.

[mimi-cee-hq]

His Sweater - Koganegawa x Reader

Pairing: Koganegawa x f!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

Summary: Y/n tends to be attracted to quiet, calm, and caring guys. But she ends up falling for Koganegawa and it involves a soda, a mop and a sweater - and maybe a few laps around the track.

Words: 2,139

Additional Characters: Futakuchi, Aone, Moniwa, Sakunami, Obara, Kamasaki, Nametsu, Akaashi (mentioned) (how did he get there? lol. jk)

Author's notes: This is a matchup story for an anon. I hope you like it. The matchup description is at the end of the story. This is also for the HQC monthly prompt event, using the Sweater Weather prompt.

*****

"Wait for me, senpai!!!!" a tall boy with blond hair yelled out, dashing into the convenience store. Y/n felt a breeze as she heard the bell jingle from the entrance door.

Y/n shivered, having recently left the store. The sky was already getting dark when basketball practice finished but now it casted an orange hue over the neighbourhood. As she put on her green blazer for the first time in a while, she recalled a moment back when she lived in Tokyo.

“Do you want my sweater?” Akaashi asked her classmate in junior high. That was when Y/n learned how calm and caring he was - and unknowingly started to have a crush on him. But then she moved to Miyagi so her crush was short-lived. She didn’t mind though. She was hopeful there would be other guys like him.

“Y/N!!!” the same tall boy chased after her, leaving the convenience store. Y/n flinched at his loud voice and almost had an urge to run away. She felt that would be too mean. But it was a little scary to have a 6’3” male teenager running at full speed towards her. She didn’t know him, but his uniform indicated they went to the same school. “Do you play League of Legends?”

Y/n blinked a couple of times before she gave a slow nod. Was he from another class?

Koganegawa, she later learned his name, beamed with excitement as he waved down the other members of the volleyball team. “Sakunami! You’re right! She does play!”

Y/n froze as the crowd came towards her, carrying various drinks. She was able to make out a slushy and a carton of milk but wasn't sure about the rest. She tried her best to give a polite smile, hoping they didn’t notice how awkward she was acting. She didn't mix well with large crowds.

“Are you really good?” Koganegawa continued.

“I’m not that good,” she replied, playing with her fingers, “but I know my way around the game.”

“Guys!” he waved at his team, “Y/n’s really good!” Y/n giggled at how he decided to interpret her words. “When we play together, we keep losing,” Koganegawa said with a frown, “so could you carry us?!”

She stared at Koganegawa’s large frame, then at his teammates of equivalent stature. Although she knew he didn’t mean to literally carry them, she couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of trying to do so. It didn’t help that Koganegawa was so earnest in his request and was currently flustered as to why she was laughing so much.

“I can try my best to lead the team,” she replied. “Although, I don’t know if I’m good enough compared to the rest of you.”

Koganegawa got excited by her response - a little too excited. To the point where he forgot he was holding his drink when his arms shot up.

So his soda ended up on her blazer.

“ACKK!!!” Koganegawa panicked. “I’m so sorry!” He rummaged through his bag, but because he was too flustered, nothing useful came out. (His towel just happened to be with their manager for a wash.)

“It’s okay,” Y/n smiled. “Don’t worry about it. It was an accident.”

Koganegawa couldn’t believe how easily she forgave him. If it was someone like Futakuchi or Moniwa, he would have been scolded for sure. The two of them did end up nagging him anyway, witnessing the whole thing.

Y/n removed her wet blazer. It wouldn’t take long for her to get home to wash it. But she felt a shiver run up her back, forgetting how late it was getting.

“Do you want my sweater?” Koganegawa asked after receiving a bonk on the head from Moniwa.

Y/n stared at the sweater he held out to her. She smirked, not expecting that her memory of Akaashi would be replaced by a comedic introduction from Koganegawa.

*****

After a few months, because of various reasons like school, sports and conflicting schedules, Y/n was finally able to play League with Koganegawa and his friends. He still greeted her during those months whenever they saw each other in the hallway. It was a little jarring to hear him shout her name loud enough for the whole school to hear, but she eventually got used to it

It turned out that Koganegawa didn’t really know what “carry” meant. He just heard the term being used a lot to refer to someone who was experienced with the game.

“So there’s AP carry and there’s AD carry,” Y/n explained. Koganegawa eagerly nodded, showing he was paying attention. So Y/n started to continue but was interrupted by Futakuchi.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Futakuchi mentioned, his arm leaning on the door frame of the classroom. “Just because he’s listening, it doesn’t mean he actually understood.”

Y/n smiled. “I don’t mind teaching him. He’s eager to learn so why not?”

Aone, from behind Futakuchi, indicated they needed to head for practice. “You’d better hurry up,” Futakuchi told Koganegawa. “Otherwise you’ll be late.”

“Yes sir!” Koganegawa replied. “If I'm late, I'll run 100 laps around the track!”

“Uh… no,” Futakuchi sweatdropped. “You don’t have to do that.” But looking at Koganegawa’s face, he sighed. “Ugh, but if you do, at least limit it to twenty, okay?” Aone nodded in agreement.

“Yes sir!” Koganegawa dashed between the desks while pushing his mop.

Y/n and Koganegawa were assigned on clean up duty that day. He was happy to be paired up with someone he knew, not that he would have minded meeting a new person. He liked making friends, which was something Y/n admired about him.

Y/n wiped the chalkboard and looked around trying to recall what else needed to be done. She didn’t want Koganegawa to be late either. She liked volleyball as well as basketball so she understood his eagerness to play.

But as she went to pick up some papers that fell from the teacher’s desk, Koganegawa unintentionally swung the mop towards her and whacked her head. Slightly shaken from the hit, she covered her forehead with her hands, trying to hold back a groan.

“Y/n!!! I’m so sorry!!” Koganegawa yelled out his apology. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” she told him. Touching her forehead, the growing bump was a little tender but nothing too concerning for her. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be ok-” Suddenly, her eye level shifted. “What are you doing?” Y/n shrieked. Koganegawa picked her up and ran out of the classroom.

He didn't respond to her question but continued to mumble about the nurse's office as if it would help him get there faster.

"Nurse Joy!" he yelled, sliding the door open. It was empty.

"I'm okay," Y/n told him again. She didn't feel any dizziness from the mop but she might have from the run. She didn't want to worry him with that information though.

The two of them decided to wait for the nurse. They were hopeful she would come back soon. But she instead returned an hour later, which made Koganegawa miss his practice. He was a little sad, but prepared himself to run his laps around the track.

“Didn’t Futakuchi say you didn’t have to do it?” Y/n asked. "Besides, it was the nurse's fault that you were late. And you didn't have to wait with me."

"No," he was adamant. "I'm going to run! I need to be a man of my word!"

Y/n, a little stunned, didn't expect Koganegawa to be firm about something like that. From her previous impressions of him, she thought he was naive and clumsy. But to think under all of that, he was a guy of integrity, even for something as small as this. "If you can't be loyal with the little things, you can't be trusted with the big things," she repeated the thought in her head.

Y/n's hands moved to cover her cheeks as if they would help cool them down. She knew this feeling and smiled. She didn't mind if it was someone like Koganegawa, realizing how caring he was.

After leaving the nurse's office, he ran the track. She watched.

He didn't ask her to watch. He probably didn't even notice she was there, expecting her to have gone home by now. He lent her his sweater, saying he wouldn't need it anyway with all the running. But she stuck with him. She wanted to be there to support him when he got tired and to encourage him to keep going when he wanted to give up.

After twenty laps around the track, he panted with arms hanging. Y/n, wearing his sweater, handed a water bottle to him.

"Kogane," she said his nickname, cheeks heating up. "You did well."

*****

“Here, senpai! You can use my sweater!” Koganegawa told Nametsu.

Y/n started visiting their practice matches a few weeks ago. Koganegawa was always happy whenever someone came to watch. But she wondered if she held any significance to him. It seemed like it didn't matter whom he was with. He was always eager to be around anyone because he was a sweet and outgoing guy. So looking at the sweater Nametsu wore, she shouldn’t have been surprised by his gesture. But the knot in her stomach wasn’t there when Akaashi lent his sweater to her classmate. Why was this different? She sighed, knowing why.

It didn’t help that Koganegawa got shy around her recently. He was probably avoiding her but she tried to be optimistic by thinking he was just shy. But there was no reason for him to be shy. “Koganegawa” and “shy” didn’t go together. Shy was a word meant for her.

At first she tried to be very gentle and patient with him, but he would freeze up. It also didn’t help when she covered his hand with hers, trying to show she cared about him. That resulted in him avoiding her for the following 24 hours.

Who was she kidding? He was avoiding her and she didn’t know how to fix it. All she was stuck doing was to watch Koganegawa show kindness to his manager and having unpleasant feelings about it.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” Futakuchi asked Y/n from behind.

Obara closed his water bottle and said, “If you wanted to cheer her up, you should have just told her Koganegawa likes her.”

Aone grunted to show his agreement.

‘Why are you on his side?” Futakuchi asked Aone.

Moniwa placed his hand on Y/n shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he told her, “He definitely likes you.”

“Yeah, could he be more obvious?” laughed Kamasaki.

Y/n turned her head, her eyes finding Koganegawa’s. He quickly looked away, then stole a glance at Y/n before fixing his eyes on the ground. Y/n watched as the redness from his neck rose up to his cheeks.

“Why did you think he’s been so shy around you lately,” Sakunami added. So that was why. He really was just shy. Y/n felt silly for being so blind to it.

Koganegawa’s blush finally reached the top of his head. And then he ran. “Why did you tell her???” he cried out as he exited the gym.

Out of instinct, Y/n ran after him. She wanted to make sure he was okay after his teammates spilled out his feelings for her. She saw him at a distance down the hallway. Koganegawa came to a halt, causing Y/n to flinch and stop as well. Then he started rushing back towards her.

“I don’t hate you Y/n!” he cried out, once he was in front of her.

“What?”

“I didn’t want you to think I ran away because I hate you.”

“I knew that already,” Y/n laughed.

Koganegawa gave a sigh of relief. “Okay. Because I definitely don’t hate you. I-,” he started getting red again, “I actually like you.”

Even though Y/n heard it from his teammates, it was different hearing it from his own mouth. This just made it all the more real. She nodded, showing that she liked him too.

“C- can I kiss you?”

Y/n’s eyes shot open at his sudden request. His confession was already a lot to take in. But with hope filled in his eyes, she didn’t have the heart to say no.

It was wet and sloppy, which she found kind of funny, but she didn’t care because it was from him.

He looked at her expectantly, wondering if he did a good job. She didn't know how to react. So all she was able to say was, “I don’t know what to do with you,” burying her face in her hands.

“I’m sorry! I’ll do better next time!”

*****

I hope you liked it. I actually cringed at this fic but didn't want to change it. LOL. If you liked this one, you'll probably like my Shibayama x reader one-shot because it has a similar feel to this one. :) Or maybe my Kyoutani x reader one-shot, which is my latest one before this fic.

Taglist: @dorkyama @the-black-birb @hqprotectionsquad @nagichi-kenma @moonaaluna @muffins-puffins & @kingkags (for this fic) (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

*****

Matchup description from Anonymous:

hello! may i request a matchup? i’m a 5’7 & heterosexual female who is very introverted and bashful. i have dark skin with black eyes and long, black hair that i normally wear in a ponytail. i also wear glasses. i have an infj-t personality type. i tend to avoid large crowds a lot since i can be quite awkward when talking to people sometimes. but, i’m a pretty happy & kind person that cares about others & tries to cheer people up if they’re feeling sad. (part 1) 🦑🦑

i’m also a pretty smart & hardworking person that is optimistic about the future. my zodiac sign is pisces & my hogwarts house is hufflepuff, which is accurate for a friendly & forgiving person like me. i enjoy playing video games & rhythm games, writing, reading, watching anime & memes, sleeping, & eating food in my free time. i also enjoy playing basketball and volleyball in my free time too. however, i mainly play video games like splatoon & league of legends since games are fun. (pt 2) 🦑🦑

i tend to be attracted to people who are quiet, calm, caring, & aren’t afraid to stand up for what they believe in. i’m also attracted to people who are taller than me and have similar interests as me. but, i’m fine with being with anyone since opposites can attract! in a relationship, i would be very loyal to my lover and would never leave them for someone else. i would be very gentle and patient with giving affection just in case my lover is just as shy as me. thank you! (pt 3) 🦑🦑