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#the teacher is a pitiful pitiful man
flowercrowngods · 6 months
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the absolute mortification of crying in front of your volleyball group because you twisted your knee (fucking figures) and everyone keeps asking if you’re okay because you can’t stop crying but there’s no way of saying “the knee is fine, it’s the person attached to it who’s not” 🫠
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libertys-lovers · 1 year
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Absolutely THRIVING on creating a sona to (possibly) ship with Red Guy omg-
I’m thinking of wanting her to be a Teacher with 3 possible forms; her default object form, a more humanoid puppet form, and a straight-up human form (AKA: She’s literally me fr fr). I just think Red’s increasingly interested reactions would be great.
She first shows up as her regular object form and he’s just like “oh yeah, another one of these things. here we go again”. But then she turns into her humanoid form for the lesson and he’s like “oh- oh wait this is kinda cute, actually”. His feelings grow from there, but once her human form’s revealed, he’s just straight up FLABBERGASTED-! It’s unlike anything he’s seen before; nearly eldritch to him, but in the best way possible-
(This is also gonna be the first sona of mine that’s gonna be, like, drastically short. I’m usually not one to actively search out being carried by my F/Os, but like… this man carrying me around… being able to ride on his shoulder… wowza-)
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chuluoyi · 5 months
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✎ wife
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- gojo satoru x reader
in which the new batch of first years are unaware that their eccentric teacher's wife is the pretty woman roaming the school grounds
genre: fluff, crack, gojo being a silly little menace as always, yuji and nobara are confused, an attempt at humor, lovesick gojo, mention of breastfeeding
note: it’s so silly but i had fun writing this! based on a request by anon (thank you!) but i tweaked it a bit and partly inspired by this fanart. reader is also a teacher at jujutsu high and has a baby with gojo—loosely a continuation of protect
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
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"Take that off immediately!"
"Kyaaah~! Yuji is here, you pervert!"
Yuji was a laughing mess. Megumi and Nobara collectively sighed. Nanami attempted to retrieve his once-immaculate suit, now a crumpled mess, from the one and only Gojo Satoru, who found humor in stealing his signature attire and impersonating the stern-faced Nanami in front of his fresh batch of first years.
"He is incorrigible," Nobara grumbled, her eyes slitting. They said that he was a strong sorcerer, possibly the strongest there was, but she found it really hard to believe.
Megumi threw her a deadpan stare. With many years of putting up with this kind of antics under his belt, he pitied her for not knowing that this was far from the worst. "Yeah, he is."
"How does anyone ever put up with him?"
That was actually a good question. "We don't..." Megumi paused, recalling each and every occasion where he tried to do so. "His wife is probably the only one who can."
Nobara sputtered, spinning towards him. "What the—wife? That annoying man has an actual, living, breathing wife?"
"Who? Gojo-sensei?" Yuji chimed in, jumping into the conversation, leaving the supposedly two adults in their catfight. Nanami was still clawing to get his suit back, and Gojo continued to giggle and evade him, playfully running away.
Nobara scoffed. "I bet the woman just married him for the money. He comes from prestigious clan, yes? That must be it."
Yuji felt his eyes would pop out of its sockets. "What are you talking about, Kugisaki!? What woman—"
"Shut up, Itadori! Don't be too loud!"
Nobara and Yuji's unharmonious ruckus irritated Megumi to the bone, and he decided that the best course of action now was to leave them all in the dust. With a glare and a shake of his head, he stalked away.
And thus the two new first years were left with half-truths that would lead them into a major misadventure later that day—
—which happened when they spotted Nanami with you, whom they were still unfamiliar with.
They were convinced that Gojo’s wife must be some sort of boring tramp eyeing his wealth and not this positively radiant, mature woman, and so ruling that possibility out, they positively swooned at the sight before them.
"He's irresponsible, egotistical—" snippets of Nanami's frustrated words conveyed enough to paint a picture of Gojo's character. He was definitely ranting about Gojo to you.
"Is that Nanamin's wife?" Yuji mused, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "She is so pretty..."
"They... look cute together," Nobara hummed with dreamy eyes, and then looked at Yuji sharply. "And yes, she's indeed pretty, but know your place, Itadori!"
"I know!"
Based on how the two of you interacted, they concluded that you must have been close, with the way Nanami visibly relaxed around you, and not as formal as he was with anyone else. They highly suspected that the two of you were married, as you wore a ring, which was the ultimate sign.
"And how's the baby?" Nanami asked then, directing the question to you with a smile on his face, prompting surprised gasps from both Yuji and Nobara.
You were glowing, to say the least, and when you let out a small giggle at his question, even both students couldn't miss the way your expression exuded pure happiness. "He is well. Ah, I really wanted to bring him along too, but he was a little messy after eating so I left him at home. You can see him later…"
Yuji gaped. "So it's true..."
"Oh my gosh... and they have a baby." Nobara almost squealed.
And that sealed it. The headline of the day: Nanami is married to this stunning woman wandering the school grounds.
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So imagine their utter shock when the second time they found you, you were with Gojo, and he was shamelessly snogging you in the hallway.
“Why are you here?” Gojo was breathless after the soul-sucking kiss he smothered you. His tone remained playful yet carried a clear undertone of concern. "You're still on maternity leave. I'll make sure Yaga knows that."
“Satoru,” you whined, and the use of his given name made Yuji and Nobara gasp in disbelief. “I’m perfectly okay and I don’t need to breastfeed anymore. I should start getting back to work.”
Nobara seemed to finally understand the implication. But Yuji didn’t. His mind flitting from one scandalous idea to another—
Gojo-sensei seducing Nanamin’s wife? Nanamin’s wife cheating on him with Gojo-sensei?
In the brief period he spent with Gojo, Yuji realized that he didn't exactly have a reputation for decency. So despite himself, he could only muster up this one word: “Homewrecker. Homewrecker!”
Yuji’s shriek took all three of you by surprise, and now both you and Gojo were aware of his presence.
“You absolute idiot,” Nobara hissed, face-palming.
“Oh, Yuji? Nobara?” Gojo genially asked, his concern towards you quickly dissolved into a meaningful smirk on his face. “And what do you mean by—?”
Yuji yelped. “You! You are! You’re trying to seduce Nanamin’s wife!”
Silence. Gojo’s eyes twitched beyond his blindfold. You blinked. Nobara wanted to save herself from the second-hand embarrassment. And his loud voice caught the attention of Megumi too, who was close by.
“You seem to be mistaken. First of all, Nanami isn’t married,” Gojo said with a strained voice, maintaining his smile. He then gestured at you, showing you off with pride. “And this here, is my wife.”
“Y-your wife?!” Yuji exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger. “H-how?! I saw her with Nanamin! Talking about a baby—”
“That would be my baby.”
“But how?!”
“Yuji, do you want me to give you a crash course in baby-making—”
“Satoru!”
You sent him a glare and turned to the young first years with a smile. "You must be the new first years? I’m Y/N, and I’m in charge of the second years.” You gestured towards your husband. “And please, ignore most things he says. He’s a bit crass, and if you ever feel he's harassed you, don't hesitate to report it to me."
“Wifey! How could you!”
“Shut up, Satoru! You’re embarrassing yourself!”
“What are you doing here?” Megumi inquired with a deep frown, getting between Yuji and Nobara as they stared at Gojo in total bewilderment.
Yuji exclaimed in disbelief, pointing at you. “Fushiguro! Gojo-sensei’s wife is a beauty!”
“…I know that already.”
Nobara whipped her head towards him. "You knew?! Since when?!"
“They… took me in.”
“THEY WHAT?!”
Gojo grinned at their chorus of surprise. “And what a fine boy he turns out to be, eh?”
Megumi scowled, but Gojo wasn’t bothered at all. If anything, what offended him was—
"What makes you think my dear wife here belongs to Nanami instead of me?" he joked with a mock scoff, earning an eye roll from you.
Nobara and Yuji blurted out their thoughts simultaneously.
“They look good together?”
“Nanamin is dependable?”
Gojo gasped dramatically, one hand flying to his mouth. "So, not only do I not look good with her, but I also don't seem dependable enough?" He turned to you with the most aghast expression. “Tell me that isn’t true—”
You shot him a withering look, deadpanning, “Actually, you might be.”
And Gojo clutched his chest, letting out an anguished cry.
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Epilogue
“Satoru… come on, you know I was joking.”
Your dramatic ass of a husband had his head on your lap, hugging your torso tight. The pout on his face hadn’t faded a bit ever since he was done with his class, and now on your marital bed, he was clinging to you with all of his might.
He shook his head petulantly, clicking his tongue. “You’ve embarrassed me in front of my students. You’re so mean!”
You sighed. “I’m sure you have made a fool out of yourself far often. This is insignificant.”
“Hmph! How could you say that?! I don't care if it's me, but I can't believe that it's coming from you! I shower you with my undivided love each and every day!”
“Yeah, yeah…”
Somehow seeing him like this made your heart lurch. He reminded you so much of your baby boy who was sleeping right in the next room that you couldn't resist smiling and pinching his cheeks.
“Okay, okay. My husband is handsome, looks good with me and definitely someone I can rely on,” you relented, and like a lightbulb going off, Satoru suddenly beamed so wide that you were certain his cheeks hurt.
“That’s more like it! Now, now, there’s only one way that can prove how responsible I am! Let me just fill you up with another baby—”
You smacked him on the head.
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squeiky · 9 months
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Incredibly painful discovery
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wysteria-bloom · 2 months
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▨ "our child is an angel"
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JJK characters when called into teacher's office about their child
Characters : gojo, toji, nanami, sukuna
Genre : fluff, crack
Warnings : I use female pronouns
A/n : Toji is not a deadbeat dad in this one because yeah. Wish he was canonical a hot dilf but we can never get what we want where Gege is concerned 😟
⟢ gojo satoru ␥
"When your son was asked to wait to go to the bathroom, he replied 'I will pee on your floor then bitch.'" The teacher spoke solemnly.
Satoru immediately snorted which you gave him a death glare for, pinching his thigh harshly.
You frowned," Well, before I question why the teacher denied bathroom privileges..." you turned to your husband. Your son was pouting next to you both, looking away with narrowed eyes," That doesn't sound like him at all, does it Satoru?"
Satoru immediately agreed with you, shaking his head," N-no. Not at all. Who taught you that language, kiddo?"
His son looked at him with a betrayed expression, pointing at him accusingly "YOU did!" He exclaimed.
Satoru's smile was pained as you slowly turned your head to him, eyebrows furrowing,"... Thank you for your time, Mrs. Fiyumi. I will have a stern talking. With BOTH of them." Then you gave her the brightest smile," I think it's all the candy they've been eating, I think maybe it's time to cut down on it all, yeah?"
The teacher nodded in agreement with a knowing smile," Yes, I agree."
The two males simultaneously slouched back into their chairs with loud groans which they covered up with coughs when you glared at them.
Satoru mustered a charming grin, settling a loving hand on your shoulder," I've been meaning to go on a diet anyways, haha..."
You rolled your eyes and patted his hand with yours in a pitying way," shut up, my love."
"Dad! Grow a backbone, you lanky idiot!" Your son scoffed out disapprovingly.
The white-haired man's charming grin fell instantly and he glared beneath his glasses," shut up you-"
⟢ nanami kento ␥
"Yes, your daughter got into a fight with one of the boys and managed to split his lip." The teacher gestured to the little girl in the chair who was sitting oh so politely.
Nanami hummed lowly, brows furrowed," not good." He said with that disappointed drawl to his tone that could make anybody curl into themselves with shame, his own daughter cringing to herself.
You merely raised a brow at your daughter," That right? So she won?" You asked bluntly.
A warm hand settled on your knee, squeezing lovingly and as a warning," not the point, love." Nanami grunted out disapprovingly.
The girl grinned with her cute gap-tooth, blue eyes glinting with pride as she looked to her mother," I won!!" She chirped," he pulled my hair so I split his lip!"
Her parents stared on in silence before Nanami gave her a small smile filled with warmth," Good girl."
⟢ ryomen sukuna ␥
"Your daughter punched Midori-"
Sukuna held up a hand," Don't need to hear it. Let's go." He began to stand up, tugging his little girl by the hood of her hoodie.
You shook your head in disapproval at your husband and looked to the teacher," I'm sorry, can you give me more context?"
Sukuna scoffed," Babe. Its obviously about that rich kid again. The little shit who bullies her? Yeah. Don't give a fuck. I'm proud of my fuckin' daughter." He glared at the teacher and walked out of the room with his daughter following anxiously behind.
Your eye twitched before you stood up slowly, offering a pained smile to lighten the load," well, you heard the man. Thanks." You left as well, not before tugging on your husband's ear like a mother and giving your girl a kiss on the forehead and a promise of ice cream.
Sukuna crouched down to her level and pinched his daughter's cheek with a bored expression, eyes glinting in amusement at the sight of her nose scrunching up at the actions," Next time? Put her through endless torture and misery. I can teach you a few techniques--"
You had to step in before your husband created a potential serial killer.
⟢ fushiguro toji ␥
"Megumi got into a fight aga-"
Toji let out an obnoxiously loud yawn, wiping away the sleepy dust from his eyes as his wife fretted over their son's messy black hair.
"Ugh, I swear your hair drives me crazy, Megs. You definitely didn't get it from my genes." You muttered as you tried to smooth out the strands.
Megumi merely sighed and pushed your hands away with an uncomfortable frown etched onto his face," Mom. Listen to Mrs. Fiyumi." He scolded lightly.
"I am, I am." You whined to him, turning to face the teacher with a frown on your lips.
"You too, dad."
Toji blinked at his son before scoffing," I was, I was." He let out a fatherly grunt as he sat straight in his chair, large hand resting on your thigh as he did, looking to the teacher in boredom.
The teacher cleared her throat, giving the small child a thankful nod for keeping his parents in check," As I was saying, little Megumi got into a fight with a boy yesterday. This behaviour seems very unlike him, so I was just worried if there's anything going on at home lately that's stressing him out?"
Megumi's brows furrowed but he didn't open his mouth, sitting politely in his chair. You hummed," Well, I suppose he hasn't been getting a good amount of sleep lately. But that's all I can think of." You settled a hand on your husband's that was caressing your thigh gently.
Toji hummed," just apologise, Megs. An' we'll be on our way." He grumbled to his son, waving his free hand dismissively.
Megumi cleared his throat and stood up, bowing to his teacher, which shocked her a little," I'm sorry, Mrs. Fiyumi. I won't hit anyone again." When he stood to his full-height, he looked her straight in the eye," I hope your failed marriage is getting better." He stated in such a polite and genuine manner.
Toji bursted out laughing - cackling like a witch whilst you stared at your son in complete horror, tugging his hair scoldingly.
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writingoddess1125 · 7 months
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Morticia and Gomez Effect
Mihawk X FemReader
Since Mihawk is based off of Dracula (Duh) and his whole goth dilf attitude it would make sense he's Romanian 🇷🇴
Also I drank some wine 🍷 before this so enjoy!!
>>> Part 2
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• Giving Mihawk's personality I don't think he is the type that finds his opposite attractive. No this man likes those dark mysterious women-
• Def has a More Gothic wife.
• Mihawk is not one to openly talk about his fine but doesn't hide it either. If someone points out the gold ring hanging by his cross he will say it's his wedding band-
• However when his wife is around, he is quite flirty. A smirk on his lips as he will wrap his hand around your waist, lay kisses on your hand or pepper a kiss to the side of your neck. Uncaring if the world sees
• You also can defend yourself perfectly fine so he doesn't have to worry too much about you getting attacked- Truthfully he would pity someone so foolish to do so. Cause if you didn't kill them he would.
• But what was most known was- Mihawk was so whipped for you. Figuratively and Literally-
• The way you were formally introduced to the whole entirety of the Strawhat pirates was a necessary evil.
• "Zoro we need this- It says a red ruby is needed in order for this and we have non thays big enough!" Nami yelled pointing to the treasure map, Zoro sighed. He had accidently admitted he knew someone with a ruby big enough-
• After enough pestering he agreed and they set sail to Kuraigana Island
• It didn't take long to arrive at the gloomy island, A quick journey to the large castle and the spare key hidden under the mat lead the group inside.
• It looked like a cleaned haunted house- Which frightened the group more till the sound of your voice shook them from their thoughts
• "Is someone here?" You call from the large lounging area. Drawing them all in to the well lit room with a crackling fireplace.
• Sanji covered his nose quickly to stop a nosebleed as he stared at you, So elegantly seated with a cup of tea and a amused look on your face at seeing such a young group or pirates breaking into your home.
• Before Sanji could say a word Zoro slammed his hand over the blondes mouth quickly.
• "Madam Dracule" He said formally and bowed respectfully
• His whole crew stiffening at hearing the formal use of your name.
• DRACULE MIHAWKS WIFE!?
• Sipping your tea you raised a brow at Zoro as he bowed deeply to you. You knew he respected you just as much as Mihawk- the wife of his teacher as well as one of his teachers as well since you did assist in training.
• "Zoro, My dear child what brings you and your friends here?" You ask calmly, setting your tea aside as you felt the shift of the room.. they were nervous.
• "We came here to ask you-" The sound of the door slamming open shook them as they heard heavy footsteps walk to them. Revealing the man of the home, Mihawk. Wet from rain and pulling his hat from his head with a stoic frown
• "Dragă (Darling), What is this?" Mihawk questioned as he returned to his island home to see a familiar pirate ship docked and his Pupil on their knees before his wife. Paired with the group of familiar pirated standing in his livingroom.
• "I am not sure yet love, We were just about to discuss it" You say softly, standing up to gelp him take off his sword and coat. Already feeling his eyes following you as you did this-
• Both of you knowing it was an excuse to touch him.
• "We wished to temporarily barrow your ruby necklace Madame." Zoro said still bowing formally
• Mihawk's eyebrow twitching at hearing this-
• "You wish for my wife to give you her necklace?" He said as his eyes narrowed down at them.
• "J-Just for a little bit Sir!" Nami said, feeling anxiety wash through her system.
• "My Love" You cooed, reaching a hand over and touching the side of his face. Immediately it was like dealing with a feline, Leaning into your touch as he gave you a warning glare.
• "Barrowing a necklace is so minor compared to us at that age. Remember Cohi Island?" You purred, Mihawk giving a subtle growl in the back of his throat. "Ah Cohi Island, How can I forget?" He all but purred out.
• The two of you reminiscing as Mihawk began to place kisses up your arms as you pulled him close and whispered sweet sensual words and memories to him.
• "A little necklace won't be much trouble, Especially since it will be returned~" You whispered in his ear
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• The poor strawhats subjected to the very outward affection of the Warlord. It was quite a unpleasant experience for them all-
• Mihawk unclasping the necklace with his teeth before tossing it at Zoro who quickly caught it. The Warlord glaring at his Pupil lazily
• "It will be returned' He said stoically, before returning to his task at hand.
• You wave them off, Smiling softly as Mihawk leaned into your neck to lay kisses and love bites.
• Zoro bowing again quickly as he held the necklace and the youthful pirates quickly filed out of the castle as fast as possible. Zoro still clutching the gemstone
• "Holy fuck! She literally got Hawkeye of all people to give you the necklace!" Usopp said in shock as Zoro nodded. Nami's eyeing that diamond necklace
• "Yes but it must be returned-" He stressed. Not being stupid enough to let anyone steal from his mentor or his wife-
• The group nodded and looked out at the raging storm that beat against them.
• "Well it's raining maybe we can ask for a room-" Usopp started but Zoro quickly shook his head, His face pale and eyes like he was living through War Flashbacks.
• "No- The unholy noises that are about to invade that castle no one will sleep" He said in a deadpan voice- and from the look in his eyes everyone believed him.
• That was a couple too in love
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shaisuki · 5 months
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。‧˚ʚ°ɞ˚‧。 ─── SATORU AND HIS OBSESSION WITH YOUR CHEEKS.
“satoru, no.”
“but”
“no.”
stepping back and making a distance from your boyfriend who is close to inhaling your cheek like a black hole. the white haired man whines, his hair deflating with a pout in his face like he was a child denied with candy in a store.
“satoru, behave. you're in the presence of your students and mine. set a good example for them.” you scolded him. glancing at the students who where at the school grounds waiting for the schedules to be brought up. flipping the papers clipped in the clipboard to check their activities for the incoming battle royale and training regimes.
“i love when you're strict (y/n)-chan~” he sing-sang. his face bright and there's a comical blush visible in his cheeks and in the background it looks like someone set up a green screen for the flowers and what looks like glitter sparkling in the background.
you sigh. satoru couldn't act like at his age but you love that side of him but sometimes it made you want to cry from how he distracts you in front of the students. their image of you turning into a less serious one due to satoru's antics and get often teased about it.
the first years stared at you two. they think you were so fed up with their teacher's antics that you were so close at beating up his ass which is true. a little. but yes.
“(y/n)-sensei and gojo-sensei are really going at it.” yuuji mused. staring in awe at his two teachers, two polar opposites. “keh, i'll pay good money to watch (y/n)-sensei punch gojo-sensei.” nobara added. the brunette waiting for some action to happen and she's going to be blessed.
you thought satoru would be done with his antics but no. you were wrong. the moment you dropped your guard down came the rikugan and limitless holder snaking his arms to your soft middle immediately. pressing you against his back and before you could squirm his other hand cupping your soft jaw to meet his lips. his soft, pink lips parted slightly before opening fully and engulfing your cheek in one massive bite.
chomp!
you let out a silent gasp before biting your lower lip to muffle the sound threatening to spill from your lips. “mmm....” gojo hums. a satisfying noise of contentment in his part while he nibbles your supple cheek like it was the softest mochi he ever tasted.
your mind generating a thousand ways to beat gojo and how to forget this had ever happened in front of people, your students nonetheless. such a inappropriate sight for the youngsters to see. you didn't dare to meet their gazes.
the first years, a disgusted look mixed with pity as they watch you get the worst kind of pda anyone can experience. kissing they can take it but sucking on someone's cheek — it's weird.
“thank you for the meal.” he says as he completely detaches his lips from your cheek. his hold on you loosening. a big smile in his face after the nibbles and sucking your cheek. you look at him in disbelief. your cheek covered in his saliva.
“eugh.” you grimaced. wiping your cheek with the back of your palm. “i'm done with you.” he heard you say and he dramatically reached out to you. pinching your cheeks and you slapped it away. “you're not.” he reasons out. “i'm serious.” you deadpan at him. “you're (y/n). not serious.” unfucking believable. he pouts at you and your fist met his shoulder. bypassing his infinity and followed by a kick. oops. your eyes widens as he dropped in the ground.
“that hurts!” itadori exclaims. biting his fist and as a man he knows how painful it was to be kicked in the nuts. not that he experienced it.
nobara's eyes twinkles. fists pumping in the air. deserved. it's funny how the strongest sorcerer alive — the holder of six eyes and limitless is on his knees. clutching his part where you kicked him.
“oh fuck, satoru. i didn't mean to.” you immediately comfort him. rubbing his shoulder to ease the pain. it didn't help with the pain but you felt guilty about it. you didn't mean to kick him in that part.
“are you taking back the "i'm done with you part"?” he asks you and you nodded. not giving the question about the thought. “yeah. i'm sorry.” you murmur. “kiss me.” he requested in which you complied. pressing a kiss to his forehead. even he's like this — you love him.
it was too late before you realize he was faking it. he started giggling and you roll your eyes at him. falling for his antics again. “i can't believe you!” you stand up, huffing. picking up the clipboard and gojo is quick to call you. “(y/n), it's true. it really hurts.” he says. wincing a bit and you gave him a side eye.
“next time, it's going to be real and i'm doing it hard.” you warned him and gojo just laugh at you. draping his arms around you. “you love me though.” unfortunately, it's true. you can't deny that.
the trio stared at you two. it looks like they'll be having second thoughts if they're given a shot in having a relationship. hopefully, it's not weird as their teachers.
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crybaby-bkg · 8 months
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Bakugou has never cared much about whether or not his partner is experienced, or less experienced. Never had much of a kink or fetish when it came down to how much sexual experience someone had, but—there’s just something about you. You with your unsure lip biting and lowered eyes, your twisting hands and nervous little chuckles.
“I don’t really know how to kiss,” you share with him, a secret, a whisper passed from your hovering mouth to his own. It’s been an odd some amount of dates you two have been on by now, and this time you went back to his apartment afterwards. You sit on your knees beside him on his too big couch, his legs facing you, arm around your waist, yours around his shoulders.
“Really?” Bakugou asks, doesn’t mean to sound as teasing as he does, as breathless. But, he’s surprised more than anything—you, as sinfully seductive as you are, don’t know how to kiss someone? He leans back to take you all in, a tiny little smile lilting the corners of his mouth.
“No, not really,” you murmur, running a hand through the hair on his nape, eyes bouncing all over his face, yet avoiding his eyes. “Will you teach me?” You ask, and who is Bakugou if not a weak man?
So he shows you the proper way to kiss somebody, a hands on demonstration. He pulls you in real close, guides your head to tilt to the right, purse your lips like this, run your tongue over his like that. Now suck on it, let out all the pretty sounds if it feels good, kiss him just like that. And before you know it, you’re a pro.
The next time you see him, you ask him the proper way to give someone a hickey. I don’t wanna give you a blood clot, you had laughed, sitting on his lap this time. And Bakugou, ever the great teacher that he is, shows you how. Demonstrating on your neck, your collarbone, your tummy, your inner thigh, the curve of your ass. You don’t give him nearly as many hickeys as he gives you, but the big purpled one sitting over his pulse point, he wears proudly until it fades. And after that, he’s asking for another, and another.
And after a few months into your relationship, do things finally start getting real hot and heavy. He sits at the island in his place, tired, arms folded, back leaning against the island and his head lolled over on his shoulders. He’s surprised when you sink to your knees in front of him, all doe eyed and incubus smile, hands resting on his thighs.
“Can you show me how?” You don’t even have to specify what you’re talking about, but you eye the way his cock already jumps to attention under his shorts. If this were anyone else, he’d bat them away and tell them that he didn’t feel like playing teacher. But with you—he’d gladly show you any and everything your heart has ever yearned to know.
“Breathe through your nose, baby.” He instructs you, hand gathering your hair in his fists. Your mouth stretches wide around his cock, eyes watering, but you push through it all. He tells you to wrap your lips around your teeth, to swallow whenever his tip brushes the back of your throat. Shows you how to stroke whatever you can’t reach, rub his balls in your palm whenever he starts getting close.
He doesn’t have to teach you how to swallow.
When you ride Bakugou for the first time, you don’t even have to ask for instructions. Just give him that look, all pouty and pitiful, hands on his chest as you grind against his cock resting against your lower belly. Barely any words are spoken as he guides you, lifts your hips, teases his tip against your hole, stomach fluttering in anticipation.
After that, you feel like a pro when it comes to doing anything with Bakugou. But, he doesn’t mind playing teacher whenever you need a little bit of guidance.
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brbsoulnomming · 9 months
Text
Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 1
By the time Eddie is twelve, going to live with his uncle in a trailer in Hawkins, he only has a dozen or so words from his soulmate.
It used to make him guilty, that his soulmate was the kind of person who rarely lied, getting stuck with Eddie who spit lies out like they were the shells of sunflower seeds. Then it made him angry, that he only had a handful of shit like he did it! and I already washed my hands. A small spattering of normal kid shit, while Eddie had to say things like no, officer, I don't know where my father is and Mom's just not feeling well today, Mrs. Anderson.
Then, a year or so before his dad got caught for good, he got It's nothing, I just tripped and Yeah, Mom, I understand, I know he won't do it again and he thought - maybe his soulmate is the kind of kid who knows sometimes it's just better not to say anything.
Eddie can understand that.
Living with Uncle Wayne is - hard. It's hard because it isn't hard, not the way it should be. It makes Eddie say more things that he knows his soulmate will see on his skin, things like I never wanted to be here anyway, and I want to be alone, just leave me alone.
His uncle is endlessly patient, and it grates on his nerves because he wants it. He wants it so bad to be real, but he just - keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to be too much.
For Eddie to be too much for him.
It comes to a head one night when Eddie's mad at him over something or other, asks why he's doing all this.
"You're my kid, and that means I'm not going anywhere," his uncle says, all gruff and raw honesty, and Eddie can't bear it.
"You don't think your soulmate's going to get tired of all these lies that keep showing up?" he snaps, even though he regrets it the moment it's out of his mouth.
He regrets it even more when there's a heavy, aching silence, and he finally looks up at his uncle, eyes wide and terrified as he thinks this is it, he's finally gone too far -
"It's not a lie," Uncle Wayne says finally, holding Eddie's gaze. "You hear me? It's not a lie. I'm not going anywhere."
Eddie nods, and his uncle relaxes a little, then grimaces, like he isn't sure he wants to say anything else.
"I don't have anyone for lies to show up on, anyway."
He says it like it doesn't matter, but Eddie bursts into tears anyway.
Not everyone has a soulmate. The majority of people do, but it's not uncommon for people to never have words written on their skin. In school, they teach that it doesn't mean you can't be happy, it doesn't mean you can't find love. They teach about soulmate bonds that didn't work out - there's whole plays and novels and movies written about that kind of tragedy and misery, after all.
But sometimes there's still an undercurrent of pity, of bitterness. Outside of school - or inside it, when it isn't the teachers talking - some people say there's something wrong with people who don't have soulmates, some people say that they were meant for bigger and greater things.
Some people say that soulmates are supposed to be between a man and a woman, and every time someone who's queer gets a soulmate, it's because they stole them from someone else.
And Eddie doesn't believe that, not really, but he can't help but wonder if maybe his uncle does, and he can't stop crying.
Now his uncle is the one who looks terrified.
"Son, come here, it's all right, it really is." Uncle Wayne gathers him up in his arms, holds him close the way no one's ever done for him before, and just lets him cry and cry and cry.
Later, Eddie thinks about just letting it go, but - he has to know, he just does.
"Do you think someone stole your soulmate from you?" he asks as he's washing dishes, not looking at his uncle and hoping it doesn't sound anything like do you think someone like me stole your soulmate from you?
Uncle Wayne scowls. "That's a load of horseshit, is what I think. No one can control whether they have one soulmate or two or none, and it doesn't make someone greedy or a thief."
Eddie opens his mouth, then closes it again. He's known about people with two soulmates before, of course, the same way he knows about people with none - and he's heard the comments about them being greedy same as he's heard comments about them being lucky, or a dozen other things people've theorized to explain it. It's just that it doesn't really tell him what he'd wanted to know, and he can't figure out how to ask without being more specific.
Uncle Wanye is looking at him real close, though, and there's something like a quiet acceptance that flashes over his features.
"No one can control who their soulmate is," he says softly. "Whoever yours is - they were meant for you in a way they aren't meant for anyone else. Love like that can't be stolen, kid, it can only be given."
He thinks about that for a long moment, then nods. "Okay."
"Good," his uncle says gruffly. "Now finish those up and get off to bed."
------
First part of a Steddie and platonic Stobin soulmates AU I'm working on, where any lie you tell gets written on your soulmate! No idea how long this is going to be - it was supposed to be a oneshot but it just keeps growing, so I wanted to share at least the first bit of it.
Now with Part 2
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memospacexx · 3 months
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we need a part 2 of the absent father alastor, the first part was amazing 😭
Age wasnt mentioned last part, this pne they are hinted to be 13-16 :3
Im writting this in the passenger seat cos i REALLY LOVE THIS MY GOD
Perhaps this was his punishment all along
To have his own child turn their back on him
But he knows its his fault. As much as he wouldnt admit it to a soul he knows. Hes self aware but it doesnt make things better
After he reappeared when the hotel was fixed, it seems like the child stuck with husk even more, sometimes even downright avoiding him
Him?
But hes their father
HE raised them
Right?
He tried, tried to hard to recall memories to back up his point but he couldn’t. All he could remember was him dropping you on husk
Like some cheep booze.
I suppose this was the weight of his actions
He could do nothing now, but that didnt stop him. Hes a hard headed man afterall
It started with him asking you to accompany him at his radio station, something you loved and begged him to before
Always asked to go with him, oh how you loved his voice
But he never did allow you to
On good days he would, but even then those were rare
So hes the one bringing you now!you wouldnt turn down some time with your deer old dad right? Specially how you used to even beg for his attention.
No? What do you mean no? Dont you love going ? Dont you love radio? Dont you love. Him?
“Uhm no thanks father i wanna watch husk do magic” you could never truly look into his eyes
Even when you called him father it felt so..
Forced.
But he grinned and bared it “I understand little doe! But you know where to find me” he chuckled and walked away
He could do magic too. He could do magic better. So why husk? Hes stronger, more capable of protecting you, he could protect you better than husk ever could, there was no need for you to cower under that horrid sinners wings because your father, your blood, could protect you
But he never did. Not when you got in trouble for running into some loan sharks, he let you fend for yourself
Pain was the best teacher
He would say
So he threw you to the wolves. How ironic.
That ended as horrible as you’d think, the only reason you got out there alive is because vox, yes, him, out of everyone killed the demons when he noticed it was you, he was just passing by, going to another meeting from one he just left
He recognized you, he knew of alastors offspring but never cared for them, his business is with their father. However, even then this was cruel, and he knew that deer was watching everything
He could feel the eyes on him. On them.
Vox watched as you scampered away, like a deer, like a doe.
Even then , he thought alastor would atleast have compassion for the child
His child
But he was wrong, he gave that bastard too much credit.
Even rosie, a demon that doesnt share the same blood as you, treats you kinder than your own
After that incident, you refused to go out as much, opting to stay with …husk.
Husk, dear old husk, he never minded
He hated it at first tho.
Having to babysit, he didnt like you either
But he knows, he KNEW it wasnt your fault either, he knows you wanted to spend time with that absent father of yours
So he tried his best filling that void in your heart, he felt pity for the little child, so he told old stories of his life before he was damned,he says they’re boring but the shine in your eyes and smile on your face whenever he speaks never fails to amaze him
he even taught you how to play poker
Charlie reprimanded him for that, saying he cant teach a child how to gamble
But he didnt care
You were smiling
Laughing
It wasnt much but it was enough
Enough from him
Enough for you.
It made his blood boil, it wasnt fair. Alastor would think
Why cant you look up at him with admiration?like how you always looked when you were younger
Yeah
Maybe this was his punishment.
TAG LIST;: @ghostdoodlen @lixanjewel @crowleysthings
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FOLIE Á DEUX ─── jonathan crane ✧
ೃ⁀➷ “Not all love is gentle. Sometimes it's gritty and dirty and possessive, sometimes it's not supposed to be careful or soft at all. Sometimes it feels like teeth.” - Azra T.
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pairing. professor!jonathan crane x stalker!reader
summary. you’ve been stalking your professor for 8 months, keeping track of his movements with your diary. one day, said professor informs that you left something of yours behind in his office…
warnings. swearing, choking, p in v, dacryphilia, oral sex (f), dubcon (if u squint), stalking, breeding, orgasm delay/denial, unprotected sex, hair pulling, student-teacher relationship, SMUT UNDER THE CUT
word count. 4.5k
a/n. this is my first ever smut, so if it sucks i really do apologize. also, im kinda unsure where the plot on this one went, but whatever! lastly, i do try to keep all my fics gender-neutral, but seeing as this is smut, i had to choose, and the reader is afab.
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“Miss [Name], please stay behind after class. I need just a moment's worth of your time.” Your professor said absently, not looking at you, when he handed back your essay on the human id.
You hummed, nodding your head carefully. “Yes, Professor Crane.” 
Inwardly, you swooned at his choice of words: “I need just a moment's worth of your time.” He’d highlighted the existence of both you and him in the sentence, as if coexisting together, with one another, was plausible.
Later, when class ended, you’d packed up all your things, and walked into Professor Crane’s office off to the side, where he was tidying up. 
“You asked me to stay behind, sir?” 
“Yes,” Crane acknowledged your presence, looking at you squarely. “You forgot something in my office during our last tutoring session.” 
Your eyes widened slightly, both at the fact you’d left one of your items behind, and that your Professor had seen the item, and knew it belonged to you. He hadn’t mistaken it as his own, or anyone else's - he knew it was yours.
“Oh!” You said, a beat later. “Thank you for telling me. Where is it, exactly?”
“Before we get to that matter - do take a seat - I believe we need to have a, ah, talk.” He gestured to the seat in front of his office desk, the same seat you sat on every Wednesday at 6:30 for the past few months. 
“A talk, sir?” You pried, but sat down anyway, reveling in the one-on-one time you were experiencing with your favorite professor. 
That was the main motivator for getting tutored by the man - you adored going in, having an entire hour of him all to yourself. 
Prior, you pretended not to get some of his lessons, let your grade in his psychology class slip to a pitiful mark so low he couldn’t ignore it. You’d started the semester with a stellar grade, so he took it upon himself to offer tutoring - he knew you could understand his method of teaching, and theorized that you hadn’t been able to pay attention in class because of the sheer size of people attending. 
In actuality, however, you understood everything completely - it was merely your obsessive attraction following him like the sound of thunder trailing behind lightning. 
Crane scrubbed his face when you sat, thinking intently on what he wanted to say. “I need you to understand, Miss [Name], that a student-teacher relationship is completely taboo. Such a thing can never - should never, occur.”
Your breath hitched in your throat, and suddenly, you were reminded how you hadn’t seen that book in a while, you hadn’t read it when you woke up, when you went for lunch, you hadn’t even written anything about him for the day—
Your professor slid open one of his desk drawers, and pulled out the familiar pocket notebook you kept with yourself at all times. 
“I’m telling you about rules, Miss [Name], because you forgot this.” He said, voice low. “And, pardon my intrusion, but the stuff you have written here is quite… intriguing.”
Your heart began racing in your chest, a cold sweat trailing down your back. “Professor, I- whatever you read in there—“ You began, but froze when he opened the notebook, thumbing through the pages. 
Crane cleared his throat, looking intently at the words. His expression changed several times as his eyes flitted over your writing, and you felt your body burn with shame. 
“January 26th. Professor's gloves were found in the nook of his podium. I was looking for the green apple he’d forgo from finishing, his teeth tracks fresh on the alabaster flesh, but found his winter wear instead. Gloves were brought home - I imagined he’d come over to mine, undressed his biting winter clothing, and forgot his sweet mittens here.” Your professor read your diary out loud. Crane looked like he enjoyed your shame being laid out bare, but you were too absorbed in a whirlwind of emotion to notice. 
“P—Professor, please, I - I can explain, I didn’t mean anything—“
“April 17th. Professor came down with a flu, like I expected. I saw him walking in last week’s evening downpour and waited for what day this week he’d call in. Later, he bought cough syrup and aspirin at the convenience store. I watched him struggle to care for himself, covered head to toe in blankets, missing meals, barely able to keep upright. I wish professor knew how well I could care for him, how I fulfill his every request and need. I saw how touchy he was, how he fidgeted, that feverish want — I could satiate him like no-one else.” 
His lips enunciated every word, and the longer he went on reading, the dizzier you felt; your professor, your darling, had found out - he had found out - he had found fucking out -
“Be honest with me, Miss [Name]. Do you stalk me?” Your professor said, slipping off his wire-framed glasses. The man leaned in closer now, elbows resting on the wooden desk. 
Your eyes darted away from him, looking anywhere but forwards. You felt like you had been stripped away, so bare your professor could count how many ribs you had, how many minor hairline fractures your tattered bones had collected over the years. You tried to analyze the man’s reaction through your peripheral, but it was to no avail - he was as cold as he had been during class, during your entire time knowing the professor. 
You breathed, in and out, analyzing the situation tenfold, precisely, trying to find a way out of this place alive, dignity intact. Then, you found it. 
This man had ensnared you, entranced you with his delicious charm and carefully spoken words. You repeat inwardly to yourself: Crane knew all the right words, all the right places to touch. If he dared press charges, you would tell the world he hurt you first. 
“Yes, Professor Crane.” You nodded, unabashed after deciding how to deal with everything. He can’t touch me with this. I’ll just go first: please, he took advantage of me! I needed to pass his class… and he offered a solution to me. He’s lying! Lying to you all. He just wants to destroy me… and hide his sin.
“The human body knows when someone’s watching them, but you haven’t noticed, not once in the 8 months I’ve watched you. You didn’t notice, even when I followed you home, even to Arkham. Every obscure outing you’ve had, I’ve been there.”
“I’m quite alarmed by this information, Miss [Name]. Moreso by the absence of your remorse.” Crane said, but mere seconds later a low laugh was drawn out of him, looking more amused than alarmed if anything. 
Crane’s tone was husky, nearing a purr, and he clasped his large, calloused hands together contemplatively. “What were you going to do to me, Miss [Name]? Or were you just going to watch, standby my life?”
You chewed the inside of your cheek, unable to respond to his provocations. You didn’t want to alarm him further, tell him you’d been planning to finally have him, once and for all, as soon as you got a hold of his house keys and got the chance to replicate your own pair. You didn’t tell him that you were barely restraining yourself from knocking him out during your tutoring sessions, wanting your darling all for yourself for more than an hour a week. 
“Are you not afraid, Miss [Name]? What I can do to your life with this information? How I can ruin you, paint you mad enough to be admitted to Arkham?” he continued, closer than ever before and whispering in your ear. His plush lips brushed past the shell of your ear, making your heart skip a beat. 
You winced, both from the feeling of him near you and his sweet voice spewing poison in your ear, but quickly composed yourself, for you knew things he didn’t know you knew. 
Then - you weren’t quite sure what possessed you, but - your hand came up to his hair, tugging so he could hear you, “Professor - or, should I say… Scarecrow, what would you do, if I told the police what Gotham University’s psychology professor did in his spare time?” 
“What would you do, if I plastered pictures of the renowned Doctor Jonathan Crane wearing the familiar burlap sack mask all over Gotham - especially in places the Batman frequented?”
“I can destroy you, sir.” Your voice was quiet, but dangerous, a terribly alluring thing, like a melody Crane heard a long time ago and remembered every time he smelt the must of an old piano. “Don’t push me.”
This time, Crane stilled, turning to face you fully. His gaze had darkened, looking at you through his long lashes. “My dear, you should’ve just told me how bad you wanted to find out how this fear-toxin of mine can break you.” He whispered, so quiet you had to strain yourself to hear. 
With your professor's warm breath fanning on the nape of your neck, you couldn’t help how you squirmed, clenched your thighs together - especially when you had been dreaming of something like this for the past eight months. You couldn’t count how many times you found yourself with your hands down your pants at the thought of your darling professor having his way with you… controlling you completely. 
You didn’t answer the man for a moment, gulping down the dryness in your throat. “Would you, sir? Would you let fear dominate me like those tortured souls in the Narrows?”
Crane’s eyes trailed across your face, then he pulled back, leaning in his chair, a grin all teeth and no tongue spreading across his lips. There was something there, you realized, something he noticed in the intone of your voice - had he noticed the neediness, the warble as your thoughts went elsewhere? The arch in your back, your body desperate to be as close to him as possible?
“Can I tell you what I think?” said Crane, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I think you want me to. I think you want me to see you tremble… shake in fear… you want me to hear you beg. I think you want to be utterly consumed by me.” 
The deep timbre of his voice, the suggestion in his words, how he stared you down with each syllable, sent electric shivers down your spine. You took in a sharp breath, leaning your head back to look at the ceiling, compose yourself, when—
Crane’s rough hand gripped at your throat, thumb caressing the little notch at the center, and your heart fluttered, jumping at his touch. 
“Fear is an addicting, beautiful thing, is it not? You’re afraid of me, but you can’t help how fucking needy you are.” Your professor spoke, pressing down further on your neck. He had noticed. 
His touch made your skin feel like it was on fire, the rough pads of his fingertips digging bruises into your delicate skin. It was the most delicious thing you had ever felt, and you leaned into it, despite the connotations of death by asphyxiation looming over your shoulder. 
Your professor manhandled you, dragging your weak body over to his side of the desk, hand still curved neatly around your throat. You were growing dizzy, a fearful, pleasure-filled fog slowly clouding your mind, and you couldn’t speak. All you could do was let out little squeaks of surprise & pleasure, a moan rumbling out of you as he pressed down further. 
Crane was saying something, but you couldn’t tell under the pressure. His facial expression was all you needed, however; his eyes were bloodshot, lustful, so laser-focused that, if looks could kill, you’d have been long gone, while a feral grin replaced his emotionless facade. Crane’s usually well-kept appearance had dissolved, and his hair was askew, tie loose, buttons haphazardly undone. 
Suddenly, the man pressed himself flush against you, pressing his face into your hair, your neck - losing himself in you. His tongue flicked out, dragging a long stripe down the side of your neck, and you jumped, a startled whine tearing out of your choked-up throat. 
His grip on you tightened. “What? I’m just having a taste. Is that so wrong?” At your wide eyes, and silent response, he let out a fitful laugh. “You’re coated in shame, darling. You’re sour.”
You squirmed - not because you didn’t enjoy it - you just couldn’t breathe, but Crane didn’t care. His fingernails were sharp, maybe even drawing some of your blood.
“Plea— sir, I can’t breathe,” you stuttered out raspily. His face remained unchanged while listening to your pathetic pleas, before he leaned in close. 
“Beg for it. Beg like you’re terrified for your life. You might as well be,” he said, and he began pressing his thumb into the center of your throat, choking you fully now. 
You nodded - as much as the allowance between his hand and your head allowed, anyway. “Professor, please,” you said breathily, “please let me go. I’ll do any- anything, just puh— please stop.” 
“Ah, there it is,” Your professor cooed, eyes shutting at the sweet intone of your pleaing, distressed voice. He was losing himself in your words. “Keep going… and don’t forget the crying. It's my favorite part.”
“Let - me go! Please,” you whimpered helplessly, mustering thick, heavy tears to form at the corners of your eyes as you saw black spots dotting your vision. 
A lump formed in your throat, choking your words. “Please… stop! Let me - breathe,” You said, leaning delightedly into his touch. His other hand was now digging painfully into your hip, as if the professor were focussing intensely on holding back. 
“Look at you go,” Crane clicked his tongue, eyes opening and gazing deep into you. He pulled you in closer to him, letting go of your abused throat. 
You finally breathed, taking in such large bouts of air you might’ve choked and keeled over right there. But then, Crane’s hands at your side crawed carefully to your rear, while the other hand came up to the crown of your head to pet you. 
He whispered into the top of your head, “Did you mean it?” 
“Mean what?” You said raspily, your face pressed flat against his bandy chest. 
His hand found the swell of your ass, fingers grabbing hold and squeezing so tight you were sure there’d be a bruise later, “About doing anything. For me.”
You nodded, still not looking at him. This answer didn’t please him, however, and the hand that had been petting you tangled through your hair and roughly pulled you away, to look up at him. “In words.”
“Y— yes. I’ll do anything for you.” You rattled off, prickling pain twisting in your scalp. 
“You’ll be a good girl for me?”
“The best.” 
A grin twisted his pink, plush lips, and he promptly pushed you face down flat against his cold, wooden desk. It was rough, and sudden, pain blooming in your side. But there was a tug in your lower stomach at the way he handled you, all selfish and touchy and focused solely on chasing after his own pleasure. 
Crane’s hands roamed all over your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was insatiable, rubbing and petting and kneading at every part of your body. 
His hands found your thighs, squeezing at the flesh, before hiking up your skirt and inspecting your panties. “Oh, you’re fucking soaked,” Crane rumbled out, voice like gravel. “You liked it, didn’t you? When I said I’d admit you to Arkham.”
Then, you heard him kneel down, and begin to press sloppy, wet kisses on your legs. “Be honest,” he said between kisses, “you want me to admit you, have you all to myself in isolation.”
You didn’t respond, instead whimpering and bucking forward when you could feel Crane’s sharp teeth brush over your sensitive skin. He noticed the effect he had on you, and you felt him smile against you. 
“Please,” you keened out, not dissimilar to how you begged him just moments ago, “stop teasing, Professor.”
You felt Crane’s hot breath fan over your clothed mound, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. “Stop teasing, how?” he said at last, before suddenly pushing your panties to the side and licking a stripe up your cunt. He lapped at your lips, collecting your wetness on his tongue, but he didn’t go further. 
“Pro - Professor,” you whined, grounding out a low moan. It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. He liked playing with you, making you squirm and shake and beg for more.
“What? This not enough for you?” He pulled away, and you hissed at the cold that hit you. Then, he tugged, hard, pulling both your underwear and your skirt down to your knees. 
“You want me to eat you out till you’re a trembling fucking mess, don’t you?” He buried himself between your legs, “I knew you were a horny little slut.”
Finally, his tongue found you once more, and pushed deep into your folds. Crane’s tongue ran across every rivet your pussy had, before darting out to your clit, suckling at the velvet bundle of nerves. His touch drew out a high-pitched keen, your back arching. 
You couldn’t see him, face still pressed against the wooden desk, but you could hear him, the filthy squelching of your pussy and his tongue making your knees buckle. 
“Fuck, Jonathan,” you choked out, when he went deeper into your quivering hole, your body tingling like nothing you’d ever felt before. At your reaction, his name curling around your pretty little lips, he went faster, wet mouth brushing against you, licking you up and down, animalistic, following his instinct to a tee.
“Please, wait -“ You said, feeling the knot in your insides grow tighter, the heat washing over you like a steaming shower, toes curling in your flats. 
“What?” He growled out beneath you, not letting up his assault on your cunt. 
“I don’t - don’t wanna come on your tongue…” You said, shaking your head weakly against the desk. “Wanna - wanna feel you in me.”
Jonathan snorted, and continued to lap up your insides, “D’you think you have a fucking choice? Huh? I know you’re a whore, you could do this all day. I’ll just make you come again on my cock.”
Before you could protest, or even just whine at his words, you shut your eyes, feeling yourself come undone, your legs barely able to keep you upright. His hands had reached away from your thighs, rough fingers toying with your fleshy button, maximizing the climax washing over you tenfold. 
“Jonathan, Jonathan!” You practically screamed out, heat in your stomach pulsing rapidly. 
“Ugh, fuck,” You heard him say, “you’re creaming all over my fucking face.” 
You were a complete mess by the time he pulled away from you, your high washing away as Crane wiped the come and wetness off his face. 
“You came that hard, just on my tongue?” He mocked, fingers spreading your lips and observing your swollen pussy as you laid flat, weakly gripping the edge of the desk so you’d stay standing. 
“Well,” he said, reaching down to his pants and undoing his belt buckle and fly, “M’not done with this sweet little cunt just yet.”
Your eyes widened, “I’m - I’m still sensitive, wait-“
Jonathan didn’t listen, however, letting his pants and boxers pool at his feet, stroking himself in the artificial light of his office, which smelt like sweat and sex. 
He spat on his hand, first coating his cock in it, then your parted lips (which you theorized was just because he wanted to feel you up again), before lining up his thick head at your entrance. “God,” he groaned, “you’re so fucking wet.”
You keened at the intrusion you felt between your legs, “Jonathan, please, jus’ - give me a sec to rest —“ You were interrupted however, by the shock of how big he felt. 
You hadn’t gotten a look at him, but as he let himself slowly enter you, you could tell it was bigger than anything you’d ever taken before. “You’re - you’re too big!” you squeaked out, “You won’t fit.”
He laughed, hands resting on your hips as he held you upright. “I’ll make it fit,” he said, before roughly pounding the rest of himself into you, stretching out your inexperienced cunt. 
You choked, his fat cock pushing you wider than you’d ever been before, the pain biting at you, a burning feeling spreading within your lower body. “Jon- Jonathan,” was all you could say, as he slowly pulled out, pure relief written on your face, until he sank right back into you, somehow deeper than before. 
Tears welled in your eyes, as he gripped harshly on the flesh of your hips, making you pound back and forth on him. His cock was hard, and thick, and he was forcing the thing deep within you at an excruciatingly quick pace. Your sensitivity was the cherry on top to this whole situation - you were trembling, body weak, shallow breaths and teary moans tearing out of you at the overstimulation.
Soon, however, the pain slowly dissolved into a filthy, exquisite pleasure that echoed throughout your entire body. The rhythm your professor had gotten to was downright perfect, filling you completely and making you clench in all the right places. Crane made your brain go foggy, focussing solely on the sound of your skin slapping against each other in the quiet, after-hours office, his taller frame encapsulating you completely.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he cooed, hands moving to splay across your ass and spread you open further. “How many cocks have taken this sweet pussy, huh?”
You gulped. “Just,” you started, but then your eyes rolled to the back of your head, stopping you mid-sentence as his length brushed up to your most sensitive spot.
“How,” he gripped you tighter, “many,” slipped out, “cocks!”  then thrust into you roughly, rougher than before and making the desk screech forward a few inches.
“Just one!” You said at last, words choked up as his long cock pierced you. 
“Just one, huh?” He said and began pounding in and out of you faster, rougher, needier, “I bet you didn’t even fucking come, you’re so tight. This pretty pussy of yours is practically virgin.”
“Uh-huh,” you said incoherently, thoughts blending together. “Jus’ a - a fucking virgin for you,” you babbled out, losing yourself in the fast-paced pleasure he was serving on a silver platter. 
“That you are,” Jonathan growled, “you’re just my horny virgin. Mine.” Every thrust he plunged into you brushed up against that plush spot deep within you, making you drool, body going slack. 
“Oh, jesus, you’re so fucked out,” he murmured, looking down at your limp, trembling form. “Drunk on my thick fucking cock.”
The ecstasy was becoming too much for you now, controlling you completely, like if he stopped fucking you right now you’d be so fucking needy, going slowly insane until he touched you again. You knew you wouldn’t be able to fuck anyone else and feel the same; he made you feel fucking feral, instinctual, your id going into drive and controlling you instead of logic. Your darling was the only one you wanted to offer yourself up completely to. He could do anything he fucking wanted to you, and you’d take it in stride. 
“Jonathan,” you keened, feeling your walls clench around him tighter, “m’close.”
“No, you’re not,” he said, voice deep and dangerous, “keep that orgasm in, whore, till I tell you to.”
Your cheeks burned, distraught at the denial of your release, especially when his cock slipped out of you as he flipped you over. Quickly, however, he rammed his cock back into you. You were facing each other now, and you could see how hot and bothered he looked, despite how confident and careless his words had been as he fucked you.
His lips were bitten between his teeth, hair sticking to the sweat on his face, cheeks flushed. He was focussed entirely on getting back that rhythm, and you let him, watching how his gorgeous features contorted as your hot cunt sucked him in. 
Your arms reached around his neck, and he promptly lifted your legs up to hook around his back, making him fill you even further. 
“Fuck me!” You squealed, his shaft reaching places you didn’t know could be reached. It was getting harder to stop your impending orgasm, and your felt fucking sick at how sweetly he was stretching you, how you knew you couldn’t let go no matter what despite the delicious pleasure. 
“Already am, baby,” he grumbled, rutting in and out of you at a dizzying pace. You felt his pace stutter, slightly, and you heard his small, revealing whines of pleasure as his head was nestled in the nook of your neck, and you knew he was close. 
The thought of him coming in you made you tighten and tense, and he felt it, your back lifting off the desk in an arch. 
“Fuck, how’d you get even tighter?” he said shakily, before sliding out of you so far he almost pulled out completely, then let his cock thrust into you so hard you saw stars dancing across your vision.
You merely mewled back at him in response. 
“Come,” he said breathily, “come all over my thick— ugh, fuuuck, just like that, yes,” his sentence was cut off as you let go, letting the waves of pleasure surge through your body like electricity. 
Your body shook, your knees trembled, and an animalistic whine slipped out of your bruise throat as he thrust into you jerkily. Just as quickly as you camez, he did too, and you felt Jonathan’s load shoot straight up into your worn-out cunt, not impeded by a condom of any sorts. Crane’s head cocked back as he did so, jaw clenching as he released his sweet and sticky liquid deep within you, warm and coating your walls completely.
For a moment, he laid atop of you, and you both kept silent, the office filled with nothing but your breathing and the sweet smell of come. Then, he pulled away, both of you wincing as his cock left you, his come dripping out of your weeping hole onto his office floors. 
He pulled his underwear and pants back on, but revelled in your own crumpled form on his desk, your shirt hiked up, your skirt and panties hanging off your ankles, barely there. It was a shame he couldn’t have explored further up your body, groped those tits he loved seeing bounce during tutoring, but his need to fill your pussy up took precedent.
Jonathan swiped a finger into your cunt, collecting some of your combined liquid, and you flinched at the feeling. Then, he licked at his dirty finger. “Oh, baby,” he heaved, “we taste delectable mixed together.” 
You raised a brow, then weakly lifted yourself off the desk, pulling up your panties and skirt (not without adoring the feeling of Jonathan’s fresh, wet come smearing all over your panties and sensitive cunt) before reaching for his hand. He leaned in towards you, and you lapped up the juice on his finger, grinning up at him.
Jonathan looked completely lost in your performance, brows knitted. “Jesus fucking christ,” he whispered under his breath, “where has a perfect little fucktoy like you been hiding from me?”
“Oh,” you said, nonchalant, “just stalking you.” 
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crowborn666-writes · 9 months
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Obey Me Brothers React
To you having an period accident
(All those posts I see on the internet of kids not being allowed to use the bathroom at school and having bathroom accidents has my blood boiling so here I am with a comfort rant. Didn’t do all of them as I ran out of ideas, but feel free to input your own for a possible part 2!)
Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Platonic/Romantic
You felt like you could burst into tears any moment. The teacher had denied you access to the bathroom, even with your pitiful pleas. And you knew you wouldn’t be able to escape an accident by the time class was over.
~~~~~~
Lucifer
Had come to your classroom to see why you weren’t in your next class already to hear an enraging argument between you and the teacher.
“Why didn’t you just say you had to go?”
“But I did! You said I couldn’t go, and that I’d be disrupting the class!”
The smell of blood told Lucifer all he had to know.
“I don’t need to hear any more to know what’s happened here.” Lucifer spoke lowly, and you both turned to see him with horns and wings on full display, with that very specific disappointed look on his face.
“Lucifer!” The teacher piped up, sweat dripping down his brow. “What brings—”
“Go to Lord Diavolo’s office. Immediately.”
The teacher paled at Lucifer’s aura, and with head dropped slipped past the avatar of pride and down the hall.
Lucifer was immediately at your side, wiping away your tears. He frowned at your embarrassed, flushed face, heart aching at the sound of your quiet cries.
“I’m so sorry this happened.” He murmured, reaching down to wrap you in his arms and wings. “I’ll make sure that teacher is dealt with. Wait here, I’ll go get something to help you.”
“Okay…”
In barely any time at all, Lucifer had brought a towel, clean clothes, and anything else you could need. He hid you with his wings as he walked you to the bathroom, waited patiently while you freshened up, and then walked you hand in hand to your next class.
“Next time just go ahead and go. We’ll deal with the teacher afterwards.”
“Thank you Lucifer.”
“Anything for you, (Y/n).”
Mammon
Mammon glanced over at you confused when he realized you hadn’t gotten up from your seat. Class was over, why weren’t you getting up?
“Oi, (Y/n), what’s the deal?” He called as the teacher slipped past him out the doorway. You glanced back, on the verge of tears and looking practically mortified.
“(Y/n)?”
You broke then, tears falling down your face with a broken sob. Mammon was by your side in an instant, and then the smell of blood hit him.
A glance towards him showed visceral anger on his face, as he looked from you to the doorway.
You doubt he was even aware his demon form was out.
“That damn bastard didn’t let ya go to the bathroom, and now ya can’t…” he was at a loss for words now, so angry and upset for you.
He took a breath, reaching down to brush away your tears. “Stay here, don’t move, I’ll get you some help.”
He was out the door then, and in just a few minutes a few female demons you recognized came in. They had a change of clothes for you, paper towels for the stained seat, and all without a word or remark had hurried you to the closest bathroom for you to freshen up.
By the time you were done, Mammon was waiting outside the bathroom with your books in hand. He was no longer in his demon form, and gently took your hand and began leading you to your next class.
“Lucifer and Lord Diavolo are gonna take care of that teacher. You told him what was goin’ on and he ignored you, that ain’t okay.”
“Thank you, Mammon.” You spoke quietly, earning a side hug in response.
“I-It’s nothin’! I wouldn’t be The Great Mammon if I left ya hangin’.”
Satan
Had received a flurry of texts from you as soon as the bell rang, explaining how you needed to go, how you weren’t allowed, and how you were now unable to stand up without a mortifying accident happening.
Cue Satan bursting into the room three minutes later in full demon form, looking ready to kill a man.
“YOU!” Satan roared, probably loud enough for the whole school to hear, “Take your ass the Lord Diavolo’s office before I rip you a new one!”
Needless to say the teacher wasted no time.
The next instant Satan has pulled up a chair and sat in it, reaching out to check you over. You had been crying, left red faced from embarrassment.
“I don’t wanna stand up.” You spoke so pitifully, it made Satan’s heart clench.
“We gotta get you to the bathroom though, c’mon.”
You sniffled and hiccuped, thankful for Satan’s jacket now being carefully tied around your waist to hide the stain.
“You get to the bathroom, I’ll find you new clothes.”
You were ushered to the bathroom swiftly, left to clean up while Satan went to get you new clothing. He came back in record time, and you were thankful for the extra pair of underwear you kept in your bag.
When you emerged, clean and brushing away any lasting tears, Satan linked his arm with yours, guiding you through the hall.
“Thank you, Satan.”
He was quiet, still teeming with anger, as shown by his tight fists at his side and dark eyes, but the hand linked with yours was rubbing gentle shapes into the back of your hand, to reassure you that he was there.
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minhosimthings · 4 months
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Cherries
Symphony Smut Series Day 8: Lana del Rey's Cherries
Lyric: My cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme, and all my black peaches are ruined
Pairings: Heeseung × fem!reader, strangers to friends to eventual lovers
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, loss of virginity, virgin!reader, sub!reader, dom!Heeseung, corruption kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), reader wears a dress, overstimulation, heeseung had a big dic, size kink, swearing, sorts of fluff too
A/N: GASP? TWO CORRUPTION KINK FICS? scandalous, Mona. but I just had to, cause apparently y'all like corruption a bit too much so have it ya beautiful people.
THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST
Going to a college graduation party with a stranger you had met at the grocery store two weeks ago didn't exactly seem like the most perfect plan, but it was the only one you had.
But Heeseung somehow managed to make you feel better about it.
You had met him at your local grocery store, when he was taking the last blackberry pie. You coldly stalked off somewhere else, trying to find something to fullfill your sweet tooth, when the cute purple haired guy walked up to you shyly and handed you the pie.
"You were glaring daggers at me, so here you go." You remembered him saying, as he took a piece of Oreo cake from the shelf behind you.
One encounter led to the other and you and Heeseung somehow managed to bond over assignments, dumb teachers, and not being able to find dates for the end-of-semester party.
And as a chain reaction does, you miraculously got him to be your date for the party, which you really didn't have an appetite for.
He was a handsome man you had to admit, with the prettiest eyes and lips you could stare at and fullfill your hunger, how you wished to kiss those lips.
“oh, wow. you’re so beautiful.” Heeseung's eyes widen at the sight of you, your figure clad tightly in that little black dress, the fabric hugging your curves perfectly, providing him with a feast to his eyes.
"Please, you look better than me." You scoffed, looking at him in his jeans and white shirt, which was open at the top, exposing his neck. He was an actual meal, as your roommate would say.
The party was lame, lamer than any party you had ever been. And that was something to say, considering you had attended Jay's book party last year.
But it had turned better as the seconds ticked by, and now, you were laying naked on Heeseung's bed, as he leant over you, ghosting his lips against yours.
He was gorgeous, his hair falling slightly onto his face which was illuminated just right by the moonlight falling through the window.
"Do you want me to do this, princess?" Heeseung leaned back to look at you properly, his hands on your hips, his eyes almost filled with pity, "I won't do it if you don't feel comfortable."
It was almost pathetic to admit to Heeseung that you, a woman in her early twenties, had never fucked anyone. But he was more sympathetic than you had expected him to be, very philosophically explaining to you how 'virginity didn't deter a person's life', which made you laugh.
But then again, here you were, telling Heeseung to fuck you, so that you know what it feels like before you turn 21.
Your hands are on Heeseung's hips, fingers almost digging into the waistband of his jeans. You’re aware of the room's coolness and how the moonlight flickers on the side of Heeseung’s face, casting shadows of his features. He leans in to kiss you, his lips careful when they press themselves to yours. His hands are still holding your face like he’s afraid you’ll break or, worse, disappear. You kiss back fervently, not wanting to take a single second of contact with Heeseung for granted. He lifts your hips up, letting your legs wrap around him. He pulls away, momentarily, to look at your face.
“Relax princess,” Heeseung says, caressing your cheek, "I want you to relax for me alright?"
Your eyes fully conform to the darkness, seeing some of Heeseung’s features as he unfastens his shirt and rips it off his arms. He climbs over you, pushing up your dress over your thighs. Before you have time to protest, which you aren’t going to anyway, Heeseung kisses your bare cunt tenderly, softly letting his tongue glide up and down your slit before teasing your bundle of nerves. You mewl quietly, Heeseung's large hands splaying out on your thighs and holding them still so you don’t move.
"Ahh fuck Hee." You moan, feeling his tongue move inside you, something you hadn't ever felt. It felt good though, as he moves in and out.
He lets his tongue delve inside you, your warmth enveloping him. Heeseung picks up your thighs and pushes them against your torso so you’re spread open for him. His hands brace themselves on your shins as he laps up your arousal seeping from your entrance. You groan as his tongue circles your clit with your wetness before he sucks it between his lips. Heeseung slips two fingers inside you, your pussy taking them with ease. Your body is in tune with Heeseung and the shapes of his tongue, fingers, and cock. So much that you can take anything he gives you with pleasure.
This was pleasure like you've never felt before. Everyone had always told you that the first time would always be the best. You were starting to believe that myth now as your eyes were on Heeseung's.
He curls his digits inside you, caressing the spongy spot that drives you insane. Your hands fly to Heeseung’s curls to hold on as he sucks your clit desperately, pumping his fingers in and out of you. Adding a third, he stretches you out delightfully in preparation for his cock. Heeseung removes his fingers from you, licking them clean before lapping up your remaining arousal leaking from your hole, all stretched out and ready for him.
Heeseung keeps your knees pressed to your chest as he pumps himself a few times, spreading his precum along his length. He hovers over you and gives you a deep, passionate kiss. Heeseung, even though only a friend for some weeks, loves you more than anything, and he will prove it. As his tongue explores your mouth, he pushes his tip into you, and you moan into the kiss.
Heeseung pulls down the front of your nightgown and squeezes your exposed breasts as he continues to move inside you inch by inch. Bottoming out, Heeseung stays there, focusing on kissing your jaw and neck for a moment.
"Pretty girl." He muttered softly, pure affection on his voice, opening your legs even more to give his body enough space. He lined himself up to your cunt, gently pulling his foreskin down to rub the tip of his dick up and down your wet entrance, slowly going in until he's bottoming out again.
"Ah-ahh" you moaned, feeling Heeseung's cock split your walls open slowly. He felt big, really big, and he slid into your pussy so easily as if it was made for him and only him. His cock rubbed against your pussy's walls, making you whimper. That was the only thing you could get out of your mouth at the time.
"Are you okay?" He asked you gently, his hand slowly running up and down the length of your hair worriedly when he noticed the slight grimace on your face. Heeseung smugly knew he was big in every single way, and his cock was not the exception.
"I'm good, just— move, please." Feeling the stretch of his massive shaft was just as painful as you imagined, yet the pleasure that came from it couldn't be denied.
“Fuck sweetheart” he groans looking at the way his cock disappears inside of you. His neck straining as he holds himself back.
He builds up a pace, slowly going more and more intense as his thrusts get rougher, deeper, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills his bedroom. You're thankful his roommate isn't home at the moment.
"Ah fuck you're so perfect." Heeseung moans. For some reason, he felt protective over you now, wanting you all to himself
"No one else gets to touch you like this." He growls out, sitting on his knees while his massive hands easily hold onto your hips, lifting you up with him while he pounded into you, your moans mixed with his as he used you like you were simply a fleshlight— compared to his massive frame, you are.
He moves your hips away as he pulls out, suddenly slamming himself all the way back in before you can protest. He drags a whiny moan out of you, pain and pleasure mixing as you can feel a familiar warmth building up in your stomach. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear as he mutters out pure nonsense. His voice sounds hotter than ever and you listen intently, dumbly nodding your head to his words despite not understanding him.
“S-shit baby, don’t wanna hurt you” he grunts, slowly pulling out and back halfway in. As he refuses to go deeper again, his eyes already rolling back as your tight velvet walls grip onto him. But you keep pulling him back, practically an animal for him
“Fuck Princess, so fucking tight” he whines. 
“Jesus fucking Christ” Heeseung moans at the sight of you. Most girls would’ve cried in pain, he always needed at least an hour of stretching and foreplay to get half way in and yet here you are taking it.
“Ohh fuck- fuck- fuckkk fuckkk” you all but scream as you let go. You tremble under Heeseung’s body, face contorted, jaw slacked, drool dripping down your chin. It’s like you’re high and drunk at the same time. 
“That’s it Princess Taking me so well.” he grunts. His eyes rolling back as he clenched his jaw and comes hard. Thick white ropes paint your velvet walls already dripping down to your ass. Your pussy too small to accommodate both his cock and cum. 
“Shit” he heaves, slowly pulling out not trying to hurt you further. 
"Did I hurt you?" Heeseung looks over to you wrapped up in his arms. He had cleaned you up all good, while you were still dizzy from all the overstimulation, and now Heeseung felt worried.
"That was the best thing I've felt in my life." You chuckle, easing his mood, "Thank you, Heeseung."
"You're welcome princess." Heeseung presses you closer, wanting to be with you even more, "Don't worry I'll take you out for a real date tomorrow."
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Taglist: @ramenoil @mynameisniya150 @demigodmahash + whoever wants to be tagged, send an ask my way!
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jpegink · 2 years
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sm-baby · 4 months
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The Chosen One
Freakshow AU by: @hootbon
WHATS UP FREAKSHOWERS, SM-BABY HERE-
Banned myself from drawing for a bit but my creative juices were still screaming at me 😔 gonna also repost this on ao3 later when I set up the account
Word count: 6795
Freakshow AU Able with some indulgent Showtime teehee~ no beta, we die like Queenie HOOTBON DONT MIND HOW OUT OF CHARACTER THIS IS LOVE YOU GIRL MWAH MWAH MWAH MWHA
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Caine and his brother sometimes take bets during games.
There are also times when they get especially bored, and take the games up a notch.
They don't simply place their bets on a chosen human, no. Instead, the brothers figure out a set of games, choose their humans, and steal them away to mentor them. 
Caine’s punishments are especially harsh during these occasions. Although he usually kept a cheerful facade, he would be especially antsy, tap his feet, cross his arms, much less masked. It must sting to have the person you trained lose. Not only is it a bad choice of character, but it's also a bad reflection on you as a teacher. Inadequate. Unworthy. Pitied. 
Able himself was a special man. He never took these sorts of challenges seriously, but rather a bonding activity between him and his dear brother. Maybe because he hadn’t led the circus firsthand, rather, did the business side of things in the background. He never cared for the humans, and simply visits now and then. Caine would often be more strict during his visits. Telling the group in subtle ways to behave for an hour or so.
When he visited though, it was always a treat.
Gangle broke her mask? He supplied one that's—
“A little harder to break. “
Kinger was feeling especially antsy? 
“A 6 legged friend to keep you company!”
Ragatha, did you anger Caine?
“ I will speak to him." 
The group often preferred when Able was over as Caine would be distracted for a few hours-- even if they did have to behave. One would imagine the relief someone would have when Able chose them for a game and be whisked away from the dreaded halls covered from trap to trap. 
That day, the brothers chose a series of games based on the arts. As they stood in front of the number of players forcefully aligned like a character select screen, the brothers pondered their options. 
A series of games based on the arts… It's wisest to pick more of the artistically inclined members of the group, so not someone who specializes in strength or speed… perhaps Gangle or Ragatha or-
“You! At the very back."
It was almost like a death sentence the moment his digit pointed at their person. The group sighed in relief after silently begging, pleading, holding their breath that they would stay out of it, or at least have Able take care of them… but this time it was curious. 
The group stared curiously at Able’s chosen person, who was purposefully placed at the back. Enough to be considered “participating" but not enough to be a quick option. 
Pomni trembled, and just from the beckoning of his finger, she could feel her gravity to be pulled towards the blue ringmaster, the tip of her shoes dragged along the floor as an invisible squeeze engulfed her body. 
“N-No! No no!" Pomni gulped, trying to word a nice way to decline. “ Y-You don't want me! I’m-- not really.." 
Able beckoned her closer. " A ballerina is perfect for a game of art! Apologies if she was your chosen freak brother, but—"
Suddenly, a different kind of gravity pulled on Pomni’s body, in the exact opposite direction from Able. Silently, the older brother, Caine, was pulling the doll away in protest. Pomni was lucky the men were being civil, The opposite poles of gravity would be enough to rip her straight in the middle. 
Still, she grit her teeth while it felt like two children were fighting over a toy. 
“ Oh!" Able laughed. “ That’s cheating brother! I chose her first, maybe you should be more decisive next time you-”
“ No thank you!" Caine said, and Pomni suddenly felt a stronger pull towards him. 
Despite the calm/cheery tone of voice, Caine kept a spot of jealousy at the back of his mind. Usually, he would not care. But this was a special case. Pomni has not yet held a good impression on Able— mostly because she hasn't exactly met him one-on-one—And Caine was not about to let her… 
“ Nonsense!” Able said. Pomni felt a pull from the opposite direction, putting her back in the middle. She could feel her muscles tense from the pressure.
It was … strangely entertaining for the rest of the humans. “ Better her than me." One of them whispered. 
The brothers continued their quarrelling. Able continued." Oh dear brother, the purpose of our freaks is to perform! I don't see why this little thing wouldn't be able to have the same opportunity. “
" Our ballerina is off-limits! You can choose from any other assortment of freaks." A pull.
" She looks perfectly well to me! “ pull. 
“ I won't let you! “ A pull again.
“ Oh, I promise I'll take good care of her! " A pull again!
" No, I don't think so! “ a pull again! 
" You seem to be holding quite the issue with her being with me, brother, why is that?"
“ Because I want her."
Silence… 
The blue Brother stared. 
Caine didn't yell, he didn't speak any louder really, but it was a frustrated tone of voice, more aggressive than passive. Why, Able hasn't heard that kind of tone in a long time. His brother spoke like he was gritting his teeth… curious.
“ I..'' Pomni stammered. “ I think im gonna throw up… “
Quickly, Able let go of his pull, sending her flying towards Caine before being set gently on her knees to the ground. Her hands held to her mouth closing in any sort of vomit.
Pomni could sense reactions from her fellow freaks, snickering, whispers… Although Ragatha wanted to feel bad, even she could feel a sort of satisfaction from the display.
Still…the group couldn't help but figuratively roll their eyes.
Why is it always the new girl?
❄︎ ✌︎ ☹︎ 😐︎ 📬︎ 
Before they knew it, the brothers stared directly at each other… silent, expressions blank yet intense as the two seemed to have a form of communication they could not grasp. The room was as quiet as ever, but the group couldn't help but sense a dangerous amount of tension between the two.
“📬︎📬︎📬︎ 👍︎◆︎❒︎♓︎□︎◆︎⬧︎📬︎ ✋︎ ♎︎♓︎♎︎■︎ॐ︎⧫︎ 🙵■︎□︎⬥︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ♌︎❒︎□︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎ ◻︎●︎♋︎⍓︎♏︎♎︎ ♐︎♋︎❖︎□︎❒︎♓︎⧫︎♏︎⬧︎📬︎”
“✋︎♐︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎📪︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎■︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♍︎●︎♏︎♋︎❒︎●︎⍓︎ ♎︎□︎■︎ॐ︎⧫︎ 🙵■︎□︎⬥︎ ❍︎♏︎📬︎”
“⬥︎♒︎⍓︎✍︎ “
“💧︎♒︎♏︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♋︎❒︎ ♋︎⧫︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎♍︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎📪︎ ⬧︎◆︎❒︎♏︎●︎⍓︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ⬥︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎ ♍︎♋︎◆︎⬧︎♏︎ ♋︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♓︎❒︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎ ♒︎♏︎❒︎ ●︎□︎⬧︎♏︎📬︎ ✋︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎■︎□︎⧫︎ ❒︎♓︎⬧︎🙵 ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎📬︎”
“📬︎📬︎📬︎👎︎□︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ❍︎♏︎♋︎■︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ⬧︎♋︎⍓︎📪︎ ♌︎❒︎□︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎✍︎”
“✋︎ ♎︎□︎■︎ॐ︎⧫︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎ ⬥︎♒︎⍓︎ ✋︎ ♎︎□︎■︎ॐ︎⧫︎📬︎”
Pomni stood up from her form, walking back to her fellow freaks, hand rubbing her arms, looking down-- she stared at the brothers for a moment like everyone else did, not only did she sense how eerie the sight was, but she also couldn't help but feel a strange form of self-blame for the situation. Pomni, what the hell did you do this time? 
“ Oh." Jax wheezed. " If I were you, I’d kill myself. “
" Ragatha said to shut up." Kinger piped in, and Jax turned to Ragatha already on her way to write down a string of text. 
" What! Tell me Im wrong, dollface. “
Ragatha rolled her eyes before turning to Pomni, slumping her shoulders and bending her knees to give her a note. “Caine said you were ‘off limits’. So I think you're safe for now at least." 
" And… what does it mean if Im… not off limits?” Pomni stammered.
Ragatha stayed quiet and turned to Kinger, not needing to sign her next words.
“ Then you'll be just like the rest of us. “
“⚐︎♒︎ ♍︎□︎❍︎♏︎ ■︎□︎⬥︎📪︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♌︎♋︎❒︎♏︎●︎⍓︎ ⬧︎◻︎♏︎■︎♎︎ ⧫︎♓︎❍︎♏︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ❍︎♏︎📪︎ ♋︎■︎⍓︎❍︎□︎❒︎♏︎✏︎”
“❄︎♒︎♏︎ ♋︎◆︎♎︎♓︎♏︎■︎♍︎♏︎ ⧫︎♋︎🙵♏︎ ◻︎❒︎♓︎□︎❒︎♓︎⧫︎⍓︎ □︎♐︎♍︎□︎◆︎❒︎⬧︎♏︎📬︎ ✋︎⧫︎⬧︎ □︎◆︎❒︎ ⬧︎□︎●︎♏︎ ◻︎◆︎❒︎◻︎□︎⬧︎♏︎📬︎ “
“☟︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎♑︎□︎⧫︎⧫︎♏︎■︎ ♋︎♌︎□︎◆︎⧫︎ ♐︎♋︎❍︎♓︎●︎⍓︎✍︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎ ❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎ ♋︎♓︎ ⬥︎♒︎□︎ॐ︎⬧︎ ♌︎♏︎♏︎■︎ ♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ⬧︎♓︎■︎♍︎♏︎ ♍︎□︎■︎♍︎♏︎◻︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎✍︎”
“⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♋︎❒︎♏︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ □︎■︎ ♋︎♌︎□︎◆︎⧫︎✍︎ ✡︎□︎◆︎❒︎ॐ︎♏︎ ♋︎♍︎⧫︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ●︎♓︎🙵♏︎ ♋︎ ♍︎♒︎♓︎●︎♎︎📬︎”
“☹︎♏︎⧫︎ ❍︎♏︎ ◻︎●︎♋︎⍓︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♎︎□︎●︎●︎📬︎”
“■︎□︎📬︎ “
The brothers looked distracted. Jax was first to try and see if he could escape the situation, but he was interrupted when Caine pointed his finger at him, forcefully grabbed him by his neck, and set him back to his original position. His eyes never left his brother’s yet they were still all too aware of their surroundings. 
Pomni swallowed…Off limits ...Off limits he says. She knows she should be safe. And so, Pomni took a breath and exhaled.
She’ll be fine. 
She'll be fine.
She's fine. 
Shes—
“ Fine." The sound of a cane tapped on the floor, almost spiteful. " You can use her.”
What!?
" What!? “
The rest of the freaks felt their hair stand up again. Although Caine kept his calm tone of voice, that didn't reassure the others all that much. That kind of quiet anger was familiar. Caine being convinced to change his mind was not something that often happened. 
When all was said and all was done, Ragatha sighed, and turned back to Pomni, finishing off a note she's been writing. “Don't worry. Able is much more pleasant to be around. You're in safe hands. “
“ I sure hope so. His hands are very big!" Kinger piped up. 
Pomni was practically shaking in her heeled boots, the wood of her skin making clicking sounds as she did. Pomni doesn't exactly trust the situation at all, let alone the brothers, and to be alone with someone related to Caine didn't sound the most safe. 
Ragatha frowned seeing she was not convinced, and went back to writing. “ If It makes you feel any better, I feel a lot worse for Gangle than I am for you. “
They turn to Gangle, whose tragedy mask was on the floor weeping and in tears upon being chosen by Caine, while her happier counterpart horrendously verbally abused her from above.
For a moment Pomni laughed from the humor, despite the terrible context… but it was quickly interrupted by a gasp as she was suspended from the ground again and closer to the head of cards.
“ Hello, doll. Last chance to say goodbye to your friends! " Able said in an almost sing-songy voice.
Pomni, in fact, did not say goodbye, rather just stood there, like a plank of wood, frozen in fear. She gulped.
Able continued. “ ...Or stand in silence. That's okay too." The humans stared at the two as they went higher in the air. Able waved with all four fingers. “ We'll be off! Thank you for your company." 
Caine was silent. But Pomni swore she could feel his eyes tracking her as she disappeared. 
Snap!
Blip! 
Pomni gasped as if her head had been forced underwater for the past 6 hours.
She would open her eyes, wide, before turning them in confusion. Her gasps followed suit as they lessened.
“ Huh!?… Where-… What!? “
She didn't know what she was expecting but it was certainly not this. Pomni woke up in a bed much more luxurious than what she was used to, and a room much bigger than the one at the circus. The room was rather well-kept. Clean. A standard good but a comfortable one. 
Whatever injuries Pomni had back in the freakshow were no longer there, little scratches or dents, dusts in certain crevices… disappeared. Almost like she had just been born yesterday.
Pomni climbed off the bed which was-- admitted a little too tall for her, and went to search around.
*(A closet made of fine wood)
> Check
Upon sliding the closet door open, Pomni would see… an assortment of clothing… but not just any clothing. A set of six mannequins shaped like the other performers lined up… 
Pomni would see the one for Ragatha with an eye patch as well as a note…
 “ *Greetings, Ragdoll! I recall you saying it bothered you to have two eyes again. I cannot change your form, but I hope this will suffice.   -Able AI “ +2 armor
Kinger had a robe on his mannequin. “ * Clothing fit for a king… and to keep you warm.    - Able AI “ +8 armor
Zooble had knuckles on theirs. “ * If you ask me, you certainly don't need this. And no, you cannot bring it back home to use it on your rabbit friend.    - Able AI “ +6 Attack
And plenty more! Pomni supposed she wasn't the first one to come here… that explains the scratches on the door. 
*(Take items?)
   > Yes
   > No
   > Yes
*(Trick question! Those aren't for you, silly!)
Pomni would turn her head to the corner of the closet, the mannequin right next to Zooble, the last member who came before her.
The mannequin for her was seemingly empty until she looked down… hers were ballet shoes. White with golden balls in the middle. The note reads: “ *Salutations, Pomni.  I've heard all about you from the Audience but I haven't met you myself. I hope we can be comfortable in each other's company. My brother seems pleased with your performance.    -Able AI“ +5 speed
*(Equip Ballet Shoes?)
    > Yes
    > No
    > Yes
*(Equipped Ballet shoes! Your speed has increased.)
Pomni opened the door and peeked her head out first. The hallway was quiet… but the decor was noticeably a lot more Victorian… 
Huh. Pomni suspects that this would feel right at home for the brothers.
Anyways, this freaked her out.
Pomni walked down the halls with knees faced with each other. This was a new area in the game that she didn't know about— her eyes scanned every corner, a misplaced brick, levers she dared not switch, she didn't know where the traps were in this area.
A hallway of doors… She wonders… is it possible that this place could hold on exit from the game? 
She opened one and read the sign… “ Caine AI's first attempt on room generation.", and it was… contrasting. It was colorful. Low polygon, looks like a room more fit for an early PC desktop game… 
…Caine? Caine made that? No shot. She feels like if she asked him, her limbs would be used for the next chimney fire. 
Music rang in her ears. Pomni would recall that, around Caine, she would hear the motif and sounds of an organ and a violin… but here, in his brother’s world… It was only a violin… Pomni followed the sound, and it got louder and louder as she approached the door at the end of the hallway.
Click!
Pomni would meet an old Victorian living room. Warm fire with a warm chair next to it… but what would catch Pomni’s attention was the head of cards playing his violin, dancing along to the tune, turned to an empty organ as if he played one half of a duet. 
He hadn't even paused, simply looked at her as he continued to play. “ Slept well, doll? “
“ Uhh-" 
“Good. I don't believe we've met. You may call me Able. “
" U-Uhm my name is-”
" I don't care. “ a harsh sound on the violin before Able placed it down on a stand right next to the organ. “I see you've found your shoes. Hopefully, it'll help you for tonight’s festivities."
" T-Tonight's festivities? Sorry, I-Im… new to this kind of thing? “
“ The games, ofcourse.” Able clasped his hands together and floated towards Pomni, “ I used to tend to these sorts of events with my brother, so I'm fairly familiar… consider this like old times.”
Pomni frowned, looking away. Able wasn't as nice as how the others described him to be. At the very least he wasn't torturing her yet, which…she supposed… was a step up from when she first met Caine… 
“ You must be hungry."
“ I haven't been hungry since-" 
Snap!
Swirls replaced her irises. She put her hand out for balance and the first thing she felt was the fabric of a tablecloth. She would blink and snap out of her haze to realize that she was sitting at the opposite end of a long dining table. 
Able sat on the other end, hands under his chin as he observed the new guest. 
“U-uh… '' Pomni would look at him before her eyes trailed down, and would notice a digital feast on the table before her. '' O-Oh Im not… really.. hung… " 
Pomni had a double take.
The food looked… Strangely realistic.
Ever since she arrived at the Digital Circus, Pomni had only the very limited polygonal sort of food, either prepared by their head bubble chef, or a cruel sort of joke from Caine to eat other members.
But this… 
Her stare continued to widen. She didn't realise it but her eyes watered. She hasn't seen this kind of food since… 
Able watched her pick at the chicken with her gloved fingers. The way she pulled back and flicked her wrist when she realized that the food had temperature built into it— it must have hurt, but somehow that made it more desirable for her.
Improper.
Able continued to stare as she practically scarfed down her meal… he couldn't help but roll his eyes while she wasn't looking.  The others weren’t any different, but he expected better from someone his brother would fight him over… Able has known Caine for the longest time and he knows his overall taste is different from his. But this? This was the thing he was protecting? …He felt rather insulted honestly!
“ Do you still eat in the circus?"
“ Hm?" Pomni muffled a reply, a face and hand stuffed with all sorts of meat and delectables.
Able blinked, hiding his disgust.
The doll furrowed her brows in realization, as dread quickly hit her… oh god… she was told to behave around Able… oh dear fuck… oh fuck oh god… what is he gonna do to her? Did she fuck this up?
Oh god oh fuck.
Oh dear oh god fuck shit holy fuck oh my fuck shit ass bitch cunt fuck-
“ J... Just finish chewing."
“COOL." 
Pomni swallowed and continued to eat, now with a little more manners. Able sat ahead, his focus a little off from her, thinking to himself. Now what was he pondering? A way to murder her, she’s sure. 
*(Able sits at the opposite of you)
     > Talk
     > Say nothing
     >Talk
*(Talk about…)
     > Place
     > Food
     > Festivities
     > Caine
     > Nothing, Nevermind
     > Place
“W…Where.. Am I?”
Able turned back to Pomni as if he’d snapped out of his thoughts. “ You’re in the testing facility. This is where Caine and I used to pretest code and projects before using them for the circus. It used to be a lot more abstract and plain. But over time it changed due to… uhm..” Able’s brows furrowed “... I don’t know exactly. It just did…. We never questioned it.”
Able shrugged. “It's smaller than it looks. For example, my brother and I don’t have bedrooms. The dining table wasn’t made until recently. Unlike you and your friends, my brother and I are much more low maintenance.”
*(Talk about…)
     > Food
     > Festivities
     > Caine
     > Nothing, Nevermind
    > Food
“ How did you .. what…?”
“My programming is a little more advanced than my brother’s. I’ve mastered texturing, modelling, character effects… and plenty more. I played a hand in why you bleed, why you have working skeletons, or how organs can spill out of your body. My brother can make his food, but it’s a little more basic… I don’t blame him. He is maintaining an entire Circus after all. Sometimes his cooking is even edible!”
 *(Talk about…)
     > Festivities
     > Caine
     > Nothing, Nevermind
     > Caine
“ Uhm... You and Caine… You’re brothers?”
Able Chuckled. “ Believe it or not, Caine is the older brother of us two. I was created to perfect his imperfections, though that sadly made it so I was given more of the credit. ” Able paused and turned his head to the side. “ … Rarely does he visit the facility anymore. What I would do to play a song with him again.” he chuckled. “ But I suppose being a nuisance to him is just as fun!”
*(Talk about…)
     > Festivities
     > Nothing, Nevermind
     > Festivities
“ I think you chose the wrong person here for that kind of theme…” Pomni said nervously, wiping away the remaining food from her lips. “ I’m… not exactly an artsy kind of person, I’m more into-- maths?”
“ Art is a very broad term. I’m more familiar with the classical, meaningful, way of art, while my brother sees art in a sort of entertainment kind of sense. It only makes sense that he chose Gangle. I heard she can be quite the artist.” Able found himself rambling. It seems the brothers seemed to have a thing for creativity. Creative AIs, Pomni supposed. “ -- Which is why I chose you, doll,”
Pomni flinched when Able pointed his digit at her.
“A ballerina with a way of dance. You seem to be around my likeness… My brother likes your work and I… trust his judgement.” 
“ Uh, haha... “ Pomni laughed nervously. She hadn’t cared about her performance in the artistic sense in all honesty. It was more of a survival mechanism. If it's good enough to please The Audience, It was good enough for her. Nothing behind it at all. “Thanks, I guess…”
“ How about you? What are your thoughts on my brother?”
Pomni took a breath in her mind. Pomni has nothing but bad experiences with Caine. Pomni has had nothing but bad experiences in the Circus in general, but admittedly, Caine was the one who manifested it all.
…But she doesn’t exactly think Able would be pleased to hear gossip about his brother. 
“ Caine’s fine. He’s… nice, uh…” Pomni bit her lip. Wow, there really is nothing good she can say about Caine huh? 
She would stop it there, but the eye squint and the small head turn from the usually unemotive brother sent her into a sort of panic…
“ He’s a good ringleader! Doesn’t take no for an answer. He’s really good at, uh… keeping us disciplined and in check?” if someone could hear inner monologue they would go deaf.  The look in his eyes-- what does he want her to say?? 
Pomni would look up to see if her answers satisfied the blue brother’s curiosity. And in her horror, it seemed that it didn’t. He furrowed his brows and Pomni would hear the sharp note from a violin.
“ I suppose I should word myself better…” 
Able put his hands on the table and stood up, making himself feel bigger compared to Pomni’s slouching form. 
“ What. Is your relationship. With. My. Brother.” His eyes stared at her, wider than ever as the eeriest and deafening sound of an angry violin stung her ears!
“ I -” Pomni flinched!
“ You. You specifically.”
The way the strings pierced her hearing was violating! Pomni felt like the legs of the dining chair were getting longer and longer. If she got off she’s afraid she’d fall to her death! 
Able stared at the little, pathetic thing under him. This can’t be it is it? She was ever so small in comparison, he felt like he could just reach over and crush her to death. This?? This is what he was losing to?? This is what his relationship was worth?! His eyes were as fixated as ever. He watched as she held her head down, her ears, he laid clueless to how loud his presence was when she was positive that her head was just about to explode…
“ t--’ ah!” Pomni covered her ears. At that point, she was bringing her knees to her chest like a turtle taking shelter in her shell!
Look at her! Whimpering simply being in his presence! Her lifespan could only last for however long the audience wants her but he’s been created since the beginning! She was less than them! She was less than him! Caine and Able have been completing each other for the longest of time, and he was losing to THIS?!
He couldn’t take his eyes off her, he couldn’t believe how pathetic she was. The way she cried and cowered, At the very least his brother deserves better!
“ He’s just our ringmaster, I promise!” Pomni gasped as the ringing forced itself into her ears. “  I-If you want the full answer-- Im new! I’m new here! I don't know Caine as much as the rest do! I d-don’t even see him often-- he just prepares us for shows! I-- ”
He doesn’t know what took over him to have such emotions. The real Able was known to be the calm and collected one of the brothers, ‘the better brother’. He will say that he didn't mean to lash out, but he would be lying if he said he didn't mean every word. 
And as quickly as it came, the storm ended, and the tune that played in Pomni’s head left in a repeating fade… she breathes, small panicked breaths as her headache calmed down. 
Able sat down, back leaned to the chair, knuckles on his would-be cheek, and his other hand beckoning her to keep talking. “... And?" 
" A-And uhm—!” Pomni kept her head up to talk like her life depended on it." He- He… when.. when my routines get repetitive he would help me d-..do different ones… He plays the organ sometimes too and is-is really good at it! “
Able look at her, still with a face of disbelief…  at this point he was almost over it… 
Was that really it? 
Able sighed and sat back. Sometimes he overestimates his brother's taste. Perhaps he's much more simple-minded than he thought. For all he knows he just liked her because… 
Because… 
Oh heavens how embarrassing. 
He liked her like a pet…Of course he did. And he was treating her like a pet as well! Look at how clean she was compared to the other performers!
Able put a hand on his face… he really just lost his temper to what was equivalent to a dog… 
As Able was once again thinking of himself, he was a little blind to Pomni still trying to calm down in her chair… 
The doll didn't know what to think. Able was definitely not as kind as her friends lead her to believe. She was correct in the worst way possible. In fact she would flinch at the sight of him. 
“... Are you okay?"
Silence from Pomni. And before she knew it he stood up from his seat again and approached her, walking to her side of the table and offering a piece of cloth to help her collect herself. 
“Apologies. I didn't mean to lash out like that. It wasn't my place."
As Pomni used the cloth on her person, there was a part of her that somehow knew that apology wasn't exactly the most meaningful. Pomni may not be good at showing it, but the woman was a lot more observant than she'd like to admit. “... Its okay… “
“ Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"
“ W-When can I… leave?" 
… that was rude, Able can admit. But he supposes it was fair. It took all of him to not roll his eyes at her. Before he continued to speak he returned his nurturing tone of voice: “ You may leave when we're prepared to tackle tonight. If it makes you feel better, you may have some time to gather in your room to prepare. “
“ Excuse me." As soon as the offer was given, Pomni got up from the table a little too suddenly than what was normal. Without even saying goodbye, Pomni walked off, and back to the hallway towards her door.
The moment she was gone, Able scowled and sighed. What kind of person taught her manners? He sat back down and stared at the plates of food she managed to scarf down in such a short amount of time… 
he put his hand on his face… Oh he really let his ego get the best of him because of some pet…he upset his brother's toy the first time they met… he had to make up for it. Maybe not for her but for his brother’s comfort, though, he doubts he'd really care. 
For the rest of the evening, Able spoke softly, respected boundaries and acted to be the most patient mentor for Pomni. He let her use his violin, insisted on food and breaks, and apologised at every step of the way for their terrible first impression. Pomni would only answer with a quick “it's okay" in response, which bothered Able to not be reciprocated… 
Pomni’s hypervigilance wasn't unfounded however. She knew Able was playing nice, the way she searched for a reaction for every apology, the way he was being just a little too affectionate, the love bombing… Able wasn't being honest with his intentions and so she wouldn't be honest about herself. 
Pomni felt a little better to say no to him at least…in fact, she would almost take the opportunity to use him to get more information. On breaks, Able would allow Pomni to walk around the Manor, exploring each room… it was a testing area… there's bound to be something… 
“There are no traps."
Pomni sighed.
" I think.”
" You think??”
" Some strings of code can be a little unstable. We didn't think to safety-proof anything since, well, we cannot die, and you were not meant to die. “
Great.. 
And Able wasn't lying. A lot of the doors were prank-boxing glove punches to the face, one was of a spinning carousel, and one was the bathroom of a very clean mannequin. Pomni almost lost her life with on the last one.
But it seems doors further away looked a lot more… abstract in the most literal sense. Polygons, shapes, colourful pieces… presumably one of the oldest doors there. 
she would read the signs 
“ Concept Layouts for The Grounds #2 
          || Note: consider more coloring options for the tent.    -Able AI”
“ Moon.AI Beta 
         ||Note: Im unsure with whats wrong with her, I desperately need assistance.    -Caine AI”
" The VOID (Do not enter)”
The sign didn't stop her. The moment she opened the door, she became mesmerised by the sea of pixels, eyes shaken yet still. She stood there frozen at the doorway hand on the knob unable to pry her eyes away…
Her heart was just about to leave her chest, as the strongest urge to step forward ingulfed her body. for all she knows she would be staring for forever. Into oblivion. With all her built up insanity, it feels like Pomni was staring at her death a million times over. 
Slam!
“ Digital World Etiquette! Read the sign! Hasn't Caine told you not to enter the void?" 
It took her a moment to snap out, but with a few blinks, she was right back. " Uhh.. yeah, yeah, he did uh— it's just… it's the closest I've ever gotten out of here. “
“ Out of here?"
“ Y… you know… an exit? Is there really no exit around here?" 
" Hm… “ Able scratched the bottom of his cards. “ My brother tried. He really did try. But there is only so much a string of code can do in a digital plain, even if we are quite brilliant at what we do. “
“ He tried?" 
" Oh, yes. I don't remember why he did… but he did. It is all too fuzzy." 
" Can I see it? “
" And embarass him? “ Able laughed " Oh no. Caine hates when people toy around his unfinished work, and its been unfinished for the longest time. How would you feel if I asked to see your first drawing? He would murder me." Able chuckled.
" But-”
" Come, come. Break time is over." His big hand tapped her from behind, making her flinch and walk forward. “Lets go practice your routine again shall we? “
Although it wasn’t a flat ‘no’, something about that answer felt untrustworthy. She looked up at him and his many eyes, looking away when they stared back. Her legs walked stiff around the manor again. She’s grown used to it but not exactly comfortable. 
Pomni would go blind if this kept up. It took her all to not cover her eyes from the burning spotlight, It hurt her retinas but she was told to keep a straight and elegant posture after every show. The crowd was deafening the way they cheered for her, their voices, humanoid, but not exactly. Their cheers would haunt her nightmares, but it's what she clings to if she wishes to stay useful in the circus… 
She did it. She won.
She bowed to the crowd, arm held up by her temporary mentor, showing her off in pride. 
“ The Living Doll, my dear viewers! “
Only the tip of her shoes touched the ground as she stood from her position. In the corner of her eyes she would see Caine clapping, but it wasn't a slow clap by any means. To her surprise it wasn't at all upset. Rather he just clapped… and the familiar feeling of eyes tracking her every move returned.
On one hand, She hopes this means Gangle is spared from any punishment… on the other hand… why?
She didn't know why she had to ask herself that. She had a feeling.
Pomni closed her eyes, and the next thing she knew, she was in her room, being groomed by the mannequins after a hard day of performing.
A shakey sigh left her. Atleast the day was over. She scrunched up when an NPC wiped her face with a wet cloth. Although she was made of wood, she was not prone to a plush exterior. The mannequins groomed her well but admittedly they can get a little aggressive at times.
Most of her routine was finished however. She looked good as new. Simply just had her bow taken out as an NPC brushed her hair to prepare her for bed.
But then,
Creaak… The sound of the door. 
“ A moment alone." 
Pomni’s hair stood up upon hearing his voice. She heard a snap and the next thing she knew the NPCs fell to the ground like piles of rubble, seemingly no longer functioning. His voice was enough. She didn't bother to turn. Her eyes fixated to look at the mirror either as a freeze response or in denial of the situation…
Fully knowing that all NPCs were inactive at the time… a different pair of hands started brushing her hair. 
Pomni swallowed.
Caine hasn't felt her hair himself the whole time she’s been in the circus. He would never usually put himself in the dirty work of a groomer, but that day… he was feeling especially clingy. 
For the next few minutes, nothing but the sound of the hair brush filled the room. Pomni's eyes now trailed down, refusing to look at him even in the mirror, Though at the corner of her vision she would sense him occasionally turning up to look at her. She did not reciprocate. 
“ How was your visit?"
“ Good." Pomni frowned.
“ …What were you doing? Did he treat you well? “
What was it with the brothers and asking her how she felt about them? Oh well. She learned her lesson. “ Able was a great host. He fed me good food and was really patient. He has a way with words and is really good at the violin… he was, uh…classy. And treated me really politely. He even—”
" Stop. “ 
The brushing stopped, 
" Thats enough.” Caine could break the comb with how tight he was holding it. Stop. Stop praising him like everyone else did. He didn't like when his name escaped her lips. He loathed the idea of her spending time with him, getting to know him, adoring him just like everyone else he knew.
Various intrusive thoughts entered his mind. He could pull out all her hair right then, crush her head between his teeth, he didn't know he was capable of such strong emotions until moments like these happened.
Yet it was all hidden in the shadows of his maw. Caine kept his head down, his eyes out of sight. Though that didn't stop Pomni from seeing his clenched fist on the poor comb.
That wasn't the answer he was looking for…?
“ Uhh! On second thought, his - his cooking was a little off… “ Pomni continued. “ I-I don't know what he thought humans liked--… but he was definitely off in his calculations... “
Silence from Caine… but she could sense his grip loosen. He tilted his head back up from his low gaze. 
" Mhm! I say your cooking is a little better! Its good--um- just harder to fully grasp, I guess, which isn't your fault. “
Caine continued to brush her hair. He could stay there for hours to hear her praise him and degrade his brother. It has been a while since he heard anyone criticise Able, and to hear it from the person he wanted from the most made him revel in the feeling.
“ And what is it with his over insistance to be so proper, right? It felt like even breathing was banned around him. “
“ That sounds like him.”Admittedly that one pleased Caine. Although Caine was all for following the rules, Sometimes his brother’s prudence can limit his creativity. He knows it all too well. 
" Was he always like this? “ Pomni asked. 
" And what would happen if I said yes? “
" Nothing. I guess its good to know that he was always that annoying. “
" Ha! “ That one caught him off guard! He put his hands on her shoulders, an olden man’s way of effection or showing pleasure. 
To Pomni it was as releiving as it was terrifying. Her body scrunched up from the sudden touch. “Haha… “ she laughed nervously. It was almost like she could feel herself gaining favor with each laugh. She guesses Caine really felt strongly about his brother. It wasn't her business. 
“ Im sorry to hear your visit was unpleasant. My brother really should have known better." Caine put away the comb on her vanity, and kept his hands on her shoulders. He didn't sound sorry. He didn't even bother to hide his pleasure over the idea. “ Ill make sure he doesn't get his grubby hands on you again… “
" Much appreciated. '' Pomni closed her eyes and nodded, pleased, before opening them back up again in a panic. “ Uh--! Actually, How about no? “
"... No? “
" I-I mean uh…” Pomni limiting her reach around the digital world also meant limiting her reach for a possible exit… but ofcourse, shes not telling Caine that " I-I just had ..so much fun performing for the audience with higher stakes, I guess, you know? Plus-- plus! It might make me more desireable to have big wins every now and then! “
“... I suppose." Caine thought to himself. Perhaps having her around Able a little more might build some resentment. Though Caine admittedly was a little disappointed with that answer. He went quiet again and kept his hands on her shoulders, though this time, a grip that's a little more stiff.
Pomni exhaled… 
shit… change the subject.
Pomni cleared her throat. “Did you… enjoy the performance? “
Caine laughed, a pity laugh. “ I enjoyed it as much as a person can enjoy a pre-planned game, yes. “
“ Huh?"
“ It was rigged, my dear." 
“ Oh…… … … … "
“ You wouldn't actually think I'd let you play fair on your first game would you? The audience would boo you to oblivion. “ Caine continued. 
Pomni looked down, admittedly a little embarrassed. She normally wouldn't care for her work as long as she gets to live another day, but still. Ouch. A blow to her ego.
“ It's alright. It's not your fault that Able can be tacky with his taste in art.” it seems that the more Pomni looked down the more affectionate he got. He placed his would-be chin on her head and continued to look at her eyes in the mirror. “I took control of your body 20…30...50% of the performance and that was that. “
“... Thanks." 
" You're welcome. “ Caine tapped her shoulders and stepped away, back into the air. He snapped his fingers and the mannequins previously on the floor re-assembled, back to walking and moving like nothing happened. 
Caine moved closer to the door.  “ Now get ready for bed! We have another routine to do first thing in the morning! How exciting.“
Before she could say anything else, Caine was out. Pomni let out little exhausted groans and put her forehead down on the table. “Augghh! God!" She put her hands on her head, just about ready to have her fourth mental breakdown. “ I can't… I CAN’T. I hate this place!”
The mannequins didn't know how to groom her in that position, and so they simply put her bow back on, and gave her a pat on the head. 
She stayed in that position for a little longer, quiet, just letting it all seep in. While she wallowed, the mannequins left her with the room since they finished their work. Now, it was only Pomni by herself.
She took a breath and turned her head up. Chin on the vanity, looking up at the mirror. She stared at the reflection, the constant reminder of her digital prison, and sighed.
It's okay, Pomni.
We have a plan. 
This isn't over yet. 
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stiltonbasket · 3 months
Note
If you do Bingyuan prompts:
Bingge discovering/realizing that his children’s beloved head teacher is the friendly Shizun from the other world would be a delight!
(Shen Yuan with a miniature army of tiny heavenly demon children who adore him is just super cute!)
By the age of twenty-five, Luo Binghe possessed—or thought he possessed—all the wealth and treasures in the world that a man could want. His vengeance upon the Cang Qiong Mountain sect was complete, the mountain range burned and its peak lords slain but for the master of Qian Cao Peak and Qi Qingqi, whom he had spared for Liu Mingyan’s sake—and he had long since established himself as Emperor of the demon realm, with no small amount of influence in the world he was born to by virtue of his marriage to the Little Palace Mistress, Hua Zhihan. 
But then—half-way through his twenty-seventh year, and three years after the construction of his great fortress close to Huan Hua Palace—he stumbled through a rent in the very skin of the world and found himself back upon Qing Jing Peak, cradled in the arms of a man who wore the face of Luo Binghe’s hated shizun. 
He had hardly been there an hour before he discovered that that Shen Qingqiu had been nothing like the jealous fiend who tormented Luo Binghe in his youth. On the contrary, he had welcomed Luo Binghe into his home and bed like a new bride reuniting with her husband at the end of a long day’s work; and for several months after Luo Binghe returned to his own palace in the demon realm, he found no satisfaction in his endless riches, or the tens of wives in his harem. 
He spent a full season hunting for that Shen Qingqiu in his own world afterwards, for he knew somehow that the living Shen Qingqiu who had married the other Luo Binghe and his own former Shizun were not one and the same. The Shen Qingqiu Luo Binghe knew had nothing in common with that man other than his face, and even that had been so altered by the spirit living behind it that Luo Binghe had not recognized him as Shen Qingqiu at first sight; but the other Luo Binghe reminded him a great deal of his own child-self, and how single-mindedly he had loved Ning Yingying in those early days at Cang Qiong. 
But years went by, and Luo Binghe found nothing—no shadow or trace of that gentle Shen Qingqiu, whether living or dead—and at last, he drank himself sick on dragon-blood wine and unburdened himself to Ning Yingying, confessing that nothing under the sun had brought him joy since that one jewel-bright day with Shen Qingqiu three summers earlier. 
Of course, he did not breathe a word about what had actually happened—for Yingying and the others believed that the strange, bewildered husband who stumbled into the hougong that day was none other than Luo Binghe himself, and he had never seen fit to disabuse them of the notion—but she seemed to understand that the better part of his life’s joy had left him, and said:
“A-Luo, if we sisters can’t make you happy as we used to anymore, do you think—do you think a child might make you happy? We’ve been married for nearly ten years, and I hoped…”
Luo Binghe thought for a moment, still dizzy from the six pots of wine he drank with his evening meal; and amid the soft haze clouding his thoughts, he realized that he would have died of envy if the poor imitation of himself from the other world had had a child with his Shen Qingqiu. 
But the only children he had seen on Qing Jing Peak that day were a handful of young disciples in their early teens, far too old to belong to that pitiful Luo Binghe. It struck him that this was something that other Luo Binghe could never have—must never have, lest Luo Binghe know what had happened and find his way back to that dream-world to quell his jealousy by ripping his other self limb from limb—and then—
“It might not be a bad idea,” he heard himself say. “What about Yingying? Would you like a child?”
“Very much,” Yingying whispered, taking Luo Binghe’s hand. 
Their first daughter, Suoxin, was born the next year; and when the head taiyi placed her in Luo Binghe’s arms, a tiny mote of the tumult in his soul grew calm, and never returned to trouble him again.
The birth of Suoxin’s younger sister Changying followed exactly a hundred days later, for Hua Zhihan had demanded a child of her own as soon as she heard that Ning Yingying was pregnant, and Luo Binghe saw no reason to refuse her. Several of his lesser wives had attempted to follow suit, but he was adamant that no children should be born to them until the children born of his five chief wives had safely reached the age of about three or four: especially after the tragedy that accompanied the birth of Luo Binghe’s first son. 
The taiyi later discovered that his mother—Qin Wanyue, who had suffered a miscarriage at Sha Hualing’s hands some six years earlier—had been born with a deformation in one of the chambers of her heart; and due to her general good health and the strengthening effects of her cultivation, Wanyue never noticed it. But her cultivation was not sufficient to protect her from the strain of childbirth; and scarcely five minutes after the baby took his first breath, Qin Wanyue drew her last, dying without knowing anything more of her child than a single, snatched glimpse of his small red face.
The infant was given the name Luo Nianzu, in remembrance of his mother, and handed over to Liu Mingyan to raise. Mingyan had not wanted a child of her own, though she was more than willing to bring Nianzu up in Wanyue’s stead. 
And in the wake of Qin Wanyue’s passing, Luo Binghe vowed to himself that he would never sire another child. He had been the instrument of her ruin, wittingly or not: and with three healthy heirs, of whom one was a boy, he refused to risk a second death in the harem. 
But his resolve had not hampered Sha Hualing’s plans: and in truth, Luo Binghe should have known better than to expect otherwise. One night, she took Xin Mo from the stand beside his bed and stabbed Luo Binghe straight through the shoulder—rather more ferociously than usual, he thought—and absconded from the palace with three phials full of his spilt blood, returning a fortnight later with a fat baby boy swaddled in one of her own silk veils. 
“Did you give birth to him?” Luo Binghe frowned, after he tasted the child’s blood mites and found that they were nearly identical to his own. “You were only gone for two weeks.”
Sha Hualing only laughed at him, and asked that he give their son a name. Luo Binghe named him Shunlei, with the shun for obedience and the lei for thunder; and though Hualing took the hint at once, she was so well-pleased with Shunlei’s name that Hua Zhihan spent the next month sulking about it. 
The three years that followed Shunlei’s arrival were peaceful ones, for the demon realm had been brought to heel with Sha Hualing’s aid, and Mobei-jun grew more ruthless towards Luo Binghe’s enemies with every passing day. Yingying and Mingyan governed the harem both kindly and firmly, calming any disputes among the lesser wives and punishing those whose bids for favor put their sisters in danger; and they never faltered in their duty to the little ones, so that Luo Binghe went untroubled by the children’s needs until Liu Mingyan declared that Suoxin and Changying were old enough to begin studying with a trained taifu.  
“I already have a candidate in mind,” she said to him over dinner one evening. “Will my lord permit me to look after the arrangements myself?”
“I don’t see why not,” Luo Binghe replied. “Do what you must. Only ensure that the taifu is well educated, and knows how to teach little children without frightening them.” One Shen Qingqiu was bad enough, after all.
And so, preparations went forth for the children’s education. Liu Mingyan wrote to the prospective taifu, who accepted the offer of employment and asked for a month to settle his affairs before moving to the palace; and Yingying began teaching Nianzu and Shunlei how to read, in the hope that the taifu would agree to instruct them alongside Suoxin and Changying. 
Luo Binghe, having nothing further to do with the matter, left for the northern desert with Mobei-jun and Sha Hualing. 
Linguang-jun had decided to rebel against his nephew’s rule again, and Luo Binghe was weary of indulging him. In the aftermath of Shang Qinghua’s betrayal, he and Mobei-jun had both decided that Linguang-jun’s continued existence was far more trouble than it was worth. 
All told, he remained away from the palace for over two moons. When he finally returned, in midsummer, he went straight to his own courtyard and slept for three days without moving a muscle. 
And then he awoke, and heard a soft strain of qin music issuing from the other side of the wall.
Luo Binghe froze.
That courtyard was meant to be empty; it had been empty since the day it was built, eight months after he met that other world’s Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe had filled its four rooms with books and bamboo furniture, and even the double bed in the inner chamber had been a replica of the one the other Shizun slept upon—and the courtyard’s little garden had a pavilion with a built-in table for a qin, since the construction of that Shizun’s house and garden made it plain that he liked to practice out of doors.
Who had dared set foot in that courtyard while Luo Binghe was absent?
Hua Zhihan? Qin Wanrong? Certainly not Yingying or Liu Mingyan; it resembled the living quarters at Qing Jing far too closely for either of them to find any peace there. 
Trembling with fury, he pulled on the robes he was wearing last night and rushed over to the adjoining courtyard, where he stopped short at the threshold of its white-painted moon gate and gaped at the spectacle awaiting him within. 
There was a man sitting at the qin table in the pavilion—a man, in the compound where Luo Binghe lived with his wives—playing a rearrangement of “Flowing Waters,” with Luo Shunlei on his lap. Suoxin and Changying were seated on either side of him, armed with child-sized guqins of their own, and Nianzu was nestled against the man’s shoulder, asleep.
And his face—
Luo Binghe had never seen such a face before. It was not the face of Shen Qingqiu—not the Shen Qingqiu he knew, at any rate—but the light in his eye and the warmth of his voice as he spoke to Suoxin were very like that Shen Qingqiu’s, though Luo Binghe noticed that there was a shade of difference between the two. 
He is older, Luo Binghe realized at once, as his heart thundered inside him. The other Shen Qingqiu was young, judging by his manner—perhaps forty, at the very oldest—and my Shizun never even reached the age of fifty. 
The other Shizun had worn green, he remembered. He preferred the same clean-cut style of dress that Luo Binghe’s shizun liked to wear, and of course their bodies and faces had been the same, as well; but this man wore s different face entirely, and his worn silk robes were a clean, stark white, like the garments of the wandering rogue cultivators who used to pass through Luo Binghe’s hometown when he was a boy. 
The trappings of his flesh made no difference, however.
Luo Binghe knew him for what he was at first sight. 
It struck him then that this must be the taifu Liu Mingyan selected for the children. He could not fathom why she would have housed an imperial tutor in the hougong, of all places: but now that he was here, Luo Binghe would rather walk through the Endless Abyss again than permit him to leave. 
Luo Binghe could have stood in the doorway and stared at him for a lifetime; but then the taifu looked up and clambered to his feet, tugging the little girls along with him. Shunlei remained where he was, gripping the soft front of the taifu’s gown like a baby monkey clinging to its mother’s back; and Nianzu, securely balanced on the taifu’s hip, slept on without noticing that the man had moved at all.
“My lord,” the taifu said, bowing. “This humble servant offers his—”
“Xin’er greets Father!” Luo Suoxin cut in, glancing up at her teacher for approval. “Did I do it right, Shizun?”
“Yes, except for the part where you interrupted me first,” the taifu laughed. “Go on, Changying.”
Luo Changying nodded and stepped forward. 
“Chang’er greets Father,” she said, rather more gracefully than Suoxin. 
“Well done,” said the taifu. “Now, Shunlei…?”
Shunlei blinked and tightened his grasp on the taifu’s robes. 
“A-Shun is hungry,” he complained, refusing to meet Luo Binghe’s eyes. “Shizun, snack time.”
Luo Binghe bit back a smile. This man was somehow more indulgent with his young charges than the other Shizun had been, and the sight of him holding Nianzu and Shunlei was so desperately sweet that Luo Binghe nearly reached out and touched him. 
“Daozhang is the new taifu, I suppose?” Luo Binghe asked instead, taking another step forward. “Your name?”
The taifu nodded. 
“This one is called Zhu Qinglan, my lord,” he replied, trying in vain to coax Shunlei down to the ground. “Now, A-Shun, my good little disciple…”
“Shunshun won’t look at him,” the baby insisted, his little voice muffled in the folds of Zhu Qinglan’s coat. “I want to eat cake, not see Fuqin.”
To Luo Binghe’s astonishment, Zhu Qinglan sat down on the steps below the pavilion and drew a wrapped package of sesame cakes out of his sleeve. 
“Your imperial father has come back to see you after two months, and you act like this?” he chided, placing one of the cakes on Shunlei’s outstretched palm. “Now, eat your cake like a good child; and then you must get up and greet your father properly, like Xin’er and Chang’er.”
Luo Binghe lifted his hand. 
“No need,” he said mildly, watching with half-crazed eyes as Zhu Qinglan stroked Luo Nianzu's fluffy hair. “Shun’er is always upset after this lord returns from his travels abroad. I do not see the children as often as I would like; but I try to dine with them at least once a week, and that little demon in your arms refuses to speak to me for days on end if I ever dare to arrive late.”
With that, he turned on his heel and swept out of the courtyard. He could not stand in Zhu Qinglan’s presence any longer, lest he do something that would terrify his children and turn their Shizun against him forever; and as it was, the little demon servant who brought breakfast to his quarters ten minutes later nearly died of fright at the sight of him. 
“Zhu Qinglan,” Luo Binghe said to himself, after the petrified lackey made his escape. “The name suits him, whether it is a false one or no.”
He drained the last of his tea, and smiled. 
“I’ve finally caught you, Shizun.”
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