The Sunshine Bunny

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[thesunshinebunny]

More than just "the school's girl" - Part 4

SERIES SUMMARY: A series of unfortunate events in which you have to prove that you are more than just the "fragile gender", more than just the only woman in an all-boys school; and incidentally, put certain men who can't keep their mouths shut in their place.

CHARACTERS: Leona Kingscholar / Riddle Rosehearts / Azul Ashengrotto / Kalim Al-Asim / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia ft. Divus Crewel, Ruggie Bucchi.

WARNING: light misogyny, injuries. WORD COUNT: 7.6K

COMMENTS: I think there's going to be a fifth part, and that's when things are going to start getting more…juicy, iykwim. We'll interact with all the dorms!!

Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here

Tag list: @innocent-and-angelic @fandomlover011 @rasherawr @asakiyu @mysticcyan @ddurandals @aurorab-0-realis @moxxiethenarrator @crookedlawyerpastadonkey @eevee-133 @calcifiedunderland @qualityrabbitsoup @lilcupoftea @quirkyhero @teasfandomlibrary @nicos-sinning-corner @mxvoid26 @nico-nova @mirandatera @fruitofdiscord @arunalora @sleepcallsme @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @yasminniejoon @mousedit @katzline @adorbezti @wuturlookingat @noblognamepleasee @theleftovere @queenkaite44679 @mysticmoonhashira @sofszz @ladydoe8 @citrine-everhart @itsleleya @joeywiththeswag @echoversit @tanspostsblog @sunsethw4 @sallikesdillpickles

The training field was buzzing with anticipation.

Would Leona lift you properly and carry you the way he should… or would he just sling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes? Would he be gentle, or would he treat you like dead weight, like an object, just another extension of the physical limits he had been pushing you through all training long?

There was only one way to find out.

He picked you up with an ease that made you look ridiculous, placing you in a position where you were nothing more than a ragdoll… a very bruised, completely wrecked ragdoll. For a single second, your body tensed as you felt his hands slide under your thighs and across your back, but exhaustion won, and you went slack.

You really did look like a ragdoll.

“This is humiliating” You glanced over his shoulder, catching the Magift team giving thumbs up, and you hesitated, unsure whether they were meant for you or for their captain as he turned his back on them.

“You’re allowed to rest, y’know?” He adjusted his grip, making you jolt slightly and yelp as you were lifted into the air again. Without looking at you, he settled you against his chest, your hand gripping the collar of his shirt as that dizzying rush rang in your ears.

“You did that on purpose” You shot him a glare, earning nothing but an amused huff before he started walking.

Your body swayed from side to side, the weight of the training already taking its toll; you could barely keep yourself upright in his arms. At one point, your head bounced and almost smacked into his shoulder, but you caught yourself at the last second; the last thing you needed was for everyone to see you completely defeated, like some princess being carried around by her so-called prince charming. No. That was not happening.

With sheer stubbornness and a frankly concerning amount of willpower, you kept your gaze forward—well, backward, really—still looking at the field and the stands… and the dozens of students holding up their phones, recording the whole thing.

“Ah, fuck…” you muttered, shrinking behind his body, trying to stay out of the center of their cameras.

“Hm?”

“They’re recording on their phones” You lifted your head, giving him the most pitiful, sheep-like expression you had managed to pull off to date, hoping he would do something. He clicked his tongue, and from your angle below, you saw his ears flick to the sides, irritated. “Can’t you say something to them?”

Bold words, considering your current state. You had already demanded special training, held your ground against his superiority-filled remarks, and now you wanted him to deal with the mess you yourself had stirred up. You wanted to avoid the embarrassment of being filmed getting carried bridal-style in Leona’s arms? Fine.

You were about to have a lot more to worry about… because Leona let go of you for a moment, tossing you upward, your body floating in the air again, your hair whipping into ridiculous waves in every direction, including straight into your mouth when you complained again. When he caught you, this time by the waist, your stomach landed squarely over his shoulder.

Now you were definitely being carried like a sack of potatoes.

Your forehead bumped against his back, and the blood rushed straight to your head in your new position. You spat out strands of hair, grabbing onto whatever you could while your vision and hearing adjusted to the new angle. You planted both hands on his back and pushed yourself up.

“Leona! I demand you stop carrying me like this!” You smacked his back lightly with your palm.

“Big words for someone who falls apart on her own” He adjusted you again, now holding you up with a single hand, making a point of showing he could carry you with one arm alone.

How humiliating

And of course, everyone was still recording, though now they were farther away, just tiny dots in the stands. At least the public humiliation was about to end.

“LEONA, YOU CAN’T CARRY HER LIKE THAT!!”

And just like that, the usual circus was about to start, courtesy of Riddle’s shouting.

Kalim was the closest to the two of you, practically bouncing as he ran past the Savanaclaw students and the training team like he was in a race. Vargas followed his movement with his eyes, chuckling under his breath; he shook his head at the white-haired boy’s antics and went back to the team.

Idia’s floating tablet trailed not far behind, and behind the two of them, the other four walked briskly, their faces showing clear concern...except for Malleus, who moved in that same ethereal way he always did, unhurried. Wherever you and Leona were headed, he would get there in the blink of an eye; he was only walking because he wanted to see how this whole mess would play out.

“I already am,” Leona said, ignoring the fact that the others were catching up, and just to emphasize your already embarrassing situation, he bounced you up and down, making you lose your balance and slam your stomach against his shoulder again.

“Leona!!” You pushed yourself up again and shouted near his ear. He barely tilted his head to the side, only mildly affected by the noise.

“That was amazing!!” Kalim exclaimed, now walking behind you, his ruby eyes shining with excitement. “The way you jumped, a-a-and flew—even the way you hit the ground, it was like art!” He moved his hands wildly, straight lines, curves, exaggerated gestures, trying to mimic your movements on the broom.

He was definitely exaggerating, probably completely absorbed in his own retelling of what had been the most intense and nerve-wracking minutes of your life. You rested your elbow on Leona’s shoulder, pressing the bone right into the junction between his shoulder and neck, hoping it would annoy the hell out of him. You propped your head up on your hand, letting your cheek squish further and further as you watched Kalim narrate.

“You had that look of determination on your face! I—I don’t even know how to explain it” He brought both hands up in front of him, fists clenched, visibly trembling from the rush of emotions coursing through him; it was like watching a kid excited over a brand-new toy. “Amazing, truly amazing!”

“There was nothing amazing about that!” Riddle shouted as he finally caught up. “You nearly got yourself killed more than three times, and I’m quite certain you have some kind of internal injury!”

Sevens, how dramatic.

“For the aesthetic” You brushed your hair aside with your free hand, letting the wind play along like a paid actor to add a bit of drama to your comment. Unfortunately, your joke did absolutely nothing for the redhead.

Riddle was completely beside himself, his face flushed that signature red, turning corner after corner as Leona kept carrying you through the halls of Savanaclaw, drawing even more furtive glances from residents who hadn’t gone to watch the training. Some of them even had the decency, or rather, the absolute lack of manners, to point at you while whispering among themselves.

“It’s not funny!” Kalim had to turn his head away at the shout, scratching his ear. “You could’ve broken something”

You pouted, tilting your head even further against your hand, trying to feel every sore muscle and aching part of your body. “Well, I don’t feel like anything’s broken” You rolled your neck a couple of times, checking if your head was still properly attached to your body; a crack sounded, and miraculously, the area felt lighter.

Kalim reacted with a guttural noise at the crack, shrinking in on himself, shoulders and head curling inward, teeth clenched as he leaned all the way back. Riddle seemed to pale on the spot, as if he had just watched your life flash before his eyes, fully expecting you to collapse right then and there.

“Oi! Don’t do that” Leona also let out a low sound when he heard your neck crack, finally turning his head to look back at you.

Vil sighed, followed behind by Azul and Malleus, all of them crossing the Savanaclaw mirror and heading toward the infirmary. “This girl is more stubborn than I thought.”

“Hey! I heard that” You pointed at him.

Vil met your gaze from below, not looking threatened in the slightest. “That was the intention”

Idia’s tablet made a small error sound, letting out a brief grumble before continuing to float along. “This is a canon event, tier overlord” The device floated so enthusiastically it nearly smacked into your face. You pushed it aside with your hand and let it keep rambling whatever nonsense it was spouting.

The tablet drifted back into place, right next to Azul but slightly behind his shoulder, the “only sound” screen giving a small click before going silent, as if the person on the other end had grown tired of talking for the moment.

Azul walked with purpose, hands behind his back, watching you as if he were mentally drafting his next contract. “If you’re going to keep up these… let’s say, rather unproductive habits for your physical well-being…” You were already bracing yourself for his next remark. “Then perhaps it would be beneficial for you to acquire proper equipment.”

“Azul…” You looked at him, completely deflated.

“Yes, dear?” Azul’s expression was the same one he had worn when attempting to discuss female health in that ill-fated meeting… and it was the same expression you were about to shatter all over again.

“If you’re trying to—”

Leona cut you off mid-sentence, turning around with ease, your head spinning just as fast. Now you were facing the opposite direction, dizzy, your hair hanging down.

“She has the proper equipment” He walked backward with impressive agility. “She just needs to learn how to keep her ass on the broom”

You planted both hands on his other shoulder, pulling strength from who knows where, your palms irritated and burning against the fabric. “Can you not do that?!”

And Leona, being Leona, ignored you completely. He turned again, making you drop back over his shoulder, your stomach landing hard while your head bounced as your forehead knocked against his back once more.

“You fuckin’ bastard! You did that on purpose!” you snapped, rubbing your forehead.

You glared daggers at the back of his head. At some point, you weren’t even sure where the idea came from, maybe all the adrenaline had finally drained out of your system, leaving behind nothing but bad decisions and complaints about the bruises scattered across your body...but you went for it anyway. You lifted your leg, just barely, almost imperceptibly, ready to kick him in the stomach or abdomen, wherever you could land it first. But you should have considered that Leona was in a far better physical and perceptive state than you; the moment he felt your leg move, he grabbed it without hesitation.

“If you’ve got enough energy to try and hit me…” He pinched your leg through the fabric, making you yelp. “Then you’ve got enough energy to walk”

Defeated, you slumped over his shoulder, your arms hanging limply down his body, swaying with that steady, methodical motion as they continued through the castle hallways.

“Want me to tie your hair?” Kalim leaned in, his face very close to yours.

You lifted your head slightly, looking at him through the curtain of tangled hair. “That would be great, Kalim, thanks”

Kalim got to work as you all kept moving—well, more accurately, as Leona kept striding forward like a giant from your current position on his shoulder. His fingers moved carefully through your hair, occasionally catching on knots, while Vil acted as a second-in-command, instructing Kalim on how to run his fingers through it without making a complete mess out of the “bird’s nest”. The goal wasn’t anything elaborate, just gathering all the rebellious strands into a high bun, loosely secured with a hair tie Vil provided.

Leona pushed open the infirmary doors with his opposite shoulder; the impact made you bounce, but he held you just as firmly as he had the entire way. The journey was over, you weren’t about to fall right at the infirmary entrance.

“Are you putting me down now?” you asked, turning your head slightly to look at the beds. The place was completely empty, what a miracle. That meant silence, peace, quiet.

“Nah.” Simple, flat, and he kept walking down the aisle, ignoring the first rows of beds on either side.

“Why?! I can pick the bed”

“Considering your ‘acrobatics,’ dear potato,” Vil commented as he stepped into the infirmary, adjusting the pocket of his trousers where he had retrieved the hair tie, “I imagine he doesn’t want you touching the floor if he can help it” He crossed his arms, watching as you were still being carried the same way a predator hauls off fresh prey.

Though, to be fair, Vil would have done exactly the same. Maybe he didn’t wear his concern as openly as Riddle did, but he had been worried throughout the entire training. The only difference was that he would have handled it with more grace, while also insulting you for wrinkling his uniform.

“Awwww” You blatantly ignored his comment about your acrobatics, far more interested in bothering the lion. “Did you go soft on me?” you asked in a soft, princess-like voice, batting your lashes quickly, but your smile was anything but sweet, and far from innocent.

Leona dropped you onto a bed, and you landed with very little, almost no-grace, letting out a small uff as your body hit the semi-soft white sheets. There went your chances of continuing to annoy him.

“Okay, point taken,” you muttered heavily, clutching your stomach at the new dull ache in your back.

“Seriously, you’re a complete mess” You shot Azul a look that could kill. Even if he was right, you weren’t about to admit it in front of everyone. Tomorrow would frame today’s events in its own way once the whole school found out.

And you refused to be seen as the fragile prefect who almost broke every bone just from falling off a broom a couple of times she barely knew how to handle. Give yourself some credit—everyone had to learn how to fly one of those things at some point. Some of them probably started as kids and fell plenty of times too; the only difference was that they didn’t have anyone around to throw it back in their faces.

“Try not to push your body anymore, you’ve already proven your worth more than enough.” Malleus’s calm voice filled the room as he stood at the foot of the bed. Even with you half-sitting, the horned figure was imposing, even if he was only looking at you, searching for any sign of discomfort.

“What she needs is to keep both feet on the ground from now on!” Riddle crossed his arms, visibly irritated and on the verge of exploding to astronomical levels. He was practically vibrating, looking like he might throw his arms up at any second.

“What she needs is for ya to stop yellin'” Leona leaned against the wall, arms crossed as well, his tail thumping against the floor once, twice.

“Don’t defend her!” Ah, it looked like steam was about to come out of both of Riddle’s ears. Kalim took a few steps toward your bed, though you weren’t sure if it was to put some distance between himself and the shouting or to shield you from it. Either way, Kalim was now at your left side, leaving Leona on your right.

You slowly raised your hand, glancing from one side of the bed to the other, both sides now filled with all the dorm leaders, forming an intimate circle with you in the middle. “Um… I’m right here, you know?”

“Be quiet!!” Riddle shouted at you. You froze, mouth slightly open, brow furrowed. You tried to speak, but you couldn’t even form a single word.

“Shhh” Vil hushed you, placing a finger against his lips.

That did it.

“DON’T YOU SHUSH ME!!!” Part of your body leaned forward, ignoring the pain in your hip, though you still gritted your teeth as you moved. “And shhh your cheap ass makeup kit!” You made a dismissive motion with your hand, as if trying to wave him right out of the room.

Vil’s face twisted, even more so when Leona let out a snort that turned into a mocking laugh; he brought a hand to his chest, utterly offended. “EXCUSE ME!?”

“I DEMAND SILENCE!!”

Several souls left multiple bodies at once.

Crewel’s cold, elegant, and crisp voice cut clean through the room, slicing the argument short. Seven heads, and Idia’s tablet, snapped toward the door, where Crewel stood alongside the nurse. The latter looked like a man who had endured far too many hormonal teenagers yelling all day, for far too many years; he walked off to the other side, avoiding stepping into the conflict altogether.

Crewel, on the other hand, walked straight toward your bed, the last one in the row, beneath a large window that let the late afternoon light spill in, putting you directly under it so your bruises could be seen clearly. His expression carried traces of both a concerned professor and a furious fashion critic spotting wrinkles on a freshly pressed garment.

He pulled his pointer out of his coat pocket, flicking it open with a movement that nearly smacked Leona in the face, and without a word, placed it under your chin, examining your injuries with such surgical precision that even the nurse seemed to wonder what he was still doing here.

“Tangled hair tied into a dreadful bun, bruise on the neck, cut on the cheek, scraped hands, sand everywhere.” He held your gaze. The weight of it felt almost tangible, making you seem smaller.

You swallowed with difficulty, resisting the urge to cough, some grains of sand had probably lingered in your mouth. Crewel, of course, noticed.

“When I allowed you to train with beasts…” He straightened up, resting the pointer against his shoulder. “I did not mean for you to end up rolling around on the ground with them” His gaze drifted toward the other young men forming the circle. “Who is responsible?”

Five pairs of eyes, including Idia’s tablet, turned directly to Leona; it was a rather ironic question, considering the professor already knew who had been in charge of the training.

Leona rolled his eyes, letting them drift upward toward the ceiling, or anywhere but Crewel. He inhaled sharply, jaw tightening, clearly wishing he didn’t have to deal with this. “It was just trai—”

“I am not interested in hearing vague excuses from someone incapable of maintaining order within his own team” Crewel cut him off, stepping right in front of him, forcing him to lower his gaze and meet his eyes.

Leona did so slowly, standing his ground, not moving an inch. A clash of tension between a dog and a lion. Your eyes flicked from Crewel to Leona, and from Leona back to Crewel, noticing how close they were to baring their fangs at each other; though it wouldn’t be entirely appropriate for the professor, it would look rather bad on his record to say he got into a fight with an adult student.

“As captain of the Magift team, it is your duty to ensure that everyone ends up in proper condition” Now the pointer was aimed at him...and Leona did not like that at all.

He uncrossed his arms and stepped closer to the pointer, holding Crewel’s gaze. “She wanted to train,” he muttered, his pride intact despite the bruises Crewel seemed intent on provoking. “She did well”

Crewel pressed his lips into a thin line, frowning. “She did more than well” He lowered the pointer and slipped it back into his coat pocket. “Vargas said it was exceptional, and I don’t doubt it” He took a step back, not because he felt intimidated by Leona’s tall, solid frame.

The professor walked over to the nurse’s cabinet, asking a silent question with his eyes. The nurse nodded and gestured for him to take whatever he needed before sitting down at his desk to grade some scattered papers.

Crewel opened the cabinet, running his finger over ointments, bandages, and various things you couldn’t recognize. “But being exceptional does not mean you can allow her to wreck her body for a sport”

You leaned forward again, trying to catch sight of him past Riddle and Azul. “Professor Crewel, I assure you I’m fine—”

“Shuush, puppy” That made two people telling you to shut up, and you were in a terrible mood.

You leaned back against the bedrest, resting your lower back on the pillow, crossing your arms with a small pout, brows furrowed. The pout disappeared just as quickly when you noticed Vil turning his head toward you—you weren’t about to let him see how easily you folded under the professor’s command.

“I want my protégé in one piece, not a swollen version of a sack of meat” Crewel glanced over his shoulder, shooting daggers at Leona.

After checking the first and second rows of the infirmary cabinet, Crewel shut it and walked back to the bed, uncorking a vial filled with something that looked like syrup. The scent was sweet, but knowing the healing potions of this world, something you had never tried, you had a slight suspicion it wouldn’t taste nearly as good as it smelled.

And today was the wonderful day you were going to try one for the first time.

“Bottoms up” He held the vial out to you with a firm hand. “It will ease the muscle pain. We’ll see afterward if you have any internal injuries”

The syrup-like liquid had an amber color, very similar to cough syrup, and with the added sweetness of its scent, there was no reason to suspect it could be anything bad. Well… it definitely had something bad.

The taste.

Extremely sour, a sharp sensation stabbing at your tongue, finishing with a rough, dry edge that made it feel like you were swallowing acid rather than syrup; you couldn’t keep the liquid in your mouth for long. You spat it out. The liquid splashed all over the bed, and you doubled over coughing, the dorm leaders stepping back a few paces; Kalim far too dramatic, nearly bumping into a small bedside table from the adjacent bed; Vil even looked as if you had spat directly and deliberately at him.

Crewel brought a hand to his temple, sighing. “Why am I not surprised?”

You kept coughing, sticking your tongue out as you tried to get rid of the awful taste. “It tastes awful!”

Riddle huffed, muttering, “Just because it’s medicine doesn’t mean it has to taste good”

You waved a hand at him, motioning for him to shut up. “Shut it” You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt a sour drop slide down your throat; you shook your head, still with your tongue out.

Yes, not feminine at all and completely over the top...but it was awful.

“Try again, and please have the decency to keep it in your mouth longer” You glanced sideways at Crewel, ready to protest, but his stern look was more than enough to shut you up.

You looked down at the vial, hesitating, taking a second longer than necessary before tipping it back toward your lips. Once again, the sour taste flooded your mouth, and you stopped breathing for a moment just to force yourself to swallow it. The face you made afterward could only be described as the same one when you make after smelling something rotten and being on the verge of throwing up. But hey—you swallowed it, and little by little, you felt your muscles begin to relax.

You handed the vial back to Crewel and shifted on the bed, settling your head against the pillow. “Okay… I’m gonna survive,” you whispered under your breath, not really directing it at anyone. You could now cross “healing potions” off your list of things to try. In that wave of relaxation, your muscles started to give in, melting into the bed as sleep began to creep in.

Crewel gestured for the others to leave, and one by one, even the tablet, they slowly made their way toward the door. Kalim gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and flashed you one last smile, so unmistakably him, before leaving. You returned it as best as you could and shifted slightly to stretch out on the bed. The nurse approached then, applying an ointment to the bruise on your neck and a disinfectant over the cut on your cheek.

With such capable hands tending to you, and the comforting sensation settling in, you fell asleep.

╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌

The door shut behind the eight of them with a click that sounded like a gun being reloaded and ready to fire. Crewel’s words were going to be that bullet, and the six young men, and one technological device, standing before him were going to be the target. He stood in front of them, hands behind his back, his expression so severe that even Riddle looked away.

“You…” he inhaled slowly. “Are the greatest collection of irresponsibility I have ever seen in my career!” And he snapped.

Kalim, Riddle, Azul, and Vil all took a step back, startled by the professor’s outburst. Only Malleus and Leona held their ground, unmoving, Idia’s tablet let out a small screech, like a fried wire, before going quiet again.

“Do you even realize what you allowed?!” Crewel paced back and forth, trying to rein in the anger that seeped out of his otherwise meticulously composed demeanor. “You let a magicless student be used as a moving target, thrown into the air and knocked down I don’t even know how many times!”

Riddle raised his hand awkwardly, lifting his head in an attempt to maintain his model-student composure. “Technically, I refused from the beginning—”

“SILENCE, ROSEHEARTS!!” Riddle visibly recoiled, not used to being shouted at like that by a professor. “All of you watched from the stands as if it were a circus and she the main attraction! And not a single one of you decided to step in and stop such nonsense!”

Vil stepped forward, composure already restored. “Actually, we did try—”

“Leona allowed the training to continue” Azul added.

Leona rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, his tail swaying lazily from side to side, clearly bored with the situation, being the center of attention for so long, in a reprimand he found entirely unamusing.

“I was convinced that continuing this trial of courage and will would lead to a favorable outcome,” Malleus commented. Crewel shot him a side glance and took a deep breath, deciding not to engage with that statement.

His gaze snapped back to Leona like a whip, and the others could feel the tension radiating from the professor’s stance, so much so that Kalim instinctively shifted behind Azul, at least gaining a human shield in case Crewel exploded again.

“Does ‘controlled training’ mean ‘throwing students through the air’ to you?” They stood only a foot apart now. The air felt sharp enough to cut with the slightest movement. “She was one bad fall away from breaking her spine!”

Leona didn’t step back, not at the outburst, not at the shouting, not at the imposing figure Crewel tried to project. His ears flicked with irritation, but his eyes burned with stubborn determination.

“I’m this close to putting her in the sewing club so none of you”, he pointed with a perfectly manicured finger, “especially you!—end up getting her killed.”

Leona arched a brow, glancing down at the finger hovering near his chest. “You done?”

The others seemed to hold their breath. Idia’s tablet jolted and flickered like it was about to blue screen. “This is bad, very very very bad, he’s unlocking a secret tier-twenty boss—”

Riddle pushed the tablet aside with his hand, letting it hover behind his shoulder, understanding this was not the moment for those kinds of comments. Leona didn’t break eye contact with Crewel for even a second, as if the two of them had sealed themselves inside a bubble where nothing else existed.

“She’s not a princess” His voice rang deep and steady. “She doesn’t need you wrapping her in cotton and silk”

Crewel narrowed his eyes. “She is—”

“Someone without magic, without prior training, and still she got back up more times than any herbivore in this school before quitting in tears,” Leona cut him off, unwavering. “That girl didn’t cry once, didn’t ask for help…”

His gaze hardened, pride—barely visible—cutting through like a blade; a lion protecting a member of his pride. “She earned that training, and the respect of the team, and probably of my dorm”

Crewel didn’t move, feet firmly planted, watching as his laziest and most difficult student had taken under his wing the one person no one in that school full of rough, sweaty, testosterone-driven boys had considered worth keeping close with the same level of respect.

He let out a slow breath through his nose, studying the determined look on his student’s face. He crossed his arms, his finger tapping against his forearm several times, before glancing at the group that had shifted to the side to avoid the line of fire. “You all take this as a lesson” Riddle, Azul, and Vil straightened immediately at his firm tone. “That girl has more guts than half of NRC combined… do not underestimate her again”

Malleus inclined his head in acknowledgment. “She will not be underestimated”

“But…” Crewel added, raising a finger as he looked at each of them. “Her strength is not an excuse for irresponsibility”

Leona huffed, clearly satisfied, wearing a smug, irritating grin as if he had won the clash of ideals.

Crewel didn’t let it slide. He pulled out his pointer and smacked him over the head. Leona didn’t protest, though he did lift a hand to rub the spot, Crewel hadn’t held back. “I will allow her to train… under conditions.”

Leona’s ears perked up, his tail tapping against the floor. “And what are those?”

╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌

The sun had climbed to the rooftops of NRC by the time you stepped into the cafeteria the next day, carrying yourself with a calm, almost unsettling composure, as if you hadn’t been thrown, tackled, knocked down, and practically dragged across the Magift field just the day before.

The bandages on your knees were perfectly wrapped and secured, done early that morning when you had woken up disoriented after hours of deep sleep. The nurse had also carefully reapplied the ointment to the bruise on your neck, and the cut on your cheek had already closed, by tomorrow, there wouldn’t even be a trace of it left. Your hands still stung, but it was manageable, and your hair was no longer a mess, even if it had taken some effort to detangle it after peeling yourself off the pillow; soft and comfortable, far more than your own bed back at Ramshackle. You hadn’t wanted to leave that softness behind, much less step out into the cold hallways.

But you had to. You had to show those bruises with pride, prove that a few falls weren’t enough to keep you down or chip away at your confidence.

And… you also had to show off the new uniform.

Impeccable, fresh, comfortable, and above all, absolutely Crewel-approved; of course it was approved, he had designed it himself. The vest, with its golden lines, framed your waist the way it should, no longer hanging like a shapeless piece of fabric; a ribbon fastened your white shirt in place, similar to the style Riddle or Epel wore, adorning your collar with a neat bow; and instead of a skirt, something you had spent the entire week expecting, they had designed high-waisted shorts, fitted just below your sternum, allowing full freedom of movement, yet not short enough to risk an asscheek slipping out. No, they covered more than enough, with no chance of revealing anything inappropriate if a stray gust of wind decided to ambush you again.

You walked calmly toward the line to grab something decent to eat; you were starving, absolutely starving, your eyes locking onto a plate of rice with what looked like a spicy sauce. You didn’t hesitate; your hand shot forward before another student could snatch it away. You also avoided lingering too long, sparing yourself from the multiple glances, one, two, even three, that other students were throwing your way because of your new uniform.

“And that uniform?” “Is she allowed to wear shorts?” “Why can’t we?” “Dorm Leader Rosehearts will go insane”

And they were right. Just as you were about to sit at your usual table, Riddle appeared at your side, a book tucked under his arm. The moment he saw you, he froze. His expression shifted from shock, to confusion, to nervousness, all in the span of three seconds.

“Th-that uniform…” He had gone just as red as he had during the dorm leader meeting when he first saw you in a dress. History was repeating itself, and it didn’t seem like he was handling it any better this time.

“Designed and approved by Crewel” You adjusted your hair to the side, resting your elbows on the table. “You’ve got nothing to worry about”

Riddle flushed like a strawberry, avoiding your gaze. “That…” He cleared his throat quietly and straightened up beside your table. “If Crewel approved it, then… I have no grounds to object”

He nodded, visibly overwhelmed, just a little, as he tried to process yet another variation of the official uniform. You rested your head on your hand, watching him cycle through different shades of red. “It’s… nice,” he finally admitted.

It seemed to physically hurt him to say it out loud, though it came out barely above a whisper, so soft it could have gone unnoticed if you weren’t paying attention. He looked away, already preparing to continue his usual path toward the line.

“Want to eat with me?”

A simple question that made him freeze again, just for a second. His head turned back toward you.

“Y-you’re…?”

“Inviting” You blinked a couple of times and smiled at him, trying to appear as warm and open as possible so he wouldn’t feel pressured or overwhelmed.

His eyes studied your expression, searching, and then he sighed, straightening once more, adjusting the book under his arm. “Very well” He returned your smile “I accept your invitation”

Your smile widened as you let him go grab whatever he wanted to eat, shifting on the bench and finally picking up your fork, stirring your food to let it cool down. You weren’t about to start eating before he got back, that would be terribly rude.

“PREFECT!!!”

The shout arrived at the same time as the impact; a heavy force crashed into your side, knocking you off balance and making you drop your fork.

Kalim had launched himself from the entrance of the cafeteria like a cheerful missile, running with his arms wide open, only to crash into you and plop down beside you in one smooth motion, hugging you tightly. “You’re on your feet! And in one piece!”

You let out a breath as you tried to sit back up, Kalim squeezing you tighter and tighter until you felt your spine creak. You tapped his shoulder lightly, a soft pat pat pat, with your fingers. “Kalim, please, you’re killing me with affection”

He let go, still grinning from ear to ear. “I thought you’d be in the infirmary longer” He circled the table and sat across from you, tucking his legs up on the bench and sitting on them.

You adjusted your vest, fixing a button back into place. “Some muscles still hurts, but I’m fine” You picked up the fork that had fallen into your food and grabbed a napkin to clean it.

“Do you need anything else?” Riddle returned, tray in hand, placing it gently on the table; a small teacup was neatly set to the side.

“Nope… well…” Fork now clean and ready, it went straight toward the food that was practically begging to be eaten. “Food.” You grinned, showing your teeth, and took your first bite.

Being able to eat in peace again felt like a miracle, a sweet and slightly spicy miracle. Your feet swayed back and forth under the table, happy to finally get something into your stomach that wasn’t whatever it was you had been forced to swallow in the infirmary; that thing had been painfully bland. You weren’t even sick, so it had felt completely unnecessary to be given what was basically tasteless mush.

Riddle set his book down and began eating as well, slowly; Kalim, meanwhile, was rocking his folded legs back and forth like fluttering wings. “Aren’t you eating anything, Kalim?” you asked as you split a bread roll in half to dip it into the spicy sauce.

“Jamil’s bringing me food in a bit,” he replied, placing both hands on the table and glancing around to see if Jamil was nearby.

Your hand paused halfway to your mouth when you heard that, but you didn’t comment. You looked away, pressing your lips together and shrugging it off before popping the piece of bread into your mouth.

As your gaze shifted, your eyes landed on the book Riddle had brought. Hardcover, yellowed pages, old, but well preserved. From where you sat, you couldn’t quite make out the title. “What are you reading, Riddle?”

“An alchemy book from the library” Riddle lifted it and turned it so you could read the title.

The Art of Transmutation

You brushed your hands together, lightly tapping your palms before reaching out for the book. The scent of aged pages filled your nose, but it was a pleasant smell; despite the yellowed paper, the texture felt firm and slightly rough beneath your fingertips.

“Did Crewel step up the difficulty?” you asked, flipping through the pages. There was a lot of text, accompanied by illustrative diagrams, similar to the books the professor had lent you before, but this one felt far more advanced.

“Personal research for an assignment,” Riddle replied, taking a small sip of his tea.

You paused on a page displaying a rather peculiar flower. The drawing wasn’t colored, but the description detailed a black stem, five white petals, and yellow bulbs, quite beautiful at first glance. You were about to read its properties and effects when the murmur around you started to grow louder… and louder. You lifted your head and saw Kalim and Riddle reacting as well to the rising noise.

A horde of Savanaclaw students, muscular, energetic, hyperactive, brimming with adrenaline and testosterone, crowded around the table. Some even sat down beside you. Another inch, and you would’ve been crushed between two guys far too big for your personal space.

“Perso—perso—” You stretched your arms forward, pulling the book out from your squished side. Your voice was barely audible over the chaos.

“What you did yesterday was insane!!” “More like suicidal!” “More like crazy!” “The other guy still has the mark from your kick!”

“PERSONAL SPACE, PEOPLE!!!” You shouted, and the ones beside you leaned back just slightly, reacting more to the volume than your actual request.

Ruggie slipped through the crowd like a professional shadow, snatching a plate of premium meat from someone else’s tray without them even noticing.

“Knew you’d end up a celebrity” He nudged one of the bigger guys aside and sat next to you, taking a bite of the meat. “Savanaclaw respects willpower and strength.”

“Ruggie!! Can you do something?” Kalim hadn’t been as lucky as you, ending up crushed alongside Riddle by the other students, both of them looking like they were about to get shoved right off the table.

Ruggie laughed and shifted on the bench, resting his elbow on your shoulder. “Alright, guys, give ’em some space.”

Reluctantly, the others started to back off, though they didn’t leave the area. They just stood around the table, arms crossed. It looked like some kind of mafia meeting, way too intimidating for lunchtime.

You sighed, glancing at several of them, beastmen and humans alike, but all of them watching you with that same air of superiority, very similar to how Leona had looked at you during training. “I don’t want to be a celebrity,” you muttered to Ruggie, shooting him a sideways glance.

“Tell that to them.”

No thanks, I’d rather keep my sanity

The noise that came with this new group of bulky “bodyguards” felt like a tribal bonfire, laughter, shouting, overlapping conversations, a few comments thrown your way, all of which you dismissed with ease now that food was your main priority.

Then suddenly, silence, strange and unnatural for this dorm, fell over the table. Even Ruggie’s ears twitched as a new presence made itself known behind all of you. A couple of students straightened up, some beastmen stopped flicking their tails, their ears perking up, others stepped aside, not only letting air flow back into the table but also making way for the newcomer to approach.

Seeing Leona in the cafeteria at lunchtime was… rare. You’d always heard he spent most of his time sleeping in the botanical garden, with Ruggie bringing him food. His usual lazy expression was still there, eyes heavy, he had probably just woken up from his usual nap, and with the same level of politeness he showed everyone else in the school, which was none.

Ruggie made space, and Leona dropped onto the bench beside you, reaching out to snatch the piece of premium meat straight from the hyena’s hand. He took a bite that nearly finished it in one go.

He looked at you, not even bothering to hide the sleep in his eyes. “Sleep well?”

You raised a brow, not expecting that question. “I slept pretty well, thanks.”

“You could’ve slept better if you’d stayed on the broom instead of the ground” He took another bite, and just like that, the meat was gone.

You clenched your teeth, pressing your lips into a thin, very tight line. From the corner of your eye, you saw Riddle beginning to turn red with anger, Kalim placing a hand on his shoulder, whether to stop him or calm him, whichever came first.

Your lips curled into a small, sarcastic smile. “Say it louder, I can’t hear you from your peak of egocentrism”

Ruggie’s eyes went wide in surprise, you couldn’t tell if it was the good the bad kind, as if he had already accepted that a fight was about to break out right there in the middle of the cafeteria. The rest of Savanaclaw tensed as well, watching their leader, waiting to see how this would unfold.

Leona let out a short, low, amused huff, a sound that threw the others off. Maybe, deep down, they had expected their alpha to snap back with a roar at such audacity. His green eyes, however, sharpened with interest.

“What do you want?” you asked, holding his gaze, as if you couldn’t care less that the leader of the strongest, most animalistic dorm could go for your throat at any moment. If anything, your question sounded like you were the one ready to lunge first, defensive before any attack could even begin.

“What makes you think I want something?” He raised a brow, his elbow now resting on the table.

“Because you’re sitting here” You crossed your arms, waiting, bracing for the next move.

Leona leaned forward slightly, that kind of closeness he used to intimidate or assert dominance over new prey, but you held your ground, already a little bored of his usual tactics. “I wanna know if what you did yesterday was instinct…” he tilted his head, a fang peeking into view, “…or luck”

“Could be both.” You leaned in as well, leaving barely a breath of space between you. Around you, everyone leaned over the table, watching like it was the final scene of some over-the-top melodrama.

“Yeah… could be” He reached out again, this time stealing the other piece of bread from your tray. “Or it could be madness.” He turned it in his hand a few times in front of you.

You followed the movement with your eyes, watching crumbs fall onto the floor and into your lap before lifting your gaze back to him. “We don’t run on craziness.”

He tossed the piece of bread into the air, and Ruggie caught it easily, taking a bite. There went your bread.

“Then what—”

“I want ya on the field”

[thesunshinebunny]

by sewist did u mean seamsters/seamstress 🥲

Yup, it's the neutral gender way to name those jobs

[thesunshinebunny]

Imagine

Each Housewarden finding a little bit of love and hope in the least expected individual

Riddle - Barista! darling Leona - Servant! darling Azul - Server! (in his mama restaurant) darling Kalim - Dancer! darling Vil - Caterer! darling Idia - Gamer! darling Malleus - Sewist! darling

think of the possibilities

AND

it's a secret relationship

[thesunshinebunny]

Happy Birthday, My King

TAGS: spicy, porn with tiny little plot, blowjob. Leona x reader (Yuu)

WARNING: mention of saliva and lion penis anatomy; mild chocking

Sage Island had been battered by an almost unbearable heat all day long. Not even stopping by the coast and letting a few drops of water dampen your skin was enough to fight off the humid heat that plagued its residents.

The photoshoot for La Bonbonniere with Leona had been a complete change of scenery, even with a particularly unimpressed Leona. The outfit was what threw you off at first; a palette of light colors, pulling him away from his usual dark and earthy tones. Light tailored blue trousers, a shirt buttoned all the way up, blocking your view of his signature chest window, and a lace jacket that was truly more of a decoration than a practical garment, something Vil had surely been behind in designing.

The whole ensemble was meant to showcase ostentation and effortless style; on anyone else, perhaps it would have worked. But on Leona, it was... a choice. One that involved tucking away his proud ears and his long brown mane under a fedora.

Of all the things that could have accessorized the design, it had to be a fedora.

It was cute... all things considered. It softened the lines of his neck, allowing his eyes to be the green jewels that provided the perfect contrast, and his jawline stood out even more. But every time you lifted the camera, your gaze snagged on that hat, wishing you could flick it off with a tap of your fingers and lay bare the parts that were so essentially Leona.

Now, with the photoshoot over and finally allowed to rest within the walls of NRC, Savanaclaw was a pocket of coolness, but not even the magical stone that allowed for better refrigeration could wipe away the heat of that afternoon sun. The door to his room clicked shut, a heavy barrier against the humid world of the island commoners and anyone else who might want to bother him on his day. Leona dropped straight onto his bed, collapsing onto it with a deep, weary sigh, his arm draped over his eyes, without even bothering to take off any part of his outfit, not even his fedora.

You set your things down on the adjacent table, your eyes roaming over his lazy figure sprawled across the sheets, taking note of his breathing and how he was mere seconds from falling asleep. A sudden wave of heat rushed up your spine at the sight of him so at ease in his own territory, wearing an ensemble that even he didn't fully like.

You climbed onto the bed, settling your weight on either side of his hips. He moved his arm at an almost overwhelming speed, a growl rumbling from his chest as he felt you on top of him, his eyes fixed directly on yours.

"What do you think you're doing?" he mumbled, his deep voice a low rumble vibrating from his chest against your legs.

"Fixing this" You leaned forward, your words a whisper against his skin. Your fingers closed around the brim of the fedora.

You lifted it carefully off his head and tossed it toward his desk chair, not caring whether you missed and the accessory ended up on the floor. The desire you had been fantasizing about all afternoon unfolded instantly; you watched as his ears, freed from their prison, gave a single flick before standing upright atop his head. His hair, gathered into a half-done bun and slightly wavy from the heat, tumbled loose around his face. You ran your fingers through to undo the waves, letting it spill around his shoulders. The Leona you had framed for "a magazine cover" had vanished, and the real one was starting to emerge.

"Ah," you breathed out, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you gently brushed a stray lock from his forehead. "Much better"

His hands found your thighs, his thumbs tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your clothes. A small half-smile began to form on his face as he felt your fingers playing with his freshly treated hair, a murmur almost like a purr slipping from his throat.

But you weren't finished. Your hands drifted down from his hair to the soft, expensive fabric of the new shirt. His eyes tracked your movement, watching the way your fingers began to undo his top two buttons with a slowness that seemed deliberately meant to tease him. The collar fell open, revealing the strong line of his collarbone and the smooth, warm skin of his chest.

Now he truly looked utterly and devastatingly irresistible. The undone buttons stripped away the pretense of the disguise-turned-outfit, and the jewelry framed his neck dangerously; the gleam of the pearls was an exquisite touch against his sun-kissed skin.

You leaned back, admiring your work. "There it is" Now it was your turn to purr as you delighted in the image of that wild feline sprawled beneath you. "Much, much better"

A slow, genuine smile finally broke through his feigned indifference. His tail, which had been still until now, gave a single, happy twitch against the sheets. His fingers on your thighs squeezed lightly, spreading out to cover more space with his touch.

"You and your strange fixations" he muttered under his breath. His smile deepened as he watched you take him in and devour him with your eyes, his lazy confidence settling back into his bones now that his disguise had been deliciously stripped away by your grace.

His tail gave another slow, deliberate flick against the mattress, curling up and settling around your ankle. "See something you like?" His voice was a murmur wrapped in honey.

"You look so handsome" you breathed out, your fingers trailing over the skin the open shirt revealed. His neck and collarbone delicately presented before you, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. "Utterly hot. I almost forgot to breathe a couple of times during the shoot"

His ears angled forward, and the pleased rumble in his chest vibrated with greater intensity. "Is that so?"

"And now," you leaned forward again, your fingers settling on his neck, toying with the rebellious strands of hair at his nape, your words a whisper of summer breeze against his ear, "I can finally give you your birthday gift properly"

His brow arched, curiosity flickering in his deep green eyes, and before he could fire off a sarcastic retort so characteristic of him, your fingers found the next button of his shirt, and then the next. Your fingers undid the row of endless buttons slowly, letting your knuckles brush against his warm skin with each release. The fabric parted more and more, revealing his chest and stomach, a faint trail of hair disappearing beneath his waistband.

Leona lifted his hands from your thighs, peeling himself slightly off the bed, making a move to shrug off the shirt and the lace jacket entirely, but you caught his wrists and pressed them against the softness of his pillow, one on each side of his head.

"No" You shook your head, and the smile you gave him was not exactly kind. "Leave it like this"

Genuine surprise flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by the hunger of desire, his pupils dilating slightly. "Bossy little thing," and he settled back onto the pillow, completely at your mercy.

You let go of his wrists, and your hands roamed over the freed skin, tracing the lines of muscle that tensed under your touch, the pads of your fingers feeling as if his skin was beginning to burn in your wake. You paused at his belt. Unconsciously, you had caught your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down as you slowly undid the buckle.

Leona watched you work with those skillful fingers, his breathing growing shallow as he settled his arms behind his head. The great lion of Savanaclaw lying on his throne, letting his most devoted subject, his desired partner, worship him in the best way no one had ever done before. His shirt and wild hair gave him the finishing touch, turning him into a masterpiece of restrained tension, waiting to see what you would do next to please him.

Your lips hovered just above his, his ragged breathing crashing against your calm and patient one. "Let me take care of you properly," you whispered against his mouth, your lip barely grazing the softness of his lower one. "It's your birthday, after all"

"Then do your best, kitten"

Your lips pressed against his, soft at first, almost shyly, then you licked his lower lip again to ask for permission and slip into his mouth. Your fingers, still at the buckle, pushed the metal further aside and you undid his trousers at the same time you bit down on his lip, laughing softly when you felt him let out a small whimper against your mouth.

You pulled away from him, his body following you to continue the kiss, his lips glossy with your saliva, but you were already beginning your descent. His lips parted in a silent exhale as your lips settled on his jaw, leaving a slow trail of kisses along its sharp line. The softness of his beard, currently groomed and cared for, gave you small tingles, and you felt his head tilt slightly back to give you better access. Following the line, you moved down to his neck, pausing over his pulse, tasting the salt of the summer heat, feeling his quickened heartbeat beneath your lips. You took your time, pressing and nibbling just barely, the same way he always did to make you sigh. Now, it was he who let out a low growl, his ears twitching; impossible not to smile against him, feeling him so sensitive.

You sucked gently at the base of his throat, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "You're taking your sweet time" His voice was so rough, stripped of his usual sarcasm, that a shiver ran down your spine.

"You deserve my sweet time," you replied against his collarbone, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat before continuing your descent.

The open shirt was a gift in itself. Ironic that, even though it was his birthday, he was the one giving you this incredible and delicious view, one that grew more and more delicious as your lips pressed against bare skin. The fabric framed his chest, inviting you to stay there and drown in him. Your tongue traced from the tip of his collarbone to the center of his chest, feeling the powerful beat of his racing heart against your wet muscle. You adjusted yourself further down as your tongue passed over the ridges of his abdomen, feeling the trembling of his muscles under your attention. You halted your tongue's journey when you reached his pelvis, your fingers already tucked under his waistband, ready to pull down at any moment. His trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the fabric, your fingertips barely caressing the tips, the way his hips barely shifted under your touch, eager for more, it was intoxicating.

One glance at his face, slowly losing control beneath your sin, his breathing uneven, and you pulled. His trousers slid down, and you settled back on your heels to take in the entire painting.

The sight was enough to steal your breath away.

Leona, sprawled beneath you, his shirt open and framing his powerful body, his hair fanned out against the pillows, his ears flattened against his head, his barbed dick resting against his belly, small spasms anticipating your next moves, tiny droplets of pre-cum glistening on the tip, shimmering seductively, silently begging you.

"So delicious," you whispered, almost reverent. Your eyes wandered over his body, devouring him.

His burning eyes were fixed on you, half-lidded and blazing, the green of his iris almost entirely swallowed by black. The flush creeping up his neck toward his cheeks betrayed the deliberate control of his breathing. For the first time, Leona looked utterly undone, and he wasn't even trying to hide it.

"Are you going to keep undressing me with your eyes, or are you going to do something about it?" he managed to say, but his words came out strained, his voice deepening.

You held his gaze, your hands settling on his hips, gripping the bone, and you lowered yourself back down toward his cock.

"I love what I see. Can you blame me?" you murmured against him, another small spasm betraying his sensitivity. "Now..." You drew a little closer. "Let me do something about it"

You didn't break eye contact as you placed your lips around the base of his cock. The first kiss was so feather-light it seemed as if you had brushed him with a feather; his tail lashed against the sheets before curling back around your ankle, a telltale sign that his composure was being destroyed one kiss of yours at a time.

You pulled one hand away from his hip and took hold of him, running your fingers over the small barbs around the tip, your thumb playing with the head and spreading the seminal fluid. Your tongue settled on the base and slowly worked its way up toward the tip, applying pressure with your fingers over those same barbs.

The sound he made was guttural, a growl that dangerously melted into a moan before he could keep it locked in his chest. Your hand moved in circular motions over the tip while you kissed every inch of his length, your tongue accompanying you, leaving no space untouched and dry. He was painfully hard, and your kisses only made the fire in his belly spread further and further, trembling every time your tongue passed over his barbs.

You opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around him, going inch by inch deeper, swallowing him up with the wet heat of your mouth. You weren't in a hurry, but hearing him growl and moan under his breath turned you on, giving you the fuel you needed to move your head with more determination.

Your tongue, nestled underneath, caressed him with every movement, feeling every vein, every tremor; each sensitive spot made his hips quiver and his breathing hitch more and more. One of his hands grabbed the pillow with such force that his claws unsheathed and tore the fabric. The other settled dangerously close to your head, and you watched it, waiting for the moment it would settle onto your hair; but it just clung there, like a desperate anchor.

"Fuuck—" He tilted his head back as your tongue swirled around his tip, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn't fully take in.

You moaned around him, and whatever words he was mumbling dissolved into a ragged groan. You found a devastating rhythm, neither too fast nor too slow, allowing you to bob your head each time you pulled up, tightening your cheeks when you reached the tip to suck him in. Drops of pre-cum spilled out with greater fervor, and you ran your tongue over them to taste him better.

When you came back up, you pulled away just enough to be able to kiss him and press your lips along his hard shaft, running your tongue over a prominent vein at his base and returning once more to his barbs, savoring the salt and every shudder of his body.

"That's it," you murmured against him, your warm breath against his slick cock. "Let me hear you, Leona"

His jaw clenched, his eyes watching you, half-lidded, and a glint of his stubborn pride flickered before vanishing when you sucked him deep again, swallowing halfway down. A broken moan escaped him, then another and another, every time your head lifted until you almost pulled away completely and then took him back down to the back of your throat. His hips bucked up, seeking more depth. You smiled around him and continued your worship, letting his tip hit the back of your throat, your mouth filling with the mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum, spilling out past your lips and coating his cock and your hand. You twisted your now-wet hand, matching the movement of your head, each glide messier but at the same time more intense.

"Fuckin'—ngh—hell, kitt—ah!" You squeezed the base and hollowed out your cheeks, sucking him harder, your obscene sounds intertwining with his growls.

Your free hand slid up his body, your nails dragging over the taut planes of his stomach, tracing every muscle and ridge of his abdomen. You felt every shudder and sharp inhale as your mouth swallowed him a little more; your palm continued its journey up over his chest, scratching gently over his skin in a way that made his back arch up off the mattress.

That image—so undone and completely at the mercy of your mouth on his cock—made your core throb and your mouth water even more, like a predator watching its prey between its claws. Your mouth moved faster, going deeper; there was no longer a controlled rhythm, but rather you moved according to your desires, and in that precise moment, your deepest desire was to feel his hard cock begin to tremble on your tongue. You arched your back, settling yourself better over his legs, your ass lifted, swaying with every bob of your head.

The wet, obscene sounds escaping your mouth filled the room, hollow when you reached the tip and muffled when you tried to suck him a little deeper. The hand gripping the sheet beside you clung to the back of your neck, keeping you steady in your movements.

Your mouth worked with unwavering devotion, ignoring the ache in your jaw and in your hand, for the only thing that mattered was watching the second prince of Sunset Savanna melt more and more. You felt him tense up on your tongue when you took him even deeper, almost all the way in, your palm flattened against the hair of his pelvis, your eyes filling with tears.

Bobbing up and down, your tongue pressing against his barbs and veins, your hand moving faster, squeezing to build more tension, your fingers barely touching each other. His pelvis was a mess of saliva every time your head moved toward his base, or your lips closed around his tip, pushing the saliva with your tongue before going back down.

From Leona's eyes, you were making a mess on his cock, drooling more than necessary, the wet moans and the little pops of your mouth trying to swallow him deeper making his ears tremble. You were the hottest sight he had ever seen.

In a move he didn't expect at all, your head stopped moving fast and shifted to a slow, devastating halt. You pulled away, a wet pop sounded as your lips came off him. As you drew back, you could see how his veins were more pronounced, the barbs more prominent, and his hardness was already brushing against the edge of pain, giving small spasms at the cold emptiness of not having your mouth around him. A thin thread of saliva connected his tip to your lip, and you swiped your finger to break it.

Your eyes locked onto him through your lashes, your lips were swollen and very glossy. His chest, covered with small beads of sweat, heaved as he caught his breath. His green eyes were not at all pleased, half-lidded, and his jaw was so tight that his breathing hissed through his teeth.

"Wh-why the hell did you stop?" His words were half-growl, half-whine; it was hard for him to breathe, and he shuddered with every syllable.

Instead of answering, you sought out his hand and brought it to your mouth. You kissed his open palm, his wrist, and his knuckles, your lips grazed his fingertips, and you licked each digit slowly, demonstrating once more how devastatingly pleasurable it was to feel your tongue on him. You closed your lips around each finger, moaning around each one, and when his pinky was freed, you guided his hand back to your head, pressing his palm firmly against your scalp. Your fingers intertwined with his, encouraging him to hold on tight.

"Don't let go." You smiled at him with that cheeky grin that undid him so thoroughly, though he was far too proud to admit it openly. "And don't hold back." And you closed your lips around him once more.

His hand remained in your hair, neither pushing nor pulling, holding your head steady with every bob, for barely a couple of seconds. The muscles of his chest tensed beneath the palm of your hand; his ragged breathing gave a sharp, deep hitch before steadying itself into a weak semblance of control. His legs lifted, matching the slight arch of his body, his cock sliding deeper into your mouth for an instant, making you pull back to keep from choking.

"Enough" His hoarse voice made you tremble right down to your core before your brain even caught up.

His body sat up, not so his hips could find a better depth in your throat, nor to seize the control you so openly wished he would take, but to pull away from you, pushing you gently off the bed with both hands on your shoulders, making sure you didn't fall backward onto your rear. Your knees touched the floor, and he squeezed you as a signal for you to stay right there.

Now, kneeling in front of his bed, looking up at him through your lashes, your heart pounded in your chest, absolutely certain he could hear it. Your slightly ragged breath ghosted alongside his bare legs.

Leona sat on the edge of the bed, towering even higher above you, stripping off his lace jacket and shirt at last, letting himself be seen completely exposed before you. The only thing left were the pearls those trousers you knew were going to be such a nuisance for what was about to come. And his eyes—Sevens, his eyes—were no longer hazy or undone; they were sharp like a feline's and hungry like a predator's.

He leaned forward, his face nearly pressed to yours. He reached out a hand and grasped your chin, tilting your face up so he could take a better look at you. "Want me to not hold back?" His thumb traced your swollen lower lip, and for a fraction of a second, his gaze followed the movement before snapping back to your eyes. "I'll fucking make ya cry"

His hand slid from your chin to the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair and gripping you firmly. A tug forward made you let out a moan. His other hand felt along his cock, stroking himself slowly from base to tip, spreading the trail of saliva you had left behind. Fresh droplets of pre-cum began to well up. You licked your lips, your fingers trembling, wanting to wrap them around him once more or tug his trousers down to leave him the way he came into the world.

"Naughty little thing" his words made you squeeze your legs together, building pressure where you most needed attention. It was truly a double gift, while you took care of him, your body was getting ready in case he wanted to take you right then and there.

His hand squeezed the base and tilted his cock toward you. The hand holding you by the head guided you forward, the tip brushing against your swollen lips, making you even wetter. "Open." Your lips parted, and at last, you let him use your mouth for his own pleasure.

He set the pace, slow and easy at first, letting you get used to the new angle, your throat working each time the tip threatened to slide deeper and deeper.

"That's it," he breathed out, his head falling back for just a second before snapping forward again, watching you through half-lidded eyes. "Be a good kitty and take it all."

Ah, you were being so good for him, relaxing your muscles so that with every thrust he could sink in deeper. The hand that had been gripping the base was now settled on your throat, feeling himself slide in and out of your wet cavity, squeezing just enough so that you could also feel him shift through your throat.

"S'good for me," he purred. "Made for this, yeah? Made to take my cock"

His words made your head spin. You moaned, the sound sending small vibrations around him, his head fell back again with a growl, exposing the sweaty column of his throat, the tendons straining.

His pace quickened, his grip on your hair tighter, and he guided your head back and forth at a speed that made your eyes fill with tears. Your nose bumped directly against his pelvis, and you clung to his thighs for support, digging your nails in to have the slightest anchor against the impossibility of breathing properly.

"Feel so good," he groaned under his breath, his ears flattened against his head. "Do it again" And his demand was cracking just like his rhythm. "Moan for me, let me feel it"

You obeyed. You let the sounds from your throat flow unchecked, every moan vibrating through him and making him lose control more and more. His hand guided you so quickly that you couldn't focus properly, feeling tears spill down your cheeks. "Look at me. I want to see your eyes when I fuck your mouth"

As much as you tried to hold his gaze, all you could see was the blurred silhouette of the lion, looking down at you from a position of absolute dominance while he moved you at his whim.

Your hands slid up his legs to grip the bones of his hips, then continued upward until they rested once more on his heaving, sweat-drenched chest. He held both your hands over his center, freeing your throat but not releasing your head, going faster and faster, his cock tensing more and more, the barbs more prominent and grazing your tongue and the roof of your mouth.

"Gonna cum, and ya gonna take it all" You moaned again, louder, impatient to feel him. Your nails dug into his chest, leaving small crescent-shaped marks on his skin.

His composure shattered.

With a growl highly suspiciously resembling a primal roar, he came down your throat, his hot semen spilling inside, choking you. Out of pure reflex, you tried to pull away, but he kept your head firmly pressed against him, making you fill your cheeks and hold your breath. Small spasms released more of that thick liquid, a small white trail having escaped from the corner of your lips.

Leona was a complete mess, his breathing utterly ragged, unable to hold a single lungful of air before expelling it forcefully again; his forehead drenched in sweat, a few drops sliding down the sides of his throat.

He looked like a king brought to ruin by his subject's devotion.

You swallowed with difficulty, waiting for his cock to soften, and with the utmost care, you pulled your head away from his pelvis, sliding your tongue one last time along his entire length. Your lips came away completely, a thread of saliva keeping you connected, and you ran your tongue over your swollen lips, catching what you could of his semen. With the pad of your thumb, you collected the small trail that had reached nearly the tip of your chin—slowly, making sure to gather it all, keeping your gaze fixed on your man. You brought your thumb to your mouth and licked it clean.

"Happy birthday, my king"

[hanafubukki]

There we go!! Twisted wonderland anime season 2 in December 🥳🥳💞💞💞

The visual is amazing!! 💞💞💚💚

Source

[thesunshinebunny]

SHUT THE FUCK UUUUUUUP

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY HUSBAND

I'll be a totally menace watching them!! Just you wait!!!!!!!!

[thesunshinebunny]

Preparing myself for Leona's birthday date shoot

Me, turning around: you're read–

Wow!

Leona: what?

Me: that's...a choice...

...

WHERE ARE HIS EARS?!?! HIS HAIR!!!

That look thou...his green eyes..yeah..

I'm wet

[thesunshinebunny]

THIS HEE HEE BASTARD CAME IN THE SECOND PULL!!

AND THE SLEEPWEAR IN THE THIRD PULL!!!

I'm happy and frustrated because after all the farming I'd been doing since March, thinking I'd have to use like 20 pulls, I only used 1/4.

...Oh well... I'll save it for Riddle though I'm sad 'cause I pull poorly for Kalim and her didn't come home

[thesunshinebunny]

Preparing myself for Leona's birthday date shoot

Me, turning around: you're read–

Wow!

Leona: what?

Me: that's...a choice...

...

WHERE ARE HIS EARS?!?! HIS HAIR!!!

That look thou...his green eyes..yeah..

I'm wet

[thesunshinebunny]

Okay, okay, okay….if possible, could I ask for Leona and Malleus with f!reader? Separately So, the idea is that they're both in a steamy situation with reader, quite steamy and delicious, and at one point they lose control and a wave of their power is felt throughout the dorm. Kind of, like the closet scene in Forth Wing with Xaden and Violet. If you haven't read that novel, I recommend it, or you can just look up the scene. Thank youuuuuu

HOLLY SHIIIIIT, YEAHHHHHH!!! I LOVE THAT SCENE.

Here's your request TW: unprotected sex (always wrap it up!!) MDNI

Leona

Imagine being under his body, held by the waist, your legs wrapped around his waist and your nails scratching down his back.

One single sentence and I'm already drooling… carry on!!!

I fell Leona would LOVE it if you left your mark on him, proving you're not some easy, submissive prey.

Nah uh, we're lionesses here, and lionesses leave their nail marks on their male's back when they're being fucked too good.

And don't even get me started on the deep, guttural growls when you clench your walls just as the tip of his dick hits that one spot that makes you see stars and builds the most pleasurable orgasm you'll have in your entire fucking life.

Ah… the things it means to have a beastman fuck you until the sheets are soaked. Leona may be lazy most of the day, but he's never going to pass up the chance to make you moan and scream his name in the softness of his bed.

"fu-fuck!… you're gonna le-leave marks!" what a beautiful voice interrupted by moans.

A lion also leaves his marks on his prey lioness… and by now you already have a few hickeys on your neck, on your breasts, and the marks of his claws on your waist.

"yeah… that's the point" his fangs graze your pulse point on your neck, giving you little nips.

And the pounding of his hips against yours is so loud and primitive that the headboard is banging against the wall. He was shaking you with every thrust, feeling his dick slide out and in with animalistic speed, slowly losing control every time he felt your fluids drip from your wet pussy onto the sheets.

You arch your back to meet him halfway, matching his movements and grinding your clit against his pelvis. Your moans were rising in pitch.

Ah… what a sight it was to see your tits bouncing every time he sank into you; Leona couldn't help but capture a nipple with his lips.

Was that when you cum? Or did it help that his fingers brushed your clit to stimulate you faster?

Either way, feeling you come undone around his dick, while he kept pounding into you with that raw speed and force, your walls contracting… yeah, Leona lost it.

And I'm not talking about finishing and painting your walls white. Nope, I'm talking about throwing his head back in ecstasy and letting out a roar.

A ROAR!!

A roar so loud and thundering that it not only shook the bed, but your entire body, accompanying your orgasm and making you feel it for a long time after.

Sure enough, after sliding through your pussy a couple more times, he cum and his semen dripped out just like your fluids.

A nice creampie… would you mind doing it again? it would be the second time already.

But… we forgot one tiny detail… Savanaclaw has the highest number of beastman students in all of NRC and they have good hearing… and smell.

In the lounge, with several of those residents resting, training, or lazing around, their activities were interrupted and cut short. Ruggie even sat up so fast from the hanging hammock that he ended up on the floor.

"the hell was that?"

"was that a roar?"

What started as concern and confusion ended with an embarrassing and unpleasant realization when Ruggie's ears perked up and his sense of smell began to work wonders.

Yup… sometimes, being a beastman doesn't save you from this… so Ruggie could tell exactly what was happening in his leader's room.

That mental image is never going to leave him.

"false alarm guys… the king's busy"

Malleus

No one can deny me that fooling around with Malleus doesn't have its romantic touch. You're his greatest fascination, his light in his, according to him, eternal darkness, and having you all to himself is a treasure.

Lights floating around the two of you, the scent of lily of the valley and his cologne, the moonlight filtering through the window… absolutely cinema.

Is it still romantic cinema if he has you suspended against the wall while he pounds you like a drawer that won't close?

I'd like to think so… or at least his words are pretty.

"You're taking me so well, my treasure" accompanied by his dick sliding at a speed that can't even be calculated per second "so pretty and ready for my load"

Ah… the floor is a complete mess. Did I mention Malleus has a dick that's way too big and thick?

Well, now you know. My biggest hc is that, being a dragon fae, he has some pretty interesting features down there… among his size isn't considered normal on the human scale.

With texture! yup, yup.

His claws gripped your ass firmly, making you bounce with every slide of his dick against your wet pussy… well, wet is an understatement. It was a flood happening between your legs.

Seeing you with your mouth open, moaning, panting and screaming every time the tip of his dick reached where no human would ever be able to reach, was completely intoxicating.

And Malleus, our hopelessly romantic dragon, was completely drunk on it.

"I'm going to fill you up again, alright my treasure? I'm going to fill you up all night long"

Thank goodness he's not in his rut season… good luck with that.

Between thrust after thrust, coming who knows how many times already, you leaned forward and sank your teeth into his neck to muffle your screams.

Now, Malleus doesn't like not being able to hear you; he prefers, AND LOVES, to hear every kind of sound coming from your mouth reverberating throughout the entire room.

But this time, with a whole bunch of things happening at once: your bite, your walls squeezing his dick as you came, your nails on his shoulders....yep, he came again

The air began to vibrate around him and a thunderclap split the night sky with so much force that the windows trembled. The sky, for a few moments, lit up green.

Until a few seconds ago, the sky was clear, and suddenly a great thunderstorm began to pound against all the windows of Diasomnia.

"Forgive me… it seems I lost control. It happens sometimes when… emotions overwhelm me"

The smile on your face was full of amusement and a hint of mischief. "a-are you telling me… that I made you lose control?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you, my beloved"

See?!?! Pure romance.

The residents of Diasomnia in the common room didn't take it with much romance.

Lilia, who was having a cup of tea, almost choked when he saw the first thunderbolt, spitting the liquid all over the table.

"my, my… it seems Malleus is having a… passionate evening"

If Lilia smiles mischievously, we know the old man is going to make Malleus's life hell for a couple of weeks. Even bring up offspring

The incessant thunder woke poor Silver up, and Sebek was already on his feet seeing the green lightning in the sky.

Thank goodness Lilia was able to stop him before he could even take the first step towards the stairs and go up to his young master's room.

"I think it's best to give him some privacy tonight. How about a walk?"

"A walk? In the rain? But the young master–"

"Sebek… believe me when I tell you that your young master is… quite busy at the moment"

Ah... how wonderful it is to be young and in love. Even if it comes with a few lightning bolts.

[thesunshinebunny]

The Eternal Vow - Teaser

Tags: housewardens x f!reader

There is a place on Sage’s Island that no map dares to remember.

A hidden glade buried deep within the island’s ancient heart, known only to those who still walk the old ways. It sleeps beyond the reach of mortal eyes, veiled between secret paths that came before the schools, before the mages, before even the fae first pressed sacred names into the bones of the land. Ancient oaks and weeping willows bow over it in silent devotion, their branches woven together like the ribs of a living cathedral, turning the moonlight into threads of silver so delicate they seem spun from dreams. Beneath them, shadow and radiance shift with every breath of wind, weaving and unweaving a tapestry no mortal hand could ever imitate.

That wind carries the perfume of night-blooming jasmine, of rain-dark earth, and of something older than memory itself; a faint, electric trace of magic in its purest and most primordial state, winding through root and leaf, through stone and water, through the skin and breath of those blessed enough to stand within its presence.

Small luminiscences drift upon unseen currents, slow and weightless, as though the glade itself has exhaled stars. Perhaps they are spirits or perhaps they are wishes too tender to remain buried in the heart any longer. Their glow stains the night in impossible shades of emerald, sapphire, and amethyst, fluttering among lilies of the valley and beneath the green celestial dome of leaves above.

At the center of the clearing, moss covers the earth in a velvet so soft it feels like walking upon the resting place of the first fae, where sleep itself was born and laid down to dream. There, a perfect circle of water lies still and black as obsidian, that does not reflect the canopy above, but another sky entirely: vast, impossible, and endless, where a million stars turn in solemn silence, dancing to a music too ancient for mortal ears.

Here, time is no sovereign, and here, time is only a guest.

Here, in this mirror of eternity, in the hush between one heartbeat and the next, you stand beside him.

The glade’s beauty, ethereal and fragile enough to vanish at the softest sigh, fades into something distant beneath the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his hands over yours; words, those brief and mortal vessels, tremble beneath the burden of what the heart already knows. The I love you is not merely spoken; it is breathed into being, sacred and trembling, shared between two souls as a promise older than any tongue shaped by man, and destined to endure long after language has returned to dust.

His kiss is a vow sealed in the tongue of stardust. It is an oath offered before powers too vast for fleeting beings to name, before ancient witnesses woven into the hidden seams of the universe. Powers that do not merely hear such devotion, but bind it, and command the stars themselves to honor its terms. His arms around you become a border no sorrow may cross, a fortress raised in the stillness of that miraculous night, built from moonlight, devotion, and the burning heart of Antares, one glimmer at a time.

In the dark mirror of the water, there are no longer two figures. Only one, a single silhouette, joined and crowned in light.

The luminiscences draw nearer in their silent dance, circling you both with curious, benevolent grace. Their colors soften from deep blues and jeweled violets into warm golds and tender rose, as though even the ancient glade blushes before the whispered vows, the trembling hands, the reverent tenderness of two souls finding one another beneath the gaze of eternity.

The grove, ancient and patient and filled with ancestral magic, gathers the moment into the cup of its unseen hands. It cradles the union as something long foretold, something awaited through root and stone and starlight, sealing it with the absolute authority of a world that has slept for millennia only to wake for this precise instant.

When dawn arrives, the luminiscences cease their dance, the stars withdraw from the water, and the grove closes its eyes once more, returning to its eternal slumber, its purpose fulfilled.

Yet the covenant, written in starlight and sealed with devotion, remains unbroken.

Eternal.

[thesunshinebunny]

Error in translation

It is common knowledge that NRC has a fairly extensive translation system, and anyone from different parts of the world is capable of communicating in a neutral tongue without needing to know another language. But sometimes… that translation magic has its hiccups, its little holes in a system as rigorous as an academy full of potentially powerful mages.

If that translation system happens to fail, nothing like a dictionary from the library to solve that communication problem.

Now, when the translation of a language from another world gets corrupted… well, that’s when things start getting complicated. See notes at the end for translations

Riddle - Welsh

What is more annoying? Having to study the history of a world you don’t know from scratch just to pass an exam and avoid remedial homework, or having someone dictating dates at you every single second, stopping you from thinking?

Well, for your bad luck, Riddle is doing the second one.

Every second was a different date, God only knows about what. It was like listening to a record keep spinning, completely unaware that its listener had already turned off their brain and understood absolutely nothing it was transmitting.

You don’t hold it against him, not at all… but having him vomit dates and information you still don’t understand at you so you can learn properly, and not just memorize things, is a little… heavy.

You didn’t slam the book shut… but it was a pretty strong close.

“Aishhh, all fy mhen ddim cymryd mwy, stopiwch siarad os gwelwch yn dda”

Silence in the room.

Uh… and you also went silent. Your comment had been way too direct and harsh.

You’re scared to turn your head and see if Riddle is the same color as his hair, or maybe even stronger, some naturally impossible shade of red.

But nope. Riddle is standing there with his mouth open, because he simply heard foreign words, soft and lilting.

Sounds that his brain, packed full of rules and information, cannot process. The translation magic flickered like a candle flame and disappeared with the smoke, making it impossible for him to understand you at all.

“…what did you just say?”

You have been saved from an immense scolding, but don’t rest on your laurels. It may not happen again.

“I said I need a break”

Judging by the way you avoided looking him in the eye and scratched your cheek, Riddle couldn’t fully believe you. But… he had no way to prove it.

After that, Riddle becomes completely obsessed with your mother tongue, to the point of going not only to NRC’s library, but also to the public library in Foothill Town, trying to find any language that resembles yours.

It is a lost cause.

Over time, even a little shyly, he starts asking you to speak more in your language, purposely removing the translation magic.

The privacy, you teaching him part of your world, sharing your culture and country with him, becomes a new form of intimacy for Riddle.

“Mae’r lleuad yn hardd heno, on’d yw hi? Fel ti”

Riddle may not understand a single word, but all it takes is looking into your eyes and leaning into the sound of your voice for his cheeks to turn pink, just like the roses in the maze.

Listening to you speak for hours without stopping becomes the best moment of his day. Learning your mother tongue is much better than any class he has taken in his life.

Leona - Spanish (spain)

Leona may think understanding animal language is a complete waste of time. He may even simply rely on translation magic and never study a new language at all.

…unless it is convenient for him, or he needs to have certain political knowledge.

Even so, Leona doesn’t pay much attention to the different languages of the world.

But yours… oh, that is a separate topic.

“Joder tío! Qué manga de energúmenos que son algunos aquí. Es para darles un coñazo a ver si por fin espabilan!”

Leona’s eyes shot open, his ears twitching in every possible direction, his body tensing involuntarily as he sat up from where he had been taking a nap under his tree in the botanical garden.

What the fuck was that?

“Are you trying to talk, or are you insulting me?”

“Bueno, estaba desahogando mi frustración, pero no iba dirigida a ti. Un poco engreído, ¿no crees?”

“Whatever you’re doing, better stop”

You stared at him, unable to decide whether to smack him on the head with the book or directly in the face.

“Oh, shit… was I speaking Spanish?”

Well… that shit is new.

He won’t say it openly, but the way you pronounce the r makes his ears flatten slightly against his head, as if he were hearing a lullaby from when he was a cub.

For his nap times, he now requires your presence, demanding that you speak to him in that new and strange language, the one with those seductive tones.

He falls asleep in seconds, a record time.

But that only happens 10% of the time, when he is truly tired or had a bad day.

The other 90%, he is more interested in listening to you talk than actually falling asleep. The sound of your voice in your mother tongue is like a summer breeze across the open savanna.

Sometimes, when you aren’t present, Leona tries to replicate your pronunciation, but the r’s are too complicated, and what comes out of his mouth is more of a growl mixed with a cough than an actual letter.

But he doesn’t give up, and he keeps trying.

His reason? Provoking you into an argument so that, when the translation magic fails again, you let out a “deja de joder ya, macho! Qué insoportable!”

The bastard smiled for more than ten minutes, pleased that he had finally gotten to hear you insult him.

After weeks, he learns two simple words: ven aquí. And he uses them with a very annoying arrogance, always curling a finger toward you, forcing you to sit down and let him use your thighs as a pillow.

He never thought that a gap in knowledge about a language from another world would become his greatest weakness.

Azul - Italian

Azul has always been known for knowing every detail about his clients and possible victims, whether for work reasons or for future negotiations with new souls seeking his kindness.

For that reason… didn’t you think it would be wise to warn him that your mother tongue is not one he knows?

Imagine his face when he hears you speak in a language completely strange and foreign to his bank of information.

“Posso avere un caffè? No… meglio un frullato, fa troppo caldo ultimamente. Con molto ghiaccio, per favore”

Azul dropped the pen he was using to write his next contract.

Not even Jade, who was taking your order, knew what you were saying.

“Eh? Shrimpy was talking funny,” Floyd said, exchanging a glance with his twin, sensing something juicy in the air.

Do not let the twins exploit this information. You are going to end up in a bad position.

“Could you repeat that, Prefect?” Azul approached the bar where you were sitting, his eyes completely focused on yours.

“…a smoothie, please?”

Ah, what a shame. He wanted to hear you speak in that strange language again.

A language unknown not only to the surface, but also to the deep sea, belonging only to you.

You are full of surprises, aren’t you?

Would you be willing to teach him a few phrases? For reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with future contracts, or taking advantage of clients he wants to scam help.

Obviously, it is to have the advantage.

As I said, information is Azul’s currency, and you are sitting on a vault full of coins that he is desperate to open.

You also have to get something out of it, maybe a percentage of his new earnings, or access to the VIP room from time to time, to clear your head, or being present during those negotiations.

The first words, “thank you,” “you’re welcome,” “good morning,” are a great starting point for Azul, something to make his day-to-day life easier, more humble.

Although… his pronunciation is terrible: the r escapes him, the cadence is too stiff, and the z is a tongue-twister.

He writes down everything you teach him in a private notebook, extremely private, locked away in his own room. Each day, the notebook becomes thicker and thicker, almost to the point of bursting.

Sometimes you catch him counting in Italian while doing inventory at the Mostro. “Uno, due, tre…”

Every time he wants a private conversation, or wants to complain about some client, he no longer needs to take you to a separate room. Simply speaking in your mother tongue is enough to drive everyone around you insane.

Obviously, he is going to use this new language every time he wants to show off in front of his poor clients seeking help with their contracts, with you as his partner in crime.

Kalim - German

The translation magic could not have chosen a better moment to have a small malfunction than in the middle of a ride on his flying carpet.

Many feet up in the air… hold on tight, because I have a feeling Kalim is going to get startled just a little bit.

Looking at the sunset falling over the dunes of Scarabia, the slight movement of the carpet beneath you…

“Sieh mal, Kalim, der Himmel brennt. Es ist wunderschön!”

Kalim stops looking forward and turns to look at you, with his mouth open, shamelessly… without realizing that you are both going into a nosedive.

“Woah! What was that?”

“Kalim—!”

Okay, okay, no problem, Kalim is lifting the carpet now, stop screaming.

After that greaaat scare, Kalim keeps the carpet straight and fixes his gaze back on you, only on you, again, not caring at all about what is on the horizon.

“Are you speaking in code? Is it some kind of riddle?!”

“Oh… sorry… I think you heard me speaking German”

“Ge… Ger… man?”

Oh God, it is like being at the entrance ceremony all over again.

Thank the heavens, thank the Seven, that this translation magic exists, otherwise navigating this world would have been fifty thousand times more complicated.

The first thing Kalim wants you to teach him is the word “friend” — “Freund”

Between froind, froynd, and a thousand more variations, his pronunciation is atrocious. You don’t blame him; German is hard to learn, even in your own world.

He wants you to teach him new words every day. You write them in the margins of his notes, in his notebooks; one time he asked you to write on a napkin in the middle of one of his huge banquets because he wanted to learn how to say “to celebrate”

Jamil scolds him when he sees him so focused on this new language instead of the three subjects he is starting to struggle with.

But Kalim isn’t learning just any new language, he is learning your language, and that inspires him even more.

He has even written words on the palms of his hands and pointed at each food with its corresponding word.

The most chaotic moment of his learning comes during a huge party in his dorm, after many songs, endless dances, and way too much food. He takes your hands and announces at the top of his lungs, “Ich liebe dich!”

His comment echoes through the whole lounge, and even though all his residents stare at him, not understanding what mystical words their housewarden has just pronounced… your cheeks are completely red.

“Kalim… do you know what that means?”

“Of course, you taught me! ‘You’re my favorite person.’”

That is not what it means!!

Vil - Russian

Let’s keep in mind that during a skincare routine, people usually don’t talk. They simply let themselves be carried by the vibe and the relaxing feeling of being cared for and attended to.

Until a damp sponge started tickling your cheek.

“Вил, это щекотно”

Your little laugh was the only sound in the middle of the Pomefiore common room; not even the sponge made another sound when Vil froze against your skin.

Vil raised one beautifully shaped eyebrow, but… said nothing. Maybe your laughter had made your tongue trip.

But when he applies the cold serum and you complain, “Холодно!” that is when he can no longer deny it.

What was coming out of your mouth sounded nothing like anything he had ever heard in his life.

“Darling… what was that?”

“…I said it’s cold.” His narrowed gaze is so imposing that you thought he was about to give you a lecture over an hour long on which chemical components and temperatures were most appropriate for your skin.

“Would you like to rephrase that?”

“эста…” Vil sets the bottle down on the table, slowly, far too slowly, without taking his eyes off yours.

Cold sweat down your back.

“I cannot understand your words, darling”

Ah… there it is. The massive mistake… and it wasn’t even like you did it on purpose.

From then on, Vil is always evaluating you, as if someone had handed him a new script, noticing the small moments when the magic fails for a second and your accent becomes more noticeable.

Sharp and calculating… but always wanting to hear you speak in that unknown language that fascinates him so much.

Every time you do your nightly routine, he asks you to speak Russian, supposedly because it helps him relax.

It is a lie; he analyzes every syllable, keeping a small mental archive so he can replicate it in private. Most of the time he doesn’t manage it, no matter how hard he tries again and again and again… his tongue still trips over those unknown shapes.

He gets frustrated, but at the same time, he admires you. “Your world is full of surprises.”

Even so, he practices and practices, until his accent is almost perfect. And one night, before you return to Ramshackle, he takes your hand and whispers in your ear:

“Ты красивая”

How terrible it is to teach the words but not the full meaning, because now you are too stunned to respond.

“Did I pronounce it wrong?”

No… on the contrary… it was perfect.

Idia - Chinese

The best moment to let out your inner rage is in the middle of a raid, farming like crazy, or in this case like two crazy people, inside an MMO dungeon where you keep dying thanks to a stupid, cheap boss mechanic.

And especially when you are on a voice call with Idia, who is laughing at your very unfortunate deaths.

…the microphone left the chat after catching your frustrated shout.

“你这个混蛋！这不公平！”

On the other side of the screen, you can practically see the loading circle inside Idia’s mind.

“…what?”

“This is unfair and you’re not helping, you bastard, laughing at my misery.”

“Okay, okay, okay, insult me all you want for your terrible gameplay performance, but… what the hell was that? Was it a melody or a… threat at the same time?”

Oh… looks like there was a translation error.

“That was Chinese.” Your character respawns on screen, and you completely forget that the magic stopped working, focusing again on the enemy on the screen.

Your character may be killing enemies left and right, looting treasures in search of weapons with double stats… but Idia’s character stays completely still for a long while.

You hear the frantic clicking of his keyboard through your headphones, completely unaware that Idia is no longer interested in the game… he probably has three search windows open on each of his monitors.

“I can’t find anything!!” His shout is so absurdly loud that you jolt in your chair, missing a jump and falling straight into the void.

You glare at the screen with pure contempt.

“No database recognizes the phonemes, or the syllable structure, nothing! It’s like the language doesn’t exist!”

“废话！这可是来自我的世界啊！”

“STOP… stop doing that! The translator plugin is collapsing! It’s throwing error codes I’ve never even seen before!”

Despite his protests, he is completely captivated. The fact that it cannot be found, cannot be translated, cannot be hacked, downloaded, or deciphered… it is like you brought a ghost into his digital kingdom.

In the following days, Idia does what he knows best… coding.

He asks you to draw every character, to explain the logographic structure, EVERYTHING! Absolutely everything so he can put it into a new keyboard.

A custom keyboard not only for him, but also for you.

Ortho catches him practicing tones at three in the morning, staring at the audio waveforms of voice notes, trying to match your pitch perfectly.

The microphone overloads when Idia’s scream echoes through the whole room after realizing his little brother had been watching him from the darkness.

One night, after a particularly difficult day, he sends you a message.

Gloomurai: 晚... 安... ?

It is supposed to be 晚安.

You: 晚安，Idia。做个好梦。

His status goes from online to offline at the speed of light.

Malleus - Basque

There are very few things capable of catching Malleus Draconia’s attention as much as something he truly does not know.

Ancient languages? He knows them. Fae dialects? He probably speaks them better than the ones who invented them.

But yours… yours was a problem apart.

The night was far too still over Diasomnia. You were sitting beside Malleus, looking up, talking about nothing and everything at the same time; about your world, about the small things you missed pure and heavy melancholy.

And without thinking, feeling far too comfortable, you murmured to the stars:

“Gaua ederra da, baina zure begiek izarrak baino gehiago distiratzen dute”

Malleus went completely still. His green eyes slowly turned toward you, shining beneath the moon with that ancient intensity that always reminds you that, no matter how much of a school uniform he wears, that man has nothing normal about him.

“Child… what tongue is that?”

Ah. Shit. The translation magic decided to die at the most sentimental moment possible.

“I think… I spoke Basque,” you admitted, scratching your cheek and looking anywhere except into his eyes. “It’s from my world.”

“Basque,” Malleus repeated, and the most ironic part was that he pronounced it perfectly, as if there were no complexity at all to that new language.

“I have heard the tongues of humans, fae, and beasts,” he said calmly. “But never one like that.”

He sounded as if he himself wanted to protect your mother tongue, the same way he protects the ancient languages of his fae culture.

That same mother tongue, the one you think is so insignificant to a creature as eternal and imposing as Malleus, is as precious to him as the first time you said his name out loud. And he was not going to allow you to underestimate it as if it were just anything.

“Your eyes do not say the same,” because to him, it was not just anything. To him, your language was not a rarity or a fun little trick. It was a piece of your world, a small door toward the place you came from and perhaps still did not know how to return to.

Why does this man need to be so observant exactly when it would be much more convenient for you if he were clueless?

Over time, Malleus starts asking you for words. First simple things: night, star, rain, home. “Etxea,” you teach him once.

“Etxea,” he repeats, perfect on the first try.

…Of course. As if being crown prince, ancestral dragon, and walking climate threat were not enough, he also had to have good pronunciation.

“It would be discourteous to mispronounce a word that belongs to your home.”

He also learns “ikusi arte.” And, dangerously, he also learns: “Nire ondoan… ez zaude bakarrik”

You go completely still, because you had taught him that phrase once without thinking too much about it, and he had kept it as if it were something precious.

Because Malleus was going to keep every word that came from you, as precious as the gold a dragon guards in its treasure hoard.

Notes: “Aishhh, all fy mhen ddim cymryd mwy, stopiwch siarad os gwelwch yn dda” = “Aishhh, my head can't take anymore, please stop talking” “Mae’r lleuad yn hardd heno, on’d yw hi? Fel ti” = "The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it? Like you"

“Joder tío! Qué manga de energúmenos que son algunos aquí. Es para darles un coñazo a ver si por fin espabilan!” = "Damn, man! What a bunch of idiots some of these people are. They deserve a good thrashing to finally wake them up!" “Bueno, estaba desahogando mi frustración, pero no iba dirigida a ti. Un poco engreído, no crees?” =“Well, I was venting my frustration, but it wasn’t aimed at you. A little full of yourself, don’t you think?” “deja de joder ya, macho! Qué insoportable!” = "Stop messing around, man! You're unbearable!" "Ven aquí"= "c'mere"

“Posso avere un caffè? No… meglio un frullato, fa troppo caldo ultimamente. Con molto ghiaccio, per favore” = “Can I have a coffee? No… I’d rather have a smoothie, it’s been too hot lately. With lots of ice, please” “Sieh mal, Kalim, der Himmel brennt. Es ist wunderschön!” = “Look, Kalim, the sky is on fire. It’s beautiful” “Ich liebe dich!” = “I love you!”

“Вил, это щекотно” = “Vil, that tickles” “Холодно!” = “it's cold!” “Ты красивая” = “You are beautiful”

“你这个混蛋！这不公平！” = "You bastard! This isn't fair!" “废话！这可是来自我的世界啊！” = “Well, duh! It’s from my world” 晚… 安… ? = Goodnight…? 晚安，Idia。做个好梦。 = Goodnight, Idia. Sweet dreams.

“Gaua ederra da, baina zure begiek izarrak baino gehiago distiratzen dute” = "The night is beautiful, but your eyes shine brighter than the stars" “Etxea” = "Home" “ikusi arte” = "see you later" “Nire ondoan… ez zaude bakarrik” = “By my side… you are not alone”

[thesunshinebunny]

I just finished reading your masquerade fic and it filled my soul. Thank you.

Thank you honey! hope you had a very good reading

[thesunshinebunny]

Hi there! Just read your Masquerade TWST fic and I loved it so much! Have you ever heard of the song Esmerelda by Adriel Genet? Your story really gave off the same vibes 🎭🎭🎭

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Sorry for not answering before, I've a loooot going on with the Uni, a lot of work and projects. BUT! fear not, in two weeks I'd be able to write again, sooooo stay tune for new chapters and requests!!!

Thank you so so soooooooo much for reading the Masquerade story, really, this piece has sooo many love reception and I already have a script for the second part.

I'll listen to this song, thx!! 🥰🥰🥰

[thesunshinebunny]

Since we're getting "Big Hero" event, can we also get:...?

Treasure Planet

Atlantis

Lady and the Tramp

Who Frame Roger Rabbit

Beauty and the Beast

And a crossover with "The Road to El Dorado"? Edit: and HTTYD?

peeeeeeety pleassssssssse? 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I don't have tiiiiiiiiiiiime to write a fic for each of them if I could I would

[thesunshinebunny]

What a girl has to do to have a full Leona hc/fic with primal kink and hunter/prey dynamic as a foreplay?

GOOODS!!!!

I wanna read Leona going full predator, chasing me through the savanna

...

..........

I'm gonna write it myself...one day

[thesunshinebunny]

I'ma fight a man

Oh, the poor girl from another world. Magicless, helpless, constantly dragged into battles against Overblots that should have erased you on sight.

No one warned them that her feminine energy is… quite literally otherworldly. Turns out, every monster is punchable if you try hard enough.

Riddle

Dark clouds, the ground split open in several parts of the rose garden; the Unbirthday Party that Riddle so proudly proclaims with all its rigid, structural rules is an absolute disaster.

Trey is trying to reason with a completely deranged Riddle, who is swinging spears left and right; Ace and Deuce are only creating more chaos to distract him, too. Cater, on the other hand...

“Okay, okay, stay under the table and don’t move, alright, cutie?”

He leaves you under a table that has somehow magically remained intact, with its spotless white tablecloth still draped over it… as if you’re a tiny puppy. A wet, lost, terrified little puppy.

Oh hell nah

There is no poor, helpless, defenseless human girl without magic here. Well… without magic, yes. But defenseless? Never.

You scan the wreckage with your blood boiling.

Feral survival mode: activated

Aside from the table they so badly want you to hide under, everything is destroyed; the teacups are shattered; the elegant chairs are broken into multiple pieces, and several of them have splinters sharp enough to look useful.

One splintered piece of a backrest has a very suspiciously bat-like shape.

Perfect!

And while Riddle keeps going with his monologue, “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” here, and “I AM THE RULES!” there, you slip away like a sneaky little rat until you end up right behind him.

Crack

Solid wood connects with his skull… and he collapses like a puppet with its strings cut, completely graceless, all thanks to your immaculate strike with that improvised bat.

The Overblot ink dissolves, the monster disappears, and Riddle is left unconscious on the ground.

“…I didn’t kill him, right?”

Well… let’s hope not, sweetheart.

He’ll probably wake up with a lump the size of an egg and no memory whatsoever… though you absolutely are going to remind him of everything he made you suffer through these past few days. And if he tries it again...

That’s a paddling

Leona

Savanaclaw has become a death trap, sand flying everywhere, making it impossible to see and even harder to breathe.

It has turned even drier, even more suffocating, and with the monster at Leona’s back striking and roaring, everything trembles and breaks every millisecond.

Round two, sweetheart

Stopping your breathing seems like the most sensible option for now, considering you’re walking toward an Overblot with a lion-like monster behind him, whose ink creates hyenas and whose magic could turn you into golden dust.

The female survival instinct does not actually contain much survival, honestly.

Plenty of adrenaline, yes. Plenty of anger, too… but you’re not going for his back. You’re approaching from the side, in plain sight.

If plain sight can even count while Leona is unleashing a full sandstorm.

Well… oxygen is temporary.

“Pathetic. A tiny magicless herbivore, standing in my way…”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned from watching so many shows and movies, it’s that you never let the villain finish their monologue nor their transformation.

In this case, his monologue.

Between laughter and degrading comments… direct hit to the nose.

Maybe you break his cartilage, maybe you make him bleed, maybe you leave a bruise...maybe his nose ends up slightly crooked.

And maybe a couple of your knuckles break from the impact, too.

“I want ice, NOW!” you snap, shaking your hand like a maraca while completely ignoring the way Leona falls backward.

The ice arrives, the student clearly thinking it’s for his housewarden, but you snatch the frozen bag away and press it to your knuckles, abandoning the great lion on the floor.

The mighty king of the savanna… sprawled out on the sand.

Ruggie is on the ground beside him, lifting his head so the blood doesn’t make him choke, but he can’t stop laughing. He is not going to let him live this down from now on.

Leona probably won’t apologize when he wakes up… but he does put you on the same level of respect as the lionesses of Sunset Savanna.

Better to be safe and keep his distance than risk getting his nose broken again.

Azul

You should have seen it coming...

An octopus mage losing his composure, hysterical, with eight slippery tentacles moving everywhere…The perfect hentai scenario, and you don't want to be the tragic heroine of that genre.

But there you are, grabbed around the waist by one of those tentacles and lifted who knows how much off the ground.

In Azul’s twisted mind, you are not a threat. Just a simple, helpless land-dwelling human. A perfect little thing for his collection.

Well… he can tell that to your teeth.

The slimy, salty, suction-cupped appendage gets caught between your two rows of teeth, your canines sinking deeper than the rest of your pearly whites.

It’s like he’s being bitten by a mangy dog.

It is a wild, vicious bite, your head jerking as you try to tear even more of that awful rubbery texture apart.

Don’t even get me started on the coating of slime and squid ink. Gross, gross, disgusting. Blegh

And with a high-pitched shriek, Azul releases the tentacle, flailing it through the air. It writhes and curls into itself, trying to seek comfort in its owner’s hands.

The fall to the floor is not glorious, but at least you don’t break anything. What you do need to do is spit out whatever you managed to tear from that tentacle… and brush your teeth a thousand times to get that taste out of your mouth.

Rotten sushi

Floyd is smacking the floor with his hand, completely falling apart with laughter. Jade is already plotting the coming days and exactly how he is not going to let a single second pass without bothering his boss about this.

Meanwhile… Azul is still holding the tentacle in his hands, staring at it with tears in his eyes, soothing the wound with his palm.

You can hear sobs when he turns his back, choosing to cry with the last scrap of dignity he has left where no one can see his face.

For a loooong while, they stop serving takoyaki or anything with octopus at Mostro. The mere idea of seeing you eat seafood makes his skin crawl.

He still has teeth marks… a perfect souvenir

Jamil

Jamil’s Overblot, that serpentine figure like a naga, dark and dripping with ink and years of suppressed resentment. His snakes writhe from side to side, like Medusa, and his eyes are filled with cold, calculated fury.

He could easily pass as a mythological creature from Ancient Greece.

If not for the massive ego and more specifically targeted resentment… but hey, villains never really go after the people they should.

That is what makes you angriest.

Not the fact that Kalim is crying while dodging attack after attack, or the fact that Grim is clawing at one of Jamil’s snakes with his little paws.

No, it’s the fact that this boy is being a complete dumbass, blinded by his pent-up rage, incapable of recognizing his own weak points.

A couple of snakes spot you as an easy target, because obviously the only woman in the whole dorm has to be the party’s weakness.

Intention: unknown. You don’t want to find out, either.

With some effort, you grab them with your bare hands, each head in each fist, and pull, as if you’re yanking on a rope with treasure at the other end.

In this case, you are dragging Jamil directly toward you.

He stumbles, thrown off-balance, completely shocked by your brute strength and by the fact that you somehow managed to capture two of his snakes.

That surprise is what costs him when your knee slams into the area beneath his sternum.

Direct hit to the stomach and part of the lungs… let’s hope you don’t leave bruises on his organs.

The air bursts out of his mouth, and he folds in half, curling pathetically in on himself and wheezing with thin strands of saliva clinging to his lips.

You are not in the mood to watch him vomit all over Scarabia’s beautiful marble… but you do hear his tiny groans and sobs.

A kick to the balls probably would have hurt less.

“Ironic that you’re more scared of insects than snakes”

He’s already on the floor, don’t humiliate him further

The best apology Jamil can think of is leaving you cups of coffee. Good coffee, coffee from Silk City, not the burnt sludge from the cafeteria or Ramshackle. A cup always waits for you before class and after a veeeeeery long day.

And every time, he leaves it near you, but that doesn't mean he stays close. He steps back a few paces, covering his stomach…just in case.

Vil

The stage is in ruins, the screens shattered… the perfect setting for the most beautiful man in the world, Vil Schoenheit, to look this ruined.

Ruined… but beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. Golden radiance and black rot, perfection and poison; the combination of gold, violet, and black suits him like it was made for him.

Rook is trying to reason with him, leaving the poetry for another moment… which means everything is truly going to hell.

Epel and the others are trying not to breathe in too much of the poison slowly contaminating the air.

And there you are… a tiny little thing, defenseless, probably the most ordinary and ugly thing on the stage by Vil’s current standards.

“I WILL BE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL!”

The most logical thing to do is make him uglier.

And there you go, climbing him like a monkey scaling a tree, pulling yourself up from the hems of his refined dress or robe or whatever the hell his Overblot version has put him in, while he tries to smack you away like an insect.

More than once, he scratches you with his long nails, but nothing stops your path toward his golden hair.

“GET OFF ME… YOU IRRITATING INSECT!”

Your hands grab a fistful of his strands… and pull.

Those classic hair-pulling yanks from women fighting, grabbing each other by the scalp and painfully ripping at the roots

And his scream is so high-pitched that it echoes through the entire coliseum, piercing and completely undignified. How dare someone like you, with those filthy hands, touch his immaculate hair?

His monster shrieks with him, mimicking his twists and his frantic attempts to throw you off his shoulders.

If your life weren’t currently at risk, Epel would probably take out his phone and start recording the whole thing. It’s too ironic

The great Vil, defeated because someone pulled his hair.

On the stage floor, ink, makeup, and sweat decorate the ground… and a few golden-violet strands are floating through the air.

His hair can recover with enough treatment; his ego, on the other hand, is going to take a little longer.

Idia

STYX is about to collapse if this keeps going.

The screens are falling to the floor, panels are breaking apart, and Idia’s Overblot ink is consuming everything in its path. And poor Ortho is there like a puppet of his brother’s despair.

Ortho, the gentlest humanoid you have ever known, is now a lifeless shell, mechanical and precise enough to kill.

Run, run, and hide. Run, hide, and survive; that is what your subconscious is screaming at you. Let the others deal with fighting that robotic figure Idia has become.

You focus on his little brother while you keep running.

“Please do not resist. My big brother says you are not to be hurt”

How thoughtful

“But I must immobilize you for your own safety,” he says, cannons ready.

Well, I take that back

“I’m sorry, Ortho”

“Why?” he asks, tilting his head, unable to understand why a simple, helpless human is apologizing to an android.

With one elbow strike, you hit his sensory matrix, destabilizing him, and then you slam into the left side of his chassis, right where there is a small weakness you saw Idia repair a few days ago.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry

Hurting little Ortho causes you more psychological damage than anything else, but it is absolutely necessary that he be neutralized first.

Because the moment Idia realizes his little brother is out of the game, his attention goes straight to you… and to the broken piece of chassis that fell off Ortho.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BROTHER?! YOU, AN INSIGNIFICANT PERSON, WITHOUT ANYTH—”

Ready. Aim. Throw!

You launch the metal chassis piece like a frisbee. It spins and spins and spins, and it hits the target: his technologically creepy mask.

Clang.

The mask cracks in two, and Idia is thrown backward, falling hard to the floor.

“Your brother is fine… though he does need better repairs”

Ortho is going to be mad at him when they both wake up, and you are probably going to become his favorite.

Respect levels: maxed out

Malleus

Pray for your life if you want to come out of a battle against a dragon unharmed.

So many romantic medieval stories talk about majestic dragons, enormous dragons, fire-breathing dragons, and yet none of them prepared you for having one right in front of you.

Especially because his green fire is infused with magic that the fantasy stories from your world never even bothered to imagine.

Try not to shit yourself while dodging flame after flame, and the occasional piece of debris when you pass under his claws.

Even in his normal form, Malleus is huge… but as a dragon, he is completely imposing.

And once again, you find yourself praying to every god you know from your old world and this new one when you stand in front of that obsidian-colored creature.

“ARE YOU INSANE?!”

“GET BACK HERE!”

Shouts, so many shouts, and with very good reason. What sane person stands in front of a dragon that is a thousand times their size?

You, apparently

But there is that tiny little worm of hope, believing with absurd faith that Malleus would never hurt you, not even in this form.

His great head lowers until it is only a hand’s distance away from you, those enormous green eyes staring directly at you, his hot breath surrounding you completely… your heart on the verge of bursting while you pray he does not open his mouth and swallow you whole.

“Hi, Tsunotaro”

His snout opens and closes, smelling you, recognizing you as his friend from late-night walks.

He recognizes you

“Please… don’t take this personally”

You punch him right on the tip of the snout.

That impact… pure and incomprehensible audacity.

HOW DOES IT EVEN OCCUR TO YOU TO PUNCH A DRAGON? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH STRENGTH YOU WOULD NEED FOR THAT TO ACTUALLY HURT HIM?!

Well… it doesn’t hurt him, exactly, but it absolutely makes him stumble from the shock.

The finishing blow is delivered by the others, and the battle ends, making Malleus return to his original form while you stand there with a hand completely reddened from the punch.

Malleus, heir to Briar Valley, will remember this day. He will remember the tiny magicless human with enough nerve to strike him in his dragon form.

“Everything is punchable if you try hard enough.”

…Indeed

[thesunshinebunny]

Who's your favorite TWST character, if you don't mind?

Oh…

…well...would you look at that… who came to visit me right on my birthday (he came yesterday, but my bday is today, 'cause japan hour difference)

If you had asked me a couple of years ago, I would’ve said Kalim. Now that first place is being fiercely fought over between that little bun of sunshine and the grumpy lion.

1.Leona/Kalim 2.Riddle 3.Trey/Idia

Faculty Staff: Crewel

First place with Kalim and Leona is always going up and down. There are days when Leona is my favorite, and other days when Kalim is. It all depends on my mood. For example: when I couldn’t get Leona’s OB card and I called him a cunt and got offended with him for an entire month… at that moment, my fave went back to being Kalim.

But when I stop being a petty bitch and remember Leona’s laugh in Book 3, I get over it, and my brain turns into mush again (Every time Leona appeared on screen in the anime, I started yelling at the screen, so I probably worried more than one neighbor)

Riddle is second 'cause… personal reasons, and also because I think he had really good character development. Besides, his smile is beautiful and must be protected.

As for Trey and Idia, I wouldn’t know exactly why, but seeing them just makes me feel drawn to them. (Not sexually, though I won’t deny they are mwah) but more like… I’d like to spend time with them. They’re on the same level, but the kind of attraction is different.

Trey feels more like a confidant, someone you can tell what’s bothering you while the two of you bake together, or while he bakes and you just exist without burning the kitchen, and he would always know what to say. I also see him as a really great friend.

Idia, on the other hand, feels like someone you can spend time with when you need peace of mind and don’t want anyone bothering you. You could easily sit on a beanbag and stay there for hours without talking, just gaming/studying/wasting time on your phone, and there would be no need to say anything; I also see him as your partner in crime and the neighborhood gossip. If you want to talk shit about someone, he’s your buddy.

[thesunshinebunny]

OMG I LOVE YOUR WRITING, I LOVE TWSTTTT SM, I especially love when you write abt riddle, istg id die for him, but enough abt that I just wanted to say that your details are magnificent and I love your head cannons <3

Riddle appreciation post!!

He's soooo lovely, I fell ya!!

I also want mooore Riddle requests!