#in her early years i just hate hate hate the approach that she was objectively THE best and people treating it like a fact and not even | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yallmakemyassitch · 7 months

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Tickletober Day 4 /// Weak Spot

Summary: Elizabeth had been quite the naughty girl recently and her mother strives to figure out the problem. Once it had been resolved, the two bonded like no other, keeping the mansion filled with laughter and kisses.

Word Count: 2947

Character count: 16760

Tobi talks: Yeah sorry for the late upload y'all, my goofy ass decided to make a quick fic which ended up becoming a whole ass story lmao. But I wasn't lying when I said I was cooking you guys up with something spicy. Enjoy the story folks ～⁠(⁠つ⁠ˆ⁠Д⁠ˆ⁠)⁠つ⁠｡⁠☆ I had a lot of fun!

✿

Gold shined through the towering windows of the decrepit mansion, it was morning, and the downstairs bustled with maids and butlers as they began their routine of tending to the Mulberry family. Heather, the head of it, paid them no mind and only briefly oversaw their work before finally getting enough guts to confront the issue.

Elizabeth, her daughter, had been acting strange these few couple days. When Mrs. Mulberry first inquired her about her unusual behavior, it started off with Eliza insisting nothing was wrong. But when probed, she snapped. Heather was initially apologetic as she had thought she had overstepped her boundaries and agreed to give her the space her daughter needed. But as the days passed, the young girl became more angsty and even rude to her mother, going as far as to backtalk her at one point.

This wasn’t her little girl, she knew. Although Heather wanted to ask more questions and figure out why the child was being so cold to her and even their staff, she held back. Now, Mrs. Mulberry wasn’t one to be frustrated, or even angry as acting out would never solve any problems. But when Elizabeth uttered a passive insult for no apparent reason to the maid serving them their dinners, Heather had enough and sent her off to bed early

Elizabeth huffed and stormed out of the dining room, much to the dismay of her mother and the rest of the staff who did their best to not eavesdrop. Now that a full day has passed, the British woman couldn’t help but feel guilty for raising her voice, even if objectively it was by a small margin. Her child was suffering somehow and she promised herself she would never react that again, no matter what Eliza did.

Now facing the tall double doors that lead inside to the 8-year-old’s room, Heather briefly sighed before grasping the doorknob and twisting it open. The room was vast and wide, the entire wall in front of her was only windows, filling the room with the beautiful sunrise. But what she was really focused on was the large bed in the corner of the room harboring a small lump beneath its sheets.

Heather smiled at the sight, approaching the little girl with a gaze filled with nothing but warmth and affection for her child. The blanket that covered her body rose up and down in slow patterns. Elizabeth was facing away from her and although her face was almost completely pressed into her pillow, her expression was relaxed and peaceful as she quietly slumbered.

She hated that she had to interrupt something so precious but she did come here for a reason. Reaching a hand forward, Heather placed her gloved hand on her shoulder and gently shook it. “Wake up, my love. It’s morning.” Her voice was at a near whisper, the Brit knew Eliza was a light sleeper so it didn’t take long for her to arise.

Elizabeth grimaced before opening her eyes but immediately shielded them from the bright sun. She turned on her side facing her mother. Her eyes widened a bit and Eliza had started to avoid her line of sight, mumbling a brief greeting.

“Eliza, we need to talk about last night.”

And just like that, Eliza recoiled, almost cringing as her mother sat down on the edge of her bed, her feet nearly touching her back. Her mother’s gaze was unwavering but ultimately concerned, as she stared at her daughter. Elizabeth could hardly meet her mother’s eyes, preferring to stare at the comforter that she wished she could grab, but could hardly focus to summon her “hands”.

“Elizabeth, love. Why did you say those things?”

The dam seemed to break in an instant as the green-eyed child did her best to fight back the tears and the immeasurable guilt she was feeling. But alas, thin streaks of tears escaped her eyes and nearly all the way down her pale skin. It was stopped by her mother’s comforting hand as she wiped away the tears. “Shh…shh…I’m not angry at you, Eliza.”

That only seemed to make her feel even worse as she began to sputter and hiccup as sobs bubbled inside her chest. Heather seemed to sense she was reaching the edge, so she calmly wrapped her arms around the small girl, a hand behind her head as she whispered assurances into her ear. “Just let it all out, dear. I’m listening.”

Eliza cried out into her mother’s arms, hardly able to keep the tears and snot off the designer clothing she donned. “I-I didn’t mean to…”

Heather chuckled a bit and released her daughter, her hand holding the side of her face as her yellow eyes brewed with understanding and patience. “I know you didn’t mean to, sweetheart. I know you better than you think.”

This seemed to calm Elizabeth down enough for her to speak more coherently. The girl wiped the remaining tears off of her face, few managing to leak. “Take your time, I just want to know what’s wrong.”

Elizabeth stared off for a moment, contemplating what she could say before even speaking up. Her sweet little voice was croaky and sorrowful from the crying, Heather could only hope to remedy this later on. She brought her knees up to her face. “My classmates have been really mean to me…”

The British woman’s eyes fell, so that’s what's been going on. She didn’t comment on it, only choosing to nod her head with acknowledgment. She went on. “They said I was ugly and I’ll *sniff* never be loved.” Her voice cracked as she recited what these supposed classmates had been saying to her.

Now Heather had the chance. “And how did that make you feel?”

Eliza began to cry again, eyebrows furrowed with regret. “Really bad…”

“So why do you think it’s okay to make someone else feel the same, hm?” Saying those words stung to even belt out, but it was necessary.

“It’s not! I was just so-”

“Upset?” She finished. “Your feelings are valid, Eliza, believe me. But that’s no reason to treat someone else as terribly.”

Elizabeth looked even more guilty and hid her face into her knees, softly sobbing to herself.

“I think I deserve an apology, don’t you think?” Heather crossed her arms, looking at her child expectantly.

Eliza finally met her gaze, her green eyes wrought with salty tears. “I’m really sorry.”

Heather was almost satisfied, keyword, almost. “You should always tell someone what you’re sorry for when apologizing, love.” She was already reaching forward to embrace her daughter once again, smiling kindly at her.

Elizabeth didn’t wait a second and crashed into her arms. “I’m sorry for saying all those rude things, Mom. I’ll never do it again.”

The British woman encased her entirely in her arms, doing her best to calm down her crying daughter. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I forgive you.”

The child wrapped her arms around her mother, falling limp as she was held so close, she could smell the expensive perfume radiating from her clothes.

“I’ll make sure to say sorry to the maid later.” She heard the girl chirp in her arms. This surprised the woman, but this ultimately bloomed into pride as she once again expressed her maturity.

“As you should, dear.” Heather let go of the girl and smiled at her. Elizabeth did the same but was a fool to not expect her mother to suddenly press a long, tender kiss on her forehead. It was dramatic, as all her other ones, making all the intense tingling on her head send butterflies to her belly. Eliza’s chest shook with giggles as her mother pressed tiny kitten kisses to the sides of her cheeks and ears.

“Mom, that tickles!” The green-eyed child cried, the sadness that remained in her heart from the situation seemed to disappear in an instant.

“Oh, does it now~” Eliza’s heart dropped, she should not have planted that seed in her head.

Heather was notorious for tickling the young girl, especially when she was particularly stubborn in the mornings. Her feet were the spot that always had her teary-eyed and begging for mercy from the supposed ‘tickle monster’ mantel her mother claimed she possessed.

Time seemed to move in an instant as a gentle but firm hand managed to fasten around her ankle when Elizabeth attempted to squirm away.

“N-no Mom, please I’m sorry!”

Her mother looked up at her curiously. “Now why apologize again, love? You’ve already had.”

And just like that, gloved but ruthless digits began to glide painfully across her socked sole.

Elizabeth was already beginning to crack up but chose to resist, biting to bottom of her lip as she tried to block out the insane tingling shooting up her leg. Elizabeth was gasping for respite as her mother showed no sign of stopping the tickly torment, now circling a single finger around her sole as her foot scrunched up to attempt to block her from traveling further.

“Oh, trying to stop me now?” Mrs. Mulberry looked back at her daughter, silently admiring her panicked expression. “Just let it all out, dear. You know you want to laugh~”

Now her mother was beginning to claw up and down the socked skin, chuckling deviously as she watched her daughter desperately try to contain herself. It only took a few more seconds before Elizabeth was overwhelmed with a storm of uncontrollable giggles, her mouth agape her bubbly and saccharine laughter lit up the room brighter than the sun ever could.

Heather smiled, now showing teeth. “Good girl~”

“Nohohoho! Ihihit’s too muhuhuch!” Elizabeth cried, her cheeks a gorgeous pink while her eyes couldn’t be seen as they were too scrunched up with mirth.

“Oh love, we’ve barely even started.” Mrs. Mulberry began to scratch at her arches, a noticeable sweet spot for the poor girl as she hollered. “Plehehease Mom! Eehehehahaha!”

“I don’t think so, young lady. You’ve been quite spunky recently, haven’t you?”

Heather’s smile widened at her increased thrashing. Eliza was turning from left to right, her arms well wrapped around her torso as she cackled freely into the air, her laughter bouncing off the walls.

“Buhuhut I sahahaid I was sohohorry!”

The Brit shrugged her shoulders. “That you did, but you never apologized for being so ticklish, now did you?” She laughed a little when her daughter’s cheeks turned a little darker at the tease. “Nohohoho! Thahahahat’s stuhuhuhpid!”

Heather recoiled in mock offense. “Oh, nothing is stupid about your little quirk, little one. I can nip your heels…” She pinched her heel fast all over. “Scratch your sweet little soles…” She clawed at the flesh. “And even tease your cute arches!” Heather scribbled at her arches, titillating the flesh with the pressure of a feather, making it all the more ticklish and torturous.

Elizabeth was losing it, her face well past its peak of pink and now resided into a redder territory. She could hardly even thrash anymore as she had used up so much of her energy earlier.

“MOHOHOM, AHAAHAAHAAH!”

“Oh, but I cannot forget the most important thing of all~”

Oh no.

She knew where this was going.

Elizabeth couldn’t stand anyone touching her there.

The child glanced at her mother, desperation burning behind her green eyes. Her mother locked eyes with her, a few seconds passing by as the two silently read each other through their gazes.

One was desperate the other wouldn’t do it. Meanwhile, the other couldn’t care less and even had the nerve to give her a warm yet infuriating smile.

Mrs. Mulberry posed her clawed hand above her quivering foot. “Those pesky little toes!” She dug in, making sure her digits fit perfectly before scritching at the skin in between each phalange, making sure the material she wore on her feet rubbed against the sensitive skin between the toes. She scritched the spaces delicately, knowing the itchy socks would do most of the work for her. Elizabeth couldn’t squeal louder, throwing her head back to belt out what she’d been holding in, mirth couldn’t describe her condition, she was just far too ticklish!

“NAHAHAHAH!” Eliza screeched, burrowing her face into her pillows and sheets to cope with the insane sensations she was feeling.

Heather picked up on the cough in the middle of her hysterics and gave her one good last tickle before letting up and releasing her foot from her captivity.

Elizabeth was far too giggly to realize she had been let go, so she lay limp on her bed, her lips continuing to let out loads of giggling before she ultimately relaxed. Mrs. Mulberry covered her mouth to hide her proud smirk, snickering as her daughter gulped down greedy breaths of air.

“My my, still as ticklish as always hm?”

The mess of purple hair turned to glare at her, which only lengthened Heather’s smirk.

“Nghhh…” She groaned.

The Brit giggled once more before she began to relax herself. “Are you alright?”

Elizabeth nodded her head, her chest laid across the soft bed. Heather’s gaze softened and she once again leaned down to give her a kiss, it was very brief and pressed into her temple rather than barrage her with kisses.

She peacefully accepted it and closed her eyes when it was executed. Elizabeth however was confused when her mother continued to stare at her, the warmth behind her eyes ignited to a blaze. “What?”

“It’s nothing, just admiring my beautiful and brilliant daughter~”

The girl groaned yet again, rolling her eyes before hiding her face once again, face red at the sudden praise. Heather grinned. “Now don’t hide that gorgeous face from your mother!”

As if Eliza couldn’t get any redder, she felt more blood pulsate throughout her entire visage. She had her head pressed under a pillow as she kept pinned at its sides. “Come now, love. Let me see that face your classmates are so jealous of~”

Elizabeth refused to react any further, refusing to show her her smiley face.

“Ah, I see how it is~”

The young girl was relieved that her mother was finally gone- what! At lightning speed, her mother managed to summon her own pair of disembodied hands that kept her feet still when she tore off the socks, the only thing that protected her from her mother’s total wrath was gone and thrown carelessly onto the floor. She couldn’t move her ankles one inch.

“W-WAIT!” Elizabeth threw off the pillow and was now scrabbling to turn to face her mom, but could hardly even turn her body since she was pinned.

Heather wanted to make this easier on her, so she simply turned to her child and wiggled her fingers at her. “Oh I wonder what these would do to your pretty feet~” She was teasing her, and even at one point lowered them so close she was nearly touching her bare soles. Eliza couldn’t believe the mess she was in and fell limp, accepting her fate.

Mrs. Mulberry snickered a bit. It was such a shame Elizabeth had to suffer such a terrible fate as in that moment, she had a devious idea. Wearing gloves all the time left her hands quite soft and smooth, but that didn’t mean she didn’t take care of them after all. As a lady, it was her job to keep her nails clean and consistent. So when Heather began to slowly pull the corner of the glove, revealing her pale skin. She rubbed them, it had been a while since she took them off so she took a bit of time getting used to the new air, even going as far as to crack her knuckles.

This caught the attention of her daughter and once she realized what was going to happen began to struggle, pulling at her ankles as hard as she could muster while curling them up as much as possible.

Heather chuckled at her fruitless efforts and simply raked her well-manicured, blunt fingernails up and down the tender skin. Elizabeth was reduced to a giggling pile of nothing instantly, it was obvious that she was sensitive but to this degree was shocking. Even after she stopped, she could still feel the sensations of her mother's fingers clawing her skin.

“Plehehehease, mohohommy-” Eliza caught herself and covered her mouth in shock, hoping that her mother didn’t hear. But she did and she was smiling.

“It’s as if you were a toddler yesterday. Never change.” Mrs. Mulberry says affectionately and shakes her head with a soft laugh. She was no less reminded of the times Elizabeth as a younger child giggling and pleading for her mother to stop tickling her with her nails. Did she listen? If she actually meant it then yes, but more often than not it would result in more of her fingertips pressing into her soft soles and keeping the baby in stitches all over again.

Elizabeth howled when nails scritched up and down the flesh, her mother even going as far as to circle her nails around the balls of her ankles, knowing well that spot was unusually sensitive.

She went back to tormenting the creamy skin, making sure to show every spot a bit of love before moving on. Eliza was hysterical, laughing so hard and so loud the Mulberry staff could hear everything from outside the room and downstairs where they were desperately preparing but couldn’t help but slow down and even snicker to themselves as they knew exactly what was taking place upstairs.

Not a second was spared further and they continued their work, their day getting a bit brighter with each squeal heard.

✿

Fin~

#oc tickling #lee elizabeth #tickle monster #my fic #tickle fic #oc #my art #digital art #ibispaintx #tickletober 2023

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horse-girl-anthy · 3 months

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could Anthy have walked out of Ohtori from episode one?

essay under the cut.

my basic answer to this question is no, but there's a lot of complexity behind that no.

when Utena first encounters Anthy, she immediately thinks there's something wrong with her and tries to talk her out of the whole "Rose Bride" business. while Utena makes several crucial mistakes during this early stage of their relationship, her instinct isn't necessarily wrong. if you met someone who said their inherent position in life was to be a slave to the will of others, wouldn't you have some concerns?

by episode 23, Utena has begun to understand Anthy better, to feel the magnitude of her plight.

such moments have long since led me to the conclusion that Anthy couldn't leave Ohtori until the final episode. however, that doesn't mean that I knew what "not being able to leave" truly implied. here's the thoughts I've come up with.

in life, we all have times when we know what we should do to improve our circumstances, but we find that we simply cannot do it. the barrier to "not being able to do something" is not physical, not easily explainable. I'll give an example from my life. I spent a couple years as an alcoholic. obviously, there was a very simple solution to this problem: stop drinking. but I just couldn't do it. my life was pretty bad at the time, but I've gotten through other bad times without guzzling alcohol. during the course of my addiction, it looked like I wasn't making any progress. then one day I just stopped. people say you're an alcoholic for life, but I don't believe that. I know I'm done; it's over.

I've started to take Anthy's character as, in part, a grand metaphor for being in such a position. a simple action, one that you're physically capable of, would solve everything. but you can't do it. until one day you can.

that's not the whole answer to the Anthy question, of course. the show has a system, a social landscape, which has to be taken into account. there's the swords of hate, there's Akio. Anthy is truly oppressed, and so, even though she eventually reveals that she's capable of walking out, to give such an explanation is facile. I gave an example of a situation where I knew what I needed to do to get my life together; for Anthy, it's more of a case where she cannot even believe that her life could change. either leaving Ohtori doesn't occur to her, or she thinks it's impossible.

taking a more thematic approach, Anthy is a representation of the suppression of women. she's in an impossible situation; she constantly denies her own agency; she has been so badly hurt that she is afraid to be herself in any capacity. so the question of "could Anthy just have left Ohtori from the start?" could be rephrased as "can women just shake off their socialization?" Utena, who attempts to do just that, can't escape from it in the end either.

but the reason RGU is such a beloved story is because it is about liberation from gendered socialization, as well as other mental prisons. with this in mind, I think Anthy not being able to leave at the start was necessary for the narrative. it can't be easy for her to leave, or there's no story, and it won't feel real.

the process of liberation isn't easy either, or necessarily explicable. the show centers on the dueling game, a system which treats Anthy as an object, which encourages conflict and possession. the characters always seem to fail at their objectives. they never resolve their complexes--they only spend them out. Utena wins and wins, and although she is loving, she is not prying Anthy out of her coffin. Ikuhara once described the final arc as being full of stories that are wrong. there doesn't appear to be any light at the end of the tunnel.

right when you think Utena and Anthy have achieved solidarity, that they both want the same thing, Anthy reveals another of her faces, stabbing Utena in the back and acquiescing to her fate yet again. it's only then, after every single option has been eliminated, that the revolution can occur. strangely, the power of the final episode comes from the "empty movement" of the previous 38. all along, it looked like no progress was being made. Miki and Kozue break apart almost as soon as they've reached an understanding. Touga challenges Utena to another duel, despite knowing that that's what Akio wants. Nanami won't let go of the spotlight she so craves. Juri can do nothing but surrender. and yet.. and yet.

a lot of fans view Ohtori as a bad place, an evil place. certainly, evil happens there. Akio is at the helm, an embodiment of the sick childishness of an adult who refuses to grow up. but I don't know if Ohtori is evil. it provides the setting for the process of liberation to occur. staying there is the problem. but perhaps for Anthy, and for the other characters, Ohtori served as the shell--a thing of protection--which allowed them to reach adulthood and emerge into the world. the dueling game was all a grand play which gave them an outlet for their issues, a testing ground to be left behind when they were ready. through failure, they found out that what they really wanted was something beyond their imagination. they struggled and fought with one another, only to find out that underneath at all, there was love, unlooked for, rising from shared alienation.

let's put it one more way: Anthy could not leave Ohtori from the start, because she was still a child, no matter how jaded she was. she hid her child-self away long ago and then forgot it was there. when that child woke up, she found that she had a friend who wanted to go out into the real world with her. that was all she needed to become an adult, and so, at last, she left Ohtori for good, a whole person. in the words of Ikuhara:

The prince chose to sleep on, and the princess chose to wake up. At the top of that tall tower, the princess bid farewell to the prince. No - she wasn’t the princess any longer. She quit being “a person (thing) ruled by someone.” The victory bells rang, but there was no “tower (rule)” beyond them now. She’d learned where freedom lay. She crossed the threshold of that “Door of Revolution” which had always been closed for her before, and began walking. The “girls’ revolution” lay in the girl’s future.

#rgu #commentary

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duck-in-a-thrift-store · 16 days

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Alright, ik it's been a little while but now it's time for room/character closeup #3

~Max & El's room~

Right off the bat I think it goes without saying their room is quite a bit more *fun* than some of the others; it was heavily inspired by the early s3 aesthetic (before everything went to shit that is), like when Max was helping El try out a new style, so I hope that shows in the colors and patterns I used for the wallpaper/rug/beds

(Also- this isn't character specific- it just makes me happy how the chair matches the wallpaper and the bedspread matches some of the colors in the posters)

Speaking of the posters

I remembered Max introducing El to comics at their sleepover (also s3) so I wanted to use posters that had that comic book/pop art feel to them, hence the pieces over the beds

Max is on the left. I felt like the sheer *attitude* it conveyed was something she would appreciate, that it suited her

El is on the right, and there's like a whole tangent to that one* but it's also another call-back to that s3 moment of Max showing El her comics and telling her who Wonder Woman is (listen I just really loved their dynamic and interactions in s3 ok)

*You might be wondering "duck why would you put a superheroine poster over El's bed are you really taking such a cliche/obvious approach with the decor here"

Listen babe. It's nuanced, okay?

First of all, yeah basically. I'm fine with being cliche. I do what I want and it fit the general vibe I was going for

But more importantly, remember how I mentioned in... one of the other notes posts for this au I honestly don't remember which one at this point- how a recurring theme here will be characters reclaiming things? At least I think I posted that, I know I wrote it down somewhere-

But anywho, yes, this is one of those instances

So I think, before now, El would have gotten to a point where she really resented "superheroes" -or more accurately, being compared to them

After everything. After being taken from her mother and having her childhood stolen from her in order to train her into a mini super soldier. After always having to be the strong one and fighting every battle. After always having to be the superhero for everyone else and still feeling like she can't ever seem to hit the bad guys hard enough to keep them down for good, to keep her friends safe. After having all those expectations and all that pressure on her for years when really she just wants to move on and be a normal kid and get to live her life

And yeah, maybe also after Mike's weak ass speech at the end of s4. I'd probably feel pretty icky if my boyfriend tried to encourage me by reminding me that my value comes from being a sword and shield rather than a person, if I kept getting put on this suffocating pedestal of always having to push myself to keep everyone else safe, and if I believed that was the very reason I was loved

[Don't take this the wrong way I love Michael Wheeler he's like a son to me but I do think that his and El's relationship was very unhealthy and that he didn't handle things very well]

So uh. Yeah. El hated superheroes for a little bit. I'm not sure when they put that poster up but it wasn't when they first moved in

However

After getting away from the place tied to so much of her trauma, so many of her burdens; after getting out of the situation that kept forcing her into the superhero role, I think her views on superheroes just as an objective, fictional concept would start to soften

And also I think the way Max handles it- treating her like she's awesome and strong and special but not dehumanizing her, trusting her but not pressuring her, encouraging her to be and embrace herself- that has something to do with it as well. It teaches her that she can be a superhero if she wants to be, but she doesn't have to. She does have superhuman abilities, but she herself gets to decide what, if anything, to do with them

When they all ditch Hawkins and move into the new house, El doesn't have to fight anymore. They've left the Upside Down and all its monsters, the empty lab and all its ghosts, behind them. For the first time in... well, pretty much her whole life, she doesn't have to fight, she doesn't have to use her powers, she doesn't have to play the hero. She gets to just... be a kid. A person

And everyone still loves her. Everyone still treats her like a part of the family, like she matters

So maybe she doesn't have to be a superhero. And maybe she doesn't have to hate them, either

But the concept is still something tied to her identity, something floating in the back of her mind; it's an identity in which she found value and strength, at a point in her life when she didn't really know who she was yet

So she still thinks about heroes. And she slowly comes to appreciate them in media, like the comic book heroes Max tells her about. Distinctly separate from herself and from her reality and past. From that safe distance away, they're admirable, captivating, impressive, compelling. And, yeah, maybe a little relatable

And... she finds that she's ok with that

She finds that she likes it, actually

Until eventually El has a strong appreciation for heroes, for their strength and what they stand for, because she understands them- but she doesn't have to be one of them anymore. Removed from the dangers and the expectations, she can see heroes- and herself- simply for what they are, instead of through that lens of pain and resentment and obligation

In the place she has found herself in life, she comes to terms with the fact that she is badass, she is important, she has value, and that those facts remain even when she isn't fighting anything

And in knowing it isn't required, that the people around her see her and love her for who she is rather than just what she can do, passively being likened to a hero doesn't feel so crushing anymore. Maybe she even starts to casually refer to herself as a hero from time to time, maybe jokingly, maybe ironically, maybe sarcastically, but deep down she does still feel that tie, that connection, in some ways- only now it doesn't hurt

And now she loves superheroes, enough to put one on her wall

[Btw, this whole analysis thing was heavily allegorical for my relationship with gender and I hope that shows. Superheroes=womanhood/femininity. If you get it you get it]

That ran away from me a little bit. Um. Moving right along, I guess

The third poster isn't that deep tbh I mostly picked it because it matched the wallpaper colors lol but I do think "good things are coming" would be a nice message to wake up to for two people who have been through so fucking much already at such a young age, remind them that they still have a wonderful life ahead of them despite the horrors in their past, y'know?

And then there's Max's skateboard, at the foot of her bed

It's symbolic it's important it matters that she brought it with her

She got hurt pretty damn badly at the end of s4, and nobody knew for sure if she was even going to survive, let alone whether she'd be able to skateboard again

But she did survive, and her body got pretty fucked up but she was in recovery, and maybe she'd never be quite the same again but she wasn't going to let that stop her, she wasn't going to give up

Her legs aren't as strong and her balance isn't as good as it used to be but she's determined to use that skateboard again no matter how many times she falls over relearning how to do it (and someone is always there to help her get back on her feet, if she wants them to. Yes it's Lucas how did you know)

Anyway I just think Max Mayfield is an incredibly strong brave person and she gets what she wants and what she wants in this case is to be the zoomer of the household

I don't suppose there's really much more to say about the room, so... guess that's a wrap for this one

#full house au #stranger things fanfic #stranger things headcanons #current wip #max mayfield #el hopper byers #here have some notes #lumax #<-very briefly referenced but i love them

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damien-wolfram-art · 6 months

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It’s Just a Bit

“It’s just for a scene,” Sasuke told himself as he lay in his plush bed surrounded by many pillows. “We’re almost done with this movie.” He clutched one tightly with his arms and legs, imagining it as the object of his current obsession, Naruto Uzumaki. “We’ll never see her again.” He thought, but there was a burning jealousy seething inside him.

Yukie Fujikaze was a beautiful dark-haired woman with skin like porcelain. She was also a talented actress– one that many in Sasuke’s profession looked up to. This included his long-time coworker, Naruto, who for the sake of a bit, had taken a nap on set after being patched up from his stunts. While he snored away, she approached him, kissing his left cheek gently for a photo.

Naruto would have loved to have been awake for it. That idea only made Sasuke’s bitter resentment grow deeper. This wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way though.

After years of working with the dimwitted goofball that Naruto was, Sasuke had grown inexplicably yet undeniably attached. He didn’t understand why, but whenever anyone strayed too close to his orange glowing ball of sunshine, he despised it. Naruto was his–only his. Sasuke had it bad for the little idiot.

He couldn’t tell him that though. They were just kids and Naruto was a guy like him. Not only that, but Naruto very obviously liked girls.

This was only made more obvious by how Naruto reacted to the candid photo– blushing like a schoolgirl at the idea of being kissed in such an unflattering state. Sasuke didn’t think of it as unflattering though. He considered the image of his beaten blond drooling and snoring away to be quite endearing. The only unflattering part was that stranger kissing him.

If only it could have been him. He would have kissed him better. He would have sat in bed with him afterwards and held his hand. They would have joked around and laughed together.

Sasuke thought back to the early days of shooting with Naruto. They were both talented in their own right, but they were strangers to each other then. He remembered when the idea for them to kiss on camera was pitched. Naruto was super excited. “Such a cool idea, right?” Naruto asked him, getting far too close. “I mean, what other rivals get to kiss, y’know?”

Sasuke gave in to Naruto’s ecstatic passion that day. The kiss was brief, harsh, and not very pleasant, but it awoke something in Sasuke. His character may have wanted to surpass Naruto, but he, simply wanted him. He just didn’t know how to say it.

So he didn’t. He just let his desire embitter him. He kept on wanting Naruto and hating anyone who got close, but he worried now that he’d lost his chance. Sasuke, the character, would be going on hiatus soon. It was what the plot of the show called for, but Sasuke, the actor, feared that he would be forgotten by his friend. They spent plenty of time together outside of work so that wasn’t the problem. Something else was bugging him. “What if he meets someone else?” He thought, clutching the pillow even tighter and shoving his worry flushed pale face into it in a way that ruffled his already disheveled midnight blue hair.

Only time would tell.

@narutokinktober

@bitchbot3000

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companionjones · 1 year

Text

The Academy

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Prelude: In this story, everything is fine for once. Reader, Luke and Leia are Jedi Masters teaching the future generations of Jedi. Among those future generations are Ben Solo, Rey, and Finn. Not Poe though. While the rest of them are kids, I aged Poe up to his age in the movies because I’m the author and can do whatever I want. Have a nice read.

Warnings: None!

(Couldn’t decide on a gif, have these)

*******

“Uncle Luke! Uncle Luke!” Ben called out excitedly in the middle of your lesson.

You turned around on the grassy knoll to find the Jedi Knight striding toward you and your class with a smile.

There goes the rest of your lesson.

Ben Solo ran toward his uncle and jumped into his arms.

Luke Skywalker welcomed the six-year-old happily. “Hey there, buddy! Are you ready for my lesson today?”

In the middle of Ben’s excited confirmation, Leia appeared. She must’ve sensed Luke was disturbing the end of your lesson. “Really, Luke? Again?” she scolded her twin.

“It’s alright, Leia,” you laughed at the looks the twins were giving each other,” I was nearly done, anyway. One last thing.” You returned your attention to your students. “Who can tell me the Jedi Master who was late to start her training, but proved to be one of the strongest Jedi of her time?”

“Master Organa!” one of your students called out at almost the same time Ben happily shouted out, “Mommy!”

“Very good, Finn!” you smiled at him, figuring that Ben was getting enough attention from his family. After a dramatic pause, you then announced, “Class dismissed!”

Most of your students happily got up at your words, bidding various goodbyes as they headed off in the direction where Luke usually held his classes. There was one girl; however, who wasn’t so quick to join the bunch.

“I’m sorry about the was Ben was acting, Master Y/n,” she apologised, “He means well.”

You bit back a smile at how sophisticated she sounded while defending her friend before answering, “I know he does, Rey. I’m not mad in the slightest. Thank you for looking out for him.”

She grinned at you before running to catch up with Finn and Ben.

“I don’t know why you don’t teach other sorts of classes, Y/n,” Luke pointed out, “Why teach maths, Aurebesh, and history, when you’re so good at meditating and combat?”

You rolled your eyes. “Because we already have Jedi Masters that teach those subjects quite well. You, Leia, Ahsoka...Plus, I don’t think the Jedi focused too well on ‘regular’ subjects in the past. These children need to be just as educated as other kids are regarding these matters.”

“I’ll explain it to you when you’re older,” Leia teased as she put an arm around her brother and lead him toward where he was supposed to be teaching a class.

You missed Luke’s annoyed rebuttal because you were too busy watching Ben run to a figure approaching him in the distance. You could just barely make out what the little boy was excitedly screaming: “Daddy! Daddy!”

And that could only mean one thing.

You took off running toward your quarters. If you didn’t run into him on the way, he would most likely be there. You saw him standing with his back toward you when the door opened.

Han and Poe hated diplomatic missions more than anyone else you knew, but they were the only ones available to go on them when school was in session.

“If I have to hear one more ‘I object,’ I think I’m going to blast someone’s head off.”

You hugged his bare back as he was in the middle of changing his shirt.

After a chuckle that you felt reverberate through him, Poe turned around and took you in his arms. “Gimme a second to hold my girl...Stars, I missed you too.”

Not having the energy to respond, you just breathed him in.

“How was class? I thought it was still going. I was going to come see you.”

“Luke decided to end it early.”

“I probably would’ve done the same,” Poe rebut.

“I know you would’ve,” you smiled against him. “I would’ve preferred it.”

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

#star wars #star wars fix-it #star wars fix it fic #poe #poe x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader

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girlbossminerva · 1 year

Note

I forgot how heteronormative the Fairy Tail fandom was back in 2015-2019, it could have been happening way before, but still.

Whenever I read fanfics religiously, I began reading Fairy Tail fanfiction years ago and it was always one of these books, that I read and it was either betrayal stories (I will not specify, some may already know) or...

Slayer Season stuff, kill me, and when reading these stories, I would see ships... I had no idea even existed but because I was dumb as hell and didn't finish the show, meaning I was walking on eggshells towards spoilers, I didn't but I remember Acnologia being mentioned and it unlocked some shitty memories.

AnnaLogia (Anna Heartfilia x Acnologia)

RogUra (Rogue Cheney x Kagura Mikazuchi

Don't know how this came to be, people see them as the Natsu and Lucy of the past but my interception being that Acnologia is a genocidal type of guy while Anna barely knows of his existence, I don't want their defenders coming after me when I say I ship AnnRene (Anna x Irene) Wait- Milfs together, Irene being with someone who won't leave her, can listen to her, while they stay in the library finding information and sharing with each other in a cottage- GUESS WHO JUST GOT A NEW CRACK SHIP- men didn't work out for Irene, so women would do much better- all in all, I understand what they're going for, but just no. Just no.

RogUra (Rogue Cheney x Kagura Mikazuchi

I don't understand. How in the fu-, I think what they were going for was how Kagura owned Yukino's life for about three days, and in the equivalent of StinYu, they needed RoguRa, They've never had any interaction, Kagura only argued with Sting over Yukino being in Mermaid Heel or SaberTooth, but even with all her interaction with men, she lacks interest in them, hell even Mashima didn't show signs of any guy approaching Kagura, fuck I might have jinxed my girl, although it pissed me off on how she got exposed to a lot of men in her "fight" against Dimaria, when Kagura is with Erza, genuinely she's more romantic with Erza instead of a MALE, Kagura KISSED Erza, KISSED!! Farther than any of the semi-canon ships can come up to, Kagura asked to be little Erza's little sister? Nah, it was avoiding her obvious wlw attraction, Rogue never interacted with her, he acknowledges her abilities, Kagura vs Millianna, he was genuine Kagura would win, I mean ofc she would, he saw her against Yukino, against Lyon and that mf is strong.

#Monet just rants

Go off queen!!

A lot of ships, specially some so-called crackships from the fandom really are rooted in heteronormativity, like with Rogue x Kagura or bickslow x lisanna (which later got more people actually putting in the thought process for their dynamic but i'm convinced it started to get lis out of the way of nalu), i don't know what kind of brain rot the early fandom had to just write "female character is hated on for no reason" or "smut that's this 👌 close to being omegaverse". I started reading ft fics in like 2014 and the first one i read was a just so full of lisanna and loke bashing cause of course they're "keeping Lucy and Natsu from being able to date each other", and today i find it so out of place cause i remember the rest of the plot was perfectly fine.

I feel like annalogia is like EndLu two electric boogaloo, like the pipeline was: nalu->EndLu ->AcnoLu (i remember seeing that being shipped)-> Annalogia

Which is objectively inferior to Annarene, like if you want to ship her with someone who's partially a dragon Irene is right there and asking for her character to do something. I'm a big fan of the possible things you can do with them even if I have never written about them besides them being funky lesbian vodka aunts in a luvia selkie au and i also love when milfs are paired together.

Shipping Kagura with any male character should be considered lesbophobia (/j). Of all possibly canon queer characters, i think she's the one where is the most explicit that she's a into women even before she kissed Erza, and has never shown the interest to men that other female characters have. To ship her with any guy, but ESPECIALLY with rogue who i think she has never had a meaningful conversation with (correct me if i'm wrong) is heteronormativity at it's finest and i have the theory it was made like that because people who shipped sabertooth members with each other were too cowardly to consider sting x yukino x rogue and Minerva was not redeemed yet. Kagura is like peak dyke activity/relatability, even if she did confuse her attraction to Erza, this woman has never non-platonically liked men in her life.

And ok i know some of these ships have shippers that actually see how they could happen or how it would work out in canon. more power to you, that's not my issue. my issue is that it's obvious many of the most accepted "crackships" were straight because the fandom couldn't even fathom lesbianism as a viable option

#straight outta the mailbox #monet visits #fairy tail salt

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linipikk · 1 year

Note

Sounds like you were pretty ignorant then if you didn’t have all the mass of super explicit and easy to see racism and Jew hate in hp. She literally says black people are inferior, Asian girls are objects, and goblin bankers are like jews word for word in the books.

I was very terribly ignorant! yes! i was also 8 or 9 and, albeit, through my teen years the books were still being published and i still liked them even with the faults even i could see. And never read them in english either , and it is a well known fact that harry potter translations are somewhat better than the og books. And, when you come from a 3rd world country, everything that is produced in a predominantly white and/or colonialist culture and really privileged society has this veil of racism that you learn to ignore very VERY early on. It was work to unlearn that, and it took me until i was pursuing storytelling as a career. Many have never thought more about harry potter because it is very low in the list of priorities.

And not only that. Jews are a very small community here, also asians (like... any asian whole-continent-east south south pacific, any tbh), not many in Colombia, and much less in the very specific ambient i grew up in. Remember that there is nuance. And that back in the day it made sense to me that a white brit would know nothing about other cultures. "They never know or even include us in anything, and really it all seems so plain when they add another, I can believe they are just that ignorant" or so i thought. But of course I was wrong.

The real shocker to me was when I was in the uk, seeing so mahy people from so many different places and cultures and thinking "wao, ok, now i see what the deal is " .

Nuance, my friend. Because very many if not all classical tales are hella antisemtic but i didnt knew that. for me those were just stories and i, of course, wasnt just believing them with my eyes closed, and just assumed the author was exagerating the bad guys as they always do (with us at least). There is this fairy tale about slavery that privileged people tell themselves that apply only in their imagination and we learn to ignore that because that is not the reality we see here but we still want fo enjoy the fun parts so we overlook the bad in order to find a little good. Same with classism, same with racism. And then come back to earth and think about it whole and ultimately learn.

We shouldnt just ignore it tho! but thats how it is because we all have different experiences. I dont know how begin to tell you about how the fandom experience here was so so different before the internet-harry potter (those two are linked) .

But I grew up and learnt to be a storyteller who is aware of all of those things. But also, i am still allowed to feel nostalgic about something that was important to me ina personal level, while also understanding the nuance of why i liked it how i read it and what happens with people who still likes it and why. And still try to open with them a dialogue of the problems, a real productive discussion, if you will. But I wont look at the girl waiting for her dad to finish his class at 8 pm and shun her for reading harry potter, i will try to nudge her to also read something else and open her worldview another degree tho. It is a " Yes, and..." approach.

You send anon messages to randos so I dont think you are very open to a bigger understandings of anything and just want to feel all mighty from your high horse, but I do like to ramble about stuff.

#anyway i got tired and big day tkmorrow #i ramble a lot and like idk mate #you come to my house and tell me i was an ignorant 8 years old with an obsessive personality and yes #yes i was #like... yeah mate thats a thing that happens when you are 9 #and from a very different part of the world where these problems seem magical #at 9 i was more worried about car bombs and guerrillas and my parents working on hospitals #cant remember the balck ppl being inferior tho so im holding it for the latam translator for being a pal and changing that somehow

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teacherintransition · 2 years

Text

Time; You Got More Behind You Than You Have Ahead of You…

…Act Accordingly…

The great equalizer…time. How? We are aware that we will run out of it before we wish; for some it ends tragically early; for others it’s tragically wasted, but it’s all relative, so who is to say? A person can rush through it and seem productive, but never take TIME to stop and smell the roses. A person can do nothing with it and be chided for “wasting” time; but if wasted time is enjoyed is it wasted? Confusing stuff with the only answer being determined by the individual spending it. A totally subjective experience with two objective truths: it will run out one day and most feel there is not enough of it. For this “teacher in transition,” it can almost be a race against time. I’m not racing to accumulate things but experiences …memories that, in time, will disappear when my time runs out. Crazy, crazy stuff.

When I retired, I determined that I’d spent enough time serving in the ranks of the world’s greatest profession, that of being a teacher, and now would devote my time to pursuits that I’d not been able to give time. I’m in my mid fifties…will there be time to do the things I want. Tick tock, tick tock… how do we do this without every moment being a stress inducing race with the clock? I wanted to leave the stress behind. Oh it’s a scene man.

During this brief sojourn of two years, I’ve developed some thoughts on how we should approach this period of life without it being a panicked path to accomplish “bucket goals.” You know… things to do before you, “kick the bucket?” I friggin’ hate that adage. In my experiences it creates two negative outcomes: one, it makes all your goals as a countdown to death…f*** that! And the other outcome, it makes you think you have time to get them done, “I got plenty of time!” The paradox lives. I refuse to let death be a motivation for my mindset … at … all. It’s like Gus McRae says to Woodrow F. Call in Lonesome Dove, “by god Woodrow it ain’t death I’m talkin’ about, it’s livin’!”* If you’re fifteen or fifty, eight or eighty…this is appropriate advice; be positive in mindset when living your life. I have a wonderful former student who I shall call Baylee with whom I maintain contact. We talk about life, I help her with her college classes and my wife and I have gone to basketball games and dinner with her since moving on from teaching. She used the term, bucket list once while talking about things she wanted to do in her young life. Like the comedian John Pinnette says, “oh nay, nay!” I suggested calling it your “gotta do” list. Less ominous, it can be added to and removes the “tick tock” panic.

A suggestion to be made is to avoid a structured, one after the next approach to getting things done. Why do you ask? C’mon, we talked about this before…very, very little turns out as planned. Accomplishing goals may look very different than they looked in the planning stages. Case in point: I wanted to travel…specifically in Europe. The unexpected sucker punched me and you with Covid. I feared that two to three years of valuable time was being wasted. Oh nay, nay…it just looked different than I expected. Here we are traveling the country while Kim pursues her travel nursing adventure. Not Europe, though we were able to go with my son and his wife to Scotland and Ireland, but it’s been a wild adventure. We’ve made new friends; hiked and camped in the beautiful Llano Estacado; sailed along the Red River; tried some awesome Cajun cuisine; viewed the open skies of West Texas and completely changed our lives. Not bad, huh? Check one on the “must do” list even though we never saw this coming.

Be willing to subtly compromise and let serendipity come into play. Racing the clock with a little spontaneity and less rigidity can lead to discovering experiences you never imagined…that’s the good stuff! Living with unbridled excitement beats a methodical one after the other marking off, in my opinion, but, hey whatever floats your boat. Have a general idea to live for adventure how it comes, but not with a final list that ends with, “now what?” Let’s face it … this thing we call time and can be a cruel son of a bitch. Some folks had it taken away far too early and it’s tragic. The only visible grasp of time that any of us have is time in the…now! What we are experiencing this…immediate…moment. In this respect, we are all the same page. Have dreams, plans, goals …be flexible in their experience, but don’t let the tangible moment you have slip through your fingers. You may not be at the place you love, but Crosby, Stills and Nash sang, “…to love the one (the place) you’re with!”

Dedicated to the ones who left too early… Thomas, Jay, Cindy, Fant, Jeff, John, Doris, Kyle, Kendall, Rick, Teresa, Matt, Heather and on and on.

*McMurtry, Larry; Lonesome Dove; Simon & Schuster; 1985

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crazyxshit · 2 years

Text

Brat.

my blog is 18+ (minors dni) & remember you’re responsible for your own media consumption.

likes, comments & reblogs are appreciated!

words: 3.8k

warnings: NSFW! darkprof!steve, rough sex, degrading, manipulation, begging, sir kink, slapping, p in v

mcu masterlist | nav

To say you were tired was an understatement. You were honestly sick of being so strict with yourself. It came to the point that you stressed so much you missed out on actually living as a teen. But now you were a university student and living was a priority.

The amount of pressure you put on making yourself seem like the perfect student the last few days was straining so you decided that going out with your best friend Nat would be the perfect remedy. It was the night before your first class for your third year in college and honestly, you had just wanted to let loose tonight.

Which leads you to one of the most popular college bars around campus. "Nat, Don't you think this is a bit too crowded," trying to tell her, your voice at a high volume due to the music that was blasting throughout the room.

She had your hand in her's, steering both of you in the direction of where the bar is. "Nope. It's exactly what you need." She yells back, turning to the bartender to request some drinks.

You don't say much, quickly reminding yourself what you had planned for tonight. Get tipsy, dance, and have fun with Natasha. It had been long overdue since the two of you had hung out, your schoolwork always being the main priority.

But what didn't know? Was that a certain man who had been watching you... He was in the shadows lowly lurking but he was more present than ever. Watching how your body moved slowly and sensually on the dance floor. His jaw and hands clenched, taking every ounce of self-control within him to not tear you away from the man you had begun dancing on.

It made him sick to see another man have their hands on your body or even be in the sight of you. It was like the anger inside was begging to be let out. To take you home with him, bend you over every object in his house, and fuck you until you were screaming his name.

Soon. All that would happen soon.

It had already been halfway into the semester and not much had happened. Except for the one-eighty in yourself. You became more of a party girl, and while Nat never expressed her concern you could tell she was worried. You've partied almost every other week and while you never went home with a guy, you've kissed a few people.

One of the worst things about your year was the one and only, Steve Rogers. Your professor. He was always known to harshly grade his students and reprimand them if they cursed in his class. He never tolerated lateness and most people called him 'Ancient Rogers' by the way he acted.

So you made it your sole purpose to piss him off. In every single way.

Walking into his class on a bright and early Monday morning, you wore something casual. You weren't about to be one of those girls who would wear dresses and skirts and dress up like it was some kind of fashion show. But you definitely weren't about to go on campus where hundreds of people would look at you and think you didn't care how you perceived yourself.

"Hey, Nat," Yawning as you greet her, still tired from the night before as she approaches you, her straight red hair framing her face and a fell a little bit past her shoulder. She has two coffees in her hands and as she hands you one, you gratefully accept, thanking her for it.

"I hate Mondays." She groans in which you nod your head in agreement. "And we have Rogers class first."

"Yes, we do." You half snarkily respond with a mischievous tone in your voice. "Why do I feel like this is going to go bad." She had a right to be after all you were going to piss him off once again. She knew about it due to the many times you told her about him and from what she had witnessed. She knew your whole charade of pissing him off was just your way of flirting with him, but she didn't know if he appreciated any of it.

Heading in the direction of his class, you both talked to one another about things that were going on in each other lives. Your friendship with her was one of those where you would forever have things to talk about and the conversation never got boring. In a way, you struck out when you met Nat, when everything else in your life went to shit she would be there for you.

Sitting in the front of the class, you waited for Rogers to comes inside the room. You had to mentally prepare yourself each time you were going to see him because he undoubtedly hot. Like the type of hot that would you make you spit your water out or made you double look to make sure you weren't seeing things. You would never tell him that to his face but you were pretty sure he knew by the number of times the other girls gawked at him like he was a statue on display.

And as he stepped inside the room, he still managed to take your breath away and cause dirty thoughts to form inside your head. Quickly. A little too quickly. His full beard was probably the best part about him. It was trimmed but still covered the entirety of his lower face. You imagined how it would feel against your soft skin more times than you can count. His blondish hair slicked back as it ended before it even reached his hair.

He was also in a suit- a navy blue one with a matching white and blue tie. He was your law professor after all but you truly didn't know why he dressed all professionally like he was about to go to trial. His biceps bulged again the constricting fabric like at any point it was about to burst through and you wouldn't mind it at all. He was seemingly very fit and you couldn't help to think how he would gaze into your eyes before scooping you up in bridal style to throw you on top of his bed.

"Good Morning. Let's start." He said, turning around to start writing on the board. His class was boring, and if he wasn't so attractive you would probably fall asleep in it. But as he continued droning on about corporations you didn't really pay attention. And of course, the rarest of times you don't pay attention to him, he fucking calls on you.

"You. Would you like to answer the question?" He asks, his hands on his hips as his sea-blue eyes seemed to bore holes into you.

"No thank you." Flashing him a slight smile as a way to tell him to not bother. "Do you not know the answer or were you not paying attention?" He hinted at, a certain annoyance tied with his voice that pissed you off.

"Well, if your class wasn't so boring, maybe someone would pay attention." Shooting back at him, your own tone reflecting his. Giving you a look of disbelief, he breaks eye contact with you.

"See me after class."

Mocking his last words under your breaths before actually paying attention, you noticed how he didn't call on your the rest of the time. Purposely.

An asshole he was indeed.

As student by student left the room, you decided to busy yourself by staying on your phone, not really caring for what he had to say. "I suggest you pay attention in my class, for the sake of your grade." He stills in front of you, lecturing you like a child or some sort, in which you respond back with a halfhearted hum.

"Is that all?" Looking up to ask him, boredness masking your tone and face all at once. You were honestly doing it to piss him off and by the vein popping out from his forehead, you were achieving that goal.

"Whatever you're trying to pursue, stop it. You really don't want to see me mad, like you've been trying to do for the past few months." His tone lower and deeper, making you smirk in satisfaction.

"Or what? You'll punish me." Sarcastically responding, A remark like that was probably not the best way to go about it yet on the inside, you didn't care. His buttons were fun to press and his reactions were to die for. Just like now, how he had a surprised look on his face like someone was about to tell him he was about to be a father.

But the atmosphere shifted. His jaw tightened, his blue eyes seem to dilate as you tried not to lose yourself in them while the smirk still remained on your face. It was like he was secretly warning you to not proceed. Of course, that wouldn't stop you but it was interesting. What could be so threatening about him?

Pushing past him, you let that same smirk falter because while you loved this game of cat and mouse with him, he was dangerous. Not actually, not in a way, you could put into words but he was like water and all you wanted to do was drown in it. To let it consume every inch of you until it swallowed you whole.

It was now Wednesday, another class with Mr. Steve Rogers and you couldn't wait to see how things would go today. You normally would have him three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Given your previous exchange you decided to cool it off a bit but Mr. Rogers just made you insane.

The type of insane that made your blood run hot and cold simultaneously. The type of insane that was maddening. It filled your senses making you act like an entire brat. It wasn't how you usually acted but something about him evoked that feeling inside you.

Walking in his class with Nat, you sat down in your usual spot, and when he walked in he had literally taken your breath away. He was in a gray suit this time, a black tie resting on him this time. He had always his hair ungelled, just slightly ruffled which you dreamed of pulling at or running your hands through it to cause a reaction out of him.

Your mind was snapped back to reality when a paper was placed on top of your test. You had expected this quiz since he told you about it a while back but for some reason, you felt unprepared. Looking over each question to answer each one thoroughly, at random times it had felt like you were being watched.

And each time you looked up, you saw the same stormy blue eyes that had seemingly darkened a shade. Mr. Rogers was staring at you. You noticed how he brought his hand up to his face, running it over his full beard. You could have sworn he was looking at you but maybe he wasn't? Or was that his attempt of some sly way of breaking his eye contact with you for it not to be so awkward?

It annoyed you yet made you excited and irritated at the same time. It was like he was teasing you with his gaze. It limited your focus on the test that was supposed to be half of your grade and while he didn't physically do anything to disrupt you secretly blamed him as the distraction.

The end of the semester. Fucking finally. You were supposed to get that test back from Mr. Rogers today and get your grade but you couldn't shake off this anxious feeling you had ever since completing the test.

"Hey, I can literally see you shaking. Do I need to take the coffee away?" Nat said to you, her words filled with concern as she softly placed her palm on your thigh. It broke you out from the stressed-filled thoughts.

"I'm fine, I just don't want to fail this exam. There's a lot riding on this." You tell her, finally aware of your shaking leg— forcing it to stop.

"You say that with every test. And at the end of the day, you always get the highest score so don't worry."

Sighing, you let your head fall back, exhaling in hopes to calm your high tense nerves. You really need to relax. Nat was right. You were fine and you would get a good score this wasn't anything to freak out over.

But it was. As the paper landed in front of you that morning, your score was anything but high. A twenty-five percent out of a fucking hundred. You were absolutely mortified, shocked, and guilt-ridden. How could you do this to yourself? It wasn't like you to fail something and yet life took you by surprise once again.

"Uhm- Mr. Rogers. I would like to talk about-"

"If anyone has an issue or concern about the way I graded then you can show to my office hours." He sternly said before continuing on with his lesson. Looking around the room everyone seemed relieved, for the most part, the only person who was appalled was you.

Like you said he was an asshole. He knew you were going to talk about your grade but he cut you off. What a nice professor he was. But this time was different. Normally you would give a smart or cocky remark but you didn't. He noticed this but you were too frustrated with yourself and at him through the entire class which made you distracted from any attempt at learning.

At four pm, you inevitably found yourself at his office door. It seemed to stare back at you hauntingly, mahogany-colored with his name and subject gold plated and all. It was almost like a warning. To not go in. That uncertainty lurked ahead and for some reason it made you want to go in even more. Raising your hand to knock on the wooden door, you were greeted with a "Come in" from the other opposite side.

It was like he wasn't surprised to see you. The casual look on his face said enough and as soon as you stepped inside, closing the door behind you in case this would turn into a yelling match.

Taking a seat in the chair in front of his desk, he leaned back, twirling a blue inked pen in his masculine, large hands causing you to gulp. An entirely inappropriate, what could those hands do to you, thought appeared in your mind, causing you to shift uncomfortably.

After this, you would have to find some mediocre college boy to fuck. To rid you of Steve Rogers and all the scenarios your mind had created.

"I'm not surprised to see you here if I'm being honest." He said licking his lips, casually which had an effect on your body. Is that crazy? To have an effect on someone without even touching them?

"Of course not, I have a few words for you, Mr. Rogers. A twenty-five out of one hundred? You know that's bullshit." Your tone, accusing him of grading wrong or purposely sabotaging you.

"If I were you, I would watch my mouth. Especially after receiving a grade like that on such an important test." His tone was calm, not like how he was earlier in the day. So why did it piss you off so much more?

"There has to be anything I could do- another test I can take or paper I can write to pass the class. I need this credit." You said, the underlying begging tones becoming more prominent as you spoke. You hated it.

Begging wasn't something you did, you worked hard, normally got your way and that was that. But you never had to grovel. You always had the best grades, were the person who did it all, and did it correctly. But lately, that changed. Things just weren't the same. You wanted to lose control and the partying helped that but there was still something missing.

He kept looking at you his eyes narrowed like he was thinking. "No." Leaning forward he started writing on a piece of paper again, dismissing you easily.

"You're a fucking asshole. This must be fun to you huh? All this power, not caring who suffers at the other end." You knew this outburst wasn't going to be great for you in the long run, but you had to get those things off your chest. He was toying with your grade and future like it was an afternoon activity and it made you furious.

But you weren't entirely stupid. Standing up you began to walk out of his office, reaching for the doorknob, before abruptly getting pinned to the wall by your wrists. How did he even get over to you so fucking fast? "Didn't I say watch your fucking mouth?"

"Mr. Rogers-" To say you were shocked would be an understatement. You knew you got on his nerves quite often but you didn't think he would actually act like this. The worst part was that you liked it. You were always one for the rougher side of things. Tame and soft is nice and all but most times you just wanted to be fucked and degraded.

"Sir. If you're going to use that tone towards me, if you're going to act like a fucking brat, you'll address me properly." His blue eyes were dark, the only light was the lamp on a table next to his desk. It barely illuminated his features but up close he was even more attractive. His beard fitting him perfectly, his hair slightly messy due to him probably running his hands through it often, his lips that looked so soft and kissable you couldn't help to think the type of control he held.

"Or what?" Recovering your cocky demeanor. He wanted to call you out on your tendencies then you would act like it. You secretly wanted to see what he would do— if he would have you suck his cock until it ruined your makeup.

"I'm going to teach you a fucking lesson." He lets you go, only to lightly drag you by the wrist towards his desk, sitting on his chair, facing you. "Bend over on my knee." You don't hesitate to do what he says, his dominance wildly attractive.

"Look at you." The way you could see what was happening cause every feeling in your body to light up like a fire. It excited you, the waiting of what he would do— not being able to see. The only downside was that you couldn't see his face when he would finally touch you in the way you've been needing him to.

"So fucking beautiful." He slipped off your pants, leaving your panties on. You couldn't help but to squirm, his fingertips lightly caressing every curve, every part of your skin.

"Such a pretty slut." In an instinct, he struck your ass, the sound of his hand connecting with your cheek lowly vibrating within the room. You couldn't help but to squirm and jolt forward, the pain and pleasure making your blood rush to your cunt making you throb. "Stay still or do I have to make this last all night."

All night? He couldn't. He wouldn't. Would he?

"No. Ste—Sir. Just fuck me."

"Beg then. If you want it then beg." Slapping your ass at the end of every sentence. That asshole. It was like he knew what your body needed. What it wanted. "I don't beg." You tried to say but the words come out broken.

"Well then I guess we will be here all day." He darkly chuckles at you while slapping your exposed cunt, knowing exactly what you would do. You would bend to his will, giving him exactly what he wanted.

You contemplated for the short second. Your mind clouded with lust. Everything about this was wrong but it all felt so right. His hands on your bodies, his dominance tone.

"Fuck. Sir. Please. Touch me. Use me. I’ll do anything." You rasped out, the sting of pleasure roaming through your body. It was making you breathless.

"Get up and ride me then." He demands, forcing you to scramble quickly onto your feet. You hurriedly make do of his belt, unzipping, letting him push down his pants.

He was fucking bigger than anyone you've ever been with. His cock glistened with precum in which you smoothed your hand over it, rubbing up and down his length.

"Fuck. I want your pussy. I'll have your mouth next time." His words alone and the promise made you all the more wetter. He grips your hips pulling you on top of him, drawing a moan from your lips.

You gasp for air as he moves your panties to the side, pounding into you, causing your walls to pulsate around him. He slipped in so easily and the smell of sex covered the air.

Steve searches your eyes for any discomfort. He wanted to take you rough but he didn't want to seriously hurt you. He wanted to worship your body but ruin you from the inside out. He wanted to mark you all over have you fucked out and cock drunk by him only.

Your moans of pleasure is what lets him know that he can speed up and he does alright. His dick makes his way to every inch of your inside, as he grabs you by the throat with one hand and the other wraps in your hair while kissing you. Your saliva mixes with one another, grunting and panting into the kiss.

He grips your breast through your shirt fondling and slapping it until he's content. You grip his shoulder for support the brutal speed in which he's fucking you at is sending you to your edge.

"Fuck. Sir. I'm going to come." The words leaving you in a small whisper. The only way you knew he had heard you is the way his mouth found the sweet spot on your neck, sucking and biting as he continued to fuck you roughly.

He was bruising you for sure and you felt hot all over. "Come my sweet slut. Give me all your pretty sounds and your sweet sweet come." He pants, nibbling your ear just because.

The words were all you needed as the bubble in your stomach exploded, him following in suit. Your body shaking in Steve's grasp. He held onto you the entire time until you were calmer.

You slump against his shoulders not wanting to move. He places you down on the couch without any effort. He goes to his desk finding something he could clean you up with, making his way back to you.

Your body spasms, your muscles exhausted from being so fucked out. You don't know when but somehow through your blissed out phase, you felt his large body came behind yours, laying in what was sure and uncomfortable position on the couch.

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #chris evans #chris evans smut #marvel smut #marvel one shot #marvel cinematic universe #prof steve rogers #steve rogers x female reader #natasha romanoff

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baecvlt · 3 years

Text

Stalker Nagito Komaeda x Milf!Reader

this was requested via my twitter:

“Hey! i’ve seen your works and I’m in love. Can I request smut where a stalker Nagito Komaeda becomes obsessed with a milf reader who moves into the neighborhood who’s like a dom in bed and ya know just large bust and taller than him. Thank youuu🤍”

a/n: ofc. but I have my own idea of a dom which i’ll use involving certain things (heed warnings)

warnings: he is so obviously a virgin in this, degradation, slight masochism, asphyxiation, spit, also Nagito calls the reader mommy (side note: nagito is in his early 20s in this, he lives alone. age of reader isn’t specified BUT I say she’s in her late 20s/early 30s)

• • •

It was a bright day...which Nagito despised. It was summer. He hated the sun, hated the mosquitoes, and the unnecessary humidity. It was days like these he wishes he was back at his university dorm. The A/C, the tall tree covering his window and blocking the sun...it was perfect. Hell, he didn’t even hate classes. Yet, he couldn’t live in the dorms forever. When it came time to buy a home, he stupidly did so in fall, moved in during the winter.

Well, no shit the home seemed perfect then. It wasn’t fucking summer. His A/C decided to break, his windows has a great view of the sun, and most of his friends were out of town (all except Hajime, but Hajime is fucking boring and a bummer). Nagito sat on his couch, watching reruns of old tv shows. He took a sip from his nearby glass (cold water), suddenly hearing sounds of what appeared to be a loading van. He looked outside his window.

A moving van?

Right, that one old man who lived there passed away. Freak accident, by the way. Oh well, may he rest in peace. Meanwhile, Nagito was being himself and trying to see who it was. Pretty much, the dude was being nosy. He saw another car pull up. That must’ve been the family’s car. Out jumped 3 kids, what appeared to be 2 girls and 1 boy. An adult stepped out. Nagito decided he’d get a better look at the situation. He put on his shirt, black jeans, and his green hood.

He was “going for a walk”.

Without being noticed, he made his way to the other side of the street. It was a woman, she was taking boxes out of the truck. The minute Nagito saw her it was if he was stricken by Cupid’s arrow. She was tall and beautiful. Her skin complimented her hair and her legs, he couldn’t take his eyes off them. Her breasts...he needed to stop—

“Hi!”

She was in front of him, a warm and inviting smile on her face. “H-Hi,” he muttered. She didn’t hear him well, so it helped that he waved. “I’m new in the neighborhood. We just moved in,” she added, putting the box down. She stuck her hand out, going for a handshake. He shook her hand, her warm hand against his cold ones. Why are his hands always cold? “I see,” he responded, getting his shit together,“I’m Nagito Komaeda. I live across the street”. She introduced herself and complimented his house.

“What a lovely home. I hope the neighborhood is just as lovely”

“It should be. It’s pretty quiet. There’s not many families here. Say, can I help you pack?”

“You’re too sweet! I’d really appreciate it”

He helped take all the boxes in her home, helping load a couch too, and help with other large objects. They finished in 9 hours, taking a majority of the day. “Thanks for helping out, Nagito”. She made a lemonade, handing him a glass.

“Don’t mention it! Also, thank you”

One of the kids ran in the living room where they sat on the couch. He gasped when he saw Nagito. “Mommy! That man looks dead!!!”. Nagito smiled, but his mom was not amused. “Michael! Apologize..”. The kid kept smiling and said,“Sorry!”. He ran to another room. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered. Nagito shook his head.

“Hey, I’m rather malnourished”

“Ha. On an unrelated topic, are you hungry? I could make us something”

“Oh, I shouldn’t linger any longer. I wouldn’t want to disturb your husband”

She laughed. “I know you mean no harm, but I’m not married,” she added. “Oh,” Nagito muttered,“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean it in any way”. She shook her head and reassured him it was fine. “Sit, Nagito,” she pulled out a chair,“I’m not letting you refuse having dinner with us. Especially since you were such help”. She rubbed his back before heading back into the kitchen to begin cooking.

She made him a bowl of pasta, adding chicken on the side. Nagito was quite happy. He hadn’t eaten a good meal in so long. Her kids didn’t eat at the table, but on the counter. Meanwhile, she ate with Nagito. Just as Nagito thought he couldn’t grow fonder of her, he did just that. All she did was let him talk about himself.

“Jesus, I’m sorry about your parents? How are you keeping yourself afloat with university and expenses?”

“Academic scholarships”

“Wow, you’re such a smart boy”

The way she phrased it made him flustered. “Thank you for the meal, ma’am,” he muttered,“I haven’t eaten like this in who knows how long”. She smiled tenderly, picking up his empty plate. “Seconds?”. He shook his head.

“No, thank you. I’m already so full”

“I’m glad. You know, there’s always a meal for you in store if you can do me a favor”

“What’s that?”

“My oldest daughter has her final test this week. You think you can help her study? I’ll make you a nice, warm meal every time you come over”

Nagito thought about it. He would also have time around her. Plus, she wasn’t a bad cook. “Of course, I look forward to it,” he told her. “Lovely”. He got up and excused himself to go home. “It was nice having you over, Nagito,” she said softly. He could tell she was getting sleepy. When people are tired, Nagito has noticed that their tone is rather sheepish. She walked him to the door, ruffling his hair playfully and he blushed. “Goodnight, neighbor”.

“Goodnight, you”

Before he left, she stopped him and handed him a paper: (xxx) xxx-xxxx ♡

“Call me when you get home so I have your number saved. Then, I can call you when my daughter, Vanessa, needs help. Take care, okay?”

He nodded.

She closed the door, his thoughts racing on his way home. He picked up some things about her, things she didn’t even tell him. He went home and opened a notebook, writing all of it down. He called her and she answered, her voice as sweet as when he left (only sleepier). “Hello?”. His breath was heavy without realizing it as he spoke. “H-Hey, you told me to call you,” he breathed,“It’s Nagito...Komaeda”

“Oh, hey, angel! I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“What? No, it’s all good— why’d you think so?”

“You sound like you need to catch your breath, but anyway, thanks for calling me. I’ve saved your number now”

“Oh, great! Well, if that’s all, I’ll let you go to bed now”

“It was. Goodnight, Nagito”

“G-Goodnight”

He hung up, flustered more than ever as he continued to jot down his thoughts on paper. The next day, he woke up at 6am to wait in his car. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. At around 7:41am, his front neighbor and kids headed for their car. Nagito, who had taken a light nap in the driver’s seat, was awoken by the car starting. He waited for the car to drive away just slightly past his house to start his own car, slowly tailing behind her.

He dropped her kids off at the nearby elementary. She got off, kissed them on their forehead (all minus the eldest, who walked swiftly through the gates). Seeing how she cared for them made Nagito feel bad, but all he did was brush that feeling off. Next, he followed her through her daily. As he did, his notes from last night echoed through his mind, adding new detail.

“She works at an office not everyday She doesn’t have allergies but is sensitive to dust Red seems to be her favorite color but always in a darker shade Her daughter is around 10 years old She isn’t vegan but enjoys almond milk Maybe has an issues with abandonment but I can’t assume that either She buys many apples but not the same amount of bananas at the store so maybe she only eats the bananas—”

Just more to add to his notebook.

He got home before she did, writing down what he had learned. His phone rang about an hour later of him getting home. He picked it up,“Hello?”. “Nagito, hi!”. It was her. He started having a mini-panic attack, because why would she be calling him? “H-Hey, how are you?”

“I’m doing alright. I was wondering if you could come over and tutor Vanessa”

Oh, thank god.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be down there right now”

“Great. See you then!”

He was relieved, heading to her home happily. He knocked on the door. When she opened it, she did so with the same warm smile as yesterday. “Thank you for coming over,” she said,“She’s in her room”. Nagito nodded, freezing when she grabbed his hand and took him to the room. Her touch was so soft, noted. They got to the room, where a girl was reading a book on a desk. “Nessa?”. The girl turned around.

“Nagito is going to be here for a few hours to help you out with homework and studying. He’s really smart, so pay attention and be respectful”

“Okay, mom”

She nodded, squeezing Nagito’s shoulder before leaving. Nagito approached the girl, she took her things out. Before he could speak, she stopped him. “Please don’t call me ‘Nessa’,” she whispered,“It’s bad enough my mom does, but not you, Please”.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on referring to you at all”

“Bastard”

“Nessa”

“I guess I walked right into that one”

Nagito laughed, grabbing a chair and sitting next to her. Her work wasn’t what he expected. Is this what they’re teaching kids now? He could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen this type of stuff until he hit middle school. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t do, but damn. All in all, tutoring went well. Vanessa actually learned something today. “Good job!,” he said. “Thank you,” she smiled and hugged him,“I felt so stupid”.

“Hey, its okay not to understand things”

Her mom walked in. “Dinner’s ready”. Vanessa got up and went to the kitchen. “How’d it go?,” she asked Nagito. “Went well, she gets the math now,” he answered. She smiled, thanking him for his help and asking him to join them for dinner. He’d be foolish not to, so he accepted the invite.

Fish tacos were served tonight with rice and beans, another lemonade made. It was different than anything Nagito had ever had, but that doesn’t equate to bad. He actually enjoyed the meal. The kids sat at the main table today, much more respectful than yesterday. “Michael how was school?”. He put a thumbs up, getting back to eating. “And Adrianna?”. She looked up from her meal and shrugged. “What’s wrong?”.

“I’m tired, but class was okay”

“Oh, okay. When you’re done, just take a quick shower and get to bed”

“Thanks”

Nagito thought it was endearing. Seeing how understanding and loving she was, it was refreshing. The kids all eventually left, Nagito finishing his meal. “Did you like it?”. He looked at her, nodding. “Great! Seconds?”.

“Full again. I don’t usually eat, but your food is always so good”

“Oh, you’re just saying things...”

“No, really! Thank you”

He said his goodbyes to the family, walking back home. It was as if he was falling for this woman more and more everyday. He went to sleep, this time dreaming of her. He never dreams, but this time he dreamt she was on her knees for him. Then, nothing else. It was as if his dream teased him.

The next morning, he woke up to some knocking on the door. He looked at the time. 8:23am. He put on a pair of jeans and his shirt, walking to his door. He opened it and there she stood, wearing a black dress and red heels. He assumed she had work and needed a favor before going. “Good morning,” he said.

“Were you following me yesterday?”

Shit.

“I, uh...,” he didn’t know what to answer. He was indeed following her yesterday. He also liked her, so if he straight up said that he was to following her, it’d ruin things. His face was glowing a shade of pink to a slight red as he thought of the right answer. He was still stumbling over his words. “I think it’s kinda cute,” she added. The fuck? “Huh?”. She pushed him inside the house, closing and locking the door behind him. “When a boy follows someone around, it’s because he wants something,” she added, but her tone was so sultry,“Well, Nagito—”. She pushed him onto the couch, leaning in front of him with her hands on his chest.

“—What do you want?”

None of what was happening felt real. Nagito couldn’t find the words to express what exactly he wanted. This was the first time he’d ever been in a situation like this, it wasn’t a bad one either. He began to panic when she straddled him. “Could it be that you wanted me?,” she asked. He frantically nodded and she laughed as she locked her lips with his. He gasped against her lips, kissing back. She slowly trailed her kisses down to his neck, cupping his jaw while grinding on his lap. Nagito moaned, his shaky hands grabbing her ass. She grabbed his hands and put them away from her. “It’s cute that you’re getting this carried away”.

“I’m sorry”

“No time to apologize. Get on your knees for mommy”

Nagito was about to lose his mind when she said that, but he obeyed. Her presence was domineering as he stood on his knees against his carpeted floor. She spread her legs, noticing Nagito desperately trying to get a look. Her red heel stopped him, stepping on his head lightly. “Am I teasing you?,” she asked,“It’s okay to be honest”.

“Y-You are, but its okay. I want to be teased by you”

“You’re adorable,” she took her heel off his head,“Let’s go to your room”.

He practically ran to his bed. He sat and waited patiently. She entered the room, heading to his bed. She began to take off his shirt, admiring his frame. She then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. He kicked them off and sat down. She sat next to him. “Give me your hands”. She held them, frowning slightly. “Boo, they’re so cold,” she teased,“I’ll warm them up for you”. Carefully, she grabbed his left hand, putting his middle and ring finger in her mouth. She licked to his fingertips, leaving him tense and speechless. She stopped and smiled at him.

“This is your first time, isn’t it?”

He nodded shyly. “Don’t be shy,” she said,“I’m going to guide you, but I’m also going to have my fun”. He gulped, nodded. She stood up and removed her dress. She wore a lacy black bra and panties. She brought his hands to her breasts, allowing him to fondle them. They were huge in his hands. “You like them, baby?”. “Y-Yes,” he muttered,“Can you, uh, take....the bra off?”. He was ashamed when asking, he felt desperate. She smiled and nodded, unhooking it and allowing the bra to fall to the ground. He gasped at the sight of her tits, grabbing them. She straddled him.

“Do you know what to do with them?”

He nodded, rubbing one and sucking the other. She moaned sweetly, grinding on his lap. He popped his mouth off them. That was when she took the opportunity to knock him onto the bed. She began to make out with him, shoving his tongue down her throat. They lay sideways. Her hand was on his neck, slightly choking him. He couldn’t resist but try to grind on her lap. She laughed. “Look at you,” she mocked,“Humping my leg like a desperate little puppy”. She didn’t let him speak, sitting up and pushing him back down. “I’m going to give you what you want,” she whispered in his ear,“Take your cock out”.

He was nervous as he did, hands shaky. She blushed a bit at his size. “It’s so big,” she said, straddling him,“I’m going to have my way with it”. “Please, do what you want to me,” he begged,“Abuse me, please”. She didn’t speak, sinking down on it. Nagito gasped, she was extremely wet. She began to bring her hips up and land straight down on it, repeatedly. She put her hands around his throat, now being rougher. Nagito gasped for air, grabbing her hands.

That was a mistake.

“Hands down,” she ordered, striking him across the face. “Sorr-”. He was slapped once again. “Only speak when you’re spoken to”. He nodded as his stomach began to cave in. His cock twitched each time she slapped him, making her moan. She leaned forward, capturing his earlobe between her teeth. He winced, his hands tangling in the sheets. He felt as though his entire body was blushing.

“You’re so sensitive there”

She teased him, kissing the skin and nibbling. His hips involuntarily snapped upward, making her whine. “You’re so desperate, baby,” she laughed,“it’s so cute”. He could feel her warmth running along his cock. He bit into his hand, trying to stop himself from cumming inside her. It worked, but she didn’t like him doing that. She grabbed his hands and kissed them.

“Don’t hurt yourself, put them right here”

She placed them on her boobs. He watched them bounce up and down, grabbing them gently. His rather large hands seemed small on her tits. He was extremely flushed. He took them off her and placed them on her hips. “Open your mouth”. He lay back more and did as he was told. She leaned forward, grabbing his jaw again as she spit into it and kissed him. He moaned when she did, his urges getting the best to him and thrusting upward. He hit her cervix every time, causing her to produce the sweetest and sluttiest of moans. Her walls tightened around him and now he was whining. “Are you gonna cum, honeybun?,” she asked.

“Y-Yes..”

“Where do you wanna cum?”

“I wanna cum...everywhere. I want it. I want it so bad. I wanna cum inside and on your tits, on your ass, y-your face..mouth. Please let me cum, mommy”

She motivated him, riding him harder. “Come on, Nagito,” she whispered,“Cum for mommy. Cum all the way inside her”. He lost his mind after that, groaning as he shot his load(s) inside her. He was still inside her as he tried catching his breath. She rubbed his chest, shushing him. “Good boy, you did so well,” she cooed,“Such a good boy.” He was covering his face, embarrassed and still hard. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?,” she asked. He shook his head, thinking,“Not rough enough”. He whined when she got off, revealing he was still erect. She noticed.

“You wanna go again, baby? Kids don’t leave school till 2:30. We have time for an extra fuck”

“C-Can I?”

“Yes, dummy”

She let Nagito choose how to fuck her. He wanted missionary, mostly because he craved intimacy and she did not disappoint. She kissed and praised him, telling him he was good. She held onto him the whole time and cuddled him afterwards. Nagito felt so special, he felt loved. “I can come over when I don’t have work,” she said,“Would you like that?”.

“I’d love that actually”

“You make me happy, Nagito. I could stay here and cuddle all day”

“I feel so lucky”

He yawned, looking at the clock. “Its 10,” he told her. She nuzzled his chest, humming. “Mmmm, let’s take a small nap,” she whispered,“Okay?”. “Okay”. He kissed the top of her head and held her to him, slowly joining her in slumber.

#danganronpa #fanfic #danganronpa goodbye despair #smut #dr nagito #sdr2 nagito #nagito headcanons #nagito smut #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda #nagito komeada x reader #x reader #danganronpa nagito

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tj-wrote-things · 3 years

Text

𝐇𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝗼

Nikolai Lantsov x fem!Grisha!reader

Based off of this ask

A/N- Hey besties, this is kinda late,, and i hate it but only a little bit. Can you guys like -stop requesting arguments??? pls its breaking my heart.

Mega thanks to @itisroe e for being my editor and shoulder to whine on :)

*Id like to take a moment to say that Nikolai is a bit of a dick in this one, and id like to reiterate that its never okay to invalidate or insult a so. I dont condone that type of behavior, im just writing it

enjoy:)

•

If there was one thing Nikolai Lantsov knew how to do, it was pout. You caught him— more than just a few times— slouched over on the blush red couch with his arms crossed, face smushed into a scowl as he studied you packing your bag.

You sighed, casting an increasingly irritated glance at him as you folded the coarse cloth of your winter coat and tucked it away with the rest of your belongings. The weight would be too much to bear, but you knew it would be cold up north where you were headed alongside Zoya and the Bataars.

“I’m leaving at dawn, whether you like it or not, Sobachka.”

The King looked away briefly at your words, hating understanding that you were right. He hauled himself out of his seat and redirected his sulking to the world outside the large window. It was beautifully blanketed in steadily falling snow.

“Will you really make our last night together a bitter one?” you commented.

“It wouldn’t be our last night if you’d just let me come with you,” Nikolai huffed.

You exhaled, dreading that this would be the third time you had this discussion, which, in his world, was more so a debate.

The reason was simple: Nikolai had no business accompanying them. The objective of the mission to Fjerda was a peace treaty between the Drüskelle and the Grisha populous. As Nikolai fit neither category, it had been decided that he would stay back and continue to hold the country together.

“We’ve been through this: to bring more people on the expedition would only irritate the Fjerdans. Especially, the king of a country with which they’ve been at war for a considerable amount of time,” you reiterated.

Nikolai shook his head again, unwilling to accept it. He refused to welcome the fact that the love of his long life would be away and in perpetual danger for weeks.

The wind whistled as it bounded against the window, filling the room with a violent creaking.

“It’s dangerous, Y/N, why can you not understand—”

You cut him off swiftly as his voice began to rise, “You watch that tone, Lantsov, or I’ll—”

Now, it was Nikolai’s turn to cut you off: “You’ll what? Leave early?” The young man turned to you from the window and met your incredulous gaze. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. We both know it's your only vice.”

“My only vice,” you mocked cynically. “In what regard?”

Nikolai spread his arms patronizingly as if he were explaining the obvious to his childhood self.

“Your heart craves adulation,” he said, pointing a sharp, accusatory finger your way. “You’ll take any opportunity to leave Os Alta— leave me— and flaunt your gifts.”

Your heart thudded heavily in your chest. In anger or despair, you could not tell.

You would not lie to yourself. You knew with all your heart that, all things considered, your mastery of the Small Science was a blessing, hidden behind the mask of a devil. In the days you served faithfully in the Second Army, your gifts were revered and you were respected in the highest regard amongst your Grisha peers. However, in the years following the war, you became like everybody else.

It was at the behest of your husband that you progressively began to use your power as an Inferni less as the days passed. Ever the political mastermind, he had approached you one summer evening and begged you refrain from using your power in public, claiming that the presence of a Grisha Queen was too much for his fragile country to bear. In the beginning, you had agreed, for if there was one thing that surpassed your love for your husband, it was your shared love for Ravka.

You knew that relations between the Grisha and the others were strained, and so you agreed, taking your husband's hand and promising to limit the displays of glowing orange flames which had burned your enemies as well as warmed the hands of your allies.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to train behind a closed gate, under a roof, beneath the watchful eye of First Army guards armed with fire extinguishers. In fact, it had grown so stifling you had begun to resemble Alina Starkov when first she came to the Little Palace, with her pallor skin and brittle locks.

You brushed the aforementioned hair, now soft and healthy from the effects of tailoring, behind your ear as you placed the brush down and sharpened your stare at Nikolai’s face, shrouded in silver shadows from the icy light of the moon.

“Craves adulation,” you grumbled, knowing that if your voice rose any higher, it would betray every emotion storming around your heart. “Have a look in the mirror, Nikolai, and tell me which of us truly fits your description.”

His description, in all its insulting glory, fit Nikolai Lantsov to the tee.

Nikolai Lantsov, who would smile and wave to a crowd with a Sun Summoner on his arm, allowing you to watch with disdain from your place on a horse beside Mal. Nikolai Lantsov, who would hide behind a pair of gloves to escape the truth of what he had become. Nikolai Lantsov, who had pushed his wife into a state of sickness, albeit unknowingly, sacrificing her life’s blood for the sake of his country.

Nikolai Lantsov, who resolutely shook his head, running a hand through the already dishevelled hair on his head, before waving it dismissively, as if swatting a fly. “Please. You’d flick your hands for anyone who’d ask— if they clapped hard enough.” Nikolai moved for the bookshelf, drawing out a novel as if his words were mere small talk with an old friend.

Your anger blurred to shock. “Flick my hands—”

“Honestly, you take every opportunity to flaunt it. I’m surprised the Little Palace is still standing after having you inside for twenty years!”

There was no sense to his vile declarations now. Though, Nikolai could not see it. The anger, betrayal, and frustration at being left behind were all that clouded his boyish mind as he hurled one unkind word after the other.

“Nikolai,” You moved towards him, arm outstretched, eyes beginning to water. “Lapushka, please—” As your hand approached his, the storm heavier than ever. He wrenched his arm away from you, leering his head back to look you in the eyes.

“Truly, I can’t be sure why you haven’t left already.”

“For saints’ sake, Nikolai. Look at me!”

The dam broke as you flicked your hands, removing the tailoring to your appearance, unveiling the truth of your restrictions.

Nikolai stared with an open mouth and hard eyes as the warm winter flush of your cheeks was replaced with dulled skin, and the sleek shine of your hair was redefined with a brittle and unkempt bush.

“The only person from whom I crave adulation,” you whispered, “is the only man who’s too thick to look past a wavering mask.”

The Lantsov King swallowed, flipping the book restlessly in his hands. “Y/N—”

“Get out.” You left no room for him to argue, even when he opened his mouth once more. “I said leave!” You stalked to the door, pulling it open with a loud shriek of wood. “Now.”

Nikolai Lantsov, who spent the night in a guest room, in a state of perpetual regret.

No amount of tossing and turning brought any comfort to his aching heart, nor his pounding head. He flopped halfheartedly in the guest bed, stiff from lack of use, and from lack of you, revisiting the disgusting words he’d spat. The reason for them, however unjustified, sat heavily on his chest, suffocating him at an agonizing rate.

Nikolai Lantsov, who was afraid that— like his mother and father— you would grow to resent his blood, resent it for its stark difference to yours. The fear that you would regret your marriage to what your people called an otkazat’sya: the abandoned.

The King figured it was only a matter of time before the title served him fully.

It was reasonable, wasn’t it? To lash out at a time of vulnerability? Nikolai couldn’t be sure, having grown up in a family of despots who had never given him the time of day when it mattered most.

Watching the tailored facade fall from his wife’s face, Nikolai was reminded solely of his mother, who, like you, was coerced into moulding her face into that of the perfect queen, at the behest of her husband. He knew then that all he had said and done was wrong. Wrong to her, and wrong to her people.

How could he bring himself to apologize? To walk into their bedroom and beg forgiveness? Would she forgive him? Even if he stooped— a king in tears and on his knees for the woman he loved perhaps more ardently than the country he vowed to govern— would she, in all her scorned glory, crouch beside him, take his face in her hands, and kiss away his regret?

Could he expect her to?

Dawn came around all too swiftly, rousing husband and wife from their fitful sleep in separate rooms, and with it came your departure to the northern lands.

You stood side-by-side with Nikolai as the carriages were loaded with provisions, luggage, and gifts for the Drüskelle, refusing to look at him. Instead, digging fruitlessly in your shoulder bag as an excuse to keep your head down.

The call came from the footman as the time arrived for you to leave. You didn’t make it more than one step forward with your hand gripping the leather strap of your bag before a firm grasp was on your waist.

“Wait,” whispered Nikolai, tugging you back. He cast a glance at the guard, letting him know that they would need a moment. “I can’t let you leave— not like this.”

You held your gaze to the floor. Gently, he tilted your head back up with his thumb and forefinger. “Not now, not when you can barely look at me,” he continued. You held his stare as his hand shifted tentatively towards your jaw. “Not when I can’t be sure you won't come back to me, Milaya.”

You sniffled softly at the nickname, moving your own hand to his face and pausing to tuck away a loose golden curl.

“Please come back to me,” he said softly as if he were sharing a secret. There was an unspoken apology apparent in his reddening eyes while the seconds ticked by.

“Of course,” you murmured back, tipping his head down as you pecked his brow, then his cheek. “Nikolai, there’s not a thing in this world that could keep me away from you.”

You kissed him soundly, your hand running across the expanse of his jaw as he leaned into the tender forgiveness settled in your palm. When you broke apart, Nikolai took your hand from his face. He kissed your palm and walked you to your carriage. The King watched with concerned eyes as you took your seat.

Nikolai kissed your hand once more from his place on the ground and looked up at you. “Swear you’ll write,” he said. “Or I’ll crash the proceedings.”

You barked a hearty laugh, squeezing his hand as he tried to let you go. “I will,” you promised. “And I’ll see you when I come back.”

It was another moment before you let go of his hand. His palm hit the carriage door bearing the Lantsov crest. You watched as the carriage travelled further and further away, Nikolai’s frame disappearing into the horizon.

“I promise,” you whispered.

•

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juletheghoul · 3 years

Text

Oblivius Chapter 7

This is a CHONKY BOI. THE BACHELOR 'PARTY' IS HERE PEOPLE.

This is by far my longest chapter and I had most of it written before I even posted the second chapter of this story. Makes me SOOO happy how pumped all of you are to read this, it has taken over my life. Keep messaging! Keep sending me asks! 💖

Would love to do little drabbles, memories - anything to do with these two (except spoilers of course)

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: TW: INFIDELITY 👀 Angst, yearning, kissing, **18+ [no minors] SMUT** p in v (sex wrap it up) Oral, F & M receiving, language (Please let me know if I forget anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Prev Part Playlist

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Age 28:

“I just love her, I love her so much and there’s nothing I can do.” He was drunk and in a bad way.

“I know Fish, it’s tough from here but maybe when you get back you can talk to her.” He knew Pope was trying to make him feel better, but when he’d spoken to his mom earlier in the week and he’d heard that she was seeing someone- it had broken his heart.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting - she’d never promised anything but he had this hope that she’d wait for him. That she’d be there to greet him with the love he’d always craved from her.

“She’s with someone else, I just want her to want me.” If he kept going down this road he was going to cry. He couldn’t cry here. Not in this bar and not when it was crawling with other soldiers.

“I think you should just talk to her when you get home, Fish - things might change when you see her again. Or do the grown up thing, and move on.” He looked at him, regret and heartbreak on his face.

“There’s no one like her.” He said it more to himself than Pope but he heard it all the same.

There was a pretty girl walking over to him now, a shy smile on her face.

“Hi - I’m Claudia - can I buy you a drink?” She wasn’t Spills, but she was very pretty.

-------------------

**Present Day**

The week leading up to the wedding was a blur. It simultaneously flew and crawled by. Schrodinger's week.

The dinner was coming up and with it a curious feeling was settling itself in your stomach. A strange mixture of desperation and acceptance. The acceptance told you that if Francis wanted to get married then you should keep your mouth shut and let him get on with his life.

The desperate, possessive part of you reminded you that he was your perfect match, that you shouldn’t let Claudia have him when he so obviously belonged to you. How would you accomplish that though? How could that be done without him hating you for ruining his wedding?

When you were sitting in the restaurant surrounded by the wedding party both those thoughts plagued you. They kept you quiet and pensive, present, but secluded within your own mind as they fought for dominance.

Benny sat next to you like always and you got the sense he was gearing up to make a move and you didn’t exactly know how to feel about it. Your mind was battling over that too.

Do I go out with him and try to get over Francis? Or do I turn him away, and keep pining over a soon to be married man? Choices.

Claudia was almost trembling with excitement, everything she said, everything she did was grating. It all irritated you and you felt the need to dampen her spirits. A malicious little part of you wanted to bring her down a peg. Maybe it was her attitude at the Bridal store. Maybe it was just plain old mean-spirited jealousy. With the dinner almost up, with the bachelor party still to come you couldn’t help it.

It was like a compulsion. The words crawled up your throat and the possessive, angry part of you had to spit them out.

“Oh my God Francis, remember our pact?” Your face was a mask of innocence - just reminiscing with an old friend.

Frankie’s expression changed then, from the same tentative joy he’d been wearing all night to something forced and fake.

“Barely.” His eyes were boring into you, the intensity seemed to be demanding you to shut up about it. While everyone else was still relaxed and unaware of the land mine you’d stepped on, you saw the look Pope was giving you, he knew.

“What pact?” Claudia asked with a breezy laugh.

“It’s silly really-” Frankie cut you off.

“It’s nothing, just bullshit we talked about when we were kids.” He tried to smooth it over with her but she didn’t like that. She sensed his hesitation and when Pope tried to engage them in conversation she challenged him.

“If it’s nothing, then Spills can tell me.” It was said with a bitter sweetness, she had seen through his avoidance and she wasn’t interested.

“Well, when we were in our early twenties - Francis and I decided to make a marriage pact.” You were smiling as though it was nothing and Claudia laughed along with you but you heard the edge in it. She wasn’t amused, and neither was Frankie.

“See honey? It was dumb. Just something dumb kids do when they don’t know any better.” He pulled her close but you could see the stiffness in the way she held herself. You didn’t expect his words to hurt you like that, and all of a sudden you regretted bringing it up.

What seemed like a good way to rile Frankie up was just a cruel little jab at a relationship that you didn’t belong in. A relationship that would go on despite you; in spite of you. You got quiet after that and you saw that he couldn’t bear to look at you.

The battle in your mind was over, and acceptance had won.

You quietly excused yourself to grab some fresh air, the shame at your ploy to ruin Claudia's night sat in your gut and you felt horrible. This wasn’t how you were raised, despite your feelings about her or Francis it was cruel to do this to her on the night before her wedding.

Fuck, now he’ll leave with her for sure. What have I done?

“Hey - thought I’d find you out here. You okay?” Benny had come out looking for you and you smiled at him.

“I’m okay - just needed a minute away you know?” He sat beside you and you tried to focus on him. On his handsome face, how tall he was. If you’d met him a few years ago you would have been all over him.

“Yeah I get that.” He scooted closer to you, until your legs touched and smiled at you. “Look, I know you’re close to Fish, but I’d really like to take you out.” He blurted out the words and you couldn’t help but let out a surprised oh!

He was smiling and he took your hand in his, he was looking at you intently now, making his move.

He was closing in and for a moment you forgot about your shame, about everything except Benny’s mouth. The kiss was soft, tentative. He was testing the waters with you and it was nice. His hand came up and rested on your face softly. Feather light touches on your cheek with the very tips of his fingers.

Objectively speaking, it was a lovely kiss, but it did nothing for you and he felt it.

“I’m sorry.” You rested your forehead on his and he sighed, the air moving the hair framing your face slightly.

“Don’t be, it was worth a shot.” he smiled sadly and you kissed him on the cheek. You both had your answer. The door slammed, breaking you out of your moment with Benny and you saw the back of Francis’ head as he stalked back inside.

----

He wanted to get drunk. He wanted to punch Benny, he wanted to knock his teeth out. He wanted to walk out there, grab Spills by the back of the head and kiss her until she finally understood what she meant to him.

When they walked in together his guts twisted up with rage, it clawed its way up his throat and instead of lashing out he ordered three shots of liquor to burn it away. He drank them quickly, one after the other.

“You and me, outside. Now.” Pope was dragging him away and he wanted to fight but Claudia was asking him what was wrong and he didn’t have an answer for her. Not one she’d want to hear so he let Pope drag him outside. He could see Spills staring at him and he couldn’t look at her.

“What the fuck are you doing right now?” Pope spoke calmly, but his voice had an edge.

“Drinking. It’s my bachelor party, I’m supposed to get drunk aren’t I?” He was pacing, the rage making him restless.

“Why are you marrying Claudia?” Pope stared at him.

“What are you talking about?” The question stopped him in his tracks.

“Do you think that no one can see it? It’s painfully obvious that you’re nowhere near as in love with her as you should be. You’re hung up on Spills and she’s obviously hung up on you.” He was trying to speak calmly and Frankie was pissed off all over again.

“It doesn’t fucking matter how I feel about her - she’s out here with Benny and I’m getting married tomorrow.” He was spiraling.

How the fuck did I get here?

“She’s out here with Benny, because you’re supposed to be getting married tomorrow. If you want to continue with Claudia I’m not going to get in your way, but get your fucking shit together and control your emotions. Figure out what the fuck you want and remember that Benny isn’t your enemy.” He approached him and clapped his arms onto Frankies shoulders. “Fish, you have to figure out what you want here, make it work with Claudia or let her go - stop this living in between shit. It’s not fair to anyone.” Frankie shook out of his grip, too upset to see reason.

He knew he was wrong, he knew he had no right to react this way but it was too much for him. All the little moments he’d thought they’d shared - what had they meant?

What does it matter? You’re getting married, she isn’t.

He ignored her gaze when he approached their table, Claudia was approaching him.

“You okay babe?” She was approaching him with open arms and he embraced her. Eyes closed - trying to feel something other than anger. He focused on the smell of her hair, on the feeling of being buried into the crook of her neck. She sighed loudly and ran her fingers through his hair, soothing and smoothing it out. “It’s just pre-wedding jitters babe, tomorrow everything will be perfect and we’ll be married.” She was whispering into his ear and it was meant to be reassuring.

He felt nothing.

You’re not her. No matter what you do, you’ll never be her and I have to be okay with that.

“I’m okay babe - see you tomorrow.” He kissed her, really kissed her. Tried to muster up whatever he thought he felt for her before and she responded but it was useless. All he felt was anger; she pulled away smiling and said her goodbyes. He glanced at Spills and the look on her face made him feel ashamed.

“Let’s get fucked up.” He said it with a fake smile plastered on his face and everyone except Pope and Spills cheered.

---

His hostility was astounding. He barely looked at you the whole night and you had a feeling it had to do with Benny’s kiss. You had to talk to him about it, a part of you hoped he’d be jealous and realize that you belonged together but maybe that was all in your head. Maybe he didn’t like his friends dating you, or you dating them but that didn’t make sense. Why would that bother him?

You’re the one getting married to someone else here, you dick.

Will and Benny were keeping up with him but as the night wore on everyone came to the realization that tomorrow would be a very long day if they didn’t quit now but Frankie wanted to keep the party going. He wasn’t belligerent, but he was being more aggressive than you’d ever seen. He told the boys that he wanted to continue drinking when they all got back to his house and they agreed but when you all got there it was obvious that Benny and Will were down for the count.

“I’m going to get these two into bed, can you make sure he’s okay and that he doesn’t get too fucked up?” Pope was herding the brothers into the basement where they’d been staying. He gave you a curious look then, a narrowing of the eyes that screamed talk to him.

---

When you walked into his old bedroom he was sitting on his bed, bottle of alcohol to his lips and you’d had enough.

“Francis that’s enough, you’ve had too much and you’re going to be sick.” You were trying to take the bottle away from him but he was stronger than you and he was in a foul mood.

“You don’t get to do that, you don’t get to pull that shit and then baby me.” His tone was vicious and you pulled back.

“I’m not trying to baby you, you asshole- I'm trying to make sure you’re not hungover for your wedding tomorrow.” He scoffed loudly at your words. “You got something to say Francisco?” You were angry now, his attitude was pissing you off big time. Your question set him off and he unloaded onto you.

“Oh I got plenty to say.” He put the bottle down and towered over you. “You fucked up Spills, you knew how I felt about you this whole fucking time and YOU were the one who shut it down. Making this stupid pact so you would be guaranteed someone who was crazy about you while you went off and did whatever and whoever you wanted and then bring it up in front of everyone like it was a joke.” The anger was burning away the alcohol in his system and there was nothing but raw honesty left. “And now what, you’re going to date my friend? So is it anyone who shows you attention except me?”

The expression on his face was angry, but there was a raw hurt in his voice. An old wound that he was blaming you for opening up.

“I have loved you since I was fucking fourteen, and you never gave a shit. You used me and you kept me dangling on a string but guess what, I am not a last resort. I have found a woman who loves me and you’re going to have to live with that.” The words were knives to your heart because for the most part they were true.

You couldn’t stop the tears at his onslaught of painful truths but underneath the hurt his words caused, you were fucking angry.

“You want to tear into me because I’ve been a fucking idiot fine, have at it, but you do not get to shame me for having a moment with someone who likes me. You’re getting married! Am I supposed to stay celibate and alone for the rest of my life because you gave up on me? I was waiting at the airport to tell you that I love you. That I know I’ve wasted time and that I want you.”

“Gave up on you? Are you fucking kidding me right now? So when I call to see how everyone is doing and I find out that you’re seeing someone - I'm supposed to just know that you’ll figure it out? I have been putting off finding someone in hopes that you’ll finally see how devoted I’ve always been to you. I am so fucking pissed off at you and you want to know what the worst part of it is? The fact that I still fucking love you. Even though I’m hurt and so goddamn angry. Even though I have her and I know she’s head over heels for me, you’re the one in my head. I still love you and seeing you like this is breaking my fucking heart Spills. It should be you I’m marrying tomorrow. It should have always been you.” You could see the tears in his eyes now and that hurt even more.

Every single fibre of your being screamed at you to run to him, to wrap your arms around him. Instead you responded with your own truth.

“I wish it was me tomorrow. I know I couldn’t expect you to wait for me forever but I don’t want anyone else. Benny is sweet but he’s not you Francis.” You were well and truly crying now. Everything you’d been holding in came bubbling up, spilling out of you and there was nothing you could do to stop it, it had to come out.

“I should have kissed you back like I wanted to. I shouldn’t have been afraid, I should have seen it and dealt with my own feelings for you. I’m sorry Francis. I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize how perfect we are for each other. I’m sorry I was too late and I’m terrified that you’ll leave me behind and marry her, and that I’ll be here waiting for you forever.” Your voice was cracking and high, barely a whisper at certain points with how hard you were crying.

His legs brought themselves to you in three long strides and then his mouth was on yours. Your tears mixing where your faces touched; pure adrenaline coursing through your veins when his hands buried themselves into your hair. It was nothing compared to the inexperienced albeit enthusiastic kiss you’d shared as teenagers. This was all-consuming. His mouth trapping your bottom lip roughly and biting softly to draw out a whimper. His tongue using the sound as the invitation to plunder the inside of your mouth.

He tasted like honey and alcohol, like the gum he chewed and tiramisu. He tasted like all the things you loved in this world and you never wanted him to stop kissing you.

He trailed his kisses down to the line of your jaw, the long column of your neck and up to the place beneath your ear and all you could do was frantically clutch at his hair.

“We’ve been so stupid Spills, driving me crazy.” He was whispering the words into your neck, his hands a vice grip around your waist.

“I’m sorry Francis, I love you - I love you so much.” The both of you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, fervent breathes as you kissed; both trying to make up for lost time. His wedding in a few hours was forgotten, his fiancé didn’t exist. It was just the two of you in his old bedroom where his first kiss had been denied.

You were rewriting that now.

His hands lowered and grabbed at the flesh of your ass roughly and you moaned into his mouth. He brought his kisses to your neck as he decisively pulled your dress up.

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you for half my life Spills, it was you I thought about while I was away. I would fuck my fist every single fucking night thinking about you letting me taste your pussy.” His eyes were dark with want and you gasped at his words, the alcohol and the honesty making him braver; the words were shooting directly into your cunt, making you weep for him.

“It’s always been you, look at what you do to me, what you’ve always fucking done to me.” He grabbed at your hand roughly and pressed into the sizeable bulge at his crotch. It was hard to form words. It was hard to articulate how you felt now that this was finally happening.

“Will you let me baby? Will you let me bury my tongue in your cunt? I want you to cum all over my face.” He was rubbing at your clit through your panties and it was like you were suspended in amber. Dumbstruck at his words, his confidence - his need for you.

“Yes Francisco, please.” You were gripping his hair frantically as he pushed you onto his bed. His big strong hands pulling your underwear down and tossing it over his shoulder. The same hands pulling your thighs apart to find your slick seeping out of you, all glossy and wet. He moaned at the sight.

“Look at that- so fucking pretty for me.” He made himself comfortable between your legs, grinding into the mattress as he studied your body. He kissed your thighs as he brought his face closer and closer to your clenching core. His facial hair tickling you as he trailed them up up up. You watched him propped up on your elbows, your hands automatically reaching out to run through his hair.

“Bet you taste so fucking good, like peaches.” He ran his finger along your seam, smearing your slick all over your lower lips. He was going too slow. You tried to move your cunt closer to his face but he smiled almost cruelly and held your hips down.

“My greedy girl.” He spread your lips apart and spit into your clit, you felt it sliding down towards your opening but he dove in cat-quick to lap it up before it went further.

His tongue was heaven. You threw your head back as he licked from your opening up towards your clit, over and over. “Eyes on me, I want you to watch me.” It was too much and you whimpered as he let the saliva drip from his mouth and into your clit. Focusing his tongue there, moving it up and down over and over and over. The wet glide of it too much and the string holding your sanity together was too tight, it would surely snap and let you float away soon.

He groaned onto your skin, his eyes steady on you as he slid two thick fingers inside you. Curling them in a way that had you tensing up. He could feel your thighs clenching as he scissored them inside you, stretching you open while his tongue pushed you over the edge. It was too much and when he wrapped his lips around your clit and gave it a long steady suck, you shattered.

He held you down and licked you through it. Lapping up the waves of arousal, drinking you down deep while his fingers pistoned in and out of you with a wet squelch.

You had to push him away.

“You taste so good honey, I wanna eat you for days, until you’re a wet little puddle in my bed.” He crawled up towards your limp body and kissed you roughly, his facial hair irritating your skin but it didn’t matter. Not when you could taste yourself in his mouth, not when he’d made you cum harder than anyone had any right to.

His hands were a blur as he tried to get his jeans down and you helped him. You could see your slick on his fingers, then his jeans and your hip where he held onto you. A little trail of you wherever he touched.

You frantically pulled both his jeans and his boxers down, his cock freed and bobbing between your thighs. You could see the sticky tip of him, angry and red with how hard he was and your mouth watered. You had to taste.

He was surprised when you flipped him over, the startled look on his face quickly replaced with a hungry smile. You took off his jeans and his boxes fully to lay between his legs. You rested your head on the strong muscle of his thigh as you lazily stroked him, the velvety skin of his cock encasing the iron beneath. He watched you with a look of rapture and his breath hitched when you pulled away to scoop some of your own slick from between your legs to make your strokes more fluid.

“You can’t possibly know how many times I’ve imagined this - fuck - give me your mouth baby, please.” He was thrusting up into your hand. You licked a wide stripe from the base of his dick up to the tip, circling it with your tongue. He groaned at the sight of you and he grabbed at the hair at the base of your skull to guide your movements.

You took the tip into your mouth and hollowed your cheeks prettily while he watched you, taking a bit more each time you lowered your head. You were ravenous for him, the soft sounds he was making, the control you had at this moment was intoxicating and it pushed you to take him further.

You took him as far as you could, swallowing around him as your nose brushed up against his curls and the tears leaked out when you let go to take a breath.

“Holy fuck baby, yes - look so fucking hot with my dick in your throat. Let me see you do it again.” He guided you down and you held there as long as you could before you sputtered and coughed, spit and his precum connecting your mouth to his cock.

“Fuck baby - so fucking good, if you do it again I’ll cum…” he left it up to you, taking his hand away from your hair and as tempted as you were to watch him come apart in your mouth your cunt was achingly empty and you needed him inside you.

“Next time you can cum in my mouth or on my face, wherever you want, right now I need you to fuck me.” You crawled up and he kissed you, he was frantic and he licked the spit off your lips and it was so primal you moaned. You found yourself on your back again and he was holding your thighs open while he rubbed his length through your folds.

“I’m going to cum inside you. I’m going to pump you full of me, fuck it into you. I wanna see it dripping out of you when I’m done.” He was lining himself up and when he slid in all the way, everything was right in the world. This was how it was supposed to be, the thick stretch of him was perfect, you were so fucking full - your cunt, your heart - every part of you.

“God baby, you’re so tight and wet - feels so fucking good.” He was speaking into your mouth and all you could do was wrap your arms and legs around him. Incoherent whimpers and sounds spilling out of your mouth with his movements. Sweat was beading on his brow, his fingers traced your hairline almost tenderly. His movements are equal parts filthy and loving.

His thrusts were hard and fast, not being able to control himself. You heard the wet, obscene sound of them and it made you wetter. You raised your legs higher, bracketing his ribs while he snapped his hips.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, love you - let me love you.” His words were curt and he wasn’t going to last long so you yanked the straps of your dress down. He leaned onto one arm, reaching down to rub perfect circles onto your clit while he took your nipple into his mouth. Your orgasm crashed into you out of nowhere and he groaned when he felt you clenching.

He brought his hand back up to grab at your hip roughly for more leverage while he fucked into you two, three - four more times before he was spilling into you.

He made good on his promise. He fucked his cum into you. A couple more shallow thrusts even though he was too sensitive and he watched himself do it.

��Look so fucking pretty like that, all puffy and full of my cum.” He watched as it slid out of you and down your ass onto the bedding.

Is this what I’ve been missing out on? Francisco Morales; sex god.

You were too blissed out to move but he went to work, taking off the rest of his clothes and then stripping you of yours. It was difficult to articulate how you felt in that moment, on the one hand this was everything you had wanted. The sex had been amazing, he didn’t just fill your body - he filled every single ounce of you. Your heart swelled when he tucked you into his side and covered the two of you with his blanket.

On the other hand, the postcoital bliss was wearing off and the implications of what had transpired was a weight growing in the pit of your stomach.

Your body and heart wanted to soar; a kite flying higher and higher. Your conscience was the string, and it was being shortened fast. He loved you, he still loved you even though he was engaged and he’d been thinking of you the whole time. You wanted to cry with happiness; with guilt as well.

The guilt was present, reminding you consistently that this man was supposed to be getting a good night’s rest for his wedding tomorrow. Instead the two of you were laying in bed, curled around each other. His spend slowly seeping out of you.

It was hard to focus on it though, especially when his skin was so warm under your cheek. When his hand rubbed at your arm and your legs were a tangle underneath the blanket. You couldn’t help but reach up and run your fingers through the hair matted on his forehead and he made it even harder when he captured the same hand and pressed kisses to your fingers. He broke the silence before you could though.

“I’m still pissed off at you.” He had a dreamy look on his face despite his words.

“I know. I’m pissed off at me too.” You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. The scent of his body-wash mixing with his own sweat. You couldn’t get enough and he curled himself into you as you ran your fingers through his hair. Your hands are constantly moving, touching every bit of each other you could.

“We’ve wasted so much fucking time Spills.” There was a deep sadness in his voice, it sliced into you because you knew he was right.

“I know Francis, I’m sorry it took me so long.” You were scratching at the wiry hairs on his cheek, trying to map out the face you loved so much. He sighed loudly. “What's going to happen tomorrow?”

“I don’t know - part of me thinks I should pack up the truck, throw you in the back and drive away. Another part of me wants to forget this whole thing happened and follow through on the commitment I made.” He wasn’t holding back with his words or feelings and although they hurt you couldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to do. You kept quiet, at the end of the day the decision was his. “I have to tell her the truth. I have to tell her that we did this, I cannot show up there tomorrow and pretend like I didn’t.”

You could see the guilt on his face now, the implications dawning on him a little later than they had for you. He scrubbed at his face with his hand and groaned.

“How can I just break her heart like this?” He was spiralling. “She doesn’t deserve this.” You felt like an intruder then, suddenly the closeness wasn’t there, he was pulling away from you emotionally if not yet physically.

“What do you want to do Francisco?” The use of his full name snapped him out of his train of thought and he looked at you then.

“What do you mean?” He looked at you in confusion, as you pulled away from him reluctantly.

“I know it took me way too long to get to this point, and you have every fucking right to hate me. If you tell me now that you want to make it work with her I’ll support your decision. I’ll keep my mouth shut and we can pretend this never happened. I would do that for you because I love you, and I will no matter what. You tell me what you want to do.” The tears were coming down your face as you said the words and as much as it hurt to get them out you meant them.

You couldn’t stay here - you wanted him to make his choice without influence and he said nothing as you quickly dressed and walked out of his room, instead you lay on the couch in the living room, crying softly to yourself. Sleep was nowhere in sight and in a few hours, you’d know for sure what would happen.

----

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sly-merlin · 3 years

Text

GOT PLAYED | JENO

Hello mam can I request a lawyer jeno scenario where reader (gender neutral so everyone can read) is a prosecutor and they are in the same court together

Lawyer Boyfriend jeno , gender neutral lawyer reader

Genre : fluff with nonsense bickering

Words: 1.5k

a/n: jeno is a big boi now! Happy jeno-ing!! Also the terms used are local to my country. It may vary in your state.

----

your butt was itching to dance out in the centre of the courtroom. Clicking your forefinger on the watch, you observed the lovely minute hand completing another circle, indicating the approaching end of the waiting time. The opposing party being a minute more late would mean nothing but good news for your client, resulting in another victory for you.

But when had you ever won anything without a little struggle! As the clock on the wall hit 11, the door of the room opened and across the room stood Jeno, breathing heavily like he had been running since hours. You rolled your eyes at his awful timing. He handed over his briefcase to his client and wore his blazer hurriedly while simultaneously bowing to the judge in deference and apology. The judge, disregarding his gesture with his hand called him to the front. You got up as well, in annoyance of course. You had very much hoped for his car to have punctured on its way but it seemed like he needed to get on your nerves even in the court as well. standing beside him, you couldn’t help but notice the wrinkles on the right side of his blazer. The oddity puzzled you at first but suddenly, with a subtle glare from his side, you were made aware of the reason behind his change of clothes. Not wearing the ones that you steam ironed last night was a show of anger towards you, even if it made him look like a fool in front of the whole chamber.

“a minute late and I’d have passed an interlocutory order against your client Mr.lee” breaking your trance, the judge warned him. He bowed again and mumbled a mannerly apology, the like of which you deserved too.

“today the hearing would start with the counter evidence of the defendant side, that is,” he sifted through the list of the evidence provided beforehand, “the bank records of both the parties. Please proceed advocate lee”

“yes, your honour. As I explained in a previous hearing, my client, mrs. Shin has been working as a manager of the Kwon industries since 14 years. On the other hand, mr. shin started a poker business with the money she used to save up for their only son’s future. All the transactions from her personal accounts to mr. shin’s were innocently carried out by her as she was kept under a false impression regarding the use of her money, which she never would have allowed in her right mind. The proof of these transfers is the evidence I’m going to present that is the receipts and annual reports.”

The urge to smack his tongue for the lies it told was uncontrollable but you breathed in. you inhaled all the bitterness back to your throat and stood there like an obedient child with a face ridden of any expressions.

After what felt like minutes, you snapped your head in his direction to notice the browsing he was doing in his briefcase. The questionable look on his face drew a smirk into your own as you understood the sensitiveness of the matter in hand. He forgot. The papers!

Throwing your charitable side out of the door, you turned towards the judge,

“it seems like the opposing counsel has nothing to produce, your honour.”

You felt his clenching jaw and irritated eyes.

“mr. lee, if you are unable to proceed then i’ll have to pass a maintenance order against your client.”

“no!” he interrupted, “that would be unfair to this poor lady sir. don’t penalise her for my negligence. The evidence can turn the course of this whole case. if you may, I’d request another date-

“he’s going to forget again. He forgets everything these days” before you could control, you spit out.

The judge didn’t seem to be impressed by your uncalled interruption so he warned you to speak only when allowed. But with a mouth as big as his, jeno never knew what resistance meant so he remarked,

“and my dear friend here forgets the ethics of a courtroom, disrespecting seniors like this! There is not much difference between us then I must say.”

Your lip twitched at the not so subtle mention of the fight you had in the morning, right before the breakfast. Now you were adamant on proving that no matter the place and circumstances, you were definitely not similar to him in any way.

“disrespecting and raising matters of importance are two varied things and my dear counsel should be reading those ethic rules for himself as he’s the one jeopardising the position of his client in the court due to his own manners. I request the court to grant mr. shin all the rights to his properties that mrs. Shin had seized years ago. He’s a disabled man and he cannot work by himself and the lack of evidence is a clear indication that the defendants are just trying to waste the time of the court. Along with the rights of the properties, a lawful possession of the house and maintenance charges are also requested. All the claims can be found on the page 15 of the-

“I object, your honour. I am accepting my mistake. This woman deserves a second chance. My junior was sick and since he has no near and dear in this town, I had to go and care for him. in the hurry, I forgot the papers at home. It was not delibra-

“what if you don’t remember this next time either? Until then my client is going to suffer in a small and stinky apartment and all because of your carelessness.”

“I’m not careless,” He whispered yelled.

“yes,” now facing him, you said, arms crossed in front of you torso, “a man who can’t even hold a mug properly shouldn’t be the one talking about-

“you started it by smashing the music box. It was a gift by jaemin. I bet you did it deliberately too!”

“I was sleep walking! I apologised already! There was no need to break my favourite mug you bit-

The sound of gavel reverberated in the small family courtroom, snapping both of you in the reality.

You gulped slightly, eyes boring into jeno’s but with unknown fear. In an instant, the worst consequences of blunder you both had knowingly-unknowingly committed flashed across your eyes and you both whirled around, backs bent like you both never knew what a straight spine ever looked like!

“keep your personal and professional life separate or choose the one most suitable. The court is adjourned for two days. You both shall be heavily fined for your inappropriate behaviour. Next time, I won’t be lenient. Collect your slips from the clerk.”

Apologising verbally, you took your leave.

Standing outside, you waited for the lunch time to pass so you could pay the fine. you were mad at jeno but more than him, you were furious with yourself for losing your direction. You had done exactly what you were trying to accuse jeno of in the court.

Your eyes were closed in regret when you felt soft lips on your forehead.

Smiling widely, jeno stood there as if he hadn’t been scolded for the unprofessionalism just a few hours ago.

“don’t talk to me.” You uttered, lowering your gaze.

“awww! Look how easy it is to rile you up. Thank you though”

unsure of what he said, you asked,

“for what?”

“for fighting with me! Your bickering saved my ass. The old man was going to decide the case but your cute brain worked at the wrong time! Now I have two days to turn all my lies into a living truth. All because of you my darling.”

“what the fuck I’m gonna ki-

“yeah yeah. kiss me all you want when we are home. Be professional here!” he breathed out. “how about I treat you to a nice meal to return the favour.”

Chest heaving up and down, you looked him dead in the eye, his revelations not sounding too amusing to your ears. Raising your hand up and waving the fine slip in front of him, you challenged,

“I dare you to repeat this again and I promise you wont get enough time to regret it!”

Not that you actually expected him to cry in front of you in intimidation, a hearty laugh from his body wasn’t anticipated either.

“what the fuck je-

You were once again cut off by his lips that met your cheek in a wet kiss, lasting too long for a public setting.

You hated the way he loved testing your patience.

Moving his soft lips from your cheek to your ear, he sighed before murmuring in an indecently low voice,

“you better get a new music box before jaemin visits me or I know how to make you regret your actions.”

Unmoved, you stared at him with doe eyes. He walked away before returning back only to snatch the paper slip from your hands.

“I’ll pay and sign. Go have lunch. Try to finish early today, I’ll be waiting for you.”

Innocently smiling, he left as if everything that had happened was nothing but delusion. And you hated the way he knew you like the back of his hand. But you were going to make sure he lost this one to you. Once and forever.

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imhereformr · 3 years

Text

It had been years since he’d had to sneak in somewhere. Riven’s position as captain in the Magix Elite Force granted him easy access to just about anywhere he needed or wanted so long as he could justify his reason for being there. But this, he had no valid reason. It would result in his suspension, if not complete dismissal, from the force. He didn’t think he’d get caught – you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks, but that doesn’t mean they forgot old ones – but even if he did, he knew he had to take the risk.

Nabu had been the one to tell him. About the relationship; the engagement; and the – in Riven’s opinion – far too rushed wedding. He wanted her to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him. He did. He also knew he should just let her go, let her marry whatever the fuck his name was, but he couldn’t not try. She needed to know how he felt even if he was years too late.

Musa had been the one to break it off. It had nearly broken him; he’d refused to leave his room in his and Timmy’s apartment for weeks afterwards. Ultimately, she’d been right, though. They were becoming different people – growing apart – and it was better to break up now than wait until their different paths became too much and they grew to resent each other.

Musa had released her first album a year before they’d broken up. Her tour had been hard, with him having to stay in Magix for work and her being everywhere, but he’d thought they could survive it. Their relationship had already survived so much. Musa’s star, though, had only begun to shine. Over the years after the breakup, she only became more and more successful. Every bit of which she deserved, and every bit of which Riven had followed from afar.

She’d offered for them to stay friends once the wounds had healed but Riven had declined. All the news he got of her was from the guys or magazines. His therapist – he'd gone to see a therapist; Musa would have been so proud – agreed that it was best to cut her off entirely. Beyond the whole listening to her music thing, Riven thought he’d done pretty well at that. It had only taken him a year to stop looking her up borderline obsessively, he’d dated other people, he’d even had a serious relationship or two. His only problem was that none of the others were Musa. No matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to come back to her.

So here he was, the day of her wedding, climbing a tree on the side of the hotel she was getting married at, praying that he’d be able to find the room she was getting ready in before the ceremony started. And that she’d be willing to hear him out.

Riven managed to find an open window that led into the end of a hallway. He made his way through the navy halls, stopping to listen for her voice behind every single oversized door. Nabu, after some bribery and threats, had told him that Musa and the girls would be getting ready on the fourth floor. He’d begged Riven to think through his actions and not do anything stupid, but Riven was also certain that Nabu was on board with whatever his plan was. From his description of Musa’s fiancé, he hadn’t sounded too fond of the guy.

The sound of footsteps put Riven on high alert. He managed to duck into a broom closet just in time to see Stella turn the corner. Jackpot. The blonde swung her long, gently curled hair over her shoulder and punched in a code on the door pad opposite his hiding spot. From the door, he heard a sound he would recognise anywhere: Musa’s voice. Double jackpot. Now he just had to pray that the girls would leave Musa alone for at least a minute at some point before the ceremony started.

He stood in that closet, watching her door for close to half an hour when his saving grace arrived in the form of an older woman with greying brown hair piled high on her head and a clipboard in her hand. She punched in the code to the door – which Riven paid much closer attention to this time – and exited three minutes later with the five bridesmaids in tow.

And no bride. This was turning out to be much easier than he’d anticipated.

Riven seized his opportunity the minute the woman he assumed was the wedding planner and Musa’s friends were out of sight. The light on the lock turned green on the first try and he slunk into the room as quietly as possible. Musa was turned away from him, staring at herself in mirror. Lucky too because it wouldn’t have made for a very good winning-her-back moment for her to see his jaw drop and his mind go entirely blank.

Musa wore a minimalistic, figure-flattering white dress with spaghetti straps, a deep V and a low back. She wore very little jewelry: a pair of diamond earrings, her engagement ring and her mother’s necklace – the one she never took off that he’d recovered in Black Mud Swamp the year they first met. Her long, dark hair was curled softly, like she was a movie star right out of the 1950s. He missed her hair; missed running his hands through it; missed the way he could bury his face in it when they hugged so that the smell of her shampoo could envelop him entirely; missed the way she would play with her pigtails when she was nervous; missed the way her hair would fall into his face when she leaned over to kiss him before they went to bed every night. More than anything, he missed her.

“Riven?” He stumbled out of his memories and into present day at the sound of her voice. She’d turned to face him, the train of her dress bunching at her feet as she spun. It had been so long since he’d heard her say his name. He’d forgotten how nice it sounded. “What are you doing here?”

“You look beautiful” he whispered thoughtlessly. Musa lowered her eyes, her face flushing like it had whenever he’d looked at her in the early days of their relationship. She ran her hands along the sides of her wedding dress – the dress she should be wearing for him – smoothing out non-existent creases in the fabric. It made him smile to know he could still make her blush like that.

“What are you doing here?” she asked again, bringing her hands together to fiddle with her engagement ring.

“I...” Fuck. How did he do this? “...Should have written something down.” Yes, that would’ve been a good idea. He wasn’t Helia; words didn’t come naturally to him. The old Riven would have turned around and walked away, wouldn’t have even given it a shot. He wasn’t the old Riven anymore, and he wasn’t leaving this room without Musa knowing how he felt. He’d have to wing it. “Don’t marry him.”

“Riven, I-”

“Please. Just hear me out.” Her objections ceased, and she lowered the hand she’d put out in a stop motion. “I love you. I have never stopped loving you. I have thought about you every single day for the last seven years, four months and twenty-one days. Since the day you left. And every single one of those days, I have kicked myself for letting you go; for not fighting harder for you. For us.”

Riven approached her. With every step, he felt his heart beat harder, coming to a brutal halt when he stepped in front of her. Her eyes, for the first time since he’d complimented her, met his. She was inches from him; so close that the smallest movement would bring them together. The heels she was wearing made her taller – brought the top of her head to his lip instead of his shoulder. Had his mind been anywhere other than desperately wanting her to come back to him, he would have commented that she hated heels with a passion, and he’d always thought she’d wear sneakers with her wedding dress even if Stella gave her a headache about it.

He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, not missing the way she leaned into his touch. Her heart longed for his just as much as his did for hers. “You belong with me, Muse. You know you do. We belong together.” His hand cupped her chin, pulling her into a kiss. Never had anything felt more right than his lips on hers. The second they connected; he knew everything would work out. He could beat the worst monsters, defeat his darkest demons, save the most helpless and conquer the universe as long as he had Musa by his side.

Musa’s hands came to rest on his chest, balling her manicured fingers into his thin white t-shirt and dragging him into her as they lost themselves in the kiss. The longer it went, the more certain he was that she would leave with him right then if he asked her to. He would have too, if the planner hadn’t punched in the door code and announced her presence through the heavy door.

“Gimme a second” Musa managed to shout, mere inches from Riven’s face, before the woman had entered the room. The planner shut the door, informing Musa that she would be right outside and that the ceremony was ready to begin.

Musa stepped back and Riven had to wrap his arms around her to keep her near him. “I have to go” she whispered.

“Please, please don’t marry him.” Teenage Riven would be mortified to hear his voice crack as he begged Musa not to choose someone else, but adult Riven couldn’t care less. He would beg and plead and grovel if it meant that she’d stay with him.

“It’s too late. I’m sorry.” She laid her hands on his chest and pushed their bodies apart. He watched, heart shattering, as she stepped away from him. Her voice broke, tears pooled in the corners of her eyes and her lower lip quivered, but ever his fierce Musa, she stayed strong. He wished, just this once, that she would break. Musa stepped away from him and turned towards the door, gathering the train of her dress in her hand as she walked away. She wiped her eyes quickly before grabbing the door handle.

“Musa,” he heard himself say before she had the chance to turn the knob. A deep sigh and she turned to him. He’d never been good at reading people, but Musa he knew. She wanted him to fight for her, she always had, and, for the most part, he always had. He always would. He’d just fucked up that one time when it mattered most. “I’ll be out front. If you change your mind.”

She didn’t answer, merely shook her head and then she was gone, whisked away through the door and down the hall by the planner. Riven sat himself onto the nearest piece of furniture – a fancy-looking emerald green couch in the corner of the hotel suite sitting room – and dropped his head in the palms of his hands trying to stop himself from crying and shaking.

He hadn’t felt pain like this in years, hadn’t felt anything like this in years. He hadn’t been numb – he’d known numb before and that wasn’t what the last few years had been – but life had been significantly less vivid. Everything always felt so much more with her. The lows could be soul-crushing agony, but the highs were pure ecstasy and worth every second of pain. He would willingly suffer through millennia of agony for just one hour of ecstasy with her again.

***

Musa’s mind buzzed as she followed Christina, the planner, through the hall and into the elevator, down to the main floor. The woman – an absolute godsend in the madness that was planning a wedding and a tour in the same four months – babbled on about how adorably nervous Liam – her fiancé – was.

She’d met Liam three years ago on a talk show. He was an actor – had started off as a child on a sitcom and managed to make the incredibly difficult transition from child star to serious adult actor. He’d been sweet and charming during the pre-interview and through the whole taping. They’d run into each other again a year later at a movie premiere – she'd sung the main theme and he was close friends with the star. He’d asked her out at the end of the night. He was cute – tall with broad shoulders and sharp features, just her type – so she’d said yes. It turned out that he was also funny and incredibly witty.

She loved him.

Christina led her out of the elevator and into one of the back hallways. At the end of the hall, Musa knew she’d find her friends and father waiting patiently for the ceremony to start. Musa knew what would happen: Christina would put them in order, then cue her assistant to tell the violinist to start playing – Riven had always loved hearing her play the violin, they’d talked about having one if ever they got married. Musa couldn’t let that detail go. Once the music started, the double doors would open onto the ceremony room. Hundreds of guests would be seated in the room, surrounded by thousands of dollars' worth of flowers and floating candles.

Much sooner than she’d anticipated, it was Tecna’s turn. The purple-haired fairy – her maid of honour – turned out of the waiting area and moved up to the double doors at exactly the speed Christina had indicated; not too fast like Flora had or too slow like Stella – who, realistically, had been enjoying the moment of spotlight – had. Musa’s father turned to her, a genuine smile on his face, to ask if she was ready. Musa smiled and nodded.

Her arm looped through her father’s and Christina handed her the bouquet of exquisite flowers – arranged by Flora, of course. The woman moved behind her to spread out her train. As she neared the door, the guests stood for her. Her father nodded to a few at the back that he recognised, but Musa’s focus was at the front.

Liam stood with his arms folded behind him. Riven would always stand with his hands in his pockets or his arms crossed. Liam’s smile widened when he saw her. Riven only smiled when he saw her. Liam mouthed the words I love you and Musa felt a pang. She’d just heard those words in a different voice, and they’d had so much more impact. Musa smiled at him, repeating the mantra in her head.

She loved him.

She was at the altar. Her father was hugging her and whispering that he loved her and wished her nothing but happiness. Musa was stepping up to the altar. Liam was shaking her father’s hand. The photographer’s assistant was adjusting her train for the photos. Liam was smiling at her. Tecna was taking the bouquet out of her hands. Liam was reaching out for her hands.

Musa snapped out of her haze. Her hands were in Liam’s and the officiant was welcoming the guests. Please turn your phones off. Don’t take any pictures. It’s not every day you meet someone that touches your soul. All the cheesy shit people said at weddings. Musa ignored the man they’d hired as she played the scene with Riven over in her mind.

He still loves her.

And she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t compared every boyfriend to him. Including Liam. She’d also be lying if she said that she didn’t think about him when she was alone. When she was lonely. When she wanted someone to hold her. When she touched herself. When she cried. When she laughed. When she had news to share. When she wrote a song she really loved.

It was always him.

Pressure on her hand brought her back to present day. Liam was saying his I do. He was giving her that smile that, up until fifteen minutes ago, she thought she’d be happy enough to see every day.

Happy enough.

Was that really enough?

“...Take Liam Lukas Caffrey, here present, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?”

“I...” Hundreds of eyes stared at her expectantly. She had two words to say. I do. It wasn’t that fucking hard. Musa looked up at Liam. At those pretty dark green eyes of his watching her with all the love in the world. “I...”

It wasn’t enough.

No one would ever be enough if they weren’t Riven. She’d tried to deny it, but it was true. And he was right. She belonged with him.

“No” she sighed. The love in Liam’s eyes turned to confusion. Behind her, Stella mumbled out a what. “I can’t... I’m sorry.”

Musa picked up the skirt of her dress as much as she could and walked away. She picked up speed with every step, desperate to get away from the prying eyes. Desperate to get to Riven. I’ll be out front. If you change your mind. Had he meant it? She rushed through the double doors, past Christina and through the lobby. In the corner of her vision, she saw the doorman standing to open the front doors for her, but she got there before him.

Lights flashed in her eyes as she pushed through the doors and onto the front steps. Her name was being shouted and paparazzi cameras popped at every angle, but she registered none of it. Musa searched the sidewalk for that telltale flash of magenta, trying to control her already heavy breathing and not appear as panicked as she felt.

He wasn’t sure why he’d even waited. It’s too late. That should be an obvious clue that she didn’t want to be with him. Still, he waited. He’d sat in her suite for two minutes trying to compose himself before sneaking out of the room and down to the lobby. He’d gotten there just in time to hear the music start. Part of him contemplated waiting, running into the ceremony when the officiant did the speak now or forever hold your peace thing (did they even do that in real life? It hadn’t been done at Flora and Helia or Stella and Brandon’s wedding). Ultimately, he decided not to. He’d told Musa what he had to say. All he could do now was wait.

Riven took a seat on a bench in the park across the street. He absentmindedly watched park-goers walk by, blissfully unaware that he was falling to pieces as the seconds ticked by. It took all his self-control not to think about Musa marrying someone else; to stop himself from physically and mentally falling apart. Old demons tried to claw their way to the forefront of his mind, to tell him that she wouldn’t want him, that his efforts were futile, but Riven refused to listen to them. He wasn’t that sixteen-year-old kid anymore, and he knew, he knew that he and Musa were meant to be.

Finally, after searching for what felt like an eternity, she spotted the telltale magenta hair forcing its way through the crowd. The joy that swelled in her was unlike any happiness she’d ever felt. He’d waited. Musa kicked off her heels and took off running towards him. He made it to the front of the crowd just in time for her to throw herself into his arms and pull him into a kiss.

It was heaven to feel his lips on hers, to feel his arms wrapped around her. Musa never wanted to lose this feeling. He laughed into the kiss and Musa swore it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. Riven shuffled forward, lowering her onto one of the hotel steps as they finally pulled apart. The smile on his face could put the suns of Solaria to shame, but, as much as she loved his smile, Musa was only focused on his eyes. She loved his eyes; loved the way they shone every time he looked at her.

Riven rested his forehead against Musa’s. Those magnificent blue eyes looked up at him so lovingly, just the way he’d longed for her to look at him for all those years. Riven swore then and there, he would move mountains to never lose that look. He was so happy he didn’t even care that all the paparazzi were watching them. Let them watch.

“I’m so sorry. I was so stupid... I-” Musa started.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

“Now and forever. I love you, Riven.” Musa pulled him into another kiss. Camera flashes went off around them but Riven only saw the stars that shone in his head every time she kissed him. He pulled away from her just enough to whisper I love you too, Musa before kissing her with all the love he could muster.

#im avoiding my other WIP #i started the AU #and season 2 #but my attention span is shit #so heres a oneshot no one asked for #winx club #winx musa #winx riven #musa x riven #rivusa #muri #winx #fanfiction #riven x musa

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drwcn · 3 years

Text

《Without Envy》- concubine/sleeper agent!wwx & prince!lwj

[story board 1] [story board 2] [story board 3] [story board 4]

long post: story board 5 →

Lan Wangji, as it turned, was a true gentleman. This was problematic for Wei Wuxian, who was tasked with getting close to him, because Hanguang-wang’s upstanding morals being rather unimpeachable rendered Wei Wuxian’s initial seduction efforts entirely unsuccessful.

Lan Wangji straight up ignored him. Whenever he came to visit Jiang Yanli it was always to speak with her and not Wei Wuxian. It was like Wei Wuxian, or A-Xian as he was known, did not exist to the prince. Whenever Wei Wuxian tried to “get close” to him, aka, making himself available to serve tea, meals and such, Lan Wangji would always dismiss him, or tell him to wait outside so Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli could dine together alone. Needless to say, Wei Wuxian was getting increasingly frustrated. Entirely unbeknownst to Wei Wuxian however was the fact that Lan Wangji had noticed him from the start and was just trying to stop himself from doing something inappropriate. Truth is, Lan Wangji first saw Wei Wuxian at Jiang-fu during one of Lan Wangji’s visits to finalize the marriage between himself and Jiang Yanli.

It was the dogs’ barking that got Lan Wangji’s attention first. That, and a young man’s agitated cursing.

“Fuck - ow! Princess that was not nice! I’m going to turn you into barbeque if you don’t cut this shi - Ow! Jasmine, give it here!”

Lan Wangji’s personal guards Guo Ai and Sun Ting made to investigate the source of the ruckus and to tell off whoever dared to be so impertinent and disrespectful in a marquis’s manor, but Lan Wangji stopped them with a subtle gesture.

Slowly, he approached the round archway looking into the garden and saw by the shrubs a handsome young man cradling a fuzzy tiny thing while trying his darnedest to fend off two relentless hounds. “Shoo, shoo, go bother your master!”

But the dogs wanted to play. Their bushy tails wagged happily.

Eventually, the young man tired of the over enthusiastic canines, picked up a stick off the ground, and tossed it far over the garden walls. The dogs took off running, and he and the little creature he protected were allowed a moment’s peace.

“Little tutu, it’s okay, the mean dogs are gone now. Don’t be afraid.”

It was only then that Lan Wangji saw that the furry round thing was a small bunny, probably driven from its burrow by the aforementioned hounds that belonged to Jiang-xiao-gongzi. He watched, slightly transfixed, as the young man lifted the bunny and gently booped its nose against his own, his comely face scrunching up adorably in the process.

So when Wei Wuxian arrived at the prince’s estate with Jiang Yanli, Lan Wangji cursed his luck. He had no intentions of becoming attracted or attached to anyone in his harem. His marriages were political games. Everything he did in his harem was calculated. The last thing he needed was for the Jins to think they could sink their claws into him. So he kept company with all his concubines equally, just to maintain the balance. Lan Wangji did not want Jin Ziyan to be the only man in his harem, which was why when Qin Su offered him Mo Xuanyu, he did not refuse. It was fortunate that Mo Xuanyu himself seemed eager to serve too, so Lan Wangji did not have to grapple with ethics there. He was doing this for his country; everyone knew this. As long as he kept to his duties and divided his attentions equally, there would be trouble in his harem. Except...Lan Wangji wanted to see ‘A-Xian’ again. The more he wanted, the more he made himself keep his distance. He recognized the power dynamic that existed between this servant and himself, and that if he were to ask, A-xian was not really in a position to refuse. Besides, Jiang Yanli made no indications that she wanted her A-Xian to serve Lan Wangji. In fact, she seemed quite protective of him, always looking out for him wherever she could. She practically treated him like a little brother than a servant. As such, Lan Wangji was happy with the way things were. He could live with never knowing A-Xian more intimately. In fact, he did not want A-Xian to be ordered to serve him, or find out that A-Xian was just like every other man and woman in his harem, there to curry favours with him. It would be a shame if he turned out to be just another flower in the garden, another player in this game they played.

Of course Wei Wuxian read this whole situation as: that little bastard Lan Wangji doesn’t like me. Xue Yang was charged with being Wei Wuxian’s correspondence between Gusu and Qishan but ended up just being the guy Wei Wuxian complained to. —“Is this Hanguang-wang truly a paragon of virtues???” Wei Wuxian raged. “Aren’t princes supposed to be lechers? Wen Chao certainly is a sleeze. Wen Xu could be too for all we know. I’m young, fit, attractive and available. I know he likes men so why not me? He sleeps with Mo Xuanyu all the time apparently …Is Mo Xuanyu more attractive than me?!” Xue Yang: >_> God I miss murders.

Wei Wuxian’s “opportunity” came when Jiang Yanli fell mysteriously ill about three months after she married Lan Wangji. When the physicians were left scratching their heads, Wei Wuxian quickly took the matter into his own hands. He needed Jiang Yanli alive; if she died before he made an impression on Lan Wangji, he could be sent away back to Jiang-fu and threaten his entire operation. What’s more, Jiang Yanli had been extremely kind to him in the last two years since he arrived at Gusu. She truly was the perfect lady; he would hate to see her suffer. Through some crafty investigations, Wei Wuxian discovered that the cause of Jiang Yanli’s illness was a slow poison being laced into her food by Jin Ziyan’s orders. The motive of his actions were obvious enough; ever since Jiang Yanli married in, Lan Wangji seemed to be showing her extra favour, favours which he never distributed unevenly prior to her entering his household. Jin Ziyan did not want Jiang Yanli as a competition. She was a marquess’s dichu daughter, much higher in rank than either Qin Su or Luo Qingyang, and therefore posed serious threat to becoming Lan Wangji’s legal spouse. In a way, she was Jin Ziyan’s biggest competitor, and he couldn’t have that. What Jin Ziyan didn’t know was that Lan Wangji visited Jiang Yanli so much because he wanted to catch glimpses of Wei Wuxian, even though he dismissed Wei Wuxian from the room every time he saw him (the man was clearly a masochist). Wei Wuxian managed to sniff out the poison before it could cause lasting damages, but the effect of it was going on for long enough that Jiang Yanli still had an early term miscarriage before she even knew she was pregnant. Wei Wuxian, incensed by Jiang Yanli’s suffering, was ready to expose Jin Ziyan, but was ordered not to by Wen Zhuliu. ‘We still need Jin Ziyan’ was his reasoning. Still, Wei Wuxian managed to tip off the investigators such that they detected and put an end to the poisoning, but the culprit was ultimately never caught. As this played out, Wei Wuxian realized that now was his chance to get close to Lan Wangji. With Jiang Yanli recuperating...surely the Jiang family would want someone else of their clan to serve Lan Wangji in her place, someone who could keep Lan Wangji’s attention but would not replace Jiang Yanli’s place in the harem. It did not take much to lead Yu Ziyuan to the same conclusion. To ensure that he would have ample time with Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian secretly slipped a special sedative into Jiang Yanli’s food and drink to mimic the symptoms of a slow recovery. The sedative was one of Qishan’s secret formulations and could not be detected by Gusu’s finest doctors. But Jiang Yanli, bless her heart, did not want the boy who she’d come to see as a little brother to be used like an object. "A-niang, I don't want to force A-Xian to do things he doesn't want to. I will get better, dianxia will not abandon me." — Yu Ziyuan tsked, "Silly girl, serving Lan Wangji in your stead is his entire purpose for coming with you. Every family must plan for something like this; someone to hold onto Lan Wangji's interest while you're indisposed. Men are fickle, child. You need time to recover and someone will need to remind Hanguang-wang that you still matter when you’re ready again. We cannot let him forget you. Think of what this would mean for our clan." Much to Yu Ziyuan’s delight, Lan Wangji came to check on Jiang Yanli while she was visiting, and Madam Yu had no qualms making hints that it would be the Jiang family’s honour if Hanguang-wang allowed ‘A-Xian’ to serve him while Yanli recovered. Wei Wuxian did not protest. Why would he? This was his orchestration after all, but when he dared raise his gaze from the floor to look at Lan Wangji, he detected a hint of something in Lan Wangji’s face…something like disappointment. Wei Wuxian relayed this to Xue Yang and the other evil gremlin sucked on a candied apricot and said with a roll of his eyes： —“You’re so dense, shixiong, tsk. Men like Lan Wangji could have any man or woman he wants. If you go along with Madam Yu’s orders, you’ll just to be like everyone else, another ambitious servant trying to socially advance. He’ll fuck you and forget you within a blink of an eye.” — Wei Wuxian sipped his liquor and grimaced. “Fine, what do you suggest I do then? — Xue Yang smirked, “Oh, haven’t you heard? Men like roses with thorns. When you’re brought to him tonight, don’t play along. Don’t humour him. Refuse him.” — Wei Wuxian： >_> Is this how you got those Daoist priests in bed with you? — Xue Yang smirked shamelessly, “Worked, innit?”

Listen, Lan Wangji was fully prepared to have some emotionless sex with Wei Wuxian okay? Boy was prepared to just go through the motions. He was disappointed to know that A-Xian turned out to be no better than any other servant in his harem: eager to climb his bed.

Being a concubine was stupid work, Wei Wuxian realized belatedly. After dinner, Jiang Yanli bid him goodbye with worried eyes as the momos and gugus of Hanguang-fu dragged him away to be bathed and prepped for the prince’s enjoyment later that night. (gugu, momo - older female servants)

Wei Wuxian was not a dirty person - sure, he worked hard, but he bathed regularly - they did not have to scrub that roughly. As they practically scrapped off a layer of skin, the momos rattled on and on about how he should “conduct” himself in the presence of dianxia and how he should position himself to best please him.

What the actual fuck. Wei Wuxian resisted the urge to pull a face. Did the ladies get the same banal talk? How fucking boring was the sex around here? Wei Wuxian wasn’t born yesterday alright? He knew how to fuck. ...Well fine, he didn’t, but he and Xue Yang had sucked each other off once or twice, so that should count for something.

Once the attendants were satisfied with the state of him - hair brushed, skin cleaned and lotioned, callouses removed - they rolled him in a large full-body sized blanket, placed him in a sedan and ordered the servants to carry him to Lan Wangji’s chamber.

Wei Wuxian tried not to make an exasperated grimace when the servants literally picked him up like a log and deposited him on the prince’s large bed.

Fucking...seriously?

He did not remember this bullshit when zhangjie married in...but then again Jiang Yanli did marry in. There was a ceremony and everything. Lan Wangji was very respectful that night, bowing to her before lifting her veil as a gentleman ought to. So what the fuck is this barbaric treatment? Just as he pondered on these questions, the tulle canopy parted, and Lan Wangji’s handsome face and broad chest came into view. Undressed to his inner most layer of robes and his ink black hair let loose, he looked very much like a man ready to ravish his new concubine, but somehow, Wei Wuxian could not detect a trace of interest on that jade-like face.

Despite knowing this was all an act, just a means to an end, Wei Wuxian shivered when Lan Wangji reached for the edge of the blanket that encased him.

He pulled the blankets closer, shrinking deeper inside.

“Don’t be afraid,” said Lan Wangji. “I won’t hurt you.”

Time to act, Wei Wuxian. Give it your best shot.

“I’m not afraid.” “Then why do you hide?” Wei Wuxian waited a meaningful second before meeting Lan Wangji’s gaze dead on and said, “Because I don’t want to.” Nonplussed, Lan Wangji raised an elegant eye brow in return. “Oh? Is that so? Or are those just words? Perhaps you've confused what kind of place a harem is. If you do not want to, why are you here?”

Is my act not convincing enough or is this stupid asshole so confident in his attractiveness that he thinks everyone must automatically want to fuck him? Slightly ticked off now, Wei Wuxian sat up, still holding the blanket to his chest and retorted hotly, “I am not confused, dianxia. Perhaps you are unable to comprehend the idea that someone as lowly as a servant would refuse when given the opportunity to ascend in rank, but nevertheless, that doesn’t change my position. I don't want to. I am here because Lianfang-jun appointed me; there was hardly any room in that decision for me to argue. If you are determined to have me, I will not resist, because I understand my place. But I am a person, not a thing or a broodmare for you breed. I have some dignity left, and at the very least, before you...before you hold me down and fuck me, I want you to know."

Wei Wuxian half wondered if his act had gone a little overboard. The expletives maybe were just a tad too dramatic, but then again... ...seeing how Lan Wangji's entire stance shifted, maybe not.

Lan Wangji withdrew his hand. He had mistaken Wei Wuxian’s initial unwillingness as coquettish posturing, but the heat in those dark, bright eyes could not be faked.

“Those words could get you into a lot of trouble when spoken to the wrong person. Have the momos not taught you the rules?”

Wei Wuxian squared his shoulders. “They have, but I place trust in Hanguang-wang’s reputation, that you are a true gentleman and would not force me against my will.” Then, just as he practiced, Wei Wuxian lowered his eyes. “I am a servant, your servant, and I know it is my duty to serve you in any way you command me, but I -...please find other use of me, dianxia, but not this.”

He startled a little when a warm hand found purchase under his chin and lifted up his face. Lan Wangji inspected him wordlessly with those cold, sharp eyes, searching for lies, for pretense. Wei Wuxian held his breath, praying he won’t be found out, but eventually, when the prince and his calculation deemed him good enough, he let go.

“Very well.”

Lan Wangji fetched a pair of clean inner robes and trousers from the wardrobe and handed them to Wei Wuxian. “Get dressed and move over.” Without waiting for Wei Wuxian to respond, he sat himself down on the edge of the bed and began to remove his socks and shoes.

Wei Wuxian moved quickly, shrugging on the robes and tied it in place before shoving the trousers under the covers to try and pulling them up his legs. “You’re...you’re not leaving?”

Lan Wangji glared at him over his shoulder. “This is my room, my bed. Why should I leave?”

Right. Right.

“But you’re not...sending me away?”

Lan Wangji frowned as though questioning his intelligence. “Would you like me to send you away? I should think that would reflect badly on you and your mistress.” That did give Wei Wuxian pause. “Uh, well –” “Your declining to be my bedfellow does not impede my fulfilling my side of the arrangement. You will leave in the morning, and the others will think that I found you pleasing enough to keep you the whole night. That should give Jiang-fu’ren and the Yunmeng Jiang clan sufficient face." “I could sleep on the floor.”

“Do you want to sleep on the floor?” Lan Wangji swung his legs onto the bed and arranged the blankets to his liking. “The doors are never locked. Servants and sentinels must be allowed in to check on me during the night for security purposes. It would not bode well if they found you lying on the floor.”

Right, yeah that would defeat the whole purpose.

“Oh.”

Lan Wangji lay down and crossed his hands over his chest. “Lie down, sleep. I have morning court assembly, and I’m tired. If you’re going to stay, don’t be a disturbance.”

Feeling like he’d lost all semblance of control in this situation, Wei Wuxian awkwardly laid himself down beside Lan Wangji. The bed was big enough for the two of them that there was space in between even when both of them lay flat on their backs.

Lan Wangji lifted up just a second to blow out the bedside candle, and then there was total darkness.

Wasn’t I suppose to seduce him? What the fuck is this? Okay...maybe I have no idea how to seduce him...maybe I have no idea how to do anything that’s not straight up strangling him in his sleep.

Wei Wuxian could feel his heart thudding in his chest, panic coiling tighter and tighter. He almost wished Lan Wangji had ignored his protest and took him, because then it’d be straight forward. As it were, he had no idea how to proceed now.

Just as Wei Wuxian was being slowly consumed by his maelstrom of thoughts, Lan Wangi suddenly spoke into the dark.

"I am not a heartless bastard, you should know."

Huh?

"I never implied that."

“You did.” Lan Wangji gave a little shake of his head. “I do not want this anymore than the others in the harem. You said I treat my women like broodmares, but perhaps you have not considered that Gusu treats me like a stallion." Wei Wuxian was momentarily speechless. “Your mistress is very kind and gentle. I am sorry that the child in her belly was lost; I know she very much wanted to be a mother. I see that you are very protective of her, so you should know, I would never hurt her. Even if she were to never recover her strength, I would not let harm come to her.” Those words, softly spoken, tugged at Wei Wuxian’s conscience, if not his heartstrings. “Dianxia -” “Sleep. Good night.”

The next morning Wei Wuxian woke up to knocking on the door. The sun was already high in the sky and the bed was empty of Lan Wangji’s presence. A group of maids entered carrying a basin of water, towels and clean clothes. Wei Wuxian, dazed, asked, "Where's danxia?" One of the maid giggled. "Dianxia left at dawn to attend morning assembly at the palace. You must not know; he wakes up very early. He said not to wake you, and to let you sleep. He said," The others giggled with her. “He said that you've had a long night."

To the great surprise of everyone, Lan Wangji did not elevate Jiang Yanli’s servant A-Xian to concubine status after the ‘long night’ they had together. Instead he ordered A-Xian to be transferred to his court to be his close-quarter attendant, to serve him in his every day tasks. Wei Wuxian did not exactly understand why Lan Wangji would make this particularly decision, but he did not complain. After all this was exactly what he wanted, to be close to Lan Wangji and earn his trust. Lan Wangji, on the other hand, was content to have Wei Wuxian close by, secure in the knowledge ‘A-Xian’ did not wish to spread his legs to socially advance. Perhaps, if he dared to hope, he could finally have someone to speak to in this lonely manor full of people who only saw the crown hanging above his head.

Xue Yang was of the opinion that this was all going to end badly. He was right.

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#cql #the untamed #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #cql ficlet #without envy #corie fics

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