#its not prestige when everything is????

[darkwood-hollows]

hot take but i actively miss when tv shows were like 20 episodes a season. slow down. let me get to know the characters. let them do something dumb and not consequential to the plot for one fucking second i'm begging you.

[littyhoney]

Can we please have Earth 1610! Miles x reader where throughout their journey, the reader has been envious of Gwen because of Miles' feelings for her and he was completely oblivious about Y/N's feelings for him. Then comes the events and reveal of Earth 42! Miles, which he and Y/N were together but his Y/N ended up dying. As the story goes, both our Miles and Reader gets taken and when our Miles wakes up being tied against the punching bag, Y/N comes after him to save him but Earth 42! Miles is blinded with envy and was still in love with Y/N so he pins them on the ground in front of our Miles as he watched his other self trapped Y/N in his arms and praising their beauty. This makes Miles realize that seeing his other self worship Y/N makes his heart burn with Jealousy and realize that he has been in love with Y/N all along, not Gwen. Thank you so much!

Treasure to him.

(Earth 1610! Miles x F!Reader x Earth 42! Miles)

Warnings: Heavy angst, mention of gun, slight toxic, manipulation, very long story

Word count: 5.3K words (longest one fic i have ever write)

Ps: This is an apology piece from me for the delay of chapter five of Right person,Wrong time. I can't promise you guys when i would release it but i hope with this piece it would be something fun for yall to read. I appreciate every single reblogs and words of encouragement for me to write i love yall are so sweet. Enjoy spiders! <3<3

(In earth 1610, before the ATSV events)

You and Miles have known each other since he first step in the Vision Academy, you knew him by the tittle 'cop kid' since like half of the school witnessed Miles embarrassing moment of him and his dad. But you found out that the 'cop kid' is actually a sweet,charming yet awkward boy. You always wait with anticipation for him to walk in the class that you two had in the same time just so that you can see what’s new in his sketchbook, his graffiti sketches some of his portraits its so well drawn that you are mesmerized by it. You also hang out together either to study or you just want to sit together listening to music while you watch the master creating his masterpiece.

Day by day you just start to like his stupid corny jokes about science, his eyes that reminds you of the warm sun and that stupid sweet smile of his. It’s hard not to fall for him, whenever you hang out he would hold your hand to cross the road because he doesn’t want you to fall behind or trip. The little banter you both have when you both come up with a stupid question like “does pineapple belong on pizza”.

But it all changes when he met this ‘Gwanda’ girl or Gwen is her real name since you been in the same class as her after she got transferred here apparently. Ever since he met Gwen he has been weird, that’s when you know he is the new Spider-man of Brooklyn. How do you know? You walk into his room with Ganke one day to his dorm room to return his notes, you look up to see not only Miles on the ceiling but with Gwen and seems to be more spider people. Resulting to Ganke falling back pass out while you got web by one of them.

As the months pass by you and Miles grew closer, you been with him through thick and thin. He need notes? You lend him yours, need someone to dial cops on criminal or villain that he caught? Your phone is ready, need someone to let out some pent up frustration? You will listen to him and be there for him every time. You understand being a hero for the city and a student in such a prestige school in Brooklyn can be too much for him, not to mention he is a freaking teenager. You show him support and love to him hoping that he would notice you feelings for him, of course you did all of that not only because of love,but because you genuinely care for him. But the moment the two of you would just sit together and chatting away through the evening at the ‘Foam Part’ coffee shop, everything just feels right again.

Today is the day that you will admit your feeling for Miles,feet tapping nervously on wood tile with your drink have gone down half of the cup after you keep sipping on it. You been waiting for Miles for half an hour now,you have left him a few messages but he doesn’t respond to it. But he did promise to meet here today, but thanks to his delay you keep reciting the script in your head on how you going to confess to him. Maybe make it quick and straight to the point like “Hey miles look, I like you” or make it sentimental like “Miles,ever since I met you a year ago-” your train of though got interrupted by a ring of a bell from the entrance of the coffee shop.

There standing by the door, slightly out of breath stand Miles Morales. He look around the coffee shop trying to see a familiar face, when his eyes land on you a smile is send to your direction. He make his ways to you before sitting down with a big sigh “Finally! Im done dealing with that guy” he muster up the best puppy face that he can at you “Im sorry that im late (Y/N), as a sorry I’ll buy your (favorite dessert) what do you say?” he tilt his head to the side leaning forward.

Oh how can you be mad at him after that very tempting deal so you roll your eyes and smile at him “Alright alright apology accepted,but this will be the last okay?”. He laugh and nodding his head “Aigh I’ll make sure next time I won’t be late, I be right back” he give you a wink before walking to the counter to order his drink and getting your dessert. You sit there smilling to yourself,the butterfly fluttering in your stomach.

Few minutes later Miles return with the set items “here ya go! Enjoy” he put the small plate in front of you and keeping his hot coco to himself. “You don’t have to you know,a sorry would suffice” you insist while picking up the spoon. Miles shake his head waving his hand “Nah nah I feel bad keeping you hangin man, that’s the least I could do for you”. You just let out a chuckle and nod,it’s free food so.

Like always, you are curious as to what he have been drawing this week so as you feed yourself a spoonful of sweetness “So,anything new you been cooking up?”. Miles put down his cup before nodding “Yeah yeah I have a few new pieces, here” he turn his body slightly reach for his bag pulling out his black sketchbook that is decorated by stickers “Here,check it out” he slide the book to you.

You open up the book skipping few pages back until you see a new art have been drawn by him “Whoa, these are neat Miles” you smile wide as you take in the details and bright colors of the pieces he drawn. “I wanna put up that one up on a wall,I’ll let you know when though” he says as he watches you going through his precious book. You chuckle “can’t wait Miles” you flip to another page, seeing the familiar spider people like that particular black and white spider, Miles told you his name is Spider Noir.

Your eyes trail to another piece in the page, your smile fell slightly. It’s a drawing of the familiar blonde girl, Gwen. You can’t lie that Gwen is a beautiful girl and very talented, the drawing capture her smile and her cool shaved hair that gives her more personality. The envy feeling return but you swallow it down “Wow someone is having a crush huh” you said teasingly at Miles lifting your head to look at him,with a soft but pain smile. “What do you mean?” Miles says furrowed his eyebrows. You turn the book held it up towards him lifting one of your eyebrow “Come onn don’t lie,it’s pretty obvious Miles”. Miles eyes widened “What?! no no nahh you got it wrong im not pfff that’s funny nah nah” he says as he cross his arms over his chest after waving his hand side to side.

You roll your eyes snapping the book shut putting it down on the table “Please you been talking and drawing the same spider people these past months, and you been drawing Gwen a lot too” you give him a pointed look. Miles sigh and put his arms on the table “Look (N/N) whatever it is you’re thinking it’s not that I like her its just that I…I miss her,I miss them” he gesture his hand to the book “It’s, kind of lonely being the only spider-man you know”.

You purse your lips before sigh lightly “I hope one day you can meet them again Miles” you reach for his hand,holding it both in yours. “You’re not alone here Miles, you have Ganke…you have me”

Miles look into your eyes,he is stunned. For as long as they have been friends, Miles does have a tiny crush on her. Miles just like the sound of her laughter or when she scrunched her face at his corny joke makes him forget his problem for a while. He feel comfortable with her,he feel free to be himself with or without the mask. He knows that she’ll be there whenever he needed her help, he also put an extra work to his drawings because he wanted to show you only the best pieces of art from him. But when he met Gwen and to know that she is also a spider,it feels different to him. He know how much Gwen understands him, he doesn’t feel different of being the odd one. He is confuse, over his own feelings.

“Look Miles I been wanting to tell you something” your voice snap him out of his thoughts. “W-what is it (N/N)?” Miles look at you with anticipation.

You on the other hand is having a battle with yourself in your head going back and forth with ‘tell him you feel better’ or ‘Don’t tell him and pretend’. You squeeze his hand in your palm slightly, building up the courage. ‘this is it,if he won’t return my feelings at least I get it off my chest’ you blew out an air and open your mouth “Miles, I…” the word is stuck in your throat. ‘Just say it,say it!’ you mentally scolding yourself.

Just as you open your mouth a loud crash and a panic yelling come from outsdie of the cafe, you and Miles turn to look at scene to see few robbers went inside a car while the owner is screaming for help. ‘Wow…the universe hates me huh’ you look back at Miles to see him already looking at you with a clear ‘I gotta go sorry’ in his eyes. You just tilt your head to it with an understanding smile “Go get em spidey”. Miles smiles at you, and starts to stand up but be he stops “Wait,what is it that you want to tell me?”. You shake your head “No no it’s nothing important really,just school stuff”. But Miles know better and reassure you “Look i know its important, so tell me later okay?” he says as he start to walk backward to the door “Got it?”. You nod your head “got it now go!” watching him runs out of the cafe.

Well there goes your moment to confess, you sight as you take out your phone calling your best friend.

(In earth-42 before the ATSV event)

You climb up the fire escape to Miles hideout,where he and uncle Aaron would do their plans and fixing on his Prowler suit. You know this when the day his father died he sworn to keep the neighborhood safer,not only for his mom but for you too. He try his very best not to let two of his most beloved people in his life have the same fate as his dad.

You being a lovely partner support him and his ambition, you help him provide some of the material he needed. When he got hurt or beaten up, you would be there tending him on the couch, When some day comes the day where he is drown by guilt of not saving or do anything to save his dad, you will be there either holding him or be on the phone with a gentle voice to remind him that “It’s not your fault love”. You are his anchor that keep him grounded in the sea of his big responsibilities. He have to be the man of the house, helping his mom, be a student and survive in this dangerous city.

But the two of you are such a great couple, Miles would walk you to and back from school. Always walk together hand in hand through the school hallway, keeping you protected from anyone try to do anything. Secret kisses and sweet words exchange with a whisper, only a blind person could not see how in love these two couple are. The love and tenderness in his eyes whenever he look at you as you busy telling him about your day. One time the two of you spend the whole night dancing to uncle Aaron’s boombox that he borrowed, it ended with his arms around your waist while your arms around his neck gaze into one another swaying to the music.

That moment will always stuck with you, as you reach the window to his hideout. You heard music blast coming from inside, you pull the window up and crawl in making your way to your man. Miles seem busy with his claw sitting on the stool, so you gently wrap your arm around his waist from behind giving him a soft kiss on his neck “Hey love”. He hum lifting his head from hunching over the claw turning his head to give a kiss on your temple “Hey princesa” you smile at the nickname.

“You been so busy lately love, we spend little to no time together this week but on call for hours”  you push yourself away from him leaning on the table beside him. Miles continue to temper with his claw “lo siento, princesa. Promise after I finish with this I’m yours for the night” he glance at you. You look over to the other side of the table to see his black sketchbook, you reach and open it to see few of his old drawings he made. He have less and less time to draw his heart out these past weeks, you keep turning the pages when you see a beautiful drawing of you. You graze your finger over it to see the details and pop out colors. Your hear swell to see he have been drawing you on the few pages back, he drawn you when you’re in class and when you were practicing volleyball he capture your smile every single one of it.

“Aigh im done now, you good mi amada?” Miles call out to you as he grabbing his signature green and purple jacket, he turn his head to see you looking at his sketchbook eyeing on the particular piece that he draw few days back. He knows you love it when he draws you, he wrap one of his arm around your waist leaning his head on yours “Mi amada come on, you can check em out later”. You put the book down chuckling “Okay okay Mr Morales im goingg” you broke out a grin as he drag you by the waist to the same window you came in.

You spend the night getting tacos and chatting together in the cafe you love to hang out at, Miles insist of paying the drinks and your favorite dessert as you two stand patiently at the line to order. Miles held you close to him both are oblivious as what will happen to them soon. A figure dress in all black with hoodie up and mask covering half of his face, he walks up to the cashier.

“Uhm sir you need to be in line to order please” the little waitress says a bit skeptical at the man. “I’m not here for that, the register. open it” the guys says making the waitress even more confuse “E-excuse me sir?”. The guy sudden reach for his back pulling out a gun pointing straight at her “I said open the register now!”

His voice caught the attention not only to the two of you but the few teens in the cafe, once it clicked in their head what is happening some reach for the phone to dial the police but the robber turn around keeping the gun up “If any of you even think of putting your phone up I’ll fucking shoot you!”

Miles already pulling you behind him, his mind is racking for any plans so that this situation won’t get out of hand. You on the other hand holding on to your phone already dialing the 911 but you let the operator listens to the whole commotion, You hand grips tightly on Miles arm, heart beats so fast that you can hear it in your ears. “Miles, what should we do?” you whisper to him. “It’s okay, I’ll handle this okay?” you held on to him with a frown, you know he can handle a simple robbery with his Prowler suit but right now he doesn't have anything to defend himself. “don’t be ridiculous you don’t have your suit” you hiss out through your teeth furrowing your brows at him.

Miles turn his head to his face hold a serious expression,his tone is stern “Just stay out of it, let the police know what happen okay?” before you could protest Miles already make his way to the robber grabbing on to his shoulder turning him around grabbing his arm twisting it. The robber yelp at the sudden attack from Miles, the pain from his twisted arm making him let go of the gun, the weapon fall to the floor as the two struggle accidentally kicking the gun to your direction. You look at the gun and look at the two, you quickly reach down to the gun holding on to it so that the robber won’t take it.

The robber look at the gun and then up to you, the look on that guy’s face strike fear in you, you hand starts to tremble holding the gun. The robber punch Miles straight to his face,this time without his mask the pain makes Miles stumble to the side making the robber charge towards his terrified partner. “Give that to me bitch!” He grab on to your arm so hard that it is starting to hurt, but you determine to keep holding on to the gun.

Miles shake his head to relieve the pain slightly to see his partner and the robber are fighting over the gun, in panic he rush over to them “(Y/N)!”. Suddenly everything turns slow mo, the robber tug the gun hard from your grasp turning it towards you and

BAM!! BAM!

Two shots have been released, a searing pain runs through your abdomen and chest. The blows making you stumble back on your feet a few time before your knees buckle underneath you, you body slammed on the floor. The sounds of people screams muffle and your vision starts to get blur.

Miles look at the scene eyes wide, ‘no,no this can’t be happening’. He rushes to your side in his head screaming ‘Please no, god no no not her too’ his hand hover over the gunshot before he softly says to you “Okay okay I'm going to turn you around baby” trying to reassure you and to himself. He carefully lift one of your side to look at the gunshot to see if it went all the way through, it does. You are bleeding out a lot, loosing blood by the second. He look back to your face to see you are crying and gasping, he hold your face with both of his face, he try his best to hold on to his tears as he choke out the words “Baby listen to me you’re gonna be alright, just hold on for a little longer baby please”.

The robber realized what he had done run out of the cafe, but Miles paid no mind as he is grasping on to you. You feel yourself is slowly slipping away, your eyes locked on to the beautiful brown eyes of your boyfriend. Struggle to breath you choke out the words “I-im scared Miles”. He held on to your hand bringing it to his cheek “Im here baby I’m here” he says as a tear runs down his cheek dripping on to your cold cheek. You know it be the last time you will ever see his honey brown eyes, with a last energy you mustered “M-Miles I-”

Then silent…to Miles everything around him is muffled, he is staring into your eyes as you pass to the other side. Your warm hand is now cold In his, he already misses your voice. He hold your limp body to his chest sobbing as he chant

“I’m sorry”

(Back to earth 1610 Miles and Reader)

For some reason everything went wrong so fast in one day, you and Miles barely survive the spider arm. One after another happened in a such pace you could barely catch up but now Miles have successfully got both of you home,or not. You are waiting patiently on the rooftop of his apartment to help him with the Spot but your eyes widened at the big graffiti on the wall of the other building, when did Mr Morales died? You remember that Miguel says his death will be in two days. The sinking feeling in your stomach is making you panic, you pieces together that you are in a wrong home, in a wrong dimension. The once lively and beautiful city turn into this dark and grimy city,the street that are always filled with people is now silence, you're in a completely different place. You run your fingers through your hair in frustration “Oh shit shit” then you walk towards the door leading to the staircase ‘I have to get Miles!’ as your hand was about to reach the door a voice came from behind the door.

Your eyes widened quickly pressing yourself to the wall blending into the shadow to see who walk out of the door, there walk out uncle Aaron and Miles. Miles on the other hand is scare and worry about you, he left you here for while and promise to come back but after he figure out he is in a different dimension he wanted to run out of his house to get to you but instead he stumble to his supposed dead uncle. “Look uncle Aaron, I gotta uh go” he try to get out of the situation “I gotta go find” his words trail  as his eyes land on the same graffiti, his dad is dead in this dimension. Before he could do anything a figure jump from the other rooftop and sucker punch Miles making him pass out straight to the floor.

You cover your mouth as you witness everything play out in front of you, not believing this is really happening. For another dimension you would have thought that uncle Aaron will be the same as your dimension uncle Aaron but no, this guy is something else. You have to save Miles and go home ASAP, you watch as Aaron slung the limp body of Miles over his shoulder turning to the other figure seems to have an exchange of conversation before the figure leap away from the rooftop to another. Aaron on the other hand walk to the fire escape stairs making his way down to the dark alleyway.

You have no other choice, you have to save Miles. You have no one else to call for help. You’re on your own, so you follow behind a few feet away from Aaron. The quiet and empty street is dark enough for you to trail without raising any of his attention, heck the street is dark enough for people in their home not to question the limp body he is currently carrying.

After a few minutes you are in a familiar window of uncle Aaron’s house, you peek inside through the window from the fire escape stair that you once went with Miles to sneak out to visit his uncle. You wait patiently as Aaron have tied Miles to the punching bag with chains and wires, Aaron answers his phone call it seems to be urgent. ‘please go out please go out’ you chant in your head and your prayer is answered as Aaron walk out of the room after he shut his phone, huh that was easy.

You push the window up and goes in as quietly as you can, your eyes glance around the dark room, completely oblivious to a pair of eyes are watching your every move from the beginning. He hope the person that his other self is looking for will be you and you walk right in to him. He got a second chance to see you again,and he intended to keep you here all to himself.

As you walk right under him, the figure dangle himself down with one of his hand try not to make any sudden noise to startle you. Before you could reach to his counterpart, he reach his hand to your shoulder gently hold on to it. You startle by the sudden contact make you turn around to see a purple neon mask staring at you, you gasp out in surprise stumble back on your feet “W-wait!” you are scare of him. You used to love his mask, you thought it look ‘cool’.

Miles quickly hold on to both of your forearm pulling you gently to him, he unmask himself so that you can hear his voice. His voice is gentle “Shh shh calm down mi amada its me”  he hold firmly at your forearms taking a few step closer to you. You are scare at this guy, the darkness of the room is making it hard for you to see his face but why is he talking to you like he known you before? And the voice sound so familiar. “W-who are you?”

Miles steps forward to you making you take every each step back until you are pin against the table and finally the light shine on to the person in front of you, that same honey eyes staring back at you. “M-Miles?” you stare at him eyes wide, this Miles looks different he have eye bags, slightly sunken cheek and his hair is shave and braided.

He look at you with a sad smile, you were too stun to do anything as he hold your cheek so gently “Hey mi amada, what happened to you?” his thumb grazing over a little scratch on your cheek cause by Miguel. “W-what did you just called me” you ask but this Miles pay no mind to your question “It’s alright I’m here now I won’t let anything happen to you,not this time”. Your mind is racing, why is he calling you my beloved? Why does he seem to miss you? Your other half is also here…well was here. Your eyes held sympathy at him now “Were you close?”

Miles saddened at your words “What are you saying mi vida, we are close” you shake your head at him taking his hand that is holding your cheek moving it away from your cheek “No no im not her Miles please” he grasp your hand pinning them to the table “We belong together mi amor, you belong to me” he lean closer to you, now chest to chest. You tremble slightly fear of this Miles behavior.

(1610 Miles POV)

Miles open his eyes, his head rings as he try to focus on his vision but as he open his eyes to see you are pinned down by somebody. Miles see your eyes make contact with his, your eyes are begging for him to help. But he can’t do anything but to dangle helplessly. The person pinning her to the table hold her chin turning her chin“Ah ah attention to me mi vida” Miles are even more confuse as to why this stranger is calling you endearing name that only use if you have an intimate relationship. “Please…you have to let me go, I-im not who you think I am” she whimper as you try to move away from the person but he shushed her “Shh mi princesa”

Miles heart burned slightly to see this person calling you different endearing names, its like he is talking to his lover and the tender touches is like he holding a treasure. Miles have been the few person that you trust and comfortable enough for physical touch, the warm hugs you share and the hand holding as you walk together. To see this complete stranger to just touch you it triggers his protectivenes and his, hidden feelings for you. “Hey! Let go of her man!”

(Back to third POV)

Miles lean back slightly a lopside smile tug on his lips before he lick his teeth “So, he’s awake” he still keep you pin to the table. “What so special about him hm? Tell me mi princesa” he reaches over to the side for one of his claw. “Base on the first name term you been calling him, you’re not even together,you’re not special to him” he hold his gaze onto you, hoping for you to understand his side and stay. Your heart squeeze painfully at his words, you two are nothing more than a friend.

“But to me, you’re my treasure, mi amor” his eyes is pleading at you, “He have all this fancy power but he can’t even get you home safe, mi princessa don’t you see? You’re here for a reason, to be here by my side together again”

Miles shake his head ‘no no no that’s not true (N/N) don’t listen to him’, he does care for her, he always have, you are special to him. You have been with him from the beginning, when you stand up to him to Miguel his heart swell to see you will always be by his side even when the others are againts him. He doesn’t want to lose you. “No don’t listen to him (Y/N)” Miles voice seems to annoy this other Miles.

“You’re so beautiful..I have miss your alluring voice talking to me, your soft touches” he put on his claw. “Why would you want to be with someone like him” his voice is lace with venom, he hate his other self to not cherish you like he would.

“Who are you..what do you want from her” Miles eyes glare at the back of this guy skull, he heard him chuckle “I’m” he pause before turn his head “I'm Miles Morales. But you,you can call me the Prowler” the other Miles says as he glare at the dangling spider.

Miles eyes widened to see himself with full on Prowler gear and a braided hair,he look much more mature here. Miles put the pieces of puzzle together in his head,In this dimension he too have his version of (Y/N), after hearing the names he have been calling it seems his other self is truly in love with not only earth 42 version of (Y/N) but from 1610 dimension too. “Look man…I know you have history with her but you can’t keep her here…you have to let us go”

The Prowler Miles walk up to near him “And let YOU keep her?” he raises his claws powering it up curling his claws into a fist “why would I do that” he put the fist beside his head.  

You watch the two Miles, one is glaring to the other while the other is looking at the other with an eyes burning with determination. Determined to get you out of here…but the question is

Who will you choose?

(the end)

[grugruel]

Let the Light in

Pairing: priest!Bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: On the day of your wedding, you excpect to love your husband, not fall for the priest.

You'd never been a believer. But when your marrige spiraled into darkness, you had to find light elsewere. So you asked the Lord for help, and He answered.

Ironically enough, He gave you a most devout follower, the priest.

Word count: ca 4k

Warnings: fluff, angst, blasphemy, soft!priest!bucky, pinv sex, oral sex (f receiving), passionate sex, fingering, thigh-riding, adultry, praise (m receiving), priest kink.

AN: its been proof read! I dont understand how yall read it before the fact, my misspellings were crazy. I also edited it a bit, gave yall about 200-300 words more.

I stod silently on the sidewalk, with my back to the road. Numbly observing the scene in front of me as I waited. Cars were rushing past behind me, slowing as they noticed the crowd.

The chilly autumn winds blew my coat off of my stocking clad legs, revealing them to the elements. I couldnt be bothered to care.

The cold did not affect me anymore, I was strung out on feeling.

I watched my husband struggle, and the guests scramble to help him. They got him on his feet, and his best man slung an arm around him to keep him from falling again. My eyes brimmed with tears, ready to fall any second now.

I felt a hand touch the small of my back in silent support. A palm pressed firmly into the arch below, fingertips curling, rouching the fabric of my dress. I closed my eyes and all my troubles were wisked away for but a second, until I heard the guests approach and the hand left me. I opened my eyes to a grim sight.

We met in college, my husband and I. He'd been lovely and attentive when we first met, he made me fall in love with him. He proposed to me on our graduation, and i'd never been happier.

Unfortunately though, it didnt last that long.

As we were fresh out of school, both with stellar scores and brand new degrees. We got our dream jobs, and bought ourselves our dream home.

Everything was perfect, until he got fired. Why? He wouldnt tell me, he left me in the dark, refusing to tell me himself.

Naturally, I grew suspicious.

So I called his former boss, who told me that they'd caught him with his secretary bent over his desk. They said he'd gotten a reputation within his business and would be experiencing difficulties in finding a new job for himself. My crying increased gradually through out the call, this was the first time hed let me down after all. His boss was very apologetic and so was my fiancé.

He found me sat on the floor with phone in hand, a complete mess of tears and running mascara. Immedietly showing worry, 'Whats going on, whats happened?' He asked, thinking somebody died. But when I glared at him, repaying his silence with my own, he understood. He stuttered an apology, his words a flurry of explanations and sorrys, sounding truly regretful.

So I forgave him, silly me.

With time, bitterness manifested within him. Resentment over the fact that I was well liked and did good work at my own job. It led him down a pityfull path, finding solace in alcohol, resentment turning into lousey drunkeness. I should've left him, but chose to forgive him. I loved him, despite all.

Eventually he found a new job, nowehere near the prestige of his old one. But it calmed his drinking.

When he sobered slightly, he apologized continously. Telling me he promised to get better and told me he wanted to have our ceremony, because I deserved it. Foolishly, I belived him. He stayed sober several weeks before the wedding, and I thought it could be a new start.

But here we are now.

I stood behind the doors of the nave, inhaling and exhaling big shaky breaths, trying to gather strength for what I was about to throw myself into.

The priest, father Barnes. The one who would be marrying us, came to me before I walked down the aisle.

'Miss.' He began, his eyes pleading as he took my hands into his, 'Its now my place, I know. But your betrothed-'

'Youre right, its not.' I cut him off, the idea of discussing my fiancés indiscretions with the priest was not appealing. 'I apologize father.' I sighed and met his eyes, 'Hes drunk isnt he?'

The priest tilted his head to the side, realising I was already well aquainted with the vice, 'Well, yes. . .' He said, sounding apologetic.

I nodded my head, deep in thought, 'Alright, lets not waste anymore time then.'

'You're still going ahead with the wedding?' He asked me, an incredulous expression shaping his face.

I looked down, studying the intricate details of my wedding dress. Id picked it myself, my favourite flowers covered it. That man of mine doesnt know my favourite in anything, nor would he notice them on my dress.

A melancholic smile covered my lips, 'You must think me foolish father.' I whispered under my breath, chuckling quietly.

He shook his head and moved one of his hands to my chin, tilting my face to meet his. The other grabbed my hands, and squeezed them, 'I think youre strong.' He told me, a reassuring smile on his lips.

'He promised me he would get better.' My voice was meak, a tear streaking my face.

'You're a good woman.' He breathed, letting go of my hands to cup my face. He leveled his head with mine, his tall stature forcing him to hunch as his eyes locked with mine, 'Too, good.' He whispered, 'And, Its not my business, thats true. . .' Another tear fell, and he gently stroked it away with his thumb, 'But he does not deserve your kindness.'

My cheeks burned hot, a blush crept up my face. I had not heard such kind words in a long time. I could not controll my crying any longer, unstoppable tears came rolling down my cheeks, 'I have to believe him, father, I have to try.' I told him quietly, hating how desperate my voice sounded.

'I love him.'

He cringed at the words, furrowing his brows 'I admire your devotion.' He said gently, 'Do you want more time? Im sure we can wait a little longer.' He tried, but I shook my head.

'No, I dont want to keep the guests waiting.' I took a deep breath, 'Do I look ok?' I asked him.

He nodded, but pulled the cuff over his hand and dabbed my cheeks dry.

His eyes flickered over my face, studying my features, my wet eyes and rosy cheeks. He leaned in, kissed my cheek and whispered 'Angelic.' His hands fell to my bare shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

He turned around and as he was about the leave I grabbed hold of his wrist, carefully tugging him back. He faced me and I let go of him realising that perhaps it wasnt appropriate of me. 'I just-' I began, but my voice broke. He met my eyes and pulled me into his embrace, 'Thank you, father.' I whispered against his chest.

He rested his head on your shoulder and rubbed your back gently, holding onto the fabric of your dress, rubbing it between his fingers. Studying the beautiful pattern. He slid his hands up your arms, feeling a sudden urge to kiss the bare skin beneath him. He pulled back hastily, clearing his throat as he silently rebuked himself.

'I must take my place dear.' He said, stroking a piece of hair behind my ear. He gave me a last smile, then left, taking his place by the altar.

I heard the music starting and the muffled sound of the crowd standing up. I sighed, steadied my breathing, and opened the doors to the nave. Everyone turned around, looking at me. Whispers rumbled through the crowd as I began walking, their stares were making me nervous.

Through the gloom of the church, light shone through the windows at the altar. I looked at him for comfort, handsome as he was, I met his eyes and found it within them.

He could not tear his eyes from you, you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, courageous and proud, you walked down the aisle. When your eyes met his, he smiled proudly. Hoping you would find some comfort in it, and you found it.

As I approached the altar, I tore my eyes from his and looked at my fiancé. His best man holding him upright, otherwise slumping over. He smiled sloppily at me, I gave him a strained smile back.

The ceremony was over quickly, my husband stumbled through his vows and his kiss tasted of smoke and whiskey. In fact, the entirety of him was drenched in the odor.

I smiled and thanked everyone as they congratulted us, and carefully, tiptoed around the subject of my husband.

I hurried to change into my reception dress, it was all black. Black coat, dress, heels and stockings. Fitting, I thought. As this felt more like a funeral than a wedding, burrying the woman I once was.

People were drinking, laughing and dancing. The reception was doing a wonderful job of keeping everyone cheery, everyone except me. I sat silently by our table, watching my husband as he kept drinking and his men trying to calm him down. He had barely spoken a word to me, he was to drunk to stand, to drunk to have our first dance. I felt myself sinking into oblivion as my polite smiles and thank yous were running out.

But someone approched me, snapping me out of the darkness. I looked up, and the light returned.

He reached his hand out to me, 'May I have this dance?' He asked, his white collar stark against his black shirt.

'You may.' I smiled, the first genuine smile I'd given anyone since the night begun.

I laid my hand in his and he led me to the edge of the dance floor, somewhere we could be at peace. In our dark colors we went unseen, tucked away from prying eyes.

I snaked my arms around his neck and his arms circled my waist, pulling me tightly against him. A bit unorthodox perhaps. But I didnt mind and neither did he, it seemed. I leaned my head against him as we swayed to the music, basking in eachothers prescence.

He sensed that you werent interested in talking, but rather needed a shoulder to lean on. Someone to hold you up, as your ungrateful husband couldnt even do that for himself.

For several songs, we just held eachother. Until the evening began winding down and we had to depart.

'I think this was a mistake.' He whispered.

'Which part?' I asked, and he sighed.

'Dont hesitate to come to me if you need anyhting.' He said quietly, 'Please.' he pleaded. I nodded, thinking id never take him up on his offer.

Now, I stood on the street. Still feeling the priests hand on my back although he'd already taken a few secure steps back.

I watched as my husband being carried to our car, as we were headed for our honeymoon. Two weeks in rome, I wish I could truthfully say I was excited. They shoved him into the back, and once again congratulated us with cheapish smiles. I walked around the car and opened the door, about to sit down when a hand slid into mine. I looked up and my eyes met his beautiful blues once again. He assisted me into the car, lending me his strong arm for support as I sat down. His hand slid out of mine, and a note was left in my palm, reflexicely I closed my hand around it. 'Anything.' He whispered and backed away, closing the door gently.

Our car drove off as the guests were waving us of, but all I could think about was the priest disappearing in the distance.

I opened the note, written down was his number and adress along with a few intricately drawn flowers.

I smiled to myself, quickly stashing it away in my pocket, afraid my husband would see. But as I looked at him, I realised. He was dead asleep, snoring even.

I opened my hand, tracing my fingertips along my palm. Trying to recreate the feeling of his hand in mine, his gentle, yet firm touch on my skin. I sighed, feeling my tears returning.

I cried silently, afraid to wake him. The driver looked at me through his rearview mirror, I met his eyes and quickly averted my gaze, crying even harder, but I couldnt even do that in peace. God, what had I done. I leaned my head against the seat, closing my eyes. When suddenly, I felt fingers on my knee. I shut my eyes harder, begging for it to be my imagination. But it wasnt.

'My, beautiful wife.' He drawled, tracing a finger along my jaw as his hand slid up my thigh. He sat forward, leaning towrd the drivers compartment and shut the hatch.

I opened my eyes and faced him, 'Aw, crying of joy sweetheart?' He asked, he was so delusional it was scary. I nodded, and feigned a smile which he returned lazily, then leaned in to kissed me.

I closed my eyes again, canceling out the taste and smell of liqour, shutting my ears to his voice.

And when his finger reached under my dress, It no longer felt like him. My husbands face was no longer my husbands, his voice and touch was someone elses.

All of a sudden my core was aching for more.

His kisses on my skin felt like heaven, his touch like fire and when he pulled me on top of him. I opened my eyes, and was met with blue, black and white.

Weeks went by and my thoughts never left father Barnes, whenever my husband made love to me, I made love to a priest.

Eventually his drinking subdued and he started taking care of himself, but grew more distant by the day.

It did actually make my existence bareable.

But there came a day, when I got home from work early and things were not as they should. The were heels in the doorway and clothes strewn on the floor. As I followed their trail, I found my husband and his secretary at the end of them. Naked, sweaty and monaing, in our bed, in our home. I was quiet, lost for words, but they mustve noticed my presence.

Because they stopped and threw the sheets over themselves, covering up. 'Sweetheart, its not what it seems.' He managed, struggling to clme up with an excuse. God, the stumache on that man. I felt like screaming, like cursing him and his entire bloodline. But he wasnt worth it.

I turned on my heel and he scrambled out of bed, dragging the sheet with him as he followed me out of the house, apologizing prefusely.

I shut him out, rage filling me as I got in my car and drove away. I drove to the only adress that came to mind.

I walked up to his house and knocked on the door, a few moments passed and he opened.

With wide eyes he looked at me, unable to hide his surpise. 'I uhm, I-' I stammered, my own surpise catching up to me. I hadnt had time to think this through, I acted on pure instinct. 'He cheated on me.' I got the words out, finally taking a breath as I finally understood their meaning. Misery overtook my rage, and my eyes welled as I tried to explain myself. 'I apologize for barging in on you father.' I started, 'Ive been thinking about you and I-' rambling, all my thoughts and feelings poured out of me. In the doorway of this poor mans home.

He reached out to me and pulled me into a hug, backing away from the door and let it fall shut behind me. He rested his head on top of mine as one of his hands held my head against his chest, stroking my hair. The warmth of his home embracing me.

'Can I confess something father?' I asked him as I laid my arms around him, much like our dance a few weeks ago.

'Anything.' He answered, kissing the top of my head.

'Ive sinned.'

He pulled back with a confused look on his face, but didnt let go. 'Lets hear it.' He ordered patiently.

'Ive. . . Been thinking of another man.' I whispered, looking deep into his eyes. 'During actions that should only take place between husband and wife.' I told him quietly, and his face grew pale. 'Ive had an emotional affair with this man, unbeknownst to him.' My breathing turned heavy, as my gaze switched to his lips, 'But, me and this man. Were both bound by vows you see.' I said and let go of him, understanding my words as I said them, and stepped back. Suddenly regretting coming here, as I felt rejection was imminent. 'Mine are already broken, but his are not and he cannot break them. He would not.'

'You should let the man speak for himself.' He said, serious in tone. His gaze locked in on me, as he stepped closer. 'I havent been able to stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I've tried.' He whispered, laying his hands on my hips. 'Ive never seen a woman so beautiful walking down the aisle, god himself mustve blessed you.' I snaked my hands around his shoulders, burrying them in his hair. 'Im hoping he would bless us, too.' Leaning in, his lips were a ghost over mine. 'I would care for you, in a way your husband never could. He does not deserve you.' He leaned his forehead agagaist mine, 'I'd work everyday to deserve your love, your kindness, your presence.' He said quietly against my lips, planting a gentle kiss on them and pulling back slightly to give me room. But I chased his lips, returning the kiss feverishly. Grabbing a fistful of his hair as I pulled him impossibly closer. His hands roamed my back, reaching under my shirt to undo my bra. It fell to the floor and he pulled my shirt over my head in one quick motion, making me gasp.

I removed the collar of his shirt with my teeth and ripped his black shirt open, burrying my head in the crook of his neck, 'Youre not a beginner, are you father? I asked, between kisses. Breathing heavily as I latched onto his skin, sucking at the sweet spot between his neck and collarbone.

He moaned, a smirk shaping his lips, 'Saints also sin from time to time.' he breathed, his hands falling to my ass and lifted me into his arms. I chuckled, letting go of his neck and circled my legs around his hips. I pushed my bare breasts against him and he burried his face in them, in turns taking them into his mouth. 'Where?' His voice came muffled by my skin.

'Everywhere.' I answered.

I could feel his grin against my skin, as he nipped my nipple with his teeth, making me yelp. He walked us toward his bedroom, and laid me down on his bed. He stood back, studying me as he took his shirt and pants off. I unbuttoned my own pants and shimmied out of them, raising myself onto my elbows, watching him as he took me in. His eyes roamed my body, thighs, hips, stumache, breasts. He loved all of me, 'Youre perfect.' He said, lust in his eyes as he climbed on top of me. 'I need you.' He whispered.

'You'll have me.' I told him and flipped him over. Positioning him against the headboard as I stradled his thigh, grinning wickedly and leaned forward, kissing his jaw. 'But first-' I whispered against his ear, 'I want to test your self control.' He looked confused, and I began grinding my clit against his thigh, a whimper escaping me. His hands flew to my hips to help me along, but I grabbed them and led them up to the headboard. I leveled my face with his, ghosting my lips over his as I had him hold onto the board, 'No touching.' I whispered and pecked his lips. I leaned back and my grinding resumed, I grabbed his thighs for support as the heat from the friction was making me swoon. I leaned my head back, biting my lip from the pleasure and when I looked back at him, he was holding onto the board for dear life. The muscles in his arms and jaw clenching as he fought himself to stay still, his eyes were running up and down my body.

The way your hips swayed and breasts bounced, it was sucking all the restraint out of him. His hands were itching to touch you, to just feel your skin under his fingertips for a moment. It would keep him fed for the rest of his life.

I hummed, 'Im- im gonna-' I stammered, my breaths frenzied as I was closing in on my orgasm. The crazy in his eyes made me smile devilishly, I felt evil, in the best way. My hips stuttered against his thigh, my ruts becoming faster and shorter as I was approaching my release. When I looked at him, his eyes were pleading, begging for permission, but it was to late. I rushed over the edge in a second, collapsing onto him, panting hard as I was catching my breath.

'May I?' He asked, his voice strained.

I kissed his chest and answered, 'Yes, please. You did so good.' He grunted at the praise, surprising me. He grabbed my ribs and threw me under him, hurridly kissing his way down my body until he reached my thighs. Spreading them, he kissed his way up the inside until he reached my panties. Without a second thought he ripped them apart and burried his face in my cunt. Tasting me, licking my juices, sliding his tongue through my folds and kissing my clit. A string of curses fell from my lips, as he pushed a finger inside of me, carefully sliding it in and out. Then adding another, and eventually a third, he thrusted them into me, my moaning telling him he was on the right track. He curled them into my spot and I nearly screamed.

'Just like that, good job.' I breathed and he moaned against my clit. What fun. He reached into his boxers and stroked himself, the sight made me mad. And for the second time, I came tumbling over the edge. He was not far behind, coming into his own hand, drenching himself in his seed. I grabbed his arm and pulled his hand closer to me, licking a stripe of his hand. He grunted at the sight, spurring me on as I took his fingers into my mouth. Sucking him clean as he watched, furrowing his brows, he became plagued by lust.

I pulled him closer to me, meeting his lips in another kiss as he pulled off his boxers. I reached down, stroking him as I lined him up with my entrance, 'You did such a good job, father.' His head perked at the praise, like a puppy being told hes a good boy. Gratefully pecking my face, cheek, chin and jaw, below my ear and neck. He put his weight on me, we couldnt possibly get any closer to one another. 'I need you in me father.' I told him bluntly, and leveled his head with mine, sliding inside. Kissing me mean while and I moaned into his mouth, sharing my breath with him. I laid my hands on his hips, telling him to move by pulling and pushing. Helping him set a gentle but firm pace, he lowered his head to the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. 'Let me hear you father, dont hold back.' I whispered and appreciatively he grunted against my skin, moaning in my ear. It was fiendish, it was fantastic. 'Deeper, please.' I asked, pulling on his hips to drive him deeper and using the weight of his entire body he thrusted into me, in rythm with his grunts as our bodiess moved together.

'Tell me im good, please.' He begged, nuzzling his face into my neck.

I smiled, 'Youre being so good for me father.' I whispered into his hair.

'Thank you.' He whimpered, putting even more force to his thrusts as he traced my collarbone with kisses, all the way to my shoulder, repeating "Thank you." Over and over again inbetween his kisses. His thrusts were coming faster as he was closing in on his orgasm, driving me over the edge with him. 'I- im- im close.' He stuttered faintly.

'So am I, almost there father.' His pace hastened as his hand slithered between our bodies, finding my clit and circled it. 'God' I moaned, spots specking my vision as the priests thrusts became frenzied. He pinched my skin in warning, reminding me not to take the lords name in vain. Then we came together, and he collapsed on top of me.

'Im sorry for swearing, father. You bring it out of me.' I whispered.

He chuckled, 'Youre forgiven.' Throughout the night, we made love on the couch, the floor, the kitchen table and shower.

Eventually, we got back into bed. Holding eachother tightly as we drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up late the next day, there was a vase of flowers on the bedside table with a note under it, the letter "-B" was written on it.

I unfolded it and he had written me a message, "I had to go to church, but didnt want to wake you. I hope on seeing you later, please stay if you want to. Id love to come home to you. -PS, Your favourites."

I smiled happily and smelled the bouqet of tulips, a soft, warm feeling spreading throughout my body.

For a long time love had felt dark to me, it had felt cold and lonely, but now. . .

I had let the light in, he was my light.

[nyrasproblm]

Useless - prologue

Feyd-Rautha x reader (wife)

Word Count: 1,1K

Warning: angst, toxic Feyd-Rautha behaviors (as always), arranged marriage (yes, again), misogyny

series masterlist dune masterlist

Ginaz 📍

Sadness has flooded your life for as long as you have known. Being born into a practically destroyed house, without the same prestige and respect as before meant that you didn't have much.

House Ginaz was still considered a Major House, despite having lost the war to the Moritani, their planet and home were still considered the birthplace of talented swordsmen and weapons masters.

Even though your parents were dead, you had your older brother to guide you, care for you and love you. You trusted him with all your life and heart.

You thought that until he did what he did.

— This is treason. We have an agreement with House Atreides. — you argued.

— House Atreides did not help us in the war, our parents then dead because of them. — he rubbed his temple, irritated.

— Our parents are dead because of House Moritani, the Atreides helped us but the war was lost. Do you have any idea what will happen if they find out you want to marry me to a Harkonnen?

You sat on one of the chairs at the large table, reached across the table and held his hand, he raised his face, his eyes looked tired, he was exhausted.

— Reconsider this, brother, please. — you said almost in a whisper. Even though your brother had carried out an investigation and had all the traitors inside the Palace killed, you still feared that some information would be heard and used against you.

— We need some way to get closer to the Empire, our House can return to its glory and the Harkonnen are our ticket to do so. — he shook your hand.

— The Atreides have just been appointed by the Empire to control spice production, your logic is meaningless. — you frowned.

Your brother swallowed hard and looked away. He was hiding something, you knew it. Your brother practically raised you and invested everything he got into your education, you had knowledge of politics, geography and many other arts, and you could speak your mind on these subjects in his presence.

— The Harkonnen are closer to the Empire. — he leaned back against the back of the chair.

— What about them practicing cannibalism? You will send me there, I will have his heir and then I will be devoured, literally. — you sighed irritably.

He turned his head violently towards you and sat up straight, squeezed your hand tightly and took a deep breath.

— Don't say that, I can't lose you.

Even though you were very angry about what he had done, you knew he loved you. You squeezed his hand and closed your eyes.

— You're going to accompany me there, right?

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

Giedi Prime 📍

— And why can't I take her as a concubine, anyway? — Feyd-Rautha asked as he twirled one of his blades in his hand.

— Because political agreements aren't made this way, nephew. It would be disrespectful and like it or not, she still belongs to a greater house, all the most talented swordsmen in the known universe leave there. — the great baron gestured with his hand full of rings.

— And they still lost the war. — Feyd sneered.

The baron floated until he was facing his youngest nephew.

— They still have great military power and our armies can increase their skills with them. Furthermore, you would provide an heir to our House, to ensure the Harkonnen future.

Feyd stared at his uncle's fat face without looking away.

— And before you ask, we can't discard her after she bears you a child, we need to keep this alliance standing. You can do what you want with her, you can have as many children as you want, but don't be so heavy-handed, I don't want her to complain to her brother. — Baron Vladimir placed his fat hand on his nephew's face.

Feyd clenched his jaw.

— When will she arrive?

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

Feyd faced the ship's ramp opening next to his uncle, his hands clasped behind his back, his face as stoic as ever.

The ramp opened fully and your brother walked out in front, you were being escorted by some guards from your house. Your brother started down the ramp and walked along the open path until he was in front of the Baron, you followed behind him.

You looked around lightly, feeling uncomfortable at the sudden lack of colors, the black sun of Giedi Prime bathed everything and left everything in black and white. The air was thick and uncomfortable.

— My lord Baron, it is a pleasure to be in your homeland, thank you for welcoming us. — your brother bowed slightly.

— My lord, welcome to Giedi Prime. — he opened his arms and turned slightly in his chair, as if trying to show the magnitude of his planet. — This is my youngest nephew, na-baron Feyd-Rautha.

You looked up at the mention of his name.

— It's a pleasure, my lord na-baron. — your brother bowed slightly again and turned, gesturing for you to come closer and as you did so, you felt the weight of the gaze of the two men in front of you. —This is my younger sister, the beautiful future of the Ginaz house.

You took a few steps forward and bowed.

— My lord Baron, my lord na-baron, it is an honor to be on Giedi Prime. — you said politely.

— Come closer, my dear. — the fat Baron said and extended his hand to you.

You walked over and accepted his hand, you didn't face the young na-baron directly, but you still felt his heavy gaze on you.

— We were blessed with something as beautiful as you in our family, an extraordinary beauty, isn't it, nephew? — he turned his face to Feyd and pulled your hand towards his nephew.

You swallowed hard as you turned your face to face your future husband. Feyd took a few steps towards you and took your hand.

— Indeed, uncle. — he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it, you shivered. — Such a beautiful thing.

You heard your brother shift uncomfortably behind you. Before you could pull away, Feyd leaned over and whispered in your ear:

— I can barely wait.

You pulled your hand away and approached your brother again.

— The wedding will take place on the same day as my nephew's birthday, Feyd will come of age and we will have a tournament in the gladiator arena, you are invited to watch. — the baron turned to your brother.

You saw the amused look on Feyd's face and looked away.

[yeoandmoon]

cowboy take me away ( mingi x reader )

as the child of a long forgotten freedom fighter, and a long time informant of kim hongjoong, you've been entangled in the bloody history & politics of strickland for as long as you could remember. when an invitation shows up at your door in the form of a familiar gunman, you find yourself grappling with the idea of gaining freedom & love in your harsh world or sticking in the comfort of your shadows.

smut + angst, ateezverse, outlaw!mingi & librarian!reader, afab reader, right person wrong lifetime, mentions of war & corruption, mingi is covered in blood, breeding kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, thigh riding, wc is 4.7k

NOTE: takes place almost directly after the events of the bouncy music video ( a whole comeback and a half late, but i think it's what cowboy mingi would want )! this fic was written across 2 provinces, 1 state, 2 continents and 3 countries its a world traveller <3 title is from cowboy take me away by the chicks. if you like this please consider reblogging or leaving a comment / an ask :)

BANG! BANG! BANG!

You hear the banging before anything else. You’re quick to get up, nearly tossing your book to the floor in your haste.

The clock on the stove reads 21:37, and you know exactly who awaits you on the other side of the front door. The news reports of the bombings of The Prestige Academy had been live for nearly three hours, and it was only a matter of time before they came knocking.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Another bang rings out through your apartment, shaking the wooden door and the small ornaments that hung around it - good luck charms, your mother had once told you.

It was silly of you to keep them up. You knew it was silly to still believe the bedtime stories of a broken down revolutionary, and the childhood she wanted so badly for you.

Yet, here they remain - framing your door in an arch of wooden dolls, and nearly forgotten symbols.

Everything you’d witnessed with The Eight; all the history that could’ve been and should have been of your world laid out right in front of you by a scary little man and his little hourglass wasn’t enough for you to pull them down. You told yourself it’d be disrespecting your mother’s memory by doing that.

Hongjoong and his boys made you believe in the stories of your mother, and the world she wanted.

It’s while staring at the smallest doll in the arch that you take another deep breath, and finally steal a glance at the shadows that are casted under the door. You can see the person shuffle in place, almost nervously. 

You know who it is, and what they want from you.

You almost want to be upset by the uninvited visitor. You want to throw the door open, and scream at him; you want to tell him how he ruined your life. You want to tell him how you should’ve called the Guardians when you saw them walk into your library that day; how you regret letting them pull you into this world you watched tear your mother apart.

But - you’re not really upset. The thought of them makes your palms sweat, and your cheeks flush and you don’t want them to go. You want him to come inside and hold you; you want him to stay here, and despite your threats, you could never call the Guardians on him… on any of them. 

You look back up at the small doll that smiles down at you, and try not to let visions of soft pink hair and gummy smiles invade your mind. You try to forget the feeling of rough hands against your skin, and his lips kissing your tummy. You want to push those to the back of your mind, and simply ignore the cowboy on the other side of your door.

BANG!

A final resounding bang rings out, and you finally grip the door handle before ripping the door open.

As if summoned by your inner complaining & contemplation, there is a man in a cowboy hat on the other side of your door. His hat sits low over his face, and a rifle hangs at his side; you could just see the blood splattered on his leathers and his cheek.

You try not to stare at the way the tan vest hugs his toned torso; or how the deep red blood speckles his neck and chest. Your knuckles turn white as they tighten on the doorframe.

Your lips kiss along his neck, while your hands are tight against his hips. You pull him closer to you and revel in the soft whimpers that fall from his swollen lips. His hands are warm, but you know he runs hot and you soak in the warmth.

“Y/N.” His deep voice breaks through the silence, as if slashing a knife through your daydream.

You give him a brief nod, “Mingi.”

There’s a smile growing on the outlaw’s face, “Were you hoping I would leave if you ignored me enough?” Mingi asks, gently pushing you to the side as he steps into your apartment.

You sigh before closing the door behind him, making sure the locks and deadbolts are tight before turning to him. You don’t answer, but your mind continues to linger on his comment and just how wrong it truly is. 

The last thing you want is for him to leave - for him to leave you.

“Hongjoong called you.”

You nod, and your eyes flicker to the drawer where your small burner phone sits in the kitchen. There’s a coded voicemail from Kim Hongjoong in the inbox, and you had listened to it enough times that you could probably recite it for Mingi.

Hongjoong and his boys wanted you to join the revolution - officially. You had been content hiding in the background of it; feeding information to Hongjoong in cryptic messages & sneaky meetings, and then letting them take the credit, but Hongjoong wanted you at the forefront now.

There was a reason, of course. You knew why he wanted you, of all people.

“I’m not my mother, Mingi.” Your voice breaks as you finally look up at the man in front of you.

Mingi looks down at you. His short pink hair is messy under the cowboy hat, and his brows are furrowed in frustration. As you look back at him, all you can think of is the wanted posters plastered through the city center, and how you wish the artists could see the vision you see.

His voice is soft as he finally speaks, “You’ve gotten comfortable, Y/N.” Mingi moves the rifle from his shoulder and onto your kitchen counter, careful to place the barrel and silencer facing the wall.

“You’re comfortable surrounded by your books, and letting Hongjoong take all the credit for your work. You should’ve been there tonight.”

You lean back against the door, right under the arch of dolls as you contemplate Mingi’s words. He’s mirroring you - standing under the arch of your kitchen door, but your apartment is so small that you can just feel the warmth of his body against yours. A part of your mind thinks you’re imagining it, but you know if you were to reach your arm out, you could take the outlaw’s rough hand into your own.

You almost do, too. You begin to reach your hand out when Mingi moves to speak again, “She’d want you to be there, you know.”

His words slam into you like a ton of bricks. Your hand falls back against your side while Mingi’s statement immediately fills your eyes with tears, and the vision of the bloodied man in front of you begins to blur. You look down to hide your tears from him, but you still find yourself nodding in agreement. He’s right. He’s right, and it makes you so angry just how right he is.

“But I don’t want to be there,” You finally say, “It’s not the place for me. I’m not like her. I’m not like Joong. I want what they wanted… what they want, but I’m better off behind you.”

Mingi shuffles closer to you, and his hand moves to hold your wrist. You blink, and tears begin to fall down your cheeks when you feel his nimble fingers against your pulse point. His body gently pushes you back against the front door.

“Would it change anything if I told you: I want you to be there? I want you to be there, right next to us? Next to me?”

When you look up at him, you see his dark brown eyes have softened. His face is still shadowed by the cowboy hat, and you reach your free hand up to gently push the hat off, letting it hit the floor in a soft thud. The warm light of your apartment immediately illuminates Mingi’s harsh features, revealing a sad smile as he meets your teary eyes.

You push his hair out of his face before cupping his cheek, and you revel in the way he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. 

“I’ve watched this world tear people apart, Min. I don’t want to watch it break you too.” You tell him, your thumb gently brushing against his cheek, “I don’t want it to break me.”

You felt selfish as the words left your lips. Maybe you were being selfish, but you cared about him too much. You care about him enough that it’s dangerous - for both of you. You both knew your time together was limited and scarce, and soon all the work you’ve both done would finally culminate with Hongjoong’s plans.

Yet, here you stand - wrapped in a bloodied cowboy’s arms, half naked and crying, unsure if this will be the last time you see each other.

“I’m not going to break, Y/N.” His hand maneuvers from your wrist, and onto your bare thigh, just brushing under the hem of the night shirt you have on, “You wouldn’t, either. We wouldn’t let you.”

You stay silent, but you wrap your arms around Mingi’s neck and pull him into a tight hug. Mingi immediately reacts, with his own arms moving to wrap around you and his head falling into your neck. You can feel his lips ghost against your neck while one of your hands moves through his hair, almost holding him in place against you.

There’s things you could say; things you want to say to him (don’t die. come back. i love you.), but you don’t say any of that. Those are foolish thoughts for your situation, and dreams neither of you can afford right now.

Instead, you gently push him away so you can see him, both your hands coming up to cup his cheeks, “Does Joong know you’re here?”

Mingi shakes his head, and you notice his own tears beginning to fall down his face. You keep your eyes on him as you nod, while one of your thumbs gently runs over his bottom lip.

“We don’t have much time then?” Your voice is hardly a whisper.

Mingi kisses your thumb before taking your hand in his, entwining your fingers and kissing your palm, “We’re leaving at midnight.” He finally says.

It takes a moment of contemplation before you surge forward in Mingi’s hold, leaning up to capture his lips in a harsh kiss. His arm around your waist tightens its grip before he kisses back, and you feel his other hand drop your own before beginning to move into your hair.

You pull away after a moment, leaning back against the door as you settle in Mingi’s arms. You look up at him - taking in the way his cheeks have blushed, and his pupils are nearly blown out. Your eyes glance over the now-smudged blood on his cheek and neck, and you have to think he’s doing it on purpose. He’d come to you after doing Hongjoong’s dirty work before, bloody & wrecked and he’d always laugh when he saw how wet your panties had become after seeing him like that.

“Take the jacket off, Mingi.” Your voice cuts through the silence you two had created. 

There’s a small smile playing at your lips when Mingi jumps before nodding, unhooking his arm from around you to pull the heavy leather coat off. Your eyes follow it as he unceremoniously drops it on your foyer floor.

His hands move to his vest, and your eyes are quick to follow as he begins slowly unbuttoning the leather.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” You narrow your eyes at him.

Mingi’s cheeky smile and the way his eyes glance up at you confirms all you need to know. You fake a gasp as one of your hands reaches out to grasp his, and you tug him back closer to you.

“You’re a tease,” you tell him as you kiss him again. 

He smiles into the kiss, while one of his hands moves to cradle your head and tilts you to gain easier access to your lips, “Am I?”

You begin to unbutton the remaining buttons on the vest, just as Mingi crowds you back against the door. He presses a kiss to your cheek, and you melt into the way he deepens the kiss while his thigh moves between your own, pressing up against your soaked core.

You groan at the feeling of his jeans against your clothed pussy, “Am I going to come here?”

Another cheeky smile flashes at you, “I am a tease, aren’t I?” He hums.

Mingi pushes you down against his thigh as he speaks, with his hands holding your hips. The drag of your clit along his thigh rendered you speechless and hot, and you let yourself fall back against the door in your bliss.

You’re standing on your toes as you rock against him when one of his arms hooks around your waist. 

“Go on, baby.” He leans down to kiss your temple, “Use me to make yourself feel good.”

His other hand tugs at the hem of your night shirt, slowly inching it up to reveal your body to him. There’s a hunger in his eyes that makes you feel wanted and sticky, and you can’t help it when your hands move to grasp at the vest to steady yourself. Mingi’s free hand moves to your chest, his fingers gently begin thumbing at your nipple until it hardens. 

You let out a sharp gasp at the feeling, relishing in the way his touch fuels the warmth that grows within you - it’s a warmth that truly only burns for the Gunman, and part of you worries it might never burn for anyone else.

Your hands move into Mingi’s hair when he leans down to take your nipple in his mouth, and the whimpers that come from the man as you tug brings another wave of arousal that goes straight to your core (and the sticky mess that you’re sure are ruining your panties and Mingi’s jeans). You can feel the bulge in his tight jeans each time you rock your hips; it matches the hunger you saw in his eyes as he kissed up your neck, letting your shirt fall back down as one of his hands moved to cup your pussy.

You reach out to palm the bulge in his jeans, and a sleepy grin graces your lips when Mingi lets out a beautiful sound. He groans your name, his free hand gripping your wrist while you push against him.

He pulls your hand away, “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” He tuts.

“You sound pretty.”

Mingi’s thumb pressed into your clit in reply, and the action brought a near scream out of you. Your hips stutter against his hand, and you grip his vest tighter as you begin to lose your balance. Mingi’s hand around your waist moves to pick you up, using the imbalance as an excuse to pull you closer to him.

“Mingi…” Your voice is strained and full of neediness.

He hums into your skin, nipping at your collarbone, “I know, Y/N.”

His thumb presses circles into your clit, and your thighs shake as you wrap your legs around Mingi. Your head falls onto his shoulder as your hips rock into his hand, urging him to move faster and harder.

You kiss him, messy and rough when he brushes his finger over your entrance, pushing you over the edge to your orgasm. You tremble against him, and he kisses away your cries and whimpers, holding you impossibly close in his arms.

Mingi’s thumb slows its movements as you ride out your climax. He presses a kiss to your hair, and you know he’s talking to you, but you can hardly hear him. You can hardly guess what he might even be saying against the quiet of your apartment and the blood rushing in your ears.

“We’re going to bed now, baby.” He whispers to you, kissing your cheek and finally moving away from under the arched doorway.

You laugh into his shoulder, “Are you going to fuck me?”

He doesn’t answer on the short walk to your bedroom, but you don’t need an answer. You know how tonight will go. You always know with Mingi.

Mingi softly drops you onto your bed, untangling your legs from around his waist before quickly beginning to undo his belt. You keep your eyes on him as you pull your soaked panties off, haphazardly kicking them to the floor while you watch Mingi undo his jeans, leaving them open as he turns his attention back to you.

He looks positively wrecked, and all he’s done is made you come. This causes an undeniable high to begin racing through your veins, and the high only grows when you feel Mingi’s fingers dancing along your inner thigh leading right up to your soaked core.

“‘Gonna open you up, baby,” Mingi grunts, while he gently pushes you back against the bed and shoves your legs open so he can comfortably kneel between them, “We gotta make sure I fit, yeah?”

You gasp at the combination of his words and the feeling of his thumb against your clit so soon, but when you glance up, he’s smiling down at you. Your fingers tightened in the sheets and you wanted to curse Mingi. You were so wet from your previous orgasm that you knew you could probably take him with minimal prep - it wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before.

But no; Mingi wanted to watch you writhe on the sheets as you took his fingers, nice and slow.

He gripped your thigh as he pushed two of his long fingers into you, and he chuckled when you threw your head back, a moan of his name escaping your lips.

“Min, please,” You bucked your hips up to meet the thrust of his fingers, “Just fuck me!”

Mingi kisses your knee in response, “We got some time,” He hums, but you could hear his voice waver as he adds another finger, and watches you grind yourself against them.

The short walk to your bedroom had hardly been enough time to recover from the orgasm you’d had against the door, and all you could do was soak up the increasing pleasure as you rode Mingi’s fingers. Although your bedroom was usually a quiet spot, it was soon overtaken by the sound of your soft cries and Mingi’s fingers thrusting into your weeping hole.

You let your head push back against the mattress as you whined in frustration and arousal. Your thighs were burning from Mingi holding them open to accommodate his large frame, and all you truly wanted to do was come on his cock.

Maybe you were made to ride his cock, a sneaky part of your arousal corrupted brain squeaked. Usually, you’d push those thoughts out of your mind but right now… You looked up at the man who sat over you. Mingi’s hair was a mess from you tugging on it earlier, with his vest hung open to expose his blood splattered chest and arms to you; leather string necklaces and chains hung from his neck, and it didn’t take long for you to pick out a pendant you had gifted him months earlier. His unbuttoned jeans stretched over his thick thighs, and hung low on his hips, exposing just enough skin that it made your mouth water.

Right now, you had no choice but to agree with the little voice that just maybe, you were made to ride Song Mingi’s cock.

You let out another whine at the revelation, bucking your hips into his hand as you reached for Mingi with a sweaty hand, “Min, I-I need you to fuck me now, please.”

Mingi takes your hand, using it as leverage to pull himself down and crush his lips into yours, “My baby needs my cock?”

His palm grinds against your clit, and the pressure is enough to turn any answer you might have for him into a broken moan. You kiss him harder, squeezing Mingi’s hand tightly in yours as you push your hips up to gain any kind of friction against him.

You wouldn’t even put it past yourself to begin grinding on his thigh wedged between your legs again - like some kind of bitch in heat.

The coil in your lower half begins to burn again, timing itself with the harsh thrusts of Mingi’s fingers and the way he kisses you, hard & unforgiving. When you move out of the kiss to place soft kisses and bites along his jaw, a broken whine escapes Mingi and it nearly topples you hard over the edge.

You buck your hips hard into his hand and kiss his neck, “I’m g-going to come,” You tell Mingi, who swears before kissing your cheek.

Hardly a second flashes before you, then the hand between your thighs is ripped away, along with it is the pleasure that you so desperately crave.

“Mingi!” You whine, trying to reach for him as he pulls his hand from your cunt, dodging your grabby hands and begins to move off of your bed, already tearing the vest off his body.

“‘think you should be good now,” Mingi gives you a teasing smile, beginning to push his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down his thighs.

He keeps his gaze on you as he begins to crawl back onto the bed, and you can see the fire that’s present in his eyes. He moves to settle between your thighs, though you can’t help but let your vision wander down his body.

A gruff laugh comes from Mingi as you feel one of his warm hands rest on your thigh. His other hand reaches for you, gently resting on your cheek as he moves over you, “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You want to laugh at his bluntness, but he kisses you so hard that you can hardly react. His hand moves from your thigh to sit heavy on your hip as he pushes into you, and all you can do is whimper into the kiss.

Despite the prep (and your inner insistence that you could take him unprepared), Mingi is big, and you could hardly remember the last time you felt so full. It’s a euphoric feeling as he thrusts into you, holding you down against your mattress and pushing any non Song Mingi related thoughts out of your mind.

Your hands move as if they have a mind of their own; one of them moves to tangle back in Mingi’s hair, and Mingi groans before pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Min, it feels so good.” The hand on your hip squeezes, pressing you harder into the mattress.

He smiles against your skin, and presses a kiss to your throat, “I’m not sure how long I’m going to last,” His voice is weak, and laced with wanton pleasure.

Mingi had been restraining himself all night - that much you knew. You had felt the change in his energy the moment he propped you up on his thigh in your living room, but he still took his time. He took his time teasing you, and drinking in everything you could give him, but you knew wanted more. Mingi wanted every last drop he could get from you, and you wanted him to have it.

You nod at his words, and try to pull Mingi closer to you. The incoming familiar waves of pleasure were already tugging at your strings, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you would find yourself over the edge again.

You’d like to think it was the pleasure that spoke the next sentence that fell from your lips; or, maybe even the Mingi corrupted part of your brain, but you knew that you meant the following stuttered request with every ounce of your being.

“I wan’ you to come in me.”

Mingi’s hips stutter and he swears, “If I knock you up, you’d have to come with me.” He gives a hard thrust, as if proving a point, and seems to revel in the way it makes you gasp and clench around him, “Then, I might just knock you up again - for good measure.”

You can hardly contain the broken moan that falls from your lips, “Mingi… fuck, Joong would kill us.” You grip his arm, your nails digging into the flesh as he thrusts harder into your heat. You’d never admit (especially not to Hongjoong), but the idea Mingi proposed erupted a fire within you, and it burnt from head to toe.

A low growl escapes from his lips, as he presses another kiss into your sweaty skin, “Nah, Hongjoong would kill me. He could never hurt you, baby.”

He continues his kisses along your neck, and you feel the hand on your hip slowly move over your soft tummy before you feel his fingers graze over your clit again. He presses down on the sensitive nub as you mewl, pushing your hips up to meet his thrusts. The new angle presses his cock deeper into you, and you can feel the tendrils of euphoria begin to wrack through your body with every movement of Mingi’s hips and nimble fingers.

In that moment, you’re not sure how anyone will ever make you feel how Mingi does; how anyone will fuck you like this, or just simply look at you the way the tall gunman does.

Mingi’s hips stutter again as he gently nudges your cheek with his nose, “Y/N…”

You grip his arms harder; hard enough that you’re sure it’ll leave bruises for Hongjoong and the others to find in the morning, but for now you just nod, “Mingi, come in me.” You repeat the demand.

Mingi presses a kiss on your collarbone as he moans, a breath of your name leaving his lips before he comes. The feeling of his seed spilling into you, and the warm hands on your body is enough to set off your own undoing, pushing you hard over the cliff.

Stars take over your vision, and your back arches as you ride out your orgasm against Mingi, trying to pull him closer into your orbit. You vaguely feel his hand take yours, and you begin to slowly recover while he presses soft kisses against your wrist and palm. He’s sweaty above you, and you can see the flush that overtakes his cheeks while he comes down from his own climax.

“Do you have to leave now?” You manage to croak out, scared to look at the clock next to your bed.

Mingi glances at the clock, and a frown crosses his face - just for a moment. He shakes his head though, “No, not yet.”

His voice is soft, and you know he’s lying to you. He’s still holding your hand as he moves to lie next to you on your bed. The bed is small enough that he crowds you against the wall, but you two had done this enough times that you expect it; in fact, you almost welcome the crowding that comes from having Song Mingi in your bed.

You’d take anything to spend more time with him, but for now you settle with the soft kisses he’s placing on your hand.

“You know what to say if they come looking for us?”

You nod.

“I’m sorry,” Guilt racks his voice, and you’re not sure what he’s sorry for. Maybe he’s saying it for Hongjoong, who pulled you back into this, or maybe he’s sorry for leaving.

Maybe he’s sorry for loving you, when neither of you could afford to be loved.

You don’t want an answer though, and instead you pull him back into your orbit and settle for slotting your lips against his one last time.

—

When you wake alone in the morning, you can’t help but notice the small doll in the arch around your door is gone - only the blank wallpaper behind it remains.

As your hand moves to touch the mouth-shaped bruise on your throat, you somehow find comfort in the broken arch of charms.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Lovers in Arms (Living Armor x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Knight x Living Armor (He/Him)

Genre:Fantasy, Established Relationship, Slight Exhibitionism

Warnings: None

Word Count:1507 words

Summary: As a famous knight, you’re quite used to receiving unwanted attention from others, romantic or not. Your partner, however, has found another way of coping with it.

Request: Hear me out a female knight x living Armor. Outside is very protective plate armor but the inside is a sticky, slimy mass of tendrils. When she is out fighting everything is normal but when she is talking with people and doing errands is when it starts to become hard to ignore. Doesn't help that the armor dirty talks and praises her while its fondling and screwing her. They both have a great relationship.

“I don’t like this man.”

“I’m aware.” You mumble under your breath, feeling the way Rust squirms and wriggles against your skin, a tell-tale sign of his annoyance. It’s a far cry from his usual movements, which have a way of syncing perfectly to your limbs, slipping right into the natural crevices. “But he’s willing to pay for this next campaign, so we gotta suck up a bit.”

You’d normally not speak so freely with Rust like this, but the man of discussion, some lord or something, is talking about himself so loudly you doubt he notices.

“I’ve heard much about your past battles, good knight! When I saw you would be leading this battalion, I knew I had to come and meet you.” You nod along, used to the simple back and forths of these sorts of conversations. You play the part, stroke their egos, and your knights and squires have full bellies and well-maintained equipment for the rest of their next mission. It’s embarrassing, but worth it. “I must say too, you are much more…beautiful than I expected, captain.”

You internalize a groan, your armor shuddering as Rust’s tentacles tense up.

This happens a lot too.

“I mean not to offend but when I first heard of your epic tales, I thought ‘surely someone so accomplished can’t also be attractive.’ And yet you-” The lord bites his lip in what he mist thinks is charming, “-have enchanted me.”

You muster your best flattered grin, despite the way your stomach sours.

“Thank you, my lord. I assure you the feeling is mu- hngh!” Blood nearly draws from thr forceful bite against your lip, a moan nearly clawing its way out of you mouth. The lord’s eyebrows shoot up. “E-excuse me. I think some of my old battle scars are-” another breathy sigh, your cheeks growing hot, “-acting up. I apologize.”

You don’t stay to hear the lord's worried questions and sympathies, instead running to your tent. You pass by drinking soldiers and courtiers, all celebrating your last victory. None spare a look at their serious captain, knowing how often you retreat your quarters. Surely to look over battle strategies and war routes, always the hard worker.

“F-fuck, Rust.” You pant, nearly collapsing once you reach your bed. The appendage currently circling your clit stops, your cunt aching from the lack of stimulation. “You have to stop doing that.”

“And why should I?” Rust's smug voice echoes in your helm. “Not like that buffon would’ve noticed. Pigheaded, ignorant fool, flirting with you-”

This was a common occurrence as well. Something about military success and captain’s armor has a way of drawing people’s attention, several nobles looking to leech off of the prestige of courting you. While you’ve perfected a method of deflection, seeming humble yet appreciative, Rust can’t help but seeth whenever they start sweet talking. His jealousy comes to a head, all the sass and the passion all bursting out like a broken dam. You’re usually able go escape somewhere private before it becomes too overwhelming, but there have been times you struggle to finish your sentence because of the tentacles fucking you like a piston, his low voice whispering laviscious that echoe in your ears.

“You’re an immaculate treasure, captain. They don’t deserve you.”

“I don’t know when you look more beautiful, on the battlefield or cumming on my tentacles.”

“Cum for me, Captain.”

You learn to give a grated smile, utter an excuse about your old injuries, and hobble away while cum runs down your legs in rivulets.

It can get a little frustrating, but in this moment, you can't say you hate the effect jealousy has on him.

“Forget about him.” You collapsed onto your bed, all thoughts of reprimanding Rust fading from mind. The only need at the forefront of your mind is lust, your body craving the taste of pleasure. “It’s just us now.”

If he could, Rust would surely be smirking.

“That's right. As it should be.” Rust’s voice rumbles all across your body, accompanied by the familiar slipping of his tentacles, all slotting into place. One slides right between your pussy lips, now slick, and resumes circling your clit. “Just you and I, together.”

Your head is thrown back in a moan, helm falling off and letting your hair lie loose. Rust’s inner body only extends to your chestplate, his voice now echoing off your collar and into your ear.

“Yes, pretty girl. Such pretty noises.” Two tentacles encircle your breasts, squeezing and fondling. “My gorgeous captain” The metal shakes with Rust’s purrs, plate joints rubbing against each other as all the tentacles move. “Hmm, I love the way this pussy tastes after a long battle.”

“Rust.” You whine, hand thrown over your face as a hot blush spreads up your neck.

“What? Its true.” A tip of a tentacle prods at your entrance, dancing around it like a tease. “The sweat that drips down between your thighs, your sweet juices…” That tapered tip slowly enters your whole, tabtalizinignly slow, “It’s addictive.”

A shaky sigh is muffled by your palm, your legs instinctively spreading wide as the tentacle stretches you open. Lines of ridges along the side scrape against your walls, sending shocking bolts across your stomach. Your free hand digs into your blankets.

“Divine.” Rust moans, two limbs pressing your breasts together as another slots in between them. The tentacle inside burns as it reaches its girthiest part, the tip now curled against your g-spot. “If those fools ever saw you like this, captain, they’d know how out of their league you are.”

“Aah!” Your hand becomes a fist and you bite down on your knuckles, Rust finally starting to thrust inside of you. In private he likes to take his sweet time setting the pace, unraveling you like a gift.

“I want you to sing for me, general.”

“Oh, fu-uck.” You draw out your vowels, back arching as the tentacles around your nipples twist even tighter. The ones deep in your pussy go frustratingly slow, drawing out to the tip before pressing you open again. “Rust.”

If your enemies could see you now; The fierce Captain of the Crimson Brigade, whose command brought countless victories for the crown, who never rested until the fight was one, begging like a common whore. Your voice all high and needy, so different from the gruff persona you put on when shouting orders.

On the battlefield, you and Rust are all business. Everything clicks, your two bodies moving in perfect synchronicity, throwing javelins and wielding a greatsword with ease. You’re the perfect pair; You bring the technique, he brings the strength, and together you can bring down titans. A force to be reckoned with, that bows to no one.

But it can be exhausting. All those decisions, life-changing decisions, are in your hands. You are the face of this operation, after all, and any missteps reflect on your leadership, no one else's.

So what's wrong with handing the reins over, every once in a while? Let someone set the pace, move your body for you. Let you be the obedient soldier, following the lead.

“Good girl.” Rust purse, and all those troubles from before melting away.

Your thighs fight to clench together as he begins fucking you faster, vision blurring as he hits your g-spot with precision. The merriment of celebration and drunken victory outside are loud enough to drown your wanton noises. Let them have their image of their general, let them have the person you pretend to be on the battlefield. These noises are for Rust, and only Rust.

“I’m getting close.” Your lips quiver, the skin nearly worn thin from your incessant biting. “Please, Rust.”

“How could I ever say no to you, Captain?” A second tentacle slips inside you, joining its twin and thrusting in you like a well-oiled machine. A gaso claws its way out of your throat, hips jumping from the burning stretch. “Especially when you ask so nicely.”

The tentacles twist together, writing against your walls. Your eyes roll back into your head as a buzzing sensation travels up from your core to your face, like you're starting to go numb.

“Oh, gods!” You cry out as the crescendo finally hits, pussy clenching the tentacles in a vice. All of Rust’s appendages shudder, a sultry groan echoing out of your collar.

The armor feels hot, almost too hot as you lay in the end, the high of climaxing slowly fading. Sweat drips down your entire body, loving tentacles lapping them up eagerly. Words still escape you, your thoughts a jumbled mess of sensations and emotions. You should really take a shower, shed Rust and clean him as well, but everything is sore, and your brain calls for sleep.

“Rest, my captain. We can bathe in the morning.”

Rust whispers, low tone only pulling you further into unconsciousness.

In the soft embrace of your lover, you can fall asleep peacefully. No thoughts of battles, or blood, or death. Just the two of you, as always.

[merlinssassybeard]

'Ex' husband Gojo - Is that it?

Tags- angst, cheating, bad mental health of reader

Synopsis- Gojo and reader both wish to talk for the first time after deciding on a legal separation. Will they finally succeed in clearing the miscommunication? Or will their ship drown into the depths of the ocean?

The Aftermath- 02 // series masterlist

26th December 2016 || 01.58am

Satoru finished all of his missions in Seoul way out of pre scheduled time.

His schedule was designed such a way that he was supposed to finish all of it by 30th December so he could host the prestigous New Year's Event alongside his wife as the Head of The Gojo Family.

But Gojo was just not himself.

Ever since things got bad between you two, its as if Satoru lost a part of himself. He hasn't been the same since then...

Principal Yaga, the only person who sees The Satoru Gojo, as a spoiled brat but a soft hearted kid, had noticed the difference in his former student's change in demeanor and he was worried.

The principal knew something is amiss in Satoru's life. What he didn't knew was his former student is facing the same situation as himself. Divorce. The moment principal Yaga got to know about it, he knew he can't give any advice regarding marriage since he's himself a divorcee.

Gojo had been continuously doing missions, one after the other without any breaks in between. He had been keeping himself busy to not think about you.

He had deleted your number.

Deleted your pictures.

Removed every single sign of you from all round him in the two months. He didn't want a single thing related to you lying around him.

He hates the thought of you

He hates you to the core

"You want to get away from me y/n? I'll show you the way!" Satoru would think.

It angered him so much to think that he was so stupid to let his walls down and be vulnerable for once in his life.

Satoru, for once, had thought his life maybe wasn't all that dull afterall when you lit it up with your presence. You were his one and only weakness. He thought, maybe you did see him as a just tall and lanky guy who makes terrible jokes.

But none of his hate is real. All this hatred is just a facade of a husband who just yearns to fix everything with his beloved wife, doesn't matter what.

And that is why Satoru's pride couldn't hold him down after what he said...

"this will be the last time you see me"

After he came back to Tokyo, he headed for your Estate again after midnight just to see you, making sure you're alright.

He was hesitant when he reached the house at around 2 am in the morning.

Satoru didn't wanted to let everyone in the house know of his presence so he teleported himself directly in the living room. He headed for the master bedroom, quietly treading through the long empty hallways.

While walking he couldn't feel your presence in the home and it was confirmed when he slid open the bedroom door to an empty bed.

Satoru was quietly seated on the couch while flipping through the pages of an album. He took his glasses off. The pictures were of you and him, all smiles and happy faces. It all came back to him... the memories of his wedding day...

He really had it all didn't he? A loving and faithful wife like you. So where did it go wrong he would ask himself.

He was just sitting there and reminiscing the good times when he heard the bell rang.

Gojo snapped out of his daydreams and placed the albums back in their respective shelf because he knew it was you. He could smell your presence.

You froze right then and there, mouth slighlty agape, hands shivering.

Satoru glanced at you up and down once and then rolled his eyes, which was visible due to his dark shades resting on the bridge of his nose, when he saw your raggedy state and moved away from the door.

You were way too stunned to move an inch. You felt as if moving a single millimeter and Satoru will know about everything.

You entered the house nonetheless.

You looked towards his direction and started your analysis.

He's crouched down (in the living area) and going through the drawers... perhaps looking for something? Also he's in his work clothes so he's definitely not here for long, you calculated.

Surely enough Satoru too felt you gazing at him so he turned his head slightly towards you to take a more brief observation of your current state.

Your entire look, random wet spots on your blue jeans, knee high boots lowered till ankle, hair disheveled, turtleneck poorly tucked in, smudged lipstick and eyeliner, eyes red and swollen. You smell of alcohol and cigarettes. Wedding rings missing from your finger.

'Wow already over me huh!', Satoru wondered and rolled his eyes at you again and turned his head back to pretend he's looking for something all while doing his own analysis of you.

But, there was something wrong. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but there was something about your... scent? It felt different... it smelled like you do after doing- ugh no! How could Satoru think so lowly of you!

You felt offended by his continuous eye rolls at you. So you started clarifying. "I was out with my friends for Christmas."

He didn't reply.

You got even more annoyed, maybe it was because you were still a little drunk and you tried again.

"Just office friends"

"Okay".

You heard him mumble and it was instant.

Oh! What you'd give to hear him speak to you! His angelic voice. Even if you had to start an argument at this late hour, house filled with staff, you will happily do it if it meant you could have Satoru talk to you and you and YOU only!

"So? How is everything? Weren't you supposed to be back on the New year's party?", you started a casual conversation like nothing ever happened. Now that he talked to you, you felt much more relaxed than the last 2 months.

You sat down on the couch with your hands resting on your thighs and kept on thinking whether you should apologize to him for the misunderstanding regarding the divorce thing.

You want to talk to Satoru, you want to let him know that its you! You are the problem and not him. It was you who acted out on impulses. It was you who took the independent one sided decision to have a baby without consenting him first.

Its all you... and thats the reality.

"Sa-Satoru... can we talk?", you mumbled under your breath but it was audible enough for him hear since the shelf is right by the couch.

He didn't reply.

'Talk? Whats there to talk about now?', Satoru thought.

"Satoru i know you can hear me! Please say something!" Now you were a little louder and desperate than before as you shifted yourself to face him, still crouched.

'Y/n's sounds urgent, maybe it is something important? Should i though? I should leave i guess... or maybe we should sit down and talk things through? Wait could it be... that y/n... wants divo- tch really? Ugh women..', Satoru argued himself.

You were annoyed as you kept pleading him to say something, anything! So you got up and placed your warm palm on his broad shoulders.

"Satoru please, please listen to me. I have something important to tell you! I know i should've told you before but-".

"What?". Oh thank heavens! He finally talked! Oh thank god.

But wait... are you really going to tell him... that?! That he was going to become a father but because of two specific reasons, as stated by the doctor herself, he didn't and above that you didn't make him aware of it when you found out.

Now that Satoru was finally all ears, you were in a dilemma whether to tell him or not.

Satoru slowly got up and towered infront of you like a large giant.

He glanced at you up and down once and then said, "so eager for a divorce already that you're not wearing your rings. Is that what it is?". Satoru looked down at his empty own finger, "Well, wouldn't blame you".

"What", you were confused as this taunt came out of nowhere but then you remembered... everything that had happened after you got drunk.

Your eyes widened at the internal realization of what you had done under the influence of alcohol. Your sins just keep piling up, one upon the other. Your hands were shaking. You cheated on Satoru?!

After watching your husband in so long it so happened that you forgot for a brief moment from where you were coming from and the filthy things you had done...

All these went in your head while Satoru stood there watching you, waiting for your reply.

'Tell him! Tell him y/n! Tell him that he was going to be father! He deserves to know even if... it never happened...', your heart shouted.

'Yes y/n. Let it be all out as it is. Its okay, Satoru loves you and the miscarriage wasn't your fault!', your soul shouted.

Yes maybe you should..

"..i.. Satoru-"

'Are you sure y/n? You know you are whore right? You are still married and yet you fucked your office crush in his car. How filthy can you be? Haha!', your mind whispered.

You stopped.

Satoru looked at you. Your head bowed down, he couldn't see your eyes when you mumbled. He was waiting for you to say.

"...Satoru...i .... i was pre-"

Tiinng toonng~~

The bell of the entrance door rang.

You both looked at each other for a moment before Satoru said, "i'll go and see".

Satoru walked past you to head outside of the house to see who was it.

He saw a man standing at the gates of the estate and a car. He walked closer to see the man's one hand was at his waist the other made in a fist.

'Oh isn't it Kenji, y/n's friend? What's he doing at this hour?', Satoru thought.

Kenzo saw Gojo approaching and started sweating. He is absolutely scared and nervous to see Gojo after everything.

A man so powerful and wealthy as Gojo whereas what is he? Just a simple departmental manager at a corporate office with a decent enough salary.

No wonder Kenzo has always been intimidated by Gojo's mere presence (from back when you introduced him to all your friends)

"Ah Mr Gojo sir my sincerest apologies to disturb you at this time! I am so sorry!", Kenzo bowed to Gojo as he came to him.

"Oh.... its no problem. Kenji is it? What is it?", Satoru spoke, tiredly.

Kenzo noticed his tone and bowed down and apologized again and again, subconsciously asking for forgiveness for touching Gojo's wife. "I apologize please forgive me."

Satoru was a little annoyed now. So many apologies for... arriving at his house at 2 in the morning?

"What is it Kenji?"

"Sir, i came to return these", Kenzo opened his fist to hand back two bands, one a large blue diamond and other a plain white diamond band into Satoru's palm.

Satoru looked, 'y/n's rings. Why are they with him?'

"Sir these are your wife's. Mrs Gojo y/n forgot them in my car. My apologies sir.", Kenzo tried to be as formal as he could because he thinks that is how to talk to people of nobility.

"Oh. Okay, I'll give them to her. Nice of you to come all the way here to return these.", Gojo said trying his best not to grill Kenzo with questions about what happened in this Christmas party that she's come back home so disheveled.

Both men peacefully went their directions. Kenzo, his home, extremely elated to get a chance to talk to a person of nobility.

While Satoru walked back into the house, wondering why exactly your rings would be in Kenji's car? And what happened to you at this party? Did you drink to much that you got into a bar fight? Could be, explains a lot.

But Satoru still couldn't put his finger to something which he knows but he doesn't at the same time.

He entered the home and saw you, sitting on the couch, looking devastated with your head in your palms.

He doesn't know whether you noticed him yet or not so he just leaned closer down beside you to place the rings by your side.

But you flinched your head up to look at his face.

You tried to look into his azure eyes but those dark shades of his didn't allow while he looked into your eyes.

It was all quite but then it hit Satoru! He jerked away from you and just stood there for a few seconds.

You wondered what is it he's thinking.

"I'm leaving", is all he said before grabbing his things and going out the door.

.

'That smell... it was Kenji's. Could it be...? No, never y/n wouldn't! But y/n's rings... they were in his car....he said... Is y/n divorcing me... for him..?'

@sindela @whats-humanity-lol @thewickedofrizz @phantasmia @ghostllyyz @yihona-san06 @Enaaneaen @sweet-almond @Angel_🫶🏻@autumn-slaves @wondermilka @hh0peful @kugisakinobarades @witchbybirth @nineooooo @ssc7514 @Hana-patata @blue_spices @haikyuubiggestsimp @urstepmom69 @hueneve @chayunwoo @waosobii @nadzhaf @yoriichiswife @tiltraumadouspart @kirschtein123 @whoisobsessed @Asala @ashthemadwriter @remnirris @svm666 @voidsatoru @staygoldsquatchling02 @dunnowhy-m @nnasv @violetmatcha @dummyf @Noblog @Littledemoness15 @shaiah @iluv-ace @mmeerraa @angellyah @0bakuzan @waxhers @chanelmalandro @shoutobrainrot @angrydaughter @Screw-aebi @asdfghjkl7things @kodzukenwhore @gabile18 @bollockswhy @pelicanpizza @electro-supremacy@Zatannaswifeblog@spam-and-eggs @guenievresworld @b0scuit@aliventboo @marit332 @ieathairs @hells-escapees @no-name222 @itz-stuts

[naffeclipse]

I absolutely adore every AU you come up with, but I was actually curious if you had already or were considering writing a traditional DCAxReader? Hopefully I can kick this art block soon because there is so much fanart I want to draw of your stories :) Hope your week is going well! (besides the roof disaster ^^;;;)

On another note... AUs are my brainrot and I keep thinking about that post about the large bed... and spoopy ghosts. Clipgeist? No running away from something that can follow you to the ends of the Earth. Poor Y/Ns just can't catch a break lol

I have a few canon stories with the DCA x Reader on my Ao3 but nothing as grand or long as my AUs! I do have a 'canon' story plotted but I don't know when I'll write it. Hopefully one day!

Ah, that's so exciting! I hope you can chisel that art block down hehe 

It's going good (aside from the roof ;-;) I have this week of school before we go on break for Thanksgiving and it can't come soon enough!

Shaking your hand so hard rn!! I love AUs! And a spooky ghost one? Oh ho, I've always wanted to write a domestic monster scenario!

Perhaps Y/N moves into an old, old house with steep roofs, pointed arches above the windows and doors, and a lovely porch. It's two and a half stories tall (the half story is attic space under the roof rafters) with a four-story central spired tower! All dark wood and even darker interiors. You can't desire if it's Dracula's castle or a fairytale home for the happily ever-after-ed prince and princess. It's even got a secret underground tunnel! What more do you need when flipping a home? You love restoration and you intend to keep all its gothic charm while updating it to be, well, livable.

It's also incredibly cheap! Like, stupid cheap, for something that should be incredibly pricey for its prestige style and historical value. Not that you've ever looked a gift horse in the mouth, but even you have second thoughts before ultimately snatching up the house key.

The first night is always unsettling—maybe you hear a voice whisper in your ear despite it being dead silent and there's not a soul for miles, but you'll brush that off as getting spooked by old ghost stories your brain conjures up within the ornate decorated rooms.

From there, things get stranger and stranger still. Your paintbrush is moved and you know you didn't set it there because of the wet paint dripping onto the floor. The electricity is ever fickle, turning off at the most opportune moments during the night, like when you swear you saw a figure standing at the end of the hallway, all thin and scraggly with a ghostly smile and an inhuman head framed with wavering energy that almost seems to glow like embers in the dark!

Still, you continue your repairs and restorations, sometimes softly talking to yourself out loud and talking to the house like it's a wounded animal you intend to restore back to its fittest with all the love you can pour out of your heart. Places need love, too.

The most obnoxious thing is that you can't access the tower—the door is always locked, and no matter what key you try, it refuses to budge. You don't dare risk causing damage by prying it open, but you swear you'll get into that tower one day. There's got to be treasure inside with how mysteriously it stands, just out of your reach. Though, you've mostly put it aside for now. Whenever you jingle keys in the lock, you swear you hear a voice grow angry with you, and the hallway becomes so cold you can see your breath.

So, yeah, you're saving that for later.

The pivotal moment of you even considering a haunting is one night when you find yourself overwhelmed and stressed from the ever-growing list of chores and how everything is falling apart faster than you can fix it. You dissolve on the living room floor into thick tears. You're usually so put together, even when alone. You hate crying. There's no one to hold you together except yourself, so why fall apart in the first place?

Your little moment of getting it out is interrupted when a quilt falls over your shoulders. A soft, heavy quilt of midnight skies and dotted pale blue stars that was never in this room.

You leap to your feet, quilt falling away, and call out in classic horror victim fashion, "Who's there?" but no one answers. In frozen terror, you stare at the room, expecting something, anything to jump out or scream at you, but it's so, so quiet. All is still, like apologetic comfort.

That couldn't have happened. No draft, no forgetfulness could explain how a quilt was draped over you as if by a concerned friend.

You stare at the quilt and decide that you've had a long day. You go to your room, unable to relax even once you're under the covers, feeling something cold and misty above your bed.

When you wake in the morning, that starry quilt is draped over your lying form. You did not put it there.

Something or someone else tucked it around you.

[taintandviolent]

deflowering ; James March x virgin!Reader

{requested by anonymous} summary: 7k words! after a little dancing, more than a little champagne, you decide to take James March up on his offer of going up to one of the new rooms of the Hotel Cortez, to break them in, as it were. Little does he know, he's about to break you in, too. w a r n i n g s: virgin!reader (adult), mentions of alcohol, rough sex, explicit descriptions, canon divergence, rough sex, thigh riding, cunnilingus, blowjobs, aggression, use of 'daddy', dom themes.

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @kaissweetlamb / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @petersevans / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake/ @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @evanpetersfansblog / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @nova-kayne67 / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny

It was the twenty-third of August, 1926, and you had just finished your second glass of champagne in the Hotel Cortez. Usually, you never drank this much, but it was a celebration after all. Some fellow named James Patrick March had finally completed the arduous construction of his new hotel and tonight was the opening night. Crowds had flocked to the entrance, dressed to the nines and all eagerly craning their necks for a peek at the glamorous inside. Those who weren’t explicitly invited were turned away by the doorman in his starched uniform.

You, of course — you’d been invited by your friend’s friend’s friend and when you showed up in a beaded, green dress and the mink stole your mother had given you four birthdays ago, you waltzed right through those doors without a single question. You looked like you belonged here as much as the group of actresses that walked in before you. The moment you entered, the hotel stole a gasp from your lips, dazzling you with its prestige and innovation.

It had been toted as “an overly ambitious project” and you could certainly attest to that. Mr. March, whomever he was, had written a particular aesthetic into the design of his hotel and from the hexagonal patterned carpets to the ornately panelled gold walls, everything fit the opulent theme. The Blue Parrot Lounge was a name you’d heard whispered several times, waiters coming down the curved staircases with trays full of delicate champagne flutes. You learned shortly after that the bar was on the second floor and overlooked the entire hotel lobby.

But downstairs in that lobby, a band was set up, their instruments exhaling the liveliest melody you’d heard in ages. Easily, they persuaded the masses to kick their heels up. The grand chandelier above your head twinkled like your own personal galaxy, shimmering every time you moved. In fact, everything twinkled. You felt ebullient, as light as a cloud, and didn’t have a care in the world.

There had been a brief pause where Mr. March welcomed everyone to his Hotel in his dangerously cordial way, making a show of popping champagne. Everyone applauded, congratulated and then quickly dispersed, eager to return to the complementary libations. You’d eagerly taken to the dance floor and quickly found a partner in a jazzy white suit. He had blonde hair, sharp, chiseled features and deep green eyes - handsome enough. You two paired alright, enjoying each other’s lively moves.

He’d clearly been drinking more than you, judging by the way he slurred his compliments to you, dabbing nervously at the sheen of sweat that decorated his forehead. After an hour or so of dancing, your feet were sore and your curious nature had wrapped its tendrils around your throat, ordering you to investigate the rest of the hotel.

A server held another glittering tray of champagne high above everyone’s heads, and you snatched one as he passed you, hurriedly bringing it to your mouth. The effervescent liquid tickled the bow of your lips, the tiny bubbles popping as you sucked in a delicate mouthful. You dabbed at the corner of your mouth with your middle finger, trying not to gulp too loud.

As the song changed, the band racing into another upbeat melody, you swung your shoulder around, prepared to sink deeper into the hallways. Instead, you nearly collided with a broad shoulder. “Oooh! ‘Pardon me!”

“Mm.”

You recognised him right away. In the wicked and honest parts of your brain, you were thrilled that, of all people, you’d bumped into him. During his speech, all the women were staring with illicit gazes and hungry tongues. You’d mapped the direction of their eyes as they scanned along his face, and down his body as they openly and dissolutely lusted after him. The audible whispers that scattered the room when he cracked open the champagne, allowing the fizzy stream to spray into his mouth would’ve been laughable if you hadn’t been one of the whisperers.

He seemed slightly less personable now, almost curt in nature. Something about the dismissive way he’d flashed his brows at you as if he was annoyed sparked a fire in your curiosity. He was too handsome to let slip through your fingers, and surely, there must be a reason for his clipped response. You gulped down a mouthful and cleared your throat.

“Say, aren’t you Mr. March?” You asked coyly, knowing full well who he was.

He stopped then, like he’d been challenged to a duel, and with a slight bow, turned gracefully on his toes. To him, it was a challenge. You hadn’t run off with your tail between your legs, offended by his sternness, and that was a challenge for conversation, for flirtations and perhaps… indulging himself.

“Indeed I am. Enjoying yourself?” He eyed the half-empty glass in your tiny little hand, taking note that it clearly wasn’t your first.

“Oh, very much so. This is a ssswell party, Mr. March.”

“Splendid! And please,” He took your hand in his, pressing his lips against your knuckles. “Call me James.”

You cooed in acknowledgment, watching him from the rim of your glass. He lingered for a little too long and you would’ve bet your last penny that you saw his nostrils flare slightly as he inhaled a deep breath of your scent. After a moment, James straightened up, keeping a firm grip on your hand.

He had indeed; you were sweet, like a delicate pastry with the slightest hint of fruitiness underneath. There were notes of a perfume, floral, something moderately expensive — surely, something you’d saved up all your pocket change for. The way your eyes glimmered awoke a deep hunger within his core. He’d play with this.

“Tell me, my dear. Can you dance?” He asked.

The moment you said you could, he’d wrapped your slender arm around his forearm, holding onto it tightly as he towed you back towards the dance floor. Thank god your mother had insisted you learn how to dance properly. And thank heavens your friend, whom Mother detested, taught you how to dance improperly. Mother had always said these new trend dances were for immoral and loose women, but when James March insisted you dance the Charleston with him, you’d never been gladder for immorality in your life.

Keeping a tight hold on your hand, he swung you out into the clearing. With his fee hand, he made a quick gesture to the band. They responded by starting up the familiar melody, and James stepped to your side, lifting his brows in a silent confirmation that you were as ready as you looked. You gave him a short nod, and you both took one step backwards, beginning the shuffling motions.

His feet moved quick to the rhythm; behind and in front of each other, his heels kicking out to the side. All things considered, you made a worthy partner, keeping up with his lively, bobbing movements. Your hands were at your waist, fingers splayed out, swishing from side to side. You both leaned forward in unison and sent your right heels up into the air. The moment you straightened up again was when you realised that a small crowd had gathered in the lobby of the Hotel Cortez and all of their eyes were on the two of you. Everyone was watching as you two masterfully stepped the Charleston and you felt like a celebrity, a performer with the most handsome partner.

There was one woman in particular, a gorgeous brunette gal, who looked on with narrowed eyes. James stepped in front of your line of sight, flashing a villainously personable smile, and spun you back to his side. Though he wouldn’t dare voice it, the beginning twitches of an erection had his cock stirring in his pants. You were delectable and lively, something he’d take great pleasure in snatching away from you. All the more arousing that she hasn’t the slightest clue….

As the song ended, you couldn’t help but dissolve into a fit of giddy laughter, falling backwards into his chest. You couldn’t be sure, but as his arms enclosed around you, you thought you heard a syrupy laugh deep in his throat. Both of you were tuckered out, chests heaving, a misting of sweat covering your décolleté and his forehead. After a moment in his strong arms — ooooh, his arms — he brought a handkerchief from a pocket, dabbing his forehead gently. Modest applause peppered the crowd, along with a few glad compliments.

“I don’t mean offence by this, but…” You swallowed, wetting your throat. “I didn’t think you could dance like that!”

“I’m full of surprises.” He answered.

James swooped around you, circling you predatorily. His fingers ghosted over the back of your neck, sending a convulsive shiver down your spine.

You two locked eyes then, staring wordlessly. Both of you unable to ignore the need, the pulling draw, the hunger to touch each other. It was the sort of gaze that started rumours. His tongue scraped along the roof of his mouth, longing to taste the churning arousal between your legs. He knew it was there, told plainly by the way you fiddled with the hem of your neckline, nervously, trying to placate your own licentious thoughts.

“Beautiful hotel, really.” You finally whispered.

“Allow me to show you the best room in the house.” His eyes flashed to yours, sensing the apprehension. You rolled your shoulders inward, prepped to decline as politely as you could.

“Oh now, now… no need to be shy. I’m a gentleman first and foremost.”

“I don’t know if your lady friend will enjoy that…” You retorted.

“You are the only lady in my company.” He assured.

You gazed behind him one more time and met eyes with her — an action you’d immediately regretted. Her gaze was as comforting as a jail cell, and her full lips were pulled into a tight, frustrated line that held back a myriad of hatred. You opened your mouth to speak, but a forefinger was pressed hurriedly into your cupids bow, shushing you quickly. He looked down at you, brows furrowed in disapproval.

“Now, now. Shh. I’d hate to have to cut out your tongue, my dear. I had plans for it later.”

Your brows pulled together, eyes displaying nothing but sheer confusion. What on Earth did he mean by that? Either of those things? You were too afraid to broach the question, partly in fear that the answer would’ve frightened you, or worse, aroused you.

As though he read your mind, heard your innermost thoughts, he added quickly: “If you want to find out what… well, you’ll have to follow me first, my dear. Shall you?”

He extended his hand to you, palm up.

Against your better judgement and without thinking a second more about the repercussions, you took it and managed to squeak: “To the moon, James.”

When you glanced over his shoulder a final time, that woman watched you as he led you away, that tumultuous anger burning in her eyes. Something about her piercing gaze sent a shiver down your spine. She looked innocent enough, but underneath the done-up exterior, there was a cruelness, a hostility that you wanted nothing to do with. You hurried your steps, pinning yourself closer to James.

The journey took longer than you expected as every few moments, he was stopped by a hotel guest and congratulated. Everyone from stuffy elderly couples to actors you recognised from pictures all wanted to shake hands with the man that had created “the hotel of the century”. You hung on his arm, politely silent, offering agreeing nods and kind smiles when they’d look at you. They must’ve assumed, of course, that you two were an item, and for that brief, fleeting moment, you were thrilled by the idea.

Once he’d pushed open the door, allowing room for you to walk in, you realised that the room he’d led you into was the room he’d cracked the champagne in — except it had been expertly cleaned within a few hours. There were no crowds, no remnants, no sounds aside from a pair of breaths; yours and his. Although, if you listened hard enough, you thought you heard the dull, muted music from below. It sounded hazy and slower up here in this room.

The lock clicked into place and James had you in his arms, his face buried in your neck, his pencil-thin moustache tickling the sensitive flesh under your jaw. He whispered seductive words of veneration into the nape of your neck, praising your appearance between breaths and tastes of your salty flesh.

“Forgive my eagerness,” he whispered into your ear, before nipping at your skin. “I find you… irresistible.”

Delighted by the sensations, your lids fluttered. You extended your neck to him, allowing more. He kissed your neck over and over again and began sucking too hard in certain spots. You let out the tiniest little hums of discomfort, trying to stretch away from him then. However, somewhere deep in your core, you craved that pain, the burn of his suckling kisses.

“I want you to kiss me.” He declared, finally pulling away to gaze upon your face, like he was studying it. “Kiss me, but don’t hold back. I want to feel your passion.”

You nodded quickly, feigning all the courage in the world. Nervous? Who, me? Never! Your lips clashed together as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself as close to him as you could. His mouth parted, allowing his tongue out to swirl around yours, and you could taste the champagne that lingered on it like a fading memory. He deepened the kiss, moving further into your mouth and all you could do was moan into his. Silly girl, he must’ve thought.

His hand left your side, trailing further down. With a cruel tug, James yanked your stocking from its front clip, tearing a generous hole in the nylon, then repeated the process with the other. You broke the kiss to watch this fiery display of arousal in awe, feeling a new, unfamiliar fire in your stomach. You’d been aroused before — hell, even pleasured yourself shyly under the sheets… but the hunger. The hunger that clawed at your insides with reckless abandon was speaking in a foreign tongue… but it was one that you wanted to translate into physicality.

“Oooh, easy tiger…”

His fingers splayed out over your now bare thighs, exploring the smooth skin ravenously. As he neared your centre slit, he snarled in response — whether intentionally responding to the animalistic nickname you’d given him, or because he’d felt the slippery nectar dripping from between your legs, you couldn’t know. You thought it might be the latter. You hoped it was.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you to wobble forward with want. He made a beeline to the nearby alcohol cart that had been arranged near the door and poured amber liquid into one of the glasses and golden champagne into another. He brought the darker coloured one to his lips.

“Mmm…” He growled as he swallowed, locking eyes with you, walking confidently towards the nearby chair. Though his head was turned away from his destination, he didn’t stumble, just gracefully sunk down into the chaise lounge without spilling a drop of his precious liquor.

You were in awe of this man’s finesse, of his charm, and the adoration for him displayed all over your cheeks. You didn’t need to bring out your compact to know that the flush had travelled down your neck, and your pretty little doe-eyes were as wide as saucers. He set the glass of champagne down on a nearby end table, presumably where it would stay until you reached for it.

“What’s underneath that ravishing dress, hm?” He asked. You gathered your lips to one side in a coy expression.

“Let’s see,” you tittered. "My bra and my knickers. And…. A pair of torn stockings and shoes, if you’re a specifics kinda’ guy…” You knew he was.

He waited.

You raised your brows, cocking your head to the side in affirmation — that was all. You were a woman of style after all. In this outfit? You wouldn’t be caught dead in a corset or a slip. Besides, corsets were for stuffy old broads nowadays. Everyone was wearing bras.

“Take it all off. Everything but the dress.”

Surely, the dress would be the first thing to go? It was an odd request, even for your virgin experience. You’d heard stories of men and their covetous desires. The idea of keeping the biggest article of clothing on seemed unorthodox, but you weren’t about to question his demands.

Obediently, you bent down and undid the buckles of your shoes, stepping out of them carefully. With a shy bat of your lashes, you turned away from him, shimmying and shrugging out of the straps of your dress until they fell into the crooks of your arms. Reaching around behind your back, you unlatched the satin bra, letting your supple breasts spring free of the compression.

Your heart pounded as you bent down again to slide the satin underwear over the curve of your ass and down your equally satiny thighs, giving the man behind you the tiniest previews of what was to come. Facing him again, you held your dress at your chest, carefully sliding the straps back up your arms one by one.

With a drink in one hand, the other stretched over the back of the loveseat and a delightedly smug expression, James watched your undergarments fall to the floor piece by piece. His cock throbbed in his pants, the thick fabric doing a damned good job at keeping the beast at bay. Free of everything, your dress hung a little different now, and his black eyes were aflame with the realisation. You swayed back and forth, the strands of sequins brushing lightly against your thighs.

As you bent down one final time, reaching for the nylons, came his voice. “Leave those.”

After a small sip, he pat his thigh twice with his free hand; the sound of his palm snapping against the taut fabric atop his thigh echoed in the room. For a brief, insecure second, you were frozen. A deer in the headlights. Except the headlights weren’t headlights, they were the eyes of the hungriest tiger you’d ever seen and you’d already succumbed to your fate the moment he locked the door.

“Come to daddy.”

You shuddered in response, your tummy doing backflips like an acrobat in a circus act. His words held such command and purpose, you had no choice but to saunter over to him, swaying your hips a little more than you usually did. He seemed to enjoy that; a tiny smirk played out over his mouth.You pressed your knees against his, struggling to not come undone at the contact. With a deep breath, you manoeuvred yourself in between his parted legs.

“Good…” He replied. “Atop my thigh, my pet.”

With your flesh turning a deep shade of red, you walked over his thigh, resting one knee on the edge of the cushion. You felt the air on your cunt, the chill of the room touching the wetness and making it tingle. You looked down at his groin. The fabric was pulled taut. You could make out the faintest outline of a swelling cock underneath —

You snapped your attention back to him, embarrassed. He downed the rest of his drink, set it carelessly on the table next to your still-full champagne and lifted his hand to your legs. The pad of his middle finger caressed the back of your knee, sending a shockwave through your entire body. No man had ever touched you like that, the sensation was erotic and overwhelming to your core. Inch by inch, his fingers trailed higher.

You reached for the champagne, and despite the sting in your nose, you downed the entire glass, setting it back on the small table.

“Lower.” He commanded, amused.

You obeyed, bending your knees.

“Lower.” He repeated.

He’d lined it up perfectly; James pressed that same finger into your slit as you lowered, wiggling it further in, then flicking it up to your clit. You let out a shrill mewl. Your knees nearly buckled as he circled the bundle of nerves, bringing the sensitivity higher. You squeezed your eyes shut as hot, salty tears bit at the corners. Your muscles had begun to quiver, overwhelmed by the strain of hovering over his thigh. His skilful fingers manipulated your cunt, simply playing with your wetness.

James abruptly yanked you all the way down, forcing you into a straddle. Your cunt was spread, pressed tight against his thigh and you needed no instruction on what to do next.

“Ooooh,” he growled, watching your hips as they ground your weeping cunt against the expensive fabric of his suit pants. “Good girl. Your desire is intoxicating… show me how much you want me…. yes.”

James chuckled, knowingly. Despite your best effort in trying to suppress your moans, he saw through the act. The skin of your neck had flushed red. Your soft jaw hung slack, tiny little moans floating out every time he touched you. Your sweet little eyes rolled back into your head every time he so much as flexed his thigh muscle. He knew the effect he had on you. Every slight movement from him ground against your cunt, sending shuddering waves of heat into your core.

“I said,” he started, gripping your jaw hard between his thumb and pointer finger. “Show me how much you want it, my dear.”

You winced, but allowed instinct to kick in. You began bobbing up and down on his thigh, whimpering as the wet spot on the fabric spread. The slick glistened on the fibres as you ground back and forth. Eventually, the friction of dry against wet lessened, and you found a rhythm, bouncing. His leg bumped into your sensitive, aching clit over and over again.

As you rode his thigh, James gripped your dress at the shoulders, kissing up along the curves of your arm. There was a warmth on your skin, a tugging, though you were too deep in the sensations to pull away. A cacophony of ticking began; tiny beads scattered across the floor, bouncing and dancing into crevices where they’d never be found again.

When you finally glanced down, a look of shock painted across your features. Your dress had been ripped at the seams, the delicately beaded fabric now hanging limply at your hips in a mass. James looked on, adoringly, his hungry, inky eyes dancing over your exposed breasts, and the way your nipples had hardened in the slightly colder air.

“What’s wrong, my dear? Are you frightened?” He asked. The lilt in his question was too revealing, but alas, who was he to deny the delicious aroma of fear?

“Who me?” You laughed breathily, like a fool. Sweat pooled in the hollows of your collarbone. No time like the present, you thought. You’d reached the point of no return, and surely if you didn’t say something now, he’d find out when he took you. “Oh, no, it’s just that… I’ve never been with a man is all.”

The realisation swept across his face, the expression telling all the tales of how he felt about being the first man to have a woman. “Aaahhh…. And do you…. wish to be…?”

“With you?” You swatted the air dismissively. “More than anything.”

“Brave. Brave girl.” With that, he scooped you up in his strong arms, and got up from the chair. You wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you effortlessly to the table. The journey was short, and before you knew it, your bare back was laid on cool wood. Your legs hung off the edge, and with one strong yank, James pulled the tattered dress from your hips, tossing it heedlessly behind him.

“Knees up — heels on the table.” He then ordered, sternly. Pulling your knees towards your chest, you adjusted yourself on the table and swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable. Short of hearing the snap of latex gloves, you were left feeling like you were about to be examined by a doctor.

James disappeared from your view then, sinking down below the edge of the table. With nothing to look at, you gazed up at the ceiling with wide eyes, anticipating the next move. When it came, you let out a yelp, your legs closing on either side of his head. James had pressed his lips against her, peppering little kisses against your centre, and after a moment or two of that, opened his mouth to slip his tongue deliberately along the folds. The sensation of his tongue darting out to taste you was enough to send you to the moon, but he continued, delving further into you. Your legs opened again, exposing more of your aching cunt to him.

You felt his nose press into the mound of flesh as he flattened his tongue on your clit, lapping at it hungrily. Your body responded by squirming, a desperate whimper pouring from your throat. His hands were suddenly on your pillowy thighs, holding you tight where you were. With a vibrating groan, his tongue abruptly changed techniques; he began flicking the tip of his tongue into the underside of your clit. Your moans - though they were teetering on the edge of screams — bounced off the walls of the empty room.

In a delirium of ecstasy, you’d gripped the hair at the crown of his head, pulling it hard. He grunted into your pussy, sending vibrations deep into your core. His hand came down on the side of your ass with a resounding slap. You shuddered violently, your sopping cunt clenching tight against his chin, wetting it as your first orgasm came in sudden waves. James slipped his tongue deep inside of your entrance, feeling the pulses as they gradually subsided. Before pulling away to look at the flower in front of him, and what he’d done to it, he let out a throaty, pleased growl. A small puddle had formed on the table, your slick arousal leaking from the hole like sweet nectar dripped from the centre of a fruit.

“Ahhh…” he exhaled. “Divine.”

His eyes darting to the side, James made a mental note to have Miss Evers re-polish the table. After this, it would certainly need it.

The way he gazed upon you, seemingly satisfied with just how wet you were drove your head into the table with a thunk. You arched your back with a whimper, somehow still unsatisfied. From the side, came his voice. “Use your words, my darling.”

Your eyes snapped open, startled that you hadn’t heard him move around. You swallowed, looking up at him piteously. For a moment you dug deep into your own mind, battling with coherency to find the correct words. And, disappointingly, all you could muster was: “I… want more.”

“Yes….. yes, you do.”

Gently, with two fingers, James pulled your jaw towards him, moving your head so that your cheek laid against the table. There was a certain predatory nature in his gaze as he looked at you. “Open up,” he demanded, his thumb prodding your lips. “That’s my girl…”

He smeared his thumb along your warm, strong tongue, depressing it and feeling around the rest of your mouth. He glided over your smooth teeth, digging the fleshy pad into the decently sharp points of your incisors.

“Don’t bite me… too hard.”

With that, he began unbuckling his trousers with one hand, sliding the belt from its loop. You watched intently as this handsome, charming stranger handled himself; taking himself out his undergarments and his trousers, roughly adjusting his cock so that it was free for your devouring. He closed his hand along the length, pumping it several times. A generous droplet of precum leaked from the red, sweating tip and before it had time to string away, he guided his cock to your mouth.

He smeared your lips over the head, coating it in his own dripping seed. His hips then bucked the length into your mouth, bringing a whimpering gag from deep within your throat. Gentle, he thought. With the way your mouth eagerly worked him, doing your best to suck and lap at his aching cock, that thought was whisked away seconds later.

Wet sounds filled the room as James fucked your pretty little mouth, your lipstick smearing waxy, blood-coloured streaks on the shaft of his cock. In your peripheral, it was quite a gruesome sight, but he seemed to enjoy it, tilting his head to watch.

You closed your lips around the tip as it slid out, letting your tongue flatten on the underside of it. You felt every throbbing vein, but every time your tongue or lips grazed that one, the protruding one, James making sounds that you’d only ever dreamed of hearing a man make. It was a breathy, higher pitched moan, or a choking gasp, and each time he did, the corners of your lips curled up into a smile, delighted with eroticism. You pressed your tongue hard into it, sliding it up and down. From this angle, you realised, you couldn’t do much else… but perhaps that’s how he’d wanted it.

You remembered his previous mention of biting, so thinking that it was something he favoured, you began toying with his sensitivity by grading your teeth along his shaft. He hissed, ceasing his thrusts to crane his neck back, revelling in the amalgam of pain and pleasure.

“Harder,” he demanded.

You furrowed your brows in concern, daunted by the new territory that lay ahead. You closed your mouth a little more, the ridges of your teeth gently clamping down on his swollen cock. Suddenly, James gripped your face hard, squeezing your cheeks together like a fish. You winced as he leaned forward to hiss in your open mouth, his demeanour suddenly callous and dreadful. “I said not too hard.”

He released it sharply as you did, and punishingly bucked his hips into your wanting mouth. His thrusts were quick, and marvelled at the tiny, pathetic gags that broke from your throat every time he hit the back of it. You were so delicate, but so… willing.

Suddenly, he pulled his cock from your lips with a sick, filthy slurping sound, and holding it in his right hand, moved back to the head of the table. His breaths were ragged, hungry. You blinked away the tears that had accumulated.

“You nearly ruined my makeup…” You whispered, wiping the slimy collection of drool and precum from your chin.

“I’ll do more than that.” Gripping you at the knees, James yanked you down the table’s length, your ass slipping easily against the polished wood.

Briefly, you felt the velvety hot tip of his cock teasing your cunt. He slid it between your wet folds, exhaling loudly at the slickness that greeted him. He teased you with a thrust of his hips, the tip of his head slipping slightly. You whined as he pulled away.

“What did I say about words?”

Like a toddler throwing a tantrum, you moaned shakily, gritting your teeth. “Don’t do that…”

“Do what?”

“Tease me…”

“Oh, but it’s fun. I’ll do so until you beg for it.”

“PLEASE!” You howled a moment later, taking fistfuls of his shirt and yanking him closer. You wiggled your hips at his groin, your cunt trying to find his cock desperately. You writhed around like a cat in heat, whimpering and leaking more cum onto his expensive mahogany table. In one of your hip sways, the hot tip brushed past your entrance, leaving a springy line of pre-cum in its path. In response, you rocked your hips against his, trying to pull him in further. The sensation had you gasping, rolling your head from side to side. “Please, please, please, I simply mu—

Your screams faded away into the back of his mind, dull and muted like they came from behind a brick wall. James watched your lewd, begging performance with a bemused smirk, chuckling through closed lips. Every anguished whimper, every desperate plea that his lack of action brought forward from your lips seemed to send you closer to the edge of madness. He enjoyed that. Too much, perhaps.

He reached up, running a single finger down the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse throbbing away beneath the skin. Such liveliness, such… James swallowed, suppressing the dark sludgy desire that clawed at his insides. His urges had been worse and worse lately, and now with the hotel open… Not now… not with her.

“What do I need to say?”

“Nothing more.” James took hold of his cock, stroking his fingers over the tip, dragging the slickness along his shaft. He exhaled, lining himself up. At first, James popped only the tip in and out, playing with his food. Each thrust, he slipped a little farther in. Out of the kindness of his heart, James was gradually getting you used to the feeling of fullness, but once he felt your slick walls, he grit his teeth. He had told you that he was a gentleman first and foremost, but… such is life. He swiftly sank his hard length into you with little friction. You were soaked and all it took was one determined thrust.

For a moment, you felt nothing but a searing pain as the thickness of his cock stretched your cunt wide open. Tears welled in your eyes, a cry bouncing against your rolled lips. The stinging was replaced with a dull ache, and finally, a warmth.

“My, my…” He admired. “Taking it so well already.”

You nodded feebly, doing your best to muster a smile amidst your punishing euphoria. Had you not been as wet as you were, it would’ve been excruciating. And when he started pounding, it almost was.

James must’ve sensed your discomfort because he brought his hand to your pussy, his thumb circling your clit. Mercilessly. You cried out like a wounded animal and that seemed to only drive him to continue, stroking his finger down length of your pussy before returning his attention back to the bundle of nerves. Your hips swayed back and forth on the table, desperately trying to get away from the pressure that was blossoming deep within your cunt, just above your bladder. It felt like a tangled mess of fire, and your whole centre was aflame.

You shakily lifted your head, watching as his pelvis smashed into yours, over and over again, his cock slipping easily from your aching, drenched cunt. Your hands climbed his torso. You fiddled with the buttons until his shirt hung open lifelessly, like two ghosts on either side of his body. He moaned as your fingertips explored his stomach, his ribcage, and then curled around the small of his back, forcing their way up underneath the restraint of his clothes. You felt uneven skin, the way that flesh raised once it had healed over deep lacerations.

James suddenly picked up speed, drilling into you harder and that released something in you. You felt devious, immoral, and wanted to howl like a banshee. In fact, you did. You let out a shrill, dirty moan, the kind you heard coming from those brothels as you passed them by. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes before streaming down your temples, disappearing into the hair that laid on the table. Your fingers flexed, nails digging into his back and leaving crescent-moon shaped indentations amongst his scars. Feeling your clenching, he growled and lolled his head back in ecstasy.

You pulled your leg up, pressing your nylon-covered toe against his jawline and gave it a little push.

You heard his breath hitch.

You pushed harder, craning his neck off to the side. His moan said more than any words could’ve. With a devious smirk, you drug your toe down the length of his throat, pressing hard into his windpipe.

James jerked his hips harder and harder until you felt his cock twitch inside you, hot and angry, the first spurt of his orgasm planted deep inside you. He then backed his hips out slightly, just enough for the thick ropes of cum to cover your cunt. His cock bumped into your clit with tiny thrusts, forcing every last milky drop onto you. James straightened up, clenching his fists tightly.

“Ravished. Deflowered. Desecrated!” His words echoed loudly off the walls.

His arms came down with a loud thud on either side of your head, his shirt acting as blinders. There was nothing else in that moment; just you and him and the way he’d claimed you, taken every ounce of innocence you had left.

His hands traced along your collarbone, up the sides of your neck. The black thoughts wormed into his brain, screaming for sating attention. Which weapon would he use? Where he'd cut first - an artery? Arterial blood was always so… satisfying. Would her screams be as such? The final moment, the look in her eye? Perhaps, he could hear those desperate, soprano shrieks if he just…

Thunk-thunk-thunk.

Your lids peeled open, one by one. The blazing light that filtered in through the crack in the deep red curtains burned. You hardly remembered being in a hotel room… alone, and the hotel room you remembered wasn’t the one you were in now. This one looked more or less like any new hotel room that you could’t afford. Moving yourself into an upright position, you let out a depressed bleat… the headache. How much champagne did you have last night? You couldn’t remember.

Sleepily rubbing your eyes, you stumbled towards the door. “Just a minute!”

You were completely nude. That wouldn’t do to answer the door in. Panicked, you looked around the empty hotel room, considering the bed sheets for a moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a Praising the gods for the robe that had been hung on a hook by the door as you slipped your arms into it and hurriedly tied it round your waist. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the framed photo near the door; your hair was a wreck, makeup smeared, and there were the faintest whispers of new bruises along your collarbone and neck.

The doorway was empty, as was the hallway.

Except for the box at the floor.

Despite giving a complete stranger your virginity last night, you had more sense than to bend down and open a foreign box. Clutching the robe at your chest, you began gingerly prying open the edge of it with your foot, wiggling your big toe underneath the fine cardboard until the lid popped off.

Inside, carefully arranged and wrapped in delicate pink tissue paper, laid a dress; a dress that was terribly similar to your own, but considerably more expensive. Atop it, a package of fine silk nylons. And atop those, in exquisitely elegant penmanship, a handwritten note lay. It read:

Thank you for a splendid evening, my dear. My deepest apologies about your dress — please accept this as a replacement. As for the flowers, it only seemed fair, considering the circumstances.

xoxo James P. March

You picked the box up, again checking the hallway to see if the deliverer was there. Still, empty. With a sigh, you shut the door, leaning against it. As you leaned there, holding the box in your arms, the corner of it digging into the middle of your neck, you winced at a sudden pang of soreness.

Your eyes drifted to the clock on the nightstand. “Nearly noon!? Oh, RATS!”

You pushed yourself off the door and changed hurriedly, throwing the robe off your shoulders and onto the floor. Mother! Mother would be furious and nothing was more terrifying than her rage. You’d rather be chopped up and filleted than have to deal with Mother’s anger, even as an adult. You pulled the nylons up as far as they could go without clips, and snatched the mink stole off the bed.

You threw open the heavy door and turned to your left, hoping for the best. You began running as quickly as you could down the lengthy hallway, barefoot. The straps of your shoes were hooked around your middle finger. With no markers, and no indication of where you were going, anxiety climbed your throat. Somehow though, after winding back and forth and up and down for what felt like hours, you managed to find the lobby.

As you emerged from the hallway, it was considerably less busy than last night. Where the band had been, waiting chairs and tables had been placed, a courtesy for guests waiting to check in. The cleaning team of the Hotel Cortez was marvellous, you had to admit. As you ducked your hips away from the edge of a chair, you spotted him. James March was leaned against the bar, chatting gayly with the bartender. The bartender nodded, swiping a rag over the spot directly in front of him. A glass of bourbon sat in front of James, perspiring. Much like you were. So it hadn’t all been a dream. He looked the same as he had last night, no hint of a hangover or fatigue. Just… charming. You inhaled and headed for the door.

“A perfect fit!” He called out from the balcony, his glass raised in a cheers. A few guests turned, searching for the voice. You jumped. The man had a talent for startling you — you’d give him that. You turned, your brows upturned in the middle, asking silently for clarification.

“The dress!”

“Oh! Yes! It does…. Thank you! It’s beautiful, Mr. March!”

“How’s your neck!?” He asked, lowering his head slightly.

The question threw you off. “….fine, but I really must be going, Mr. March! Bye!”

“Come back to the Hotel Cortez any time, my darling! As my guest.”

James watched you hurry out the door, knowing that if you did come back for a second time… it would be the last time.

[parlerenfleurs]

In the notes of the previous post I've reblogged I saw a discussion about why Ringo isn't considered (by the fandom) as a romantic interest for Mizu despite treating her better than all the other men in her life, and how this is tied to fatphobia. Also the fact that the fat character is often the comic-relief and the fact that if he is indeed intended as platonic why make him the only fat (="unattractive") man among the three (others being Taigen and Mikio) that can or have been considered love interests for her?

And that's really interesting because indeed, I never considered Ringo a potential love-interest for Mizu... And so I have to wonder if it's because he's fat. But I also never saw him as a comic-relief character, and I want to expand on why first.

He is indeed funny, and brings levity. But it's not "comic-relief", it's "positivity-relief", in my eyes. I don't feel like we're supposed to take him unseriously at all. Characters take him unseriously, sure, because of his social class, his disability, his seemingly naïve and weak character (never his size, in any case).

But the story shows, and Mizu comes to know, that he's anything but weak and naïve. We know right from the start that he's endured a terrible childhood and life up until meeting Mizu. He doesn't have hands, his father is abusive both physically and psychologically. The way the flesh-trader mistreats him in the first episode isn't anything unusual to Ringo. Everyone despises him and feels free to exert force against him. Taigen in his arrogance, deigns offer him a menial job in his household with the condescension reserved for a nobody who is also a child, or mentally a child.

Ringo was forged at this cruel relentless fire and what came out is a formidable strength. It doesn't manifest itself as obviously as Mizu's but it's, in my opinion, superior, and also extremely great and loveable. Ringo is neither naïve nor stupid. He knows when he's being beaten and condescended to. He's like that because, in spite of everything, he wants to see beauty in everything, and enjoy the good things in life, and he chooses to be kind. He CHOOSES to be kind. With an unbreakable, fluid, infinitely bending strength.

I am not well-versed enough in Japanese culture to make a meaningful comment about this, probably, but my personal reading of Ringo is that he might be a Buddha figure. East of India, the Buddha is fat. The Buddha smiles serenely, even in adversity, because he's reached a state of zen. His ego isn't touched by insults and beatings. Of course Ringo prefers to be treated well, like anyone else! That's why he follows Mizu around! She's an outcast and "deformed" like him, but she's also able to hold her own against physical violence, against the tyrants of the world, and that obviously appeals to him.

He kills, he has sex, he likes good food, he's obviously not detached from the world at all. But still, like a Buddha, his sense of self cannot be shaken by outside mockery or hostility. He's incredibly persistent once he has a goal, but he doesn't bother affirming himself to others for the sake of ego. He's the polar opposite of Taigen in that respect. Taigen's background has made him desperate for outside sources of strength - admiration, prestige, money, social standing...

On the other hand Ringo is really similar to Mizu, a thing he sees immediately but she does not. Hers is an inner unbreakable strength, too. The same fluid, adaptable, water-like strength. Can't break water. It will shape itself around you and your obstacles without ever losing its nature.

But contrary to Ringo, Mizu feels all the pain, the slights, the shame, the self-hatred. Ringo is pure love, or water, not poisoned by betrayal. Perhaps, or even probably, he has been betrayed but he hasn't let it poison his love, his water nature.

Even when Mizu betrays his love (respect, admiration, regard), he's no pushover, he lets her know that he won't stand for it, but still he rescues her because... despite everything his love is still pure. His love is the agape kind. He loves life, he obviously loves himself. There is no shame or shrinking of the self in him. No shame of his body, among other things. He's the only one in the main cast who doesn't wear a mask. What you see is what you get, and it's only people's own preconceptions that blind them to his depth and merit.

On the subject of fatness, I'm not sure he's even really... considered fat, in-universe? Or not negatively so, in any case. When Akemi has to serve her first client, HE is called fat by the characters. Fat enough to crush someone, and to hinder his own libido - the fatness of being extremely rich and eating too much rich food while being extremely idle. This one has the prostitutes reluctant, and his fatness is viewed in a negative light. Ringo has a very pleasant and cordial interaction with the two prostitutes who service him, and sure we're not privy to their thoughts on the matter, but I bet they found him cute, polite, not troublesome at all to service, and I feel like his size wasn't even a question that was posed. We see him naked, running around, carrying things, and being extremely active. His is a common build, sturdy, not a hindrance to his libido, his health, his self-image, or anything. What I mean is, he's not presented to us in a negative way on account of his fatness, and isn't viewed negatively for it in-universe.

All of this to say, I might indeed be blind to his potential as a love interest to Mizu, but I'm not sure it just has to do with the fact he's fat? It might be! I don't know. The first thing I think about on why I don't ship them is they show no romantic or sexual interest in each other that I see. Except, perhaps, that it might be significant that she's the one to arrange his first sexual experience and that it's the framework he has when seeing her naked. But as his attitude remains strictly the same and he shows no change in the kind of interest he has for her, it didn't feel significant to me. I might be wrong, I don't know. But again, Taigen is the opposite: he might be bi, but let's say he isn't, or at least isn't aware of it (I would be sad if he's not but it would better serve the parallel if he's straight) - the guy shows unmistakable chemistry with, and attraction to Mizu without even knowing she's got peaches underneath it all. (I love that he feels attraction to her at the precise moment where she's her playful self again: wrestling, battling and winning, while laughing and having fun... everything that Mikio couldn't handle is the very thing Taigen feels attracted to, aaah so good.)

When I think about it, the loyal, protective role Ringo has, where he saves her physically and emotionally, cares for her, protects her secret, admires her for who she is as a whole, his place as the person who sees the most of her without rejecting a single part of it, should indeed make me feral....

But if he's the opposite to Taigen in so many ways, he might be in this too, in that he has no attraction to Mizu, and they've no such chemistry between them. It's also so lovely as a platonic relationship! For once it is! He's her apprentice, after all, and she takes on the Swordfather role for him as Swordfather did for her (she even used the same persistent-as-hell-I-will-stay-look-I'm-useful method as Ringo did on her - when I say they're so similar...). She used to make noise to signal things to Swordfather and she makes Ringo make noise so that she can keep track of him, too. It's very cute! He uses her kitchen knives and she makes him start to fight with that just like she started to forge by forging them. To me, they're firmly in this master-apprentice dynamic. And friends.

I've said repeatedly that he's not naïve but actually in some ways he is, and that's what Mizu needs more of. She needs to reconnect with that younger, less hurt version of herself. And Ringo helps her with it, because she does ask for his help, does recognise she needs it (healing!) when she asks him to write on her back. He literally has her back. He's his own character, his own person, but they mirror each other a lot, and in some ways he's her master too. A master in gentleness.

Oh. I've said that Ringo's love/water is pure, but that it HAS been touched by the poison that affects Mizu: he's a better sword, has a better strength because he let the impurity be a part of him, didn't push it away or let it consume and change him. No wonder she must learn from him/needs his help to forge her new sword.

IF the story started signaling attraction between them, I don't think it would occur to me that Ringo is fat or anything (or it wouldn't have before, now I'll pay attention to that). It didn't occur to me when he was with the prostitutes, I was only thinking about the fact he has no hands, but the prostitutes shrugged it off with grace, and it made me happy.

[alienpossession]

Body a Day 21: Electricity

Despite already slithered itself into a human body, the alien still carried along its original power to numb the body of its target with low voltage electricity. Practically, the alien's old body is electric when it feels threatened, but being inside a human, the alien can regulate the power better and only use it when it's about to move into another body. That's exactly what the alien intended to do when he hooked up with this Grindr hunk it managed to lure to its trap. Looking like a cute, subservient snack, the oblivious hunk accepted the offering to get worshipped and let the supposedly weaker male serviced him. The moment the alien placed its human hand on the hunk's body, jolt of electricity surprised and eventually paralyzed the guy. The touch to his head and kisses right on the mouth the alien planted earlier also managed to reduce the hunk's brain operational capacity to resist and now, he's nothing but a tased meat ready to embrace the new controller of his body

If the hunk is everything as he described, than the alien will land a rather fine jackpot as he's still single with a high-paying job as a PR manager and lived in a high-rise Manhattan 3 bedroom apartment courtesy of his rich parents that inherited their wealth to him. Surely with such connection and wealth, the alien can move around other bodies in similar level of prestige and class if he find another exciting men. He can also be more experimental and test out how electric his touch is to more subjects, after all, like moth drawn to lights, more people will easily drawn to him when he's inside a bonafide hunk with shit-tons amount of money to waste

[hashtagloveloses]

But the real root of the problem seems to be that Disney higher-ups see these characters as only dollar signs, so they gave a visionary and talented creator the bare minimum amount of time and resources to continue their stories. The show didn’t need to be good to sell merchandise, especially when the characters were already familiar to viewers, similar to how the Marvel Cinematic Universe has apparently been cutting key elements of the TV production process to churn out its many IP-stretching series. Here lies the bittersweet truth of Ahsoka — this eight-episode streaming series with one writer, the corporate pressure to maintain a streaming service’s profitability, and the responsibility of launching the future direction of the entire franchise, was doomed from the start. Whether it continues with another season, a movie, or not at all, Ahsoka is another victim of late-stage capitalism’s path of destruction through Hollywood, decimating incredible storytelling potential in its wake. Even Filoni’s considerable talent, much like that of J.J. Abrams, Rian Johnson, or any of the gifted screenwriters and directors these studios bring on for both major franchises and original prestige projects, can’t stand up to Hollywood’s intellectual property machine turning almost everything into passable “content,” good enough for merchandising and driving subscriptions. A few genuinely wonderful projects, like Andor, and compelling characters and concepts, like the Mandalorian, miraculously slip through the cracks to keep audiences interested, but this IP-squeezing race to the bottom continues. Let’s just hope that the recent gains by the WGA and rise in unionization across the industry can prevent it from continuing before more beloved characters are put through the wringer.

i wrote this piece about ahsoka, a show i'm so so sad didn't live up to it's potential, and what it says about the entertainment industry right now. i am not a total hater, and there really were things to love about this show, but i needed to get out how disappointing it all feels, and hopefully i got that across. thanks for reading!

[lumi-nescentt]

And I Hope I Never Lose You, I Hope It Never Ends

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Reader

Warnings: mention of Lance's crash during quali in Singapore

Words: 3.2k

Summary: Dating a racing driver has its perks but seeing your boyfriend crash might be a little too much when no one seems to notice you.

A/N: I've started writing this right after Singapore but I had no idea how to continue it until tonight but I finally managed to write something I like so here you go :)

Lance knew what most people thought of him, how he was here because of his dad, a pure result of nepotism. While he knew that his dad had played a big part in his first F1 seat, Lance liked to think that he had earned his right to stay in the cut-throat sport through hard work and dedication. He had to believe that or else the critics would get to him and he couldn’t afford it. 

After all, he was glad he had someone in his corner who’d do anything to help him. Lawrence was always pushing him in the best way possible and Lance was very grateful for the opportunity he had been given and the love he bathed in. From what he knew of the other drivers, not everyone had the chance of having a father who only had kind words and constructive criticism to give. 

With a family like his own, Lance had never felt alone or unlovable. In fact, his family had been his everything from the moment he was old enough to understand what the word meant and for a long time, his family’s love had been enough.

As he grew up, Lance watched his sister go through love and heartbreak, allowing people to get close to her and embracing them in all the love she had to give. Chloe was a solar being, she gave and she gave, expecting almost nothing in return but as the heir of such a fortune, she got taken advantage of quite a lot in her teenage years. 

Lance was there to witness it all and he swore he’d never get himself involved in something too serious that could break him into pieces. Plus, with racing, he didn’t really have the time to get a girlfriend and keep one so the matter was settled. 

For years, he satisfied himself with meaningless flings and one-night stands when he felt like it. The prestige of being an F1 driver helped and he was starting to be noticed as just Lance, not Lance, son-of-Lawrence, which he appreciated. 

One night after his home Grand Prix as he was partying in a familiar club in Montreal, Lance’s eyes met hers. The moment she winked at him with a smile, Lance knew he was done for. The girl had this magnetic pull that just made him want to know more. 

After a night together with the mysterious girl, Lance broke his own rules and gave her his number. He wanted to see her again. He felt like he needed to get to know her and luckily for him, she was just as curious about him. 

They started texting a lot and everyone who knew Lance could tell he was definitely not keeping this lowkey. The more he texted her, the more he found to like. She was funny and kept him on his toes, always having something to say when he teased her. What had started as physical attraction was definitely turning into more on both ends.

With his work, Lance couldn’t really see her often but whenever he was on the same continent, he convinced her to fly over. She tried to pay for her own flights but Lance categorically refused to let her spend a dollar when she was the one who had to arrange her schedule around his.  

The night Lance introduced his sister to Scotty, she was also there and Lance happily paraded with his arm tightly wrapped around her waist. Chloe immediately loved the girl and the feeling was more than mutual. From this exact moment, Lance knew that he wanted to be more than whatever they were right now and he asked her out on the balcony in summer air, New York’s skyline in the background. 

After this particular moment, the couple became inseparable and they tried even harder to see each other despite the distance separating them most of the time. They travelled together when they could and called for hours when they couldn’t. The distance was hard at night when everything suddenly turned silent and they both longed for someone to hold in the dead of night from two different ends of the globe but they made it work. 

It was also hard during the day when everything they saw seemed to remember them of the other, whether it was an ice rink where they had their first real date as a couple or a particular book she had given him with handwritten notes all over the margins. Even in the distance, there was always a trace of the other where they were and it was both painful and comforting, it was being haunted in the most beautiful way possible. 

Luckily for them, she finally got her degree and travelling became easier with her job. She could work remotely most of the time so following Lance was part of her routine now and she loved it. No matter how many races she had been to, it somehow never got old. Seeing Lance in his element was captivating. She was fascinated by his determination and his resilience. No matter how hard the world was on him or how hard he was on himself, Lance always bounced back and faced it all with a stoic face and a steel-strong determination. 

It was one of the reasons why she wasn’t as scared as she originally thought she would be when Lance got in the car. She was aware of how dangerous the sport could be but there was something about the confidence that oozed from her boyfriend that seemed to calm her. If he kept getting back into the car despite knowing the risks, he was either completely stupid or serene enough to decide that it was all worth it. 

Lance had been pretty consistent for the three practice sessions in Singapore so far and Fernando seemed quick so there were reasons to be optimistic about qualifying. Chloe and Scotty hadn’t been able to come this time and Lawrence was busy talking business in an office in the motorhome so she was left alone in Lance’s corner, blowing him a kiss as he got into the car, catching it and acting like he was putting it in his pocket, making her laugh at his antics. 

Qualifying was all about pushing the car to the maximum and toying with the limit and it seemed like Lance wanted to do just that. The green car was zooming past slower cars, turning between the tight corners between the walls of Singapore, brushing it at times when Lance came in a little too fast but he always made it out without much more than a scratch. 

Her eyes were glued to the screen as Lance was supposed to come round the last corner, set to cross the line in just a few seconds, her fingers crossing, hoping for a time that would put him to the top of the board and save him from another Q1 exit. When she saw the flash of green appear on the screen, her heart started racing even harder until she felt it almost stop suddenly. Right in front of her eyes, her boyfriend’s car went off the track and straight into the wall, barely avoiding collisions with other drivers that were also rounding the corner. 

As if the crash itself hadn’t been spectacular enough, another camera caught the scene and showed the car from another angle, showing how one of the wheels had snapped and was now bending at a strange angle. With her headphones on, she heard Lance’s race engineer Ben ask if he was okay only to be met by a deafening silence. Ben asked a second time and with a groan Lance muttered that he was okay before getting out of the car as medics came rushing around him. 

Despite knowing that her boyfriend was okay enough to talk and walk, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling as she watched the broadcast replaying the crash over and over again like some sick joke she would never be able to escape. No one seemed to be paying attention to the crying girl in the middle of the garage until a camera panned over to her and she saw her own face on the broadcast. Giving a slight nod to Ted Kravitz who was offering her a reassuring smile and mouthing sorry to her, she turned around, ready to ask anyone if they had any news.

She wanted nothing more than to find Lance and see for herself if he was really okay but she knew how strict the FIA was and how hungry the media were so she knew going out to the medical centre now wouldn’t do any good. She suddenly felt terribly alone without anyone to talk with or anyone to reassure her. The Singapore heat no longer felt warm, it was suffocating and she didn’t realise she was hyperventilating until Fernando came back into the garage without his helmet and ran over to her, grasping her hands and asking her to breathe with him for a little bit.

-“ Better now ?”

-“ Yes, I don’t know what happened but thank you Fernando.” she offered him a tight smile, squeezing his hand before letting it go

-“ I think you were panicking but that’s completely normal. You must be pretty shaken up, did they let you see him yet ?”

-“ Not yet, I don’t even know if he’s still there and I don’t want to bother Lawrence or Ben. They must be pretty stressed already without me texting them for the hundredth time.” 

-“ I think both of them would understand but I’ll ask around and see if I can find someone who can either bring you to him or tell you how he’s doing.” 

-“ Thanks nando, really.”

-“ Don’t worry about it. Your boyfriend’s tough, I’m sure he’ll be released soon.” the Spaniard smiled before leaving her to see if he could find something on his own

In his whole career, Lance had had his fair share of crashes. No matter how intense his crashes were, he usually walked away without any real physical injuries, at least not in car accidents. 

He had been taught that the most important thing after a crash was getting back in the car, not letting the incident get to you, always getting back up. That’s how he had always proceeded since he started racing, if he fell, he got back up straight away and worked until he got it right. 

This crash hadn’t been any different from the others, only maybe a little harsher but that was all. Yet, Lance couldn’t stop his heart from skipping beats, he couldn’t breathe fully and he didn’t know if it was because he was physically hurt or if he was still in shock. Nothing made sense to him and he just followed along the medical team and answered their questions, trying not to ask too many times how much longer he had to stay there. He knew they were only doing their job and he was thankful to be checked quickly after the impact but the white light was irritating, the whole room seemed hostile and all he wanted was to see a familiar face. 

No matter where he looked, all he saw was strangers’ faces and Lance had never wished to see someone he knew as bad as he did in that moment. Once all the tests were done, Lance was told to wait for the results in the room so he did. When the door opened a few minutes later to reveal his dad and Ben, he felt like breathing was a little easier, even though his dad’s hug was a bit too tight. 

-“ How are you feeling ? Does it hurt anywhere ?” Lawrence asked

-“ I’m good, dad. I already told the doctors everything so don’t stress about it.” Lance smiled as Ben rolled his eyes at how relaxed Lance was being

-“ I’m glad you’re okay, that seemed like a tough one. You had us all scared back in the garage.” Lawrence admitted, resting one of his hand on his son’s shoulder

-“ I’m sure it looked worse than it felt for me but yeah I can imagine. How is she ?” Lance asked as his dad excused himself, having to answer to a phone call

-“ How is who ?” Ben answered 

-“ y/n. Is she waiting outside ?” 

-“ Oh shit.”

-“ What ?” 

-“ She’s not here, Lance.” 

-“ What do you mean ? Didn’t she want to come see me ?” the canadian asked, not hiding his disappointment 

-“ I mean she probably did but we were so taken by surprise by the crash that I didn’t even think of taking her with us.” 

-“ Are you seri– Alright, it’s not your fault, you were stressed but can you please have someone bring her in ? She must be worried sick all on her own in the garage.” 

Ben just nodded before joining Lawrence outside to arrange for a car to bring the girl over to the medical centre. Barely a few minutes later, the door burst open and without having to look towards it, Lance knew exactly who it was. There was no way to mistake her for anyone else as she rushed inside, only to stop in the middle of the room, almost afraid to take another step. 

-“ You can come closer, you know ? I’m not going to break if you breathe too hard.” Lance laughed softly 

-“ Can you not joke about it please ?” she whispered as she came to stand next to him without touching him, still afraid to hurt him without meaning to

-“ I’m sorry. I’m okay, I promise.” Lance affirmed, nudging her shoulder with his “ Can you give me a hug, pretty girl ?”

-“ Just tell me if I squeeze too hard. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

-“ Of course, now come here.” he said, opening his arms as she wrapped her own around him and hid her face in the crook of his neck

They stayed like this for a few minutes, just holding each other close until Lance felt a tingling sensation on his shoulder and his neck.

-“ Hey there, are you crying ?” he asked, softly rubbing her back

-“ ‘am not.” she said sniffling rather loudly

-“ Aw baby, I’m really okay. I know it must have been scary for you but it’s over now. Don’t worry your pretty head about it, I’m still in one piece.” 

-“ I know. I  really don’t know why I’m crying. It was really scary and I’m just glad I’m with you right now.” 

-“ Me too, pretty girl. Look at me now, please.” 

She took a small step back, looking at him with puffy eyes and a tight smile as Lance cupped her face between his hands and planted a kiss on her lips, placing a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

-“ As soon as I get discharged and I’m done with everything, we’re going back to the hotel and we’re going to take a long warm bath and relax together. Does that sound good ?” 

-“ Yes. Can we cuddle after that ?” 

-“ Of course, we can cuddle all you want and I’m not moving from bed until I really really have to.”

-“ Lance ?” 

-“ Yes, pretty girl ?” 

-“ I love you.” 

It wasn’t the first time she said it to him but somehow the circumstances made it even more emotional and Lance smiled before kissing her again, more intensely this time.

-“ I love you too, y/n. The doctors will be here soon but I don’t want you to be here in case there’s something, which I’m sure there won’t be” Lance quickly corrected himself when he felt her draw a sharp breath before continuing “ but just in case I’d rather you get back to the garage and pick up our things. Like that we can leave as soon as I’m done here and I’ll meet you in my driver’s room.” 

-“ No, I want to stay with you. I don’t care how stressful or scary it could be, it’ll be even more if I don’t know what’s happening.” 

-“ Pl–”

-“ Don’t you dare try and convince me otherwise. I’m staying whether you want it or not.” she stood her ground, feeling her voice quivering

-“ Alright, I’m not going to stop you. You’re way too cute for me to say no to anyway.” Lance chuckled, wiping a lone tear that had escaped from her eyes before kissing her forehead

-“ Thank you.” 

Before Lance could answer anything, the doctors came back in with the results and they listened to the results, a breath of relief leaving them both as they got told that Lance was all good to go. The worst thing that was going to happen to Lance now were a few bruises where the seat belt had done its job and a sore neck. If Lance felt relieved, what she felt was way more intense than him and she took a deep breath, finally feeling like this nightmare was coming to end before wrapping her hand around his as he stood up to leave. 

Once they were done, the couple got out of the room, ready to go back to the hotel and put this scary day behind them but Lawrence stopped them before they could make an escape. The older Stroll started by apologising to his son’s girlfriend for not bringing her with them but she quickly brushed it off, understanding how the situation must have been scary for the both of them so she didn’t hold him accountable for it. 

After clearing that up, Lawrence asked if he could speak to Lance alone so the girl went to sit a few metres away, finally taking the time to answer the texts from her worried friends and family, assuring them that Lance was in fact okay and that she was too. Lance came back a few minutes later with a relaxed smile on his face, holding out his hand for her to take before bringing her in for a hug. 

-“ What was that for ?” she laughed against his chest, surprised from the sudden display of attention in the middle of the far from empty corridor

-“ Nothing, I’m just happy. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” 

-“ What do you mean ?” 

-“ My dad and I talked and we agreed that even though nothing’s broken, maybe getting back in the car tomorrow isn’t the best idea and maybe resting would be more reasonable.” 

-“ Are you saying what I think you are right now ?” 

-“ You have me all to yourself until we leave for Japan, pretty girl.” 

-“ Finally something good about today.” she smiled a little brighter, holding Lance tighter 

-“ Let’s make it even better then, let’s go have that bath and cuddle in front of a movie.” 

-“ That sounds like a wonderful plan.” 

-“ Good because I’m not planning on letting go of you until we leave for the airport on Monday.” 

-“ You’re going to have to if you want to drive us back to the hotel.” she laughed at his sudden clinginess 

-“ Don’t give me ideas, pretty girl.” Lance retorted, pulling her into his arms and kissing her, smiling against her lips

Lawrence, who was still standing in the corridor, was glad to hear the two of them laugh freely after the crash. If it had been scary for him as a dad, he didn’t want to think about how it must have been for the girl. At least they were together now and hopefully by the time Lance would inevitably have to get back in the car, the incident would be long forgotten and she would be able to watch with the exact same smile she was showing Lance now as he made her spin around in his arms, the perfect picture of a happy couple.

[khattikeri]

drives me nuts when people treat jin guangyao or wei wuxian like they're socialist revolutionaries like no! they're not!! in fact their respective roles in society and complacency regarding its hierarchies is why ANY of the story even happens to begin with!!!

jin guangyao doesn't hold bitterness just because he was born lower class. he is bitter because others deride him and his prostitute mother in spite of both their intelligence, skills, and efforts to climb the ladder.

why do you think we were shown scenes of other prostitutes in the brothel deriding meng shi for being literate, for "trying" so hard? why do you think we were shown scenes of anxin taunting meng yao and throwing shit at him because he was trying to learn cultivation at his mother's behest?

why do you think jin guangyao arranged for the arson of that brothel, burned to the ground with everyone except sisi inside? that's not the behavior of someone who believes in true equality and the inherent worth of sex workers as human beings!

that's the behavior of someone who thinks he's better than them. the behavior of a man who already came up on top through political games and war crimes, backstabbing and spying for the sake of the "greater good".

i won't rehash his argument to nie mingjue that he didn't have a choice-- he had some choice, but no matter what he does his class will come up and people will always assume the worst and try to hurt him for it, which forces his hand to do whatever will protect him best (hence 'no choice').

jin guangyao did everything he could to secure his own safety and a place among those already higher up. and by that point, he'd won it.

the fact that the temple rebuilt on the brothel site is to guanyin, the goddess of mercy, is even more ironic! the fact that jin guangyao has the goddess's statue carved to look like his own mother is proof that he viewed both her and himself as higher than them. more worthy than them.

of course he cared about the general welfare of others (read: the watchtowers). but consider also that there is no watchtower near yi city, which ended up being one of xue yang's playgrounds. jin guangyao can and will turn a blind eye to certain sufferings if it is convenient to him.

sure, jin guangyao made undeniable contributions to cultivation society and accessibility, but he is not at any point trying to topple existing class structures. his adherence to them is in fact integral to his own downfall in the end.

it brings with it the inevitability of society conveniently ignoring his triumphs and genuine moments of humanity to deride him once more as an evil, disgusting son of a whore once his crimes come to light.

now for wei wuxian. he's the righteous protagonist of the story and he doesn't give a fuck what society thinks, yes, but he wasn't out there trying to cause an uprising so that all the poor servant classes and lower could become cultivators. he wasn't trying to redistribute wealth or insinuate that those who are lower deserve to be viewed as equal to the gentry.

the most critical and non-explicitly stated fact of mo dao zu shi is that wei wuxian has always been resigned to his position in the social hierarchy.

his unreliable narration, especially regarding his own past and thoughts, is so damn important. he doesn't EVER tell the reader directly that people treated him any which way at their leisure because of his parents' differing social classes.

no. instead we are shown how much prestige he is afforded as cangse-sanren's son-- reputation as a talented and charming young cultivator, made head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang-- and how little respect he is given in the same breath, as the son of servant wei changze.

the way he is treated by others is as fickle as the wind. if he obeys and does as told, there is no reward. of course he did that, that was the expectation to start with! if he does anything even slightly inconvenient, there is a punishment. of course he has no manners, what else would you expect from an ungrateful son of a servant?

wei wuxian's righteousness is not a matter of adhering to principles he was explicitly taught, the way nie mingjue values honor or the way jiang cheng always tries to prove himself. wei wuxian does the right thing regardless of what the consequences are to him because his good deeds are always downplayed and his bad deeds are always singled out, no matter who or how many people were doing it with him.

he has faced this double standard since childhood. there are points in the novel where it's clear that this sticks out to wei wuxian, but does he ever fight back against that view of himself? does he EVER, at any point in the story, explain his actions and choices to jianghu society and try to debate or appeal to their sense of reason?

no. because he knows, at his very core, that any explicit deviation from their interests whatsoever will be punished.

slaughtering thousands of people is fine when they want him to do it, and when the alternative is unjust torture, re-education camps, and encroachment upon other sects' lands.

slaughtering thousands of people who are trying to paint him as evil for not going along with their genocidal plans, however, is punished.

wei wuxian knows his acceptance among the higher classes is superficial and unsteady. from the age of 10, when jiang fengmian took him in, he knew subconsciously that he could be kicked out at any time.

he knows that cultivation society doesn't care about war crimes and concentration camps and mistreatment of the remaining wen survivors of the sunshot campaign. but the right thing to do now that they aren't at wartime is to help them, plus they'd punish him either way for it, so he will.

in this regard wei wuxian is more self-aware of his position than jin guangyao. he does care about common people and he does try his best to help them as an individual. even if that ends up with him disabled, arrested, targeted in sieges, or dead.

but is he revolutionary? in the full equality, fight the establishment, rewrite laws, change social structures and people's perceptions of class sense?

no. no. he isn't.

now my knowledge of chinese society and history is fairly limited to my hindu diaspora upbringing and our shared cultural similarities ... but speaking to what i absolutely know us true, adherence to one's social class is expected.

this is rigid. efforts and merits might bring you some level of mobility, but in the end, the circumstances of your birth will always be scrutinized first, and your behavior compared to the stereotypes of where and how you originate.

mdzs is not about revolution, and none of its characters are able to truly change its society. there is no grand "maybe cutsleeves aren't inherently bad" or "i'm sorry for persecuting you and believing hearsay, you were truly a good person all along!" at the finale.

people ignore history and repeat it again with the next batch of ugly gossip and rumors.

wei wuxian, lan wangji, and luo qingyang find peace only by distancing themselves from cultivation society and its opinions.

jin guangyao and wei wuxian both cannot ever escape from others' perception of their origins and actions. regardless of their personal beliefs, they are not revolutionaries.

[romulusfuckingroy]

no because imagine being roman roy, spending your whole life hearing how useless and fucked up and broken you are from both your dad and your siblings, growing up knowing you’ll never amount to anything.

and then the unthinkable happens. your brother fucks up. loses his claim to the throne. you’re suddenly in pole position to take over… you think, until your sister who’s not even in the fucking company reveals that it’s her.

okay, fine, it’s not like you don’t know your sister is smarter than you are, it’s fine. except… then she loses it, and your dad gives it to some outsider, some random woman from a completely different company. it starts to feel like he’s sort of desperate to give it to anyone but you.

the woman quits after some events that you get the sparknotes of while flying home from being held fucking hostage. someone has to go to prison, and it’s your brother for some fucking reason. you’re alone again. so maybe…?

but no, your dad’s just calling you to tell you to go find your sister. he asks you if she’s solid, he trusts you to make that determination, and you say yes because you love her. so it’s suddenly her again.

and then the unthinkable happens again. your siblings decide to rebel. this is your one fucking shot. but suddenly they’re goading you into joining them, and you… agree, because you fucking love them, fuck, you really do. no matter how many times it fucks you over, you love them like a dog loves the child that keeps pulling its tail.

(when you get to your dad’s hideout he tells you that the heir will be you if you abandon them right now. you have no evidence for or against this. you’re starting to feel like he’s just dangling it in front of you to get you to do what he wants. (you’re right, but you’re not quite aware enough to fully realize it.))

so… it’s none of you, and that’s… fine. the world doesn’t end. time goes on. you decide that teaming up is kind of… nice. you have plans, real fucking solid plans. except… your siblings swerve sideways and start specifically trying to fuck over your dad instead of just… working together to build something.

they goad you into it, obviously. they’ve always had the ability to make you do things you don’t want to do. except for one factor that’s out of their control…

dad says he needs you. you. roman.

so you’re back on team dad. he was right the whole time anyway. and he respects your opinions (you believe), like with mencken. you’re ideologically allied (he’s indoctrinated you).

he dies when you send him one fucking lousy voicemail about how shitty it felt firing your… your… gerri.

your dad is dead. your dad is dead and the last thing he ever told you to do was fire gerri. which… which you did, so at least you can rest easy knowing it was you, you were the best child after all, he finally saw you deserved the company.

except kendall’s name has a line through/under it, and you’re not fucking mentioned. fucking greg is mentioned, but not you.

you tell yourself shiv’s right. it’s crossed out. you tell yourself that for a different reason than she does. you were so sure it was gonna be you. after everything he fucking put you through. it had to be you, right?

deep down you’re sure it’s an underline. and you’ve never felt more useless. more like a manmade mistake.

you can fucking be like dad, though. you fucking fire two senior women- one of them gerri, again. you let kendall do whatever the fuck his manic ass is up to- dad seemingly trusted him, so fuck it. you try to tank the deal with matsson, because you can do this. you can run waystar. you always fucking could. fuck anyone who says different.

you put your reputation and waystar’s prestige on the line for a fascist presidential candidate, because that’s something you and dad agreed on. that’s when you felt like he was actually fucking proud of you. shiv throws a hissy fit, but fuck her, okay, she’ll never fucking understand the bond you had with dad. no one can.

you… make a bad call. well- you don’t make a bad call, everyone thinks you made a bad call. mencken deserves to win! why is it such a big fucking deal?! you’re on top of the world, about to deliver a banging eulogy and swoop in and take the company from matsson’s grubby little hands.

and then your uncle speaks. and then you get up to speak. and then you cry. and fucking kendall logan roy gets up there and delivers a better speech than you ever could. and then so does siobhan.

you find out mencken betrayed you. your brother tells you you fucked everything up, and he’s not joking around like usual. you think about that fucking piece of paper, that fucking line. well, fuck this. you get beat up a bit for old times sake and then fuck off to barbados.

but they find you there. they beg and plead for you to come back, to vote with them, they need you. you’re with your mom in barbados, finally having time to just… breathe and think, and your siblings come back and try to goad you into coming back, into putting everything you are on the line once again, for fucking kendall’s benefit alone, pretty much.

…

you go with them. they’ve always had the ability to make you do things you don’t want to do. especially when you try to back out- come on, gerri’s there for god’s sake- and your brother pulls you close like a boa constrictor and hurts you the way you like it until you yield.

you get why his name was (you believe) underlined. it was never you. never.

because you’re roman roy, and there’s something really fucking wrong with you, and there always will be.

[sericasong]

Sheepish・✦ oneshot

adjective - embarrassed or bashful, as by having done something wrong or foolish.・✦

The poor thing's never been trained on how to appear to events with a date on his arm. Or if he was, he's forgotten completely just by a glance at you.

THIS ONE GOES OUT TO @takami-takami HAPPY WAY LATE BIRTHDAY THIS WAS MEANT TO BE A DRABBLE AND IT GOT SO OUT OF HAND ALSKHKDGLS. I've been trying to figure out what exactly to write for it and decided you deserve a mishmash of everything we adore about the birdie. Much love always and an incredibly happy (month-after-I'm-so-sorry) 26th. 💕

For someone with such a fun-loving persona, one would think that number two pro hero Hawks would enjoy this sort of thing.

Keigo does not.

Well, he usually doesn't.

Events hosted by the Commission tend to be just like the front it puts up: bright and decorated displays of prestige with little substance under the glitter. A media staging, as usual.

In years past, he's greeted these Hero Galas with a scowl and a cynical remark in the privacy of his thoughts, the only place where he can scorn his handlers all he wants and get away with naught but a wasted evening.

But tonight? Tonight he's greeting you as he escorts you in.

You look nothing short of radiant, dressed in something he'd caught a longing glance at and convinced you to let him buy, just this once, babe, c'mon, lemme spoil you.

And god, he finds new gods to thank that you let him.

It's perfect on you, its shapes elegant and its colors gorgeous on your skin, wrapping you in what may as well be diamonds.

He pockets the thought- solitaire, halo, three-stone, vintage? Details to consider later with the question of how to ask.

For now, he shows you around the venue. Shows you off, in a way, shows his most earnest expression of pride when he introduces you to everyone he can just for the sake of doing it.

Mine, his poorly-tempered smile gloats, they're mine.

As much as he'd like to, he doesn't say that. It's "this is my partner" instead, warmth floating in his voice with the sound of your name.

He's the picture of lovesick at dinner; sliding your chair back for you, sitting right beside, he barely lets you leave the seat because he's preoccupied with rushing to do everything he can for you.

His eyes have barely left you for half a minute in total the entire night, and you get the feeling that the number won't grow by much.

It sure doesn't raise by even a single decimal when the crowd moves to the ballroom. Those golden hues are set on your features like it would hurt to look away, unapologetic in his captivation.

Except for when you step onto the dance floor together, which is when he turns into the most hopeless fool you've ever seen.

Hawks knows what to do here.

Hawks has been through years of discipline, strict regimens for how to act in every possible situation, combat and negotiation and formal gatherings alike. Taught how to present himself with the easy grace befitting of the Commission's winning prize.

But Keigo?

Keigo is forgetting how to dance.

"Uh, dove," his hands linger in the air, hesitant, "do you mind if I-?"

Even when you nod, he's uncertain of it. Not of the fact that he wants to dance- he'd keep you in his arms for the rest of his life if he could.

But for some reason he can't place, his nerves fold upon themselves until they can no longer tell his limbs to move. He looks like a deer in headlights and his legs feel like a fawn only just standing.

When you send a questioning glance his way, he can only give a sort of helpless gesture. "Sorry, babe- I just, uh-"

"You look too pretty tonight, s'just..."

He trails off with heated cheeks as you press your smile to the back of his hands, pouting with a terminal blush as he admits, "feels like 'm gonna mess it up."

"The dance?" you question, just to be sure, and he raises your hands to hide behind them in embarrassment with a mumbled, "yeah..."

You can't help but laugh at the look on his face, like a schoolboy with a love letter outstretched, and don't bother resisting the urge to tease him as you pull him towards a more secluded corner. "I thought you told me that you knew three different kinds of partnered dance. What happened to that, birdie?"

"I know," he protests weakly, burying his flush in your shoulder as he lets a groan escape him. "I know, I know. And- and I do, I promise."

When you respond with a skeptical mhm, he huffs at you, petulant indignation even while his eyes crease at the corners. "I do!"

"It's just... you're so... you look so..." A sweeping gesture at you as if he can't put the words to it; from his brief silence, you figure that's likely the case. Several moments pass, and he continues more quietly, "you look sacred, dove. Feels like it'd be a sin to treat you wrong."

He's sweet. It's probably the most romantic thing you've ever heard.

You let your lips curve upwards in something between fondness and an utterly shit-eating grin. "You're shy."

Keigo does his best to pretend to disagree, and eventually gives up, only responding with a silent nod. That softens your teasing, fingers carding through his hair and sorting the strands. "You don't have to be embarrassed, you know... I'm a little nervous too. It's not like I'm very used to elaborate things like this."

"But you're the last person who should be," he complains, melting easily into the brush of your touch. "You're too good to be here. You look better than everyone else by a million."

"I think you do," you counter, letting your hands settle around the back of his neck as his face makes a home in the crook of yours. He just hums, flustered but appreciative, allowing you to sway him gently to the music in your little dance floor for two.

His voice is quiet when he speaks next, after a song has passed in your corner. "I'm gonna marry you someday, I swear to god."

He looks up at you as if to examine your reaction, his lashes fluttering when you lean forward to kiss him. After you pull away, he's nearly beaming, and he brightens further at your next words.

"I'll be waiting for it."