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throwaway-yandere · 1 year

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Apotheosis Upon Your First Feast (Yandere!Wanderer & Pantalone/Reader)

Commissioned by: @leftdestiny-posts/@eternally-frozen (ilysm. Feel free to kill me later lmao)

unreliable synopsis: After being reassigned to Vanarana when your previous coworker became the Acting Grand Sage, with the help of Ararycan, you reunited met a wanderer on an abandoned machine. Unfortunately for someone, your childhood friend "Pantalone" has ears and eyes everywhere. (Avoid this fic if you’re not a fan of dark content. It’s not too dark but your mental health matters!)

IMPORTANT NOTE: Please use the InteractiveFics extension and change “(Y/n)” to whatever name you want, “[Wanderer]” to his chosen name, and lastly, also change “(wood/salt)” to… whichever option you feel like. It’s a surprise mechanic *wink*. If you're reading this on a phone, just pick between wood or salt right now, keep your choice in mind and commit to it : )

Afterwards, would you be so kind as to answer this fun poll after reading the fic? Danke ♡

“Why doesn't Nara (Y/n) eat what Arasaka prepares for them? Does Nara (Y/n) lack appetite lately?”

“O-Oh, well, that’s…” You paused, looking down at the broth, “in all honesty, your cooking tastes bland…”

“H-Huh?!”

Time had passed since Lesser Lord Kusanali's official ascent to power and now is the fifth month since you first made friends with the Aranaras. Many events took place before you found your pyro vision becoming Arasaka's torch as they cooked– and if any of your coworkers saw you now, they probably wouldn’t identify you as Alhaitham’s (only) friend and Ex-Sage Azar’s lazy employee.

Maybe they would've if you helped Alhaitham and his teammates secure Sumeru’s future.

Sure, your name isn’t listed in the coup d’etat, but that’s only because you wished for the Akademiyan scholars to make the epiphany for themselves. As Azar’s ex-assistant, you laid low from projects as a prerequisite so that the populace may acquire a personality of their own to make the nation truly deserving of the title “Land of Wisdom.”

Alas, that did not happen.

Alhaitham’s tactics were not wrong, but you felt like his group spoonfed Sumeru citizens with the Fatui’s crimes rather than having their own realizations. It did not feel like growth to you. It felt like the people casually learned from a one-sitting textbook rather than a hands-on experiment when they should’ve personally learned how minacious blind ambitions could be. In turn, he argued that your ideas were barbaric and that scholars revolting was not in the realm of possibility– hence, you did not lend your aid. Perhaps your inaction had pissed him off, but it’s more likely that he finds that sending you to Varanara was ideal for his workload.

And in some strange domino effect, refraining from helping a coup d’etat meant eating the tasteless food known to man.

Since you were personally assigned a senseless task to patrol and report weather patterns in the area (which is unnecessary and quite frankly boring), you had befriended the infamous aranaras children from Port Ormos hear stories about.

But the mundanity doesn’t hurt your pride as a graduate scholar. It's been fun so far.

“I'm sorry, 'Saka, it's just that I think your food lacks a bit of salt–"

"ASSISTANT (Y/N), THERE YOU ARE!!!"

Both of you flinched, causing Arasaka to topple over. The sound hurts. You snapped your neck towards the sound. An adventurer– Baharak– stood with both hands wrapped on her bag's shoulder straps with a silly grin on her face.

… You’re turning the setting of your hearing aids down.

“Baharak, it’s been a while,” you spoke. “Would you mind not yelling whenever you call for me?”

“Oops– Sorry (Y/n)! I mean– sorry, Assistant (Y/n).”

Changing her volume doesn’t undo the pain she inflicted on your ears. Gently, you pushed Arasaka behind an elevated jag of root to cover them. To escape suspicion, you continued to stare at Baharak while feigning sleepiness.

“What are you here for?”

“The Forest Watcher received a letter addressed to you. The sender doesn’t have a name again, it just has the coin-seal thing.”

“Please hand it over.”

“Aight!– I mean, alright.”

After dismissing the loud adventurer and giving her spare mora as thanks, you waited until she was out of sight. Arasaka suddenly rose and jumped onto your lap, equally curious about what was written on the salt-scented parchment. Arasaka's preppy manner soon turned sour as they discovered who the sender was.

It’s a letter from your best friend, "Pantalone".

“Aww…” Arasaka whined. “Arasaka was hoping it was the Verdant Nara instead.”

You tore it open.

"My dearest, (Y/n),

If it's not too much to ask, may I trouble you to visit my office in Northland Bank soon? I merely wish to see you. Spending Lantern Rite alone this year was not a pleasant experience. It's just for a mere chat- I'll reimburse your traveling and dining expenses. Care to make it up to me?

Your beloved,

As per tradition, you threw the letter in the fireplace. Pantalone doesn’t like leaving a trail of evidence, naturally, you assumed the same applies here.

It's never a chore to visit a friend. Maybe you'll head there tomorrow–

“Arasaka doesn’t like Nara Pantalone.”

The aranara lowered their head, continuing, “Nara Pantalone reminds Arasaka of the Taste of Sadness.”

Cute.

Every time Pantalone comes to visit, the aranaras behave like envious little siblings. Ever since you started patrolling Vanarana, the place had become the harbinger’s premiere leisure destination. The woods critters frequently tried to undermine his gifts, but they were adorably ineffective. Even if Pantalone cannot see them, the situation is nonetheless amusing.

If you remember correctly, the Taste of Sadness means salt to aranaras, right?

“Ah, well,” you laughed. “I guess you must be incredibly sensitive to his smell. He took quite a liking to salt-infused perfumes last year.”

“Don’t like perfume.”

“But I am wearing one though… Has the scent been bothering you all this time, Arasaka?”

“No, Arasaka was wrong. Arasaka likes perfume, and Arasaka hates salt. Taste of sadness. The scent of sadness.”

“Oh, no! If Pantalone’s smell makes my dear Arasaka sad, then maybe we should drown him in Varunastra,” you chuckled darkly, expecting the aranara to react loudly over your out-of-pocket remark.

“Of course. Salt Nara would make for decent spare rations!”

You laughed out loud at Arasaka’s even more out-of-pocket reply. Out-of-pocket is an understatement, that comment straight up sounded out-of-the-CASKET.

Before standing up, you ruffled Arasaka’s nonexistent hair like you would with your deceased sisters.

“I’ll come back in a few days, okay? In the meantime, why don’t you read a cookbook?”

“Hmph! Nara (Y/n), you’re being mean! Just wait! My sisters will make a dish Nara (Y/n) can’t say “no” to!”

“It’s a dumb risk.”

“It’s a new business venture, dearest.”

“The market for new eyeglasses isn’t going to rise any time soon.”

“Why are you so adamant on opposing this idea?”

“Stagnation breeds putrefaction, especially in business, does it not?” You raised an eyebrow, preparing for a harangue.

“Je suis d’accord!” The man spoke softly, accentuating his Fontaine pronunciation somewhat boastfully. Knowing your disability, he never raises his voice to the point of it hurting. “And it is precisely why I want to invest in an eyewear conglomerate in Sumeru.”

“Then why are you dropping your prior investments?!”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

You sighed, annoyed.

Pantalone is an amazing businessman, but without your council, he wouldn’t amount to who he is now. Unlike most people, “sneakily ambitious” are not the words you would describe your visionless friend. Such a moniker sounds insulting given his lack of celestial blessings and you know Celestia itself never took kindly towards his well-versed dirty tricks against his opponents.

In your humble opinion, the term “industrious” is a better-suited and less backhanded compliment for him.

You’ve known Pantalone— no— “██████” since childhood. Your history stretched back so much that you no longer recall the circumstances of how you befriended him. He acted as your ears when it came to haggling and normal day-to-day chores. As far as you know, he has always been an older brother to you. In times of extreme poverty, you both prayed and starved together, scraping by using salt rocks as entrees.

There was no one else that made your deafness bearable except for him. With no family left, he was your only beacon of hope and dear Morax– you’d rather not remind yourself of the time your dead sisters mistakenly ate mud for rice cakes when famine struck.

You chose Amurta out of the Six Great Schools for a reason:

You can’t afford to watch anyone die of hunger ever again.

When you began living in Sumeru, you had pledged your alliance with the region but never forgot all the toil you had to go through. As a malnourished child, you quickly fell in love with the nation. In Sumeru, healthcare was free– in Liyue? You heard nothing, and you wished that “advantage” doesn’t make you blind from the evil you witnessed in the slums. Poverty ate away your hearing, your family, and your childhood dreams…

In a way, the only reason you see aranaras in the first place may be that you didn’t have the chance to experience any childlike wonder until you escaped Liyue.

Pantalone scoffed, “whether you agree with my financial decision or not doesn't affect my resolve. Do not press more about this, dearest.”

… But you’re convinced that your closest confidant “██████” had already perished from starvation long ago.

The man before you calls himself “Pantalone” nowadays and you lose all sense of indolence whenever his presence looms. When he watched your last sister perish in your arms, an epiphany gave birth to his cold demeanor towards deities. He found it challenging to worship the Archons who had no need for mora but were eager to take it away from destitute mortals who needed it as you and your sisters did. The death of your younger sibling was his final straw, and in a sense, you also buried your old friend that night.

Unlike ██████, Pantalone cannot forgive nor trust the Archons for their broken promises. If Lesser Lord Kusanali had abandoned withered forests, Rex Lapis had abandoned those whose blood and tears cannot amount to any mora. You were only allowed to study at the Akademiya after he decided the former was the lesser evil.

Although Pantalone never condemns you for calling him by his birth name, you cannot tell yourself that he and ██████ are fully the same person. There is an unspoken need to straighten your posture and greet him with a semi-scowl to demonstrate your maturity despite him acting cozy and warm. Worse, his lax demeanor never ceases to remind you that despite his uncomfortable reputation, Pantalone is the only companion you’d entrust your soul to even when the world warns you not to deal a contract with the devil.

“You just want to use new brackets every day—”

“I am a businessman, love.”

You speared Pantalone with a pointed look.

“—And why Sumeru? Have you landed a deal with a reputable Amurtan optician? And why didn’t you ask ME first? You weren’t cornered by Dottore or the Tianquan to kickstart an eyeglasses company, were you?”

He scowled, unamused before firing back without skipping a beat.

“Summer, seven years ago. You accidentally bought six bunraku puppets from Inazuma—”

Your eyes widened. Not this embarrassing anecdote again.

“Woah, woah! Now, why are YOU extorting me?”

“So you’d be silenced quicker.”

“…”

This reticence was slowly exasperating the harbinger, but he never utters a complaint when you're whom he's conversing with. Pantalone cleared his throat with an elegant smile. In that moment of cessation, you figured that he had a seemingly innocent proposal in mind.

“(Y/n), my most dearest baobei…” The harbinger ventured.

“Pantalone…”

He pulled out his desk drawer and ferreted out a parcel that you suspect contains a pair of glasses.

“Would you care to be a test sub—”

“No.”

You have a gut feeling as to where this is going. He’s going to propose that it’s “just” glasses until you find out he’s been using you to track or spy on someone without your knowledge. Classic Pantalone. You won't be duped by that TWICE in a row. If you knew better, you wouldn’t have accidentally leaked intel to the Fatui that Katheryne was being controlled by the Lord of Verdure. All because Pantalone hid a recorder on one of his “gifted” hearing aids...

Listen— just because you refused to lend a hand to the Archon when she was in need and was subsequently confronted by the 2nd harbinger in Sumeru City doesn’t mean you were colluding with these fools.

You just wanted to remain neutral in any given situation. Unlike your childhood friend, politics bore you to death. And just like the Acting Grand Sage, you’re too lazy to act as a beta tester no matter how minimal the effort the task requires.

“I only ask that you wear this pair of glasses and test its comfortability.”

“I refuse.”

“We can negotiate how much mora you’ll earn—”

“Just stop.”

“Hmm, if I phrase it as a “gift”, would you accept—”

“Hell no.”

Pantalone paused.

“Hmm…” He tapped his desk, gazing at the paperwork neatly piled up.

“Word of advice, (Y/n), it’s highly probable that the price of cocoa will rise next week,” he shrugged. “That fact is, of course, most definitely unrelated to our current discussion.”

Is he…

Is he threatening to generate chocolate inflation over a pair of glasses?!

You scoffed, eyes wide.

“██████, you worthless SCALPER.“

“The majority prefer to call me a ‘regrator’, but that new nickname is acceptable as long as it is you who makes such mildly unpleasant utterances.”

“GAH! You— YOU—” Even though he may completely ruin your usual routine of buying chocolates after work, it's difficult to curse him out. You have no choice but to spout illogical syllables without a valid clause. “JUST— YOU!!! YOU.”

Smack.

Upon hearing your facepalm resoundingly, he laughed uncontrollably, removing his glasses to wipe his eye with an uneven grin on his face. He tried to keep his composure but he kept snorting.

You took a peek between your fingers. What a precious noise. You haven’t heard him laugh like this for over three years now.

At that moment, you thought ██████ was alive.

“F-Fine— give me those damn eyeglasses.”

Pantalone drifted the parcel above your palm until he quickly retracted it as soon as you reached forward.

“But before I do that, can you promise me one thing?”

“What is it this time?” You groaned.

“Don’t lend it to anyone else, understand?” Pantalone slightly ruffled your hair. “I had it custom-made for you.”

You rolled your eyes, “that thing is definitely wiretapped. You’re not even bothering to hide it anymore.”

“Oh no, it’s not just that—”

“Just that?”

He shrugged smugly, which was not a good sign.

“The eyeglasses function similar to an Akasha Terminal, but of course, the information you’d find there is directly from my database.”

Pantalone opened the box and swiftly put the white-framed glasses on your face. He lightly tapped the frame—

and a control panel window flickered open.

Just like an Akasha.

“H-How on earth—”

“The Doctor and I had a deal. He’ll recreate at least 80% of a regular Akasha’s functions while I help him track down a few… crops. It’s a quid pro quo, I promise. It’s less of him exploiting me and more of me exploiting…— well, that doesn’t matter right now. C’mere, let me see your lovely face...”

Pantalone tilted your chin up with his thumb. His face was inches away from yours, and his piercing lilac eyes observed your glasses and what was behind them, calculating. His breathing was notably strained in a subconscious attempt to make you feel less uncomfortable from the position he trapped you in— ever the perfect gentleman— but you see his entire face flushed in a pinkish hue. A few seconds have passed, and you feel the glove pressed against you twitching.

Pantalone pulled away, shoulders stiff.

His ears were red.

“I-It’s working as intended.”

If not for the nature of your relationship, you were close enough to kiss– an appealing notion for the harbinger, yet it is not a move he should bring himself to try.

“Y-Yeah, no kidding. That was awkward.”

He gripped his arm, looking at the window.

Pantalone is painfully aware you think of him as an older brother. Or at least, the shadow of one, given how you rarely call him by name anymore.

“My apologies, I simply wanted to take a good look at you.'

He muttered, “you’ve grown into a gorgeous person, (Y/n).”

You didn’t hear him.

“██████– I mean, Pantalone–”

“Go back to calling me ██████, dear.”

“Pantalone.” You put more emphasis on his harbinger name, watching in glee as he rolled his eyes, “I expect to be paid in chocolates and at least two months’ worth of food.”

Indeed, your proposed exchange pleased him. ██████ knows how much you value healthy eating and abhor it greatly when others waste grains of rice. Time and imagination had transformed his early memories as you as a human so close to a skeletal figurine with sunken cheeks and broomstick-like limbs. Those thoughts cause him much sorrow. Pantalone would have pampered you for free if you had only let him– seeing you eating healthy gives him life. Almost like how a father would tell his children that seeing them full is enough to make him full as well.

Let him spoil you with food. Please.

Seeing you thin makes him feel sad.

“What do you want to eat for dinner later? My treat, as always.”

“Mint salad sounds lovely.”

“Just mint salad?” Pantalone smiled thinly.

His dearest baobei, no longer skin and bones. No longer barely fueled by rice and salt. No longer skipping meals. It warms his heart more than the exclusive springs offered to him because of his mora and title… But it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

“Hmm… Would it be okay to request a plate of Triple-Layered Consommé?” You muttered, gazing at the floor. “I kind of miss your cooking… Just. Just kind of.”

His heart skipped a few beats as he saw your shy expression.

You straightened up, coughing, “not that your cooking is anything special, it’s just that I don’t want to eat anything too bland and–”

“Of course! Anything for you, my love.”

Pantalone grabbed your hand and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“My baobei, you’d be too full to walk once I’m done spoiling you…”

“D-Did you have to word it so seductively?!”

You blushed once again, which only served to worsen his urge for making you undeniably satiated.

Oh, how he wants to keep you in a cage, locked up, and fed until he’s satisfied that you’ll never starve again…

Maybe then, you’d let him spoon-feed you like years before...

There's no rest for the wicked. When you returned to Vanarana the next day, the aranaras pulled you in for another chore at Devantaka Mountain.

“Hey, little man, get down there, right now!”

You screamed with your hands cupped around your mouth to amplify your voice. The aforementioned "small man" scoffed, not shifting an inch from his posture, as the blue aranara crept up behind you.

Ararycan worriedly relayed that a “Wood Nara” had been trespassing the large abandoned Khaenri’ahn machine. The little vegetable-like creature had grown to trust you when it came to scaring off unwanted guests, which usually entailed eremites or treasure hoarders scavenging for scrap metal.

“Ararycan wants to stop Wood Nara.”

You gently pried the wire off their hand, keeping it in your pocket in a very definite fashion.

“I know, ‘Rycan, but Naras are stubborn beings.”

“Just like Nara (Y/n)?”

You gasped, eyes widened.

These plant-like beings are surprisingly masterful at the art of roasting.

“Just like Nara (Y/n), you say?! Rude, Ararycan, rude.”

You laughed humorlessly, masking your jadedness with forced laughter.

In all honesty, you’re inclined to believe that this job reassignment was Alhaitham’s way of punishing you for remaining neutral. But surprisingly? An Amurta alumnus like you have been enjoying the task and in no small part thanks to these silly little creatures.

It's absurd to imagine that you would consent to be pulled by these vegetable creatures. You initially believed that they were paracosms produced by a lack of stimulation. You once tried to ignore them. Regrettably, that frail facade didn't survive due to a couple of slip-ups. The first to catch you drawing their likenesses next to your weather reports was Arapas. The second was Arabalika, who overheard you whispering about how powerful they were after they defeated a ruin grader, and then Arama who heard you humming their songs. They’ve built up quite the case against you, and you had to fess up before they start giving you a hard time.

By “hard time”, you were referring to how a crowd of tumultuous aranaras huddled up and tugged your hearing aids’ wire with their teeny hands incessantly.

Which was what Ararycan is doing right now.

“Get us up there, Nara (Y/n).”

"Careful, Rycan– you might damage the wire."

Suddenly, the hatted man's eyes widened after seeing you. Call it intuition, but it seemed like this total stranger knew who you were.

You made an exaggeratedly loud inhaling sound, turning off your hearing aids momentarily.

And then, a scream.

“STOP, STAY WHERE YOU ARE!!! RIGHT!!! NOW!!!”

The difference between stupidity and bravery is measured by outcome, and neither are variables you wish for this “Wood Nara” to test out. Alhaitham would have you write two pages detailing an incident if the stranger broke something and eight more if the machine awakened. And sadly, you are only a small percent less lazy than that man.

Despite your words droning childishly, you made no move to approach him. His eyes sharpened, but you felt no scrutiny—

This man you’ve never met wore a blatant look of disbelief.

You looked down.

Maybe he could see Ararycan…?

“Hey— can you see them?”

You swiftly swept Ararycan off the ground, who made a surprised yelp.

The man winced.

"P-Please… Leave the forest alone…"

"And why should I care about your pathetic request?"

"Please, have mercy… T-There are creatures that live in this area… Creatures you cannot see because you lacked a human heart."

“–Ngh!”

Those memories were hard to swallow, like reading an inked sloppy handwriting submerged in water.

“G-Good riddance…”

The man coiled in pain, gripping his scalp with his lithe fingers. You cannot view the expression on his face, nor were you able to verify that he had yelped. The distance between you two was too great to conceive a communication that did not rely on shouting.

“Nara (Y/n), what are you doing?!”

Although your proximity with the aranara doesn’t cause any communication barriers, that didn’t stop Ararycan from yelling.

For some reason, the stranger flinched after seeing you carry what appeared to be air around “normal people”’s vision. Perhaps he found your actions cringe-inducing… or perhaps it made his migraine worse. Then again, both possibilities are not mutually exclusive. However, you have a feeling he didn’t flinch because he saw Ararycan.

The blue aranara leaped off of your hands.

“Ararycan is worried… Ararycan thinks Wood Nara is going to destroy the giant iron mountain…”

You stared up at the man again, wanting to go on for a long rant but refrained after realizing how immature that is. While you do have a hunch that the stranger possessed a vision, you’d bet mora that he is no match for Arabalika’s accumulated Ararakalari.

“Say, why do you keep calling him Wood Nara? Is it because of his ginormous hat?” You whispered to Ararycan.

“Huh? Did Nara (Y/n) not notice?” They tilted their head.

“Ararycan calls him “Wood Nara” because he’s made of white wood. Ararycan is not sure if he is a real Nara.”

Their answer entered from one ear and exited in the other. You’re used to hearing the Aranara lexicon that you never take any sentence at face value since you’ve learned your lesson back when Arasaka made you scout the market for a “Taste of Happiness.” Thank the Lord of Verdure that it was only Pantalone who laughed at you for describing sugar as “white, cubic, crumbles when crushed, becomes sand, and can be eaten.”

“Hah, well, he better not be made out of wood 'cause I might burn him.”

“Ararycan doesn’t think that’s easy to do. Wood Nara smells like the taste of anger,” once again, you ignored their riddled words.

You clutched the pyro vision dangling in your cloak’s right shoulder, located opposite where Alhaitham places his. Your skill set does not differ from that dendro user’s repertoire, and you calculated what vertice you should drop upon teleporting. Grabbing Ararycan, you rushed forward...

Without making it past the one-minute mark, you leaped effortlessly to where the stranger stood.

“Excuse me, young man, but do you have an Investigation Charter from the Akademiya?”

With an unused voice when it comes to dishing out commands– much less an implied threat– your approach wasn’t even a fraction of what makes authorities like the General Mahamatra intimidating. Yet, you still tried. You crossed your arms and hovered your hand near your claymore.

This stranger gazed up, boasting his soft face and beautiful lilac eyes topped with a complexion quite like a sheltered princess. He had the finest eyes you had ever seen. Yet, even with a heaven-sent face, his eyebrows were knitted. He continued kneeling on the cold metal of the giant mossed and corroded machine.

One closer look should’ve made you hyper-aware that his joints were not bound by mortal flesh, but your heart was more entranced by his glassy pupils.

“We meet again. If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is.”

He muttered inaudibly, hence, you did not hear him. Since you also just came back from visiting Liyue and their post-festival fireworks, you’ve turned your hearing aid settings lower than usual. You bent your knees slightly, offering a hand.

“Nana korobi ya oki,” you said. The stranger looked like he hailed from Inazuma, so you thought you’d put your knowledge to good use. “It means–”

Unbeknownst to you, you uttered the same thing in a past long forgotten.

“I know: fall down seven times, get up eight.”

His gloved hand grasped your own, and you tried not to think about how soft yet firm it was as you pulled him up. You grunted slightly from the shifted weight while he didn’t breathe at all.

“No, I don’t have any clearance permit,” he said. “And I still don't have a heart, if that still matters to you.”

You raised an eyebrow.

‘Still’? What the hell is he talking about? Aaru village is miles away from here, but is it possible that the man you’re talking to is a mad scholar? That’s concerning.

Pushing your glasses farther up the bridge of your nose, you tried to search his face in Sumeru's records– which might be more unlawful than whatever this man's doing, but who's policing you anyways?

…

Nothing.

There's not a single official record on this man.

Not even in the Fatui's database.

Almost like the man in front of you doesn't exist.

"What the hell are you wearing?" The man sneered. "Since when did you have awful eyesight too?"

“No Investigation Charter, no clearance, just what do you think you’re doing here?” You digressed. “May I at least have your name?”

The man tilted his hat up, “and why should I stupidly give my information away?”

Your eye twitched. He kinda reminds you of Arabalika. Maybe if you gave him a cane he’ll calm down a bit.

“I do have a use for your name, awkward stranger.”

“And that is?”

Writing a report to the Acting Grand Sage regarding suspicious individuals.

“Something to call you,” you shrugged with a child-like candor, renewing your request with bold obstinacy. “I’d rather not recount this tale to various parties as That One Time An Awful Little Man Tried To Pry Open A Giant Machine And Failed.”

He exhaled curtly.

… Was that a laugh?

“How childish. Even if you don't know my name, your "friends"– assuming you have some– will remember me by that stupid description.”

“I mean, it's a memorable first impression,” you met his gaze smugly. “But why are you hiding your name, hmm? Suspicious.”

“It’s called respecting one’s privacy. Something you don't understand.”

How rude of him to make assumptions about you, “are you some covert government official?”

“No.”

“Then what? Are you some inhuman being?”

“...” He didn’t say a word.

Something tells you that the answer is close to your hunch.

“[Wanderer].”

He muttered, once again, you did not hear it so he spoke louder.

“That's my name. Don't you dare make me repeat it.”

“[Wanderer]…”

You missed the way he tipped his hat, hiding an uncontrollable smile from your view.

[Wanderer]... That does sound like a fitting name. It reminded you of a character from a franchise or mythological tale you thoroughly enjoyed as a teenager. It might be rude to share that information, though. You’re not certain how this bratty person would react upon hearing that his name might as well be the name of your lotus from a botany class.

Normally, [Wanderer] would snap a “speak up– is there something wrong with my name?” upon listening to hushed whispers or a resounding silence after his many introductions. But you’re different for a reason.

There was no way in hell he would take the traveler's suggestion over a name you had given him.

Ararycan tugged your pants.

“Hey, don’t just stare at him, Nara (Y/n)! Tell him to leave!!!” Araycan trashed around. “Nara (Y/n) must be a brave Nara if you like the taste of anger.”

[Wanderer] is the taste of anger? Is that what Ararycan was trying to say?

You blushed, fake-coughing behind your hand.

You wouldn’t say he reminds you of the taste of anger– especially with that winsome face. If anything, his appearance looks a lot like the bunraku dolls you accidentally bought years ago.

“Well, [Wanderer], it’s nice to finally put a name to a face,” you said. “But this is a dangerous area. What are you doing here…?”

“I just wanted to look for traces of the Doctor,” [Wanderer] crossed his arms. “Unfortunately, I can’t pry this stupid machine open.”

“The Doctor? Who’s that?”

“The Harbinger who sits at the second–”

“Aah, The Outcast. I see–” you shook your head. “Wait, no, I don’t get it. What does he have anything to do with this machine here? This is a Khaenriah’n creation.”

“I know, I’m not dumb like you. I'm here because The Doctor had plans for these automatons, that’s why I’m here.”

“But even so, it’s not advisable to wander these parts alone. You ought to have asked for a travel companion. Who knows if you run into a hoard of vanaagnis in marana?”

“Hmph. Do you think I can’t handle a few whooperflowers in a withering zone? The audacity.”

“Arrogance is the capital stock of misfortune– wait, how’d you know Vanaagnis is a term for whooperflowers?” You blinked expressively. “And the meaning of marana too– so you ARE a mad scholar.”

“I’m NOT,” [Wanderer] glared. You noticed how he seemed unimpressed when you mentioned that proverb about arrogance and “capital stock”, and his expression soured more when you accused him of being a lunatic.

“I just… I just learned from the best.”

[Wanderer]'s stare not wavering away from you.

Your silence did not go unnoticed by the other two.

“...Why do I have a feeling you’re trying to say that you’ve learned from me?” Those words had escaped from your mouth before you could stop them.

[Wanderer]’s eyes widened.

“Can… Can you remember?”

“Remember…?”

He frowned, eyes reflecting his disappointment.

“No, no, it’s probably just a fluke,” [Wanderer] frowned with a finger tracing his lips. “Maybe my expression just gave it away…”

“Nara (Y/n)!!! Tell Wood Nara to leeaaaaveee!!!”

You tried not to flinch at Ararycan’s whining. They don’t seem to understand that having poor hearing doesn’t mean you can’t register their commands.

[Wanderer] walked past you.

“Fine, I’ll leave this device alone, but on one condition.”

“What makes you think you’re the one in control–”

“Go out with me.”

“...”

“... What?”

Your eyeglasses flickered red.

But that red light was gone in a blink, you weren't even sure if it existed.

You laughed nervously, “sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly–”

He refused to meet your eyes like a coward.

[Wanderer] replied brusquely, “look– you're partially deaf, but you’re NOT stupid. You heard what I said, so own it.”

"Hold on– where is all this coming from, [Wanderer]?" You pivoted your heel but were too late to yank his sleeve.

He already hovered a few feet away from you.

"I'll come to visit this place more often," [Wanderer] smirked. "You’ll still be here at the upcoming Festival, right? Mark your calendar. That’s our date.”

“Hey, you can’t just!– Aaand he’s gone.”

Despite his abrupt parting, you couldn’t help but smile over such a cheeky encounter, completely forgetting how that man rummaged through the giant machine you’re standing on without a permit.

Something tells you that you’d see him more often.

And you did.

“[Wanderer]” never failed to visit you at 10 AM sharp every day, until there was only one day left till the next Sumeru Festival. At first, you thought his eccentric personality would make the following days unbearable, but he was rather civil– just sharp-tongued.

He would show up whenever you wandered in the forest to disseminate knowledge about the local flora and Sumeru's history. Some of them you already knew, while others had you wondering if he knew the Lord of Verdure. While you were trying to interview him for a report, not as a trespasser but as an assistant, you once purposely lightened the atmosphere to get honest responses from him. When you jokingly asked who he was, his reply was unsatisfactory.

“Who I am is not carved in wood nor stone. ᏕᎧᎷᏋᎧᏁᏋ wise told me that it’s a flexible concept and it’s easier to understand through a story, but even then, you’d only see a fraction of who that person is,” [Wanderer] peered dotingly. “If you wish to know who I am, then work for it. I’m not giving you a damn summary.”

Tomorrow is your first "date" with the man and you barely knew him.

Your internalized frustration made him think you’re insatiably adorable.

How the tables have turned.

After all, [Wanderer] only responded with the same answer you had given him before.

In a forgotten history, ᎩᎧᏬ were the one that spouts spontaneous philosophical questions that led him into fits of unintelligible musings. [Wanderer] berated humanity for being sentimental creatures yet look at him now, proudly boasting the name ᎩᎧᏬ gave him wherever he went. It is by no means grander than a title like God of Everlasting Eternity or other such monikers, but when Godhood has stripped away from him, that name provided more solace than a seat in Celestia.

“The Puppet”, “Kunikuzushi”– such utterances are water under the bridge. Only [Wanderer] stays afloat, like a bubble on water. Maybe a bubble is only beautiful for a moment, yet that moment weighs more than a meaningless “eternity” and he knows this well…

[Wanderer] had been played by fate. Attaining freedom, independence, and a vision did not absolve what chokehold you had on his synthetic being.

You're a colorful character, averaging about five meaningful papers per year– all the while considering yourself a "retired" genius. [Wanderer] would've been a kinder and forgiving person if you were his young and impressionable self's creator. He envied your patients, your strange collection of bunraku dolls, and the tenderness you reserve for them.

He missed you, no matter how often you both fought. Your hums used to enchant him when you lull him asleep with aranara songs, but they now haunt him up at night. You were his puppet and he was your dictator until you had grown exhausted of foreign power enough that you abandoned your neutrality and revolted.

But you did not revolt against him in this revision. Without a doubt, his revised “past” still mirrored the pain he caused, but through other means. He can’t say he had no regrets when he tampered with the Irminsul. Niwa’s death had less weight in this world, and for the wanderer, death without sanctification for a significant purpose is unnecessary homicide. And instead of helping Azar’s experiment, you became a “disobedient pet” who saw no need to collaborate with his superiority complex.

Yet, despite being such a disobedient pet– in his opinion, that’s a grave understatement–, he can’t help but cherish you.

The puppet missed the way his delusion marked your body. Fingerprint-like blotches collared your neck before, but when the slate was wiped clean, so too did his inflicted bruises. He missed the way you begged him to stop the pain. He missed the way you defended invisible creatures as “Queen Aranyani’s successor.” He missed the way you begged to keep the forest safe.

He missed the way you begged to be his.

But those marks are long gone– the symbol he carved on the nape of your neck had disappeared. You no longer had anything that resembled signs of his ownership.

Not only that, but seeing you wear eyeglasses– something you haven't before– fills him with anger.

The one saving grace from this situation was when this timeline confirmed that you wouldn’t help Azar if it wasn’t for [Wanderer]. You were interested in his personality and disposition as a puppet longing for a human heart, not just any of Dottore’s run-of-the-mill creations. That observation surely boosted his ego.

Your opinions mattered to him most in that project. Admittedly, he craved everyone’s veneration, even when they lacked true understanding.

But you were the first mortal that made him appreciate his defects…

"Is it so bad to live this way?" You combed his hair with your fingers. "Must you try your hand with such heresy?"

"Know your place," Scaramouche gritted his teeth. "You're nothing more than my maintenance worker- you do not deserve an audience."

"Be that as it may, future faux-god, can't you entertain me for just a moment? If I wasn't worried about you, I wouldn't be helping you with this damn treacherous experiment.

You ignored how he snarled at such a nickname, "it pains me to watch you lust for more power when you already boast an acceptable form. What is it that makes you so desperate? Is it because you can't hide the ball joints that connect your fingers and limbs?"

You continued while adjusting the tightness of his skeletal wrists.

"Is it so bad to live on as a defective being? Does imperfection invalidate a life's purpose? I only ask out of curiosity. I have imperfect ears, so does that make my life devoid of meaning?"

Scaramouche frowned, "do not compare your ears to my heart or lack thereof."

He didn't understand why his voice cracked. Scaramouche did not feel his usual temperament sizzling over but something heavy resided in his chest.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, I know you're not sorry," Scaramouche cupped your cheek, sporting an uncharacteristically loving smile.

"And your unapologetic behavior is what makes you my first sage."

His first sage…

[Wanderer] laughed to himself.

His first sage would know that if he gained a heart, he would've seen the aranara you were talking to earlier.

But this is fine. He can start over again.

This time, he’ll make you love him normally.

Heaven, please help the white wood that fell in love for it will never be human…

…

Out of the blue, Scaramouche spun and hurled three consecutive wind blades toward the woods with precision.

Be that as it may, the walking salt is surely more pathetic.

The “trees” grunted, but [Wanderer] did not miss the smell of salt-infused perfumes.

What a shame.

The next Sumeru Festival, your “date”, is tomorrow, yet there will always be those who lurk in the shadows to see the mighty fall.

"Pantalone…"

The ex-sixth harbinger snarled with unfathomable familiarity. Which was the complete opposite of the ninth harbinger, who coldly greeted him like a new enemy.

"Good afternoon, [Wanderer]."

Pantalone pulled out a gun from his hidden holster.

"No hard feelings, sir," the businessman smiled thinly. "I am but a simple man eliminating a love rival. You see, it’s not nice threatening to steal someone’s possession."

Scaramouche cackled.

How annoying. He never liked this friend of yours– he much preferred the one that planned a coup. Pantalone was not a coworker Scaramouche liked, much less a rival. This ambitious man was always a parasite, pretending to be worried while threatening to withhold project funding behind your back. Scaramouche will never forget how he boasted insolently that he had known you longer as if eternity wouldn't be enough to make up for it.

"You never change, mortal," he laughed even harder. "I knew something was off about (Y/n)'s glasses!"

"Hmm? Is that so?" Pantalone pushed them up closer– reminding Scaramouche that he’s no terrible shot. "How strange. In any case, I quite frankly don't care what you know or do not know."

He pulled the trigger as Scaramouche stomped his feet.

Only a few knew what occurred in Vanarana that day, but there was one thing the forest remembered.

Before either of them parted, a loud bang echoed that even deaf trees can't miss.

You woke up from Araja’s house (which was the only comfortable place to sleep in Vanarana) after passing out from tumultuous loads of paperwork sent directly by the Baharak. She joked that at that point, maybe she had become a bad omen for you– and you confirmed her suspicions. The tasks the Acting Grand Sage laid out for you were taxing, if not, deleterious for your mental well-being, and worst of all–

He sent a notice that this would be your last week patrolling Vanarana.

When you spread the announcement, the aranaras were saddened by the news. Even Arabalika was unimpressed and asked if you can prolong your services. Alas, it can’t be refuted.

Noticing how tired you appeared, the village chief immediately commanded you to sleep while you pretended not to hear whispers of a surprise farewell party. Considering how the place looked positively empty this morning, you’d wager that they’re busy working on it.

But you do smell that someone’s cooking right now…

The enticing scent emanated from a large pot. As you sauntered closer, you noticed how Arasaka was tending to the food. The aranara gave you a friendly wave that you didn’t reciprocate. It’s rather chilly in Vanarana in the mornings– and the sleeves of your jacket were comfy.

“Good morning, Nara (Y/n)!”

“Good morning, ‘Saka. That smells delicious,” you smiled bittersweetly.

“Hehe, really? Glad to hear it! One of Nara (Y/n)’s friends helped gather the ingredients. That Nara was good at hunting down prey!”

One of your friends…? You haven't introduced a lot of people to the aranaras. That can only mean it's either Baharak, Pantalone, or [Wanderer], and you can safely remove the first one since they're positively busy with guild matters.

... Huh. But those two can't see aranaras. Does that mean they stole Pantalone or [Wanderer]'s game?

"Pfft..." You chortled. Yeah, imagining either of them getting confused as to why their hunted boar had gone missing feels like a sight to see.

You took the ladle from Arasaka’s hand and sipped the warm liquid.

…

“Oh, hey, this tastes pretty good!”

“Hehe, Arasaka is glad to hear you liked it! Nara taste buds are hard to please.”

You took another sip as Arasaka watched. The warm soup went down smoothly, but the aftertaste had a serpent-like bite to it. It tastes akin to red sorghums Pantalone would down whenever social drinking was inevitable. Your only critique was that it would’ve been a refreshing experience if there wasn’t a rocky object stuck between your teeth. You awkwardly picked it out.

… And saw a small hint of (wood/salt) between your fingers.

You stared at Arasaka.

Strange…

Something feels… off.

This doesn't taste like happiness, it tastes like…

You shivered and yet the aranaras around you still had that same painted smile.

"Does Nara (Y/n) like the taste now? The taste of friendship?”

… Friendship?

No. That can’t be it.

The spoon splashed back into the bowl. You didn’t say a word, only stared at the boiling pot. You knelt, grabbing both handles to gaze upon the bubbling red liquid. With trembling hands, you picked the spoon back up and swirled the contents. Nothing was of note–

Until you scooped something from the very bottom and found thick strands of dark hair.

A very familiar strand of dark hair.

You adjusted your glasses in an attempt to find out where this human hair came from–

“Nara (Y/n) likes the scent of (wood/salt) Nara so my sisters added him in!” Arasaka innocently cheered.

Your heart dropped.

You turned pale– gagging.

No. It can't be.

Did you just eat…

“So, Nara (Y/n)– does our cooking taste bland now?”

… “him”?

“Oh, Nara (Y/n)’s friend is approaching! Don’t forget to thank him for the food!”

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— just for tonight, i don’t hate you + katsuki bakugou.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — when there’s a bounty over your head and a reward for your safe return to your soon-to-be husband and future king, touya todoroki… you should be mindful of who you fall for. you should pretend to hate the man who seeks the prize money you’d bring. and the dragon prince, katsuki bakugou, should probably do the same.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, smut, angst, arguments, one-bed trope, enemies to lovers, love confessions, arranged marriages, fingering, marking, biting, scratching creampies, hair pulling, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, slight!infidelity, fantasy!au, fem!reader, dragon prince!bakugou.

⭑ words — 2.8K.

⭑ notes — happy valentine’s day my sweets!! here’s a precious little fic for you, a commission from the darling @peonies-and-teacakes and beta read by @yuki-no-akumu !! i hope you guys enjoy and remember that ily <3 mwah mwah !! - m.list ✩

“s-sir…i am so sorry.”

don’t.

“t-there’s been some kind of mistake!”

don’t you say it.

“unfortunately the room at our inn you’d requested for tonight has been double booked…”

don’t you dare say it.

“we can only offer you the alternative which is a single bed, again sir, i-i’m so sorry.”

it’s not the clerk’s fault, it’s a simple mistake that anyone could make at an inn located in one of the busiest travelling towns in all of Aethopia— but it shouldn’t have happened to katsuki bakugou. it’s the worst thing that could have ever happened to katsuki bakugou. “you gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” the dragon prince snarls, almost resembling the mystical creature acting as his tribe’s crest— teeth white, sharp and menacingly on display. “all this fuckin’ coin spent on a useless, shitty inn ‘nd you can’t even book the right room?”

the clerk shrinks back, visibly shaken as they hand over a set of room keys to the blonde. “s-so sorry! s-sir!” they add timidly, flinching as they clatter into bakugou’s palm and he snatches the metal away from them.

“sorry ain’t gonna cut it, what a waste of my coin! i ain’t ever comin’ back to this shithole.” he continues to snap, and with a swish of his red woven cape, bakugou’s gone— storming away and outside of the reception, filled with enough rage to fan the flames of a dragon’s fire. you’re waiting for him with his horse, tending to it as he steps into the cool outside. the forest trees sway with the prince’s arrival but don’t do anything to distract you from running your fingers to the snow-white coloured steed.

you’re beautiful and that angers katsuki. you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen in all of the moons he’s existed— you shine under the light of the silver crescent, as if glitter is speckled all over your skin or you’re covered in a layer of diamonds.

your smile as his horse chuffs and nudges you with its head is precious, more valuable than any gem found in this world’s greatest mines. your dress isn’t made out of the finest materials, but it fits perfectly around your sweet dips and curves— it’s pretty. you’re pretty. there’s something about you that makes a mess of katsuki’s pulse, that steals his breath away and he hates you for it.

you’re supposed to be an ordinary girl, you’re supposed to be just a pile of coin to him— a reward for returning you, prince touya of Ignis’ runaway bride. there was a hefty bounty hanging over your head for your safe return to his royal highness’ side, for you were to be the tool that helped to clean up prince touya’s act and get him prepared for kingship. again, you weren’t meant to be anything more to katsuki, in fact, if he had to he would force himself to despise you— you make him miserable, he has to remind himself that you’re just a prize. nothing more, nothing less.

despite the blonde’s plan to have you back in the hands of the todoroki family— he’s had his doubts. rumour has it that touya todoroki, better known to lesser folk as dabi, is an evil brute. one with little regard to the women he’s kept or invited up to his royal chambers. other whispers on the street have mentioned that you were a spoiled little village girl from within their kingdom, refusing the life the todoroki’s were to offer you.

that was another reason for bakugou to hate you— you were a brat that ran away because touya wouldn’t feed you with a silver spoon, because he was the first man in your existence to be unkind and you couldn’t find it in yourself to put up with it despite being set for the rest of your life.

katsuki bakugou of the dragon tribe had found you just outside of his territory— half dead, your clothes torn and a second away from being hunted by the mythical monsters that prowled them. you resented him, for what he did next. you had the audacity to be mad at the dragon prince for saving your life and nursing you back to health. you blame him for the miserable outcomes of your life and for having his heart set on returning you back to touya todoroki, blaming him for it all.

at the time, the pair of you had argued. bakugou had called you a stupids and naive little girl— who wouldn’t want to be married to a future king? you wouldn’t have a single thing to worry about if you did, your every need would be taken care of without you even asking. you wouldn’t have to kill for your next meal, worry about when or where you could sleep next, spend every day fighting for survival. clearly you both had different views on the world, and what should have been gratefulness turned into hatred.

bakugou had tied your wrists, dragged you kicking and screaming back on the route straight to the todoroki castle— reuniting you with your Prince Charming. so far, you’d made this journey hell, almost cost him fights and got him in trouble with clients or employers. you were embarrassing.

and in your eyes? katsuki was your fairytale villain. he was a selfish, ugly bastard who wouldn’t let you steal your freedom, all for some money. you hated bakugou with every fibre of your being and every ounce of your heart and he knew. he knew this, but that didn’t make it any easier to handle when you look at him like his every step scorches the earth.

scowl at him like you do now.

like he was the most awful man in the world. like he was touya. who he had heard from stories didn’t handle women in the best of ways.

“what, ya still mad at me, princess?” bakugou asks as he approaches you, the twigs snapping under his boots grabbing your attention.

before arriving at the inn, the dragon wielder had told you that you were a useless airhead— one that couldn’t survive on her own and needed a man to save her. you’d slapped him hard without hesitation and neither of you’d spoken until now. “of course i am, don’t ask stupid questions, you barbarian,” you spit harshly, turning back to the horse at hand. “did you get the room? i’m tired and sick of looking at your face.”

he almost flinches back to avoid being hit by your venomous words but instead retaliates. “i did ‘n yer stuck with me, sweetheart, there’s only one bed.”

“you’re kidding, right?” your eye twitches as you spin on your heel to face katsuki once more and the blonde braces himself for an onslaught of your slander. “oh! bakugou. you’re such an incompetent fool. you can’t even book an inn on your own, so you need a woman to do that for you?” you throw his words from earlier back into his face like an acid burn that’s been waiting underneath your tongue.

“i didn’t wanna be stuck with your ass anyways! quit complainin’!”

“well, if you insist on not being stuck with me, perhaps releasing me before we reach the todoroki’s is a good idea—“

“— fat chance, princess.” bakugou scoffs back. “not with the bounty over your head. puttin’ up with your shitty attitude will be fuckin’ worth dealin’ with until you’re back with ‘em.”

he doesn’t give you a chance to retort, heading back into the inn whether you follow him or not.

katsuki is glad that you don’t, at least not straight away— wanting to calm down the ache you’ve inflicted upon his hatred-blackened heart.

though he might hate you, katsuki can always tell when you’re crying.

around the same time every night and throughout your travels, your shoulders shake as sobs rack your body while you think he’s fast asleep. of course, the dragon prince feels bad— he’s practically handing you off to the devil in exchange for a lump of cash. you’ve been down on your luck and the blonde feels partially responsible for that.

rolling over to face you, bakugou watches with a deep frown as you keep your eyes on the wall opposite you— not daring to acknowledge him. “‘m sorry… about what i said,” he feels guilty but only just, unsure of his next words. “‘bout this touya thing… and all the men that have hurt you. i’m—” he takes a breath. “sorry about everything. i only treat you that way ‘cause i don’t want ya to end up lost like me…” he doesn’t want you to fall for him, to stay with him.

silence echoes between you both but katsuki can tell that you’ve calmed down from the way your body stops shaking and your hiccups quieten down. “you care about me, bakugou?” rolling over, the blonde finds himself lost in the sparkle of your galaxy eyes yet again— hating you for it, fighting down his love for you.

you’re close, way too close and everything beneath the sheets is hot. “shut up, princess.” bakugou whispers, not realising that the warmth of his breath is coasting over your lips wetly. before either of you know it, you’re kissing— mouths slotting against one another, tongues rolling over each other sloppily as you swap spit and pour undisclosed feelings into one another. his hands slip under your flimsy excuse for a night-gown, trailing up the good meat of your thighs, the soft curves of your waist and hips. you have him in shambles, with the way you gasp quietly at his thumbs swiping at the swell of your breasts— just brushing over your pebbling nipples. you coo and cry and he takes more from you, tugging on your lower lip with shining rows of pearly whites and licking into your mouth to swallow your whistle-tone moans.

“quiet, princess,” bakugou’s mouth is hot, blisteringly slow— his tongue leaving trails of clear, thick saliva along the planes of your skin. “gotta be quiet, baby, can’t wake anyone up, yeah?” the sharp edges of his teeth just graze your salt-licked flesh, barely nipping it. katsuki knows better, he can’t leave marks. he can’t return damaged goods to the soon-to-be king. to the touya todoroki. “so good, such a good girl.”

“o-oh! k-katsuki!” you stutter out, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and locking away the stars as the dragon prince’s hand fumbles between your hot and heavy bodies. he finds your clit, swollen and sticky— pulsating beneath rough fingertips. “p-please, i need you. please, katsuki. n-need–!” you sing your praises to the high heaves, the letters of his name rubbed into your pretty pussy as he plays with it between your slick, doughy thighs.

a single finger slips past your fluttering entrance, but he doesn’t dare let up on your pleasure nub— circling it diligently. “shut up, yeah?” the man slurs into your neck, spreading your pussy lips apart to finger you deeper, faster— losing his sanity listening to the sound of you squelch. “i hate you…r’member that. h-hate you— fuck…”

“hate you, s’much. o-oh, right there!” your own set of fingers curl in sandy blonde locks tightly pulling him back up to your face for a kiss. but his eyes, your eyes, they both speak forbidden and unspoken love. your other hand grasps at his throbbing cock, arousal spilling over your knuckles and straight from the tip. his chest rumbles in pleasure, hips rutting into your closed fist languidly before he swoops down to lure you into the forest of temptation, the haze of another uncoordinated, messy kiss.

you mewl into one another’s open mouths, swollen and cherry lips meshing together— this? whatever you’re doing together, a pile of sweaty limbs moving in sync with one another…it’s everything either of you have ever wanted. playing pretend, hating one another face to face and loving one another in secret. katsuki curls his fingers, pressing down on your g-spot and you run your thumb through the seedy slit of his cockhead…eager to please one another. to love one another.

“put it in, katsuki.” gasping but demanding, you call to him— hungry for more, to have his everything. he wants to, god he wants to. but what if he hurts you? what if you fall apart like fragile glass? what if touya—? you grab at the blonde’s chin, guiding his gaze up to yours and his thick girth to your clenching, unfilled hole. “just for tonight, one night. show me how you truly feel about me katsuki…make love to me.”

you’re giving him a chance, giving him this one last night to deflower the prettiest, most beautiful thing katsuki bakugou has ever held in his bare, monstrous hands. wrapping your legs around the slenderness of his waist, you lock your ankles at the small of his back and squeeze to draw him closer. his milky shaft pushes through your arousal soaked folds, clear strings of it clinging to every vein that decorates the length of him.

both of you shudder once he’s bottomed out inside the warmth of your velvety, silken walls. he’s as deep as he can go, stretching you over him with slow rolls of his hips and his balls heavy with cum, seated at the curve of your ass. “f-fuck, you’re tight, princess,” katsuki whines, wrapping his arms around your head to pin you to the bed beneath him. he fills you to the brim, brings tears to your eyes as he splits you apart and pieces you back together with every single thrust. your g-spot is a victim to endless ectasy given to you by his mushroomed tip as it rams against you, desperately.

rolling your hips up to match his pace, you swallow the saliva pooling on the palette of your tongue— skin buzzing with lust while you mark up the blonde’s back. you leave tiger-claw patterns across his tanned back, red and raw before mussing up his hair pulling him closer until either of you have room to breathe. his breath is ragged against the shell of your ear, thrusts rampant each time he plunges into your souse, salacious pussy.

katsuki drowns himself in you, and like an alcoholic reaching for another drink— he’s addicted. he groans pathetically when you bite him, kiss him and spit into his mouth until he’s babbling and brainless. you bite his shoulder to keep quiet but the bed creaks loudly enough to cover your harmonised moans and the sound of skin slapping on skin harshly.

“i love you,” you breathe weakly, body wracked with shakes when bakugou slips out of your cunt from how fast he's pounding you into the sheets, tied to you only by strings of slick.

he says it back, instantaneously while forcing himself back into your addictive heat, desperate to get you both to your highs. “i love you.” next he finds your clit again, using three fingers to tap at it so that you tremble cutely beneath him. “hold it, princess. hold your orgasm. p-promise it’ll feel good, kay?” the dragon prince pulls back only just, dragging his seedy tip along your insides and you whine at the loss of being so full. “promise me that when he’s fucking you, when touya makes you his bride a-and weds you, his pretty virgin bride…that you’ll think of me ‘n me alone.”

“i-i promise,” you murmur, playing with the baby hairs on the base of katsuki’s neck, looking up at him lovingly as you clench down on him at his claim— dripping sweet nectar down his balls.

only then does katsuki put his entire weight on you, jutting into you all at once, nearly breaking the bed as it hits the wall behind you over and over. his cock swells inside of you, close to bursting and cumming inside of you. with one, two, three more calculated thrusts you’re thrown over the edge— the dopamine high of your orgasm crashing over your brain while you squirt clear streams over his lower tummy and cock.

he’s right behind you, following the stream of your sweet essence that nearly forces him out of you. thick, hot ropes of cum paint your insides belonging to the man that you love, filling you up to the brim. katsuki collapses on top of you with one last kiss, your foreheads pressed together and the crude mix of your arousal leaking from your tiny hole, onto your shared sheets.

“i don’t…i don’t hate you,” you stutter once both of your breathing has evened out, teary eyed because you can’t say that you love him again. it’ll make it too real, neither of you can have that if you’re promised to touya and bakugou has promised to take you back to the ruthless future king.

“niether do i,” katsuki breathes back, wiping your eyes with the pad of his thumb, using a delicate touch.

he couldn’t help it, loving you but at least he got to…just for tonight.

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kingkatsuki · 10 months

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More of this.

You know in my mind I was kinda picturing doing Chicken Shop Dates with him and other Pro-Heroes? And Bakugou sees your date/interview with Sero and he’s pouty and jealous because he wants to do one with you.

Bakugou can’t remember the first time he started to fancy you, but it was probably the first time he ever saw you because you’re perfect. He remembers that interview, his first time seeing you. A laid back interview with the Bunny Hero Mirko, the pair of you sat on a plush couch with mugs of tea. And if he’s being honest, the Pro-Hero was the only reason he was even watching in the first place, his childhood crush on the older Pro still prevalent into his mid-twenties.

But he remembered watching the interview, which ended up seeming more like a gossip session between two friends as you delved deeper into the woman behind the Hero name. He found himself watching that video again immediately after it finished, before going in search of others. From up and coming sidekicks, to lesser known Pro-Heroes like Snatch. Bakugou found himself searching through your page for hours as he looked through the videos and photographs with these Pros, frowning when he noticed a new upload with you interviewing the Pro-Hero Cellophane.

Even though Bakugou had been watching your videos for months, he’d never followed you on any of your social media platforms. Content with watching each upload, and religiously checking your page for new photographs or messages. It became almost routine as he’d finish an arduous fifteen hour night shift and immediately check your feeds in the locker rooms before his commute home. Or he’d wake up in the morning to see if you’d posted anything new while he’d been asleep, and in his mind it was almost like waking up with you.

But seeing you interviewing one of his close friends had him feeling almost jealous, even though it seemed to just be meeting in a professional capacity. And Bakugou began to wonder why you’d never wanted to interview him, wondering whether you had contacted his PR team and been rejected or if he was in the pipeline for one. It was that moment when he decided that he was going to follow your socials, and he pathetically hoped you’d notice.

And if you didn’t notice, the internet certainly did. New tweets and screenshots appearing everywhere about the OfficialDynamight Twitter now following your account. Fans speculating whether it was his PR team that had made the connection, or the Pro-Hero himself— but something that everyone seemed to agree on was that an interview with you both was long overdue.

Of course, you’d noticed that the OfficialDynamight account had followed you almost instantly. Checking the notification to see whether it was actually his account, or just another fan-made one. Noticing the blue tick to signal that it was real, it was really him. Trying to calm your racing heart down and convince yourself (like the rest of the internet) that it was just his PR team and not the number two hero. Of course, you’d kept your crush on the Hero mostly secret. Alluding to it in a couple of interviews with Pinky and Burnin’. Interviews that had become a lot more fun and gossipy than the usual news that your company wanted you to report on, ignoring the set questions and talking about love and relationships. But you’d never specifically admitted to your crush, even though the internet continued to speculate.

So when you find out that the Dynamight PR team have responded to you with the approval for your interview request, you’re internally freaking out. Not only because you’re going to be interviewing your favorite Pro-Hero, the man you’ve had a crush on ever since he hit the top fifty. But you have all the pressure on your shoulders to make the interview good, because Dynamight interviews really are like gold dust. And the one thing on your mind is trying to find out is who he has a crush on. Remembering the charity gala interview he did when the little girl asked if he liked anyone.

But you didn’t expect his answer to be you.

#but can you imagine doing chicken shop dates with him🥺#and he’s just laughing at the dumb shit you come up with while eating his chicken and chips #and he’s so casually flirty except he doesn’t even REALISE he’s being flirty??? like it’s just so natural to him #bakugou x reader #soft Bakugou

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avelera · 9 months

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The Doylist Argument for Crowley Being An Important Angel (Pre-Fall)

So I just read a great essay on all the arguments for why Crowley is Raphael by @cyan-cirby and rather than subjecting them to attaching my long-winded additions directly onto their post, figured I'd make my own.

(As a quick aside, I do think Crowley was probably Raphael specifically. It's just too big of an omission of archangels that People Have Actually Heard Of to include Gabriel and Michael, and then jump to lesser known archangel names like Uriel, then totally obscure names like Sandalphon while skipping Raphael, a goddamn Ninja Turtle of well-known archangel names. And I don't think Crowley was Lucifer because Satan is already a character and Neil point-blank said Satan and Lucifer are the same person, otherwise it's too confusing (never mind other evidence like that Crowley referred to Lucifer in the 3rd person in S1, but I digress).)

Anyway! There's plenty of fantastic essays like the one I shared above that go into the fresh new Season 2 evidence for why Crowley was Raphael or at the very least important and high-ranked before he Fell. But I'm a fresh (and still primarily) denizen of the other Neil Gaiman Recent TV Show Adaptation of The Sandman so I want to delve into why Crowley was An Important Angel because that's just how Gaiman writes.

- Crowley is the more Gaiman-y of the two characters and Aziraphale the more Pratchett-y. I’m not making this up from nothing, Pratchett and Gaiman have taken photos and done promotions for the Good Omens book where they modeled themselves that way and basically cosplayed those characters respectively.

- I'm a Pratchett Super Fan first and foremost and can say with some authority that Pratchett tends to write Normal People. Even his Special People are Normal People who have to put their socks on one at a time in the morning. However, his Normal People do Special Things. That's the point. He truly believes, deep down in his bones, in equality and it shows in his portrayal of his protagonists as normal people who rise to an extraordinary occasion.

-Aziraphale is Pratchett's angel in Good Omens and it follows from that that Aziraphale is a Normal Angel doing extraordinary things (defying Heaven’s will to save the world). It aligns with Pratchett's general writerly sensibilities that his angel who saves the world is just a normal low-ranked angel, nothing special by birth, who is fussy and imperfect but nevertheless rises to the challenge to do incredible things in a comedic way. That's how Pratchett's protagonists work.

- Gaiman writes Special People. Dream/Morpheus and the other Endless are born Special People. Rose in Sandman learns she is born Special. Shadow in American Gods learns he was born Special.

- Gaiman very often writes about protagonists who are mythological and/or magical and thus who are super powerful by birth. They are generally only limited either by their own emotional immaturity or by Cosmic Rules.

-Gaiman has also, on more than one occasion, inserted a character who rather resembles him and mirrors his sartorial choices of wearing all black into the story as a protagonist and then made them a Cool Character. Not a criticism, just sayin’, Dream/Morpheus and Crowley come from the same era in his career.

My point is, Crowley is the Gaiman character so, in my opinion, especially when you combine this hunch with the new lore additions in S2, there are some past authorial choices and sensibilities that lead me to believe that with sole creative control of Crowley’s arc and character background, as well Pratchett’s tacit collaborator blessing since this is Gaiman’s Character, we’re going to see a default to old habits and a continuation of this trend because authors are people and they tend to have their way of doing things.

Which is why I think we're going to learn that Crowley Is Special By Birth (being an archangel), super overpowered (like Dream), and only limited in achieving what he wants by Cosmic Rules and being emotionally stunted.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #spoilers #good omens meta #crowley #the sandman

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

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Hey I'm not too sure whether you are open for requests but I'll just leave it here anyway because I just absolutely LOVE the way you write mythical creatures and demons. (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥ Each and every one of your works were just devoured by me in mere hours after I found your profile. ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

Especially the one with Chase the tentacle monster. Yum. (͡⁠°⁠‿⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)✨

So I was wondering if it would be possible to write a drabble or smut of a yandere maedar. They are a bit lesser known Greek mythical creatures and are basically the male versions of gorgons. (Just in case you didn't know)

The fact about their loyalty to their mates is what made me wonder about them.

I had never heard of these before you sent this, but I love the idea of a male version of a gorgon. I immediately got attached to the idea of Rohan having tattoos on his head of snakes in honor of his sisters, which then made me visualize him as this total pierced up sort of biker badass! Thanks for sending me this, it's so interesting to do unique monsters.

Maeder (Rohan) x female reader

Word Count: almost 3k

W: nsfw monster smut, vaginal sex, some bullying and brief discussion of suicide, mention of yandere activities

“Rohan, stop hissing at him,” you chided your security guard.

“Hsssss!” he hissed louder, bearing his fangs this time.

The skinny man in the suit holding an 8.5x11 glossy of you with your cello might have pissed himself and practically tripped over his own feet running away.

Rohan was a pretty intimidating visage, that’s why your mother/manager had hired him to be your security guard. At eight feet tall and probably 500 lbs, the Maeder had a bald head covered with writhing tattoos of snakes bearing their fangs.

Venom dripped from their teeth, a vivid gold compared to his gray skin. Gold studs pierced his face above his eyebrow and a gold septum piercing hung in his nose. He didn’t look like the type of guy you wanted to fuck with.

You swatted his arm and his gold, reptilian eyes flicked to you.

“My job is security Miss (Y/N),” he growled, “these groupies are dangerous.”

“I think they are just harmless fans,” you assured him, rolling your eyes.

He grunted. Rohan didn’t think anyone was harmless, except maybe you. He saw the sick letters you got from psychos when he went through your mail. Any one of these “harmless fans” could be a serious threat. Your phone rang and you sighed, answering it.

“Hello mother,” you said, tightly into the phone.

“Where was your head at (Y/N)?” she snapped, “you won't get another sponsorship with that kind of performance. Have you been out partying too much?”

You huffed.

“Mother, you know where I’ve been…all I ever do is practice,” you grumbled at her as you made your way through the back of the concert hall with Rohan leading the way.

He guided you to a sleek limousine and helped you in. You always felt bad for how he had to crouch in these things to fit, but your mother ordered the cars and she didn’t take his comfort into consideration.

“Ugh,” you groaned, crumpling once you were inside. You loved the cello, but you hated the celebrity of it all. Your mother was a marketing genius and had helped you build a fabulous career, but now you wished you could just work on movie soundtracks at home instead of these public recitals she made you do. She wanted to expand your career, make you into a pop star or something.

You’d recorded two solo albums, composed the soundtrack to a popular video game, and appeared on the cover of a popular ladies’ magazine. Still, as successful as she’d made you, you didn’t get the scheme. You were just a nerdy girl who was good at one thing, playing the cello, not some flashy celebrity. You weren’t exceptionally gorgeous or crazy fit like she seemed to want you to be.

“Well you aren’t practicing enough,” she snapped, “and what are you eating? You look like a pig! I’m hiring you another trainer, that asshole obviously isn’t doing his job.”

You rubbed your eyes, probably smearing makeup all over your cheeks, but you didn’t care. Listening to her talk was like melting your face with an iron.

“Are you on your way home?” she snarled, “make sure you put some ice on your face before you go to sleep. You had bags under your eyes. You can’t go out there looking like a trash bin, (Y/N). I’ve got you an appointment scheduled for Botox next week and then we’ll start looking into a boob job.”

You put the phone on the car seat and closed your eyes, ignoring her prattling. She was going on about Botox options and body shaping. There was nothing wrong with your face and you didn’t need to go on a diet or get surgery. You needed to figure out how to unlink yourself from being your mother’s project. Maybe she could manage a celebrity puppy…though you hated to put anyone, even a dog, through her version of management. She’d probably make the puppy get leg lengthening surgery or something.

At some point Rohan just hit the red button to end the call. She’d go on for a while without even noticing you’d hung up if she ever noticed at all. Usually she just gave you some curt order about your diet or skincare routine before hanging up herself. You shot him a grateful glance.

“She’s just using you, you know,” he said, fiddling with a knife at his knee.

He was always so stoic except when he had something to say, which wasn’t often. Then he was nervous, even though his voice was deep and commanding.

“I know…but all this wouldn’t exist without her,” you said, waving vaguely at the expensive dress you were wearing, the limousine, your $10,000 cello, and even him, “It’s kind of a trade, isn’t it?”

He frowned.

“Usually trades are consensual,” he growled, waving back at you, “all this wouldn’t exist without you.”

“Mmm,” you said, “I guess. I could leave if I wanted, but where would I go?”

He snorted.

“You can’t actually,” he smiled darkly, “why do you think I’m paid so much?”

You looked at him blankly.

“What? My mother is paying you to keep me from running away?” you asked.

He nodded, his eyes trained on you, reading your expression.

“You’re her golden goose,” he said, “she was worried you’d fall in love with some tech mogul and want to quit. You’re the talented, beautiful genius, you’ll be just fine, but what about her? To keep her living in the way she’s grown accustomed to, she hired me to handle those sorts of things. Discourage suitors…report back to her on your relationships…Get rid of anyone who gets too close…all of that.”

He pulled out his phone and held up a screen with a notepad app full of dates and times.

“I’m supposed to be collecting data on your emotional state so she can use it to declare you unfit to manage your own estate,” he went on.

Your eyes widened.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked.

He shrugged and didn’t say anything else, looking away and shoving his phone back in his pocket. You glanced out the window at the city going by and frowned, tears pricking your eyes. Though you were hurt and felt betrayed, you didn’t get to be a nationally acclaimed cellist because you were weak of spirit. You took a deep breath and looked out the window, centering yourself.

“So I’ve really been a prisoner all along,” you murmured, seeing the tall buildings blurring together as prison bars, “aren’t you afraid now that I know, I’ll try to get away?”

He barked out a somber laugh and you supposed that was your answer. He was paid to make sure that didn’t happen and just by looking at him you could tell there wasn’t much hope.

Rohan pulled off his jacket and covered you with it as you made your way into your building to avoid the flashing lights of the few paparazzi posted outside. By your mother’s standards, you looked horrible. If she saw you on some blog with makeup smeared all over your face she would have a conniption fit.

For a moment you were surrounded with the scent of him and his cologne. He smelled a bit spicy. When you reached the top floor you wandered out onto your balcony, kicking your heels off behind you and looking out over the city. It was hard to feel like a prisoner up here, looking down at the rooftops. You leaned out, clutching the balustrade and took a deep breath in.

Thick warm hands, suddenly wrapped around you and you started.

“Don’t jump,” Rohan’s deep voice rumbled in your ear.

You spat out a dry laugh.

“You thought I was going to kill myself?” you rasped, “don’t you think it would serve you right, watching me throw myself off the building after what you just told me? You’re my jailor, after all.”

He turned you around to look at you, tipping your face up and his lips came down on yours, hungry and desperate.

“You're a fool if you think I’m just going to let her have you,” he growled an inch away from your face, “you’re mine (Y/N).”

His mouth smashed back into yours, one heavy hand holding you to him by your waist and the other wound in your hair so tightly you couldn’t move. You could only accept his kiss and moan into his mouth.

This was…unexpected…but not unwelcome. You’d always found Rohan to be attractive, he was just so serious you never thought he even considered sex. You’d never seen his eyes follow another man or woman except with a look of distrust in them. He was handsome so people threw themselves at him all the time, but he never seemed the slightest bit moved, always focused intensely on you.

The big hand on your waist drifted over your ass, cupping and squeezing the flesh. It slid further down and you let out a squeal, when he pulled you up to his chest, pulling your legs around his waist.

You dragged your lips away from him just a half an inch and whispered into his mouth.

“What is this? We shouldn’t be doing this,” you gasped, “you work for my mother.”

You were confused. He was your jailor, you shouldn’t be giving in to his advances. He chuckled and kissed you, pressing his tongue between your lips and twining it with yours. When he pulled away you were only aware of his words and his flavor, sweet cinnamon.

“I’m gonna fuck you against this window and then I’m gonna take you away from here.”

Before you could respond his thick hand jerked your dress down, snapping the thin spaghetti straps that held it up and letting your breasts pop out. He pulled your chest to his head and his mouth latched on to your nipple, kissing and suckling.

“Ahhh!” you wailed, surprised by the sudden hot, wet contact.

“Y-you sh-shouldn’t…” you tried to insist.

His mouth popped off your nipple for just a second.

“Then tell me to stop,” he growled, his nose brushing the flesh.

You just looked at him for a moment, but couldn’t bring the words to your lips. It felt too good. It didn’t matter what happened after this, you just wanted him.

He smirked and went back to laving your nipples with his tongue, pressing your back against the cool glass behind you. The only thing that came out of your mouth were moans and his name.

You felt his thick fingers fumbling with your panties until you heard a long rip. Pushing you further up the window, he shimmied your dress up your hips and attacked your pussy with long wet laps. His split tongue played with your clit and your legs instinctively wrapped around his head, pulling him closer as he drove you wild with his agile appendage.

Propped on his shoulders, he speared your cunt with his fingers. You were already soaking wet and your juices dribbled down his wrist as he pumped his digits inside of you mercilessly.

Screaming your channel clenched down on his fingers as you came with them inside. Colors flashed in your eyes and your hands clung to his head, nails making crescent dents on his skin. Pulling back, he grinned at you and spun you around to face the window.

“Do you know how many times I’ve watched you prancing around this fucking penthouse in those little booty shorts you wear, wanting to take you right here?” he growled, “I should have marked off the spot with chalk for how many times I jerked myself off, thinking about fucking you against this window. And as much as I loved rubbing one out over your pretty lips while you were sleeping, I’m gonna make this cunt mine for good.”

As alarming as that should have been, his glowing golden eyes reflected in the glass in front of you and his hot breath in your ear made your pussy leak even more at the admission and your clit sparkled with need.

He grabbed the back of your head, his fat fingers digging into your hair, and held your face against the cool glass while he freed his cock from his pants. You screamed his name as he impaled you with it in one smooth stroke, not even trying to hold back.

You had no idea but Rohan needed to take you like this. He needed to ruin you for anyone else. He’d been watching you for a year, obsessing over you, planning and plotting how he was going to take his mate. He would have already killed your mother if he thought it would get him any closer to having you. Instead he’d been collecting information on her and feeding it to lawyers he’d hired to make sure your interests were well represented.

He held you in the air with little effort, your arms and legs dangling as he pulled back and slammed into you again, all the while holding your head into the window. He’d pinned you against the glass so he wouldn't bruise your cheek as he took you as hard as he needed to. Though you felt like he was going to snap you in half each time he powered into you, your back arched.

From the edge of your vision you could see the glittering lights of the city sparkling below you. Your fingers pressed against the smooth surface because there was nothing else to hold on to as he slammed into you over and over again. Drool and your black mascara were streaking the glass.

You howled with every stroke, having never been stretched by someone so large before. His cock was long and thick, filling you to the brim and pounding your walls mercilessly.

“Fuck, babygirl, that’s it,” he groaned loudly, grunting like an animal as he thrust in and out of you, “you’re so fucking tight.”

Soon he was just growling “mine” and your name over and over again while he rutted you. You gasped and sobbed, your eyes crossed as his dick battered your G-spot.

With your pussy gushing around him, he jerked you back against his chest forcing you down over his cock a few more times before he emptied himself into you, grunting your name. The thread holding you together snapped and you orgasmed to his hot cum flooding you, barely noticing the sharp pain at your neck, where he bit you.

When he slipped out of you, he pulled you into a princess hold, folding his head down at the neck and nuzzling the bite.

“Wh-what was th-that?” you stammered.

It wasn’t bad, just unexpected.

“My mating bite,” he murmured, his voice a grumble rolling in your ear, “you’re mine.”

Your heart fluttered at that. Again, this was all so unexpected, but you didn’t find yourself upset…In fact you felt safe and supported. Like someone was finally on your team. Maybe that was foolish to assume, but as he carried you to your bedroom, you found yourself snuggling your face into his shoulder and sighing happily.

He stroked your hair as he climbed into your king sized bed with you still tucked in his arms. Arranging himself against the headboard he watched you fall asleep in his arms, gazing in awe at the bite on your neck you’d so easily accepted. Honestly, he’d worried you’d cry and fight and he’d wondered if he would have been able to hold himself back.

Your soft submission in that moment was so much sweeter and tied him to you more tightly than anything you could ever say would.

When you woke from your nap, he was going to help you pack your things to take you to a safe house where you could stay while you filed criminal charges against your mother for fraud. You were Rohan’s mate and he didn’t want to see you used as your mother’s meal ticket.

Even if legal means didn’t work, he would find illegal ones to accomplish his task. If you wanted to write soundtracks or albums or do nothing at all, he was going to keep you safe and secure till the day you died.

#monster x girl #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster smut #monster romance #x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #yandere smut #yandere male #yandere x reader

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lifeandlies-of-regulusblack · 22 days

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no bc you’re absolutely right about the wrongful foiling of Regulus! Book wise? Sirius to made himself larger than life. He was outwardly charming, bold, basically ‘affable’ in comparison to others in his family because he wasn’t well liked at home for his different ideas on pure blood status. Not only that he was socialized by other Gryffindors to BE proud of his different ideas, leaning into the informal self image rather than what House Black members (book wise) usually present themselves as. Sirius is the anomalous odd one like his Uncle Alphard. Regulus was perfectly in line and proper by his own family’s brief accounts until the Kreacher incident and that is all we’re afforded to truly confirm. Sorry about the rant but this plagues me too often sorry 😭

AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. okay. okay. first of all, thank you for talking to me about this, because i'm so glad i'm not the only one ://

now, on to real business :) this is going to a ridiculously long because i have feelings!!!! and it's 1) frustration 2) frustration and 3) frustration!

See, I think this mainly comes from three reasons: the need to spark contrast between the two, the general lack of canon knowledge in the fandom, and the sad attempt to squeeze regulus in what little space is left in the fandom as much of what is fanon, revolves around established headcanons for sirius (regulus' rise to popularity is very much a new thing. he had fans before but trust that it was nowhere near how it is today.)

the fourth secret thing, is the fandom's general tendency to cling to established fanon dynamics like a chastity cage on a particularly swollen dick. and this time, it's regulus being the runt of the black family.

on the matter of contrast

this is so silly to me, because isn't there already contrast between the two? Regulus being the favored child takes absolutely nothing from Sirius' canon charisma, intelligence, and popularity in school. and anon, YOU'RE SO RIGHT about Sirius trying extra hard to fit in at school out of a need to seek attention, approval, and praise because of how it's like at home. Plus the fact that this is done through loudly putting himself against his family. Sirius being the black sheep is such an integral part of what fuels his decisions, explaining the somewhat feral manner in which it manifests. almost crazed. why? because sirius is a hurt and traumatized teenager!!!!!! he has a developmental deficit (emotional and social) that he's still trying to fill, because their home was shit.

nowhere was it ever mentioned that regulus was so unliked by his family nor his slytherin peers because they saw him as lesser than. especially "lesser than sirius." in fact, the opposite was said.

a more accurate contrast between the two would've been about how regulus was a perfect student and how sirius was known for being a marauder. Regulus pulled people in the same way all Blacks do (coolly and with an existence that screams of an implied threat) alongside being the proud heir of an ancient house, while Sirius was making people pay attention to him through sheer spite and will to be heard after being ignored for so long. People would've been getting whiplash from the two, night and day. That regulus made following rules look like a calling, like being a lord to a house was something people were supposed to watch him do, and they fucking watched because they couldn't look away. While sirius could walk in a room full of people and you'd never know what he'd do, but you stay in your fucking seat because whatever it is, it's something you have to see -- you look around and everyone is doing the same thing. People would be holding their breaths for the black brothers but for entirely different reasons.

Regulus never would've made a point to be popular nor aim for the same kind of popularity. He was more probably a social icon for Slytherin, especially, since people were paying attention to the choices old, pureblooded families were making. Slytherin most, especially.

on the general lack of canon knowledge

yeah, at this point, no one wants to read the books anymore (that's genuinely the author's fault) and the movies are what most people know and can be bothered to know. not to mention the disdain for "canon".

there's also this stupid fucking take within the marauders fandom, that apparently everything is pure headcanon. but there's a difference between filling in a lot of the blanks that canon leaves and straight up denying anything ever existed for anyone to look up or research.

fact: there's appallingly little of what's written in the books regarding the marauders era characters. there are some, who were merely mentioned by name or seen in photographs.

bullshit: everything is headcanon. we know nothing about them and there's nothing to know about them.

fact: sirius was a popular student, while regulus was the favorite child of the family.

bullshit: sirius is all the good in their family, while regulus was born a loser and was from the start unwanted and unloved.

and it's funny how i've seen multiple blogs write about people trying to make regulus look cool, and it being an attempt to make, a "discount sirius". and this, apparently, is canon (kiss my dick the lot of you, kiss my phat phucking dick).

on established headcanons about sirius

yeah, i don't think people have been wanting to write about how sirius is in anyway inferior to regulus for much of this fandom's existence. he's a core four member. I mean -- M . W. P. P.

he's arguably the most popular character in the fandom, with his most well-known traits being beautiful, charismatic, and widely popular.

so how do you make sense of his home life? how could he NOT be wanted? how does one make this case, sirius friendly? well, you make him the TRUE favorite. make it so that his little brother? yeah, the nobody? was born as a spare.

sirius was the true favorite until he wasn't, and when he left, their parents were the most miserable human beings on earth for having lost the perfect heir, leaving them with a defunct child without a spine. Make it so that sirius was the ~son who got away~

sirius becomes the cool brother and regulus, the loser.

you have a fandom established dynamic between the two, where this just recently popular brother has to fit around the larger fandom headcanons surrounding sirius, where most are an attempt to smooth over the reality of his childhood. in the end, i think it became more important to make sirius as this better brother in all aspects compared to 'poor regulus' who never got an ounce of attention in his life.

i'm not saying that most people are doing this actively BUT, the headcanons that have stuck are largely due to the fact that the marauders fandom, in general, has had years to establish headcanons that work in sirius' favor (because regulus hasn't been as popular as he is now), and the general want of an overwhelming majority to have sirius simply be more than, compared to his brother.

this mixes so very well with a good number of people rioting about every single trait they think belongs solely to sirius, that must never be associated with regulus.

faced with a fandom that would rather off themselves than read the books... well, we're stuck with fanon tropes.

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

NOW, this isn't some tall order to make people stop writing what they want to write nor is it meant to be condescending for people who like this fanon dynamic.

this is just me saying that i abhor said dynamic. DYNAMIC, not sirius. (read it again, if you're feeling like a keyboard warrior). for people who actually like regulus, it's perfectly understandable and VALID to feel pissed when he's been delegated to this weak, wet tissue character in favor of sirius. like, it's okay to feel pissed when you see your fave's canon story be torn apart and pieced back together as a skewed embellishment for another character's sake, AND to have this be the general fandom attitude to a canon-averse community that will never really know what's fanon or not.

lastly, what this post is not: an attempt to put regulus over sirius, or say how he's the better character. i'm merely pointing out character inconsistencies. at no point did i say regulus good; sirius bad.

TLDR: i hate how regulus has been made out to be this loser brother, because it's not even true especially when there's so many ways to strike up a contrast between them, that doesn't result in completely ruining him for sirius' sake. (The only time i soldier on when this is the dynamic, is when the story is morgan's. That's it.)

#regulus black #sirius black #the black brothers #marauders era #sirius and regulus #regulus headcanon #black brothers #hp marauders #marauders fic #my writing

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accio-victuuri · 6 months

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i posted about this moment of yibo with his fellow starry oceans “classmates” and apparently more stuff happened later. this group/project was actually an effort by the golden rooster awards wherein veteran members of c-ent will refer young actors/actresses to be included. they will get to go to the event among other things and really, to represent the future of chinese cinema. but as we all know — yibo is a cut above the rest not only because of his popularity, but he is already nominated for an award that night. two things i wanna focus on. apart from him being at the center of the class photo.

1. Deng Chao actually came in at some point to engage with them. He cued WYB, asking him to give a small speech but WYB refused gracefully. You can say that it’s because he isn’t fond of speaking but I realized it’s more than that. He doesn’t want to hog the spotlight this time. He probably knows how his name was the only mentioned in one of the press release for it. Plus he already came in “late” so he doesn’t want to act more of a “star” even if he has the right to.

He wants to give other people a chance. He’s not some fame hungry celebrity who will jump at every chance to make himself the center of attention. At this time in his career, he actually understands what this program was about. To bring attention to lesser known actors/actresses so they can shine too. Even if some of these people will probably willingly or not stab him in the back at some point— he is still very generous and wanted them to get their moment. I always say that WYB is a good boy and this is what I mean by that. It’s easy to be good when everything is fine and dandy. But for someone like WYB who’s fielding fans and antis, he still chooses to be kind and focus on his work.

It’s what really sets him apart. It’s who he is as a person. You can be the most handsome, well dressed, best in acting, most popular — but you can’t fake what is already natural for WYB. He is genuinely a good person. I could never. Honestly. He is too good for this industry.

2. There are talks about him dashing off and leaving early. He only did this after telling Deng Chao ( to those who don’t know him, short answer is he is a senior in the movie industry ) about it. He was also very smiley and courteous while doing it. Plus we all know how busy his schedule. Even arriving at his hotel, tons of people were waiting for him.

to some, this may seem like he is acting like a diva but it reminds me of when he said that his time is not his own. one can only imagine how coordinated his schedule must be so he can give his attention to everything that needs it. 🤍

#wang yibo #hahahahaha sorry i’m not done with being an obnoxious yibo stan #i can’t turn it off

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lunarwritesthings · 1 year

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Tears Are Natural

Paring: Husband!Gerard x Gn!Reader

Fandom: My Chemical Romance

Request: Yes, by anon

Summary: Gerard has an extremely rough day but the reader is there to comfort him.

Prompts: #34 "You look like you could use a hug.", #31 "Just breathe.", #35 "Let it all out...I'm here for you.", #32 "I'm okay, you're okay, we're okay."(they are used in that order.)

Note: Husband Gee because I feel like he's an amazing, adorable husband. also, I hope Gerard anon likes this :)

Life. Everyone has experienced it, but for some, it was easy. For others, it was quite the opposite. Having a lot of ups and downs. For one Gerard Way, life had a lot of ups and downs.

A few of the ups were well-known. Those being his brother and two best friends, the band, and the fans. A lesser known up, due to mutual agreement was you. You were one of if not the best up in Gerard's life. Now that doesn't mean his life didn't have downs.

That leads to the current day. It was a day that was not at all going well for Gerard. Gerard was well aware that the day was not going to be a good one. How? He simply knew by the way he woke up with no real energy to do much.

Now, of course, Gerard tried to push it aside and tried to be productive. He had comics and songs he needed to work on, but he was not in the best mood to write. Mental health is a very normal thing and something Gee has openly talked about struggling with. That doesn't mean he'll always talk when it's affecting him and his day.

You always made sure Gee need you were there for him regardless of what he might need. You never minded calming his worries and comforting him. It was just hard to do this when at times Gee could be stubborn and put himself into his work. Now he never really liked the work he did on a bad day and would end up redoing another day anyway.

You had a feeling something was off with Gee. Yes, he was a quiet person but he'd still say good morning and see if you had any plans. Simply but it was Gee's way of showing he cared about your morning and day even if he wasn't always awake enough to process what you were saying.

Another and probably the biggest sign was him going to his office and locking himself in there. Gee only did that when he was having an off day and "didn't want to make you deal with it" as he would say, you would always tell him you had no problem being there even if it was just as a shoulder to cry on.

As the day when on Gerard was getting more stressed, anxious, and overworked. Gerard was trying to put more energy than he had into his work but it wasn't going well which only adds to his day. Gee had no idea how much time had passed nor knew how long he'd been sitting in his office staring at a half-drawn comic page.

Another thing Gerard didn't realize was the panic attack that was slowly coming. He didn't realize what had been going on until he heard the office door open. Standing there leaning against the door was you. Gee was definitely not prepared for what you were about to say.

"You look like you could use a hug." It was said with a knowing look. Gee sighed and nodded he could deny his feelings any longer. Gee didn't even realize that he was starting to panic until you had said "Just breathe." Normally Gerard would unknowingly say everything when this happened how he had tried to pretend that he was okay longer than normal so trying to talk and think about everything made him more stressed.

Everything Gerard was feeling hit him in one big wave, and all he could do was break down and all you could do is hug him. It comforted Gerard to hear you being accepting of it. "Let it all out...I'm here for you." A simple sentence that brought a lot of comfort to Gerard.

Once Gerard had calmed down quite a bit you pulled him away from the hug slightly and took any worry left in his mind away by telling him "I'm okay, you're okay, we're okay." It was something that he truly needed to hear.

You had managed to get him out of his office and back to the bedroom where you told him to get comfortable while you grabbed his favorite food and drinks. When you got back to the bedroom the first thing you saw was Gee cuddling into the blanket, clearly waiting for you.

After setting when you had brought to the room on the bedside table you laid down next to Gerard who immediately cuddled into your side. It was obvious that Gee was tired, so you played with his hair knowing it would make him fall asleep and it did. At the end of the day, all that truly matted was tomorrow was a new and fresh start.

#gerard way fanfic #gerard way x reader #gerard way #mcr gerard #gerard way fluff

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bathomet-writes · 1 year

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siblings!!

summary: When Mutation Day rolls around, you take it upon yourself as the youngest turtle sibling to get all your brothers the perfect gifts tailored to each and every one of them!

relationship: Platonic Turtles x F!Turtle Reader

warnings: platonic, fluff, humor, headcanons

author's note: for @/snipersiniora!! 💕

As the lesser known and youngest teenage mutant ninja turtle, there wasn't much expected of you. It annoyed you to no end. Not that your family looked down on you necessarily, they just didn’t think you were very…skilled.

“Just let us handle it!” Raph would say.

“Don’t sweat so much about tonight’s mission.” Leo smirked, ruffling the top of your head.

Mikey and Donnie were a little less condescending than the others, but they still treated you like the littlest. Which you were, but it was still infuriating. It didn’t really help that you were a bit of an outlier among your family as the lone female turtle.

You sigh, spinning around your tactical umbrella.

“Maybe it’s my weapon? I do kinda look like Mary Poppins with this thing.” You frown.

It was a relatively normal-looking umbrella, but there was a hidden sword sheathed into the handle. It was always fun seeing the look on your enemy’s faces when you revealed just how secretly deadly it was. They immediately underestimated you, making unconscious assumptions.

Shaking your head, you focus up. You didn’t have time to mope around thinking about yourself, not when you had birthday gifts to find! Well, Mutation Day gifts. You had everything all planned out, taking the time to come up with the perfect gift ideas for all your pesky older brothers. They really didn’t deserve such excellent treatment, but you were the bigger turtle.

You honestly loved giving people gifts. It made you happy seeing other people happy. Maybe you were secretly a little selfish, getting some sick kick out of going above and beyond with your gift-giving. Maybe now was your chance to one-up your siblings, at least in a small, friendly way.

“Let’s do this!” You drop off of the rooftop you were perched on, dropping down to the city below.

mikey:

You knew Mikey was still a big fan of Meat Sweats

For some reason...

You never really got him, even though you and Mikey were kind of the un-official 'younger twins'

To the uninformed observer, you two looked and acted practically exactly the same

You were both pretty upbeat, caring, and prone to wild acts of gymnastics

But you had a bit more of a stubborn personality

Not stubborn, just determined!

It was your determination that was going to get you Mikey's gift

After some cursory online research, you were able to find Rupert Swaggart's cookbook/autobiography

That probably would have been a good enough gift, but you wanted to go a step further

It takes a bit of cajoling (maybe a little physical violence) but you manage to hunt down Meat Sweats and get him to sign your copy of his book

leo:

Gift giving for Leo was pretty straightforward

As long as it had something to do with him, it'd be perfect

He never shut up about the fact that he was a Battle Nexus Champion, so you figure something to do with that would be the way to go

...Now, all you had to do was think of what that would be exactly

An award perhaps? Maybe an old bowling trophy with his name plastered on the front

Good, but you could do better

Strolling through the Hidden City, you searched around for some kind of inspiration

There were dozens of vendors and booths selling trinkets, it was practically a treasure trove of gift ideas

It was when you pass by an alley when you see it...

Among the sea of torn-up flyers and advertisements, you spot a poster with Leo's likeness

Running toward it, you get a better look

It's some kind of fan-made screen print! It showed Leo standing confidently in the middle of a battlefield, Lou Jitsu costume and all

It actually made him look good, like a real badass

You couldn't pass up such a beautiful piece of art

Ripping it off the wall, you accidentally tear the left corner a bit

"Whoops..." You sweat, rubbing at the thin paper

Oh well, it would just have to do

donnie:

Donatello had many 'eccentric' hobbies

One of which was chemistry (AKA building weapons of mass destruction)

You knew Donnie was itching to get his grubby little hands on some Uranium, but you wrote that gift idea off immediately

"Where do you even buy something like that? The army surplus store? The black market?"

You decide to consult your sort-of-dad Baron Draxum, he had all kinds of crazy connections

Begrudgingly, he admits that he might...have access to Uranium

"I only have a little bit. It's well within my rights." He insists

After a while, you convince him to 'let you borrow' some

You wrap it up in a cute gift box with a nice ribbon

No one would suspect that there's dangerous chemicals in it! It looked so cute and unassuming!

You sneak into Donnie's lab while he's out on a mission and place it on his desk next to his computer set-up

You knew someone (probably Raph) would confiscate it from him at some point, but it was the thought that counts

raph:

Thankfully, you already had the perfect thing to give to Raph

It was a couple of weeks ago...

You frequented a local antique store, it was fun looking at all the weird human artifacts and knick knacks

One day, you just so happen to come across a Ghost Bear plush!

And it was HUGE! Almost as big as your head!

It must have been some old merch from when he was still human by the looks of it

Looking at the price tag, you cringe

"Ooohhh, that's...that's a pretty penny."

Silently, you debate with yourself

You knew Raph loved Ghost Bear, and plushes...

You would just have to ask Splinter for a little extra allowance next month

Cleaning out your wallet, you buy it

"That guy owes me big time." You smirk

Finally, you get all your gifts (minus Donnie's) together and present them on Mutation Day. To no one's surprise, your gifts are all happily accepted.

Mikey sniffled, bringing you into a tight hug. "I have Meat Sweats' autograph! He actually touched this book, with his own two hooves!"

Leo was rendered speechless, unrolling the Battle Nexus Poster. You chuckle, taking his silence as your proof that you gave him exactly what he was looking for.

"Don't worry, I already gave you your gift," you whisper, winking at Donnie.

You give each other secretive nods, but not before Raph makes a mental note to check up on Donnie later. You two were always up to no good.

He almost gets lost in his own thoughts before you nudge Raph his present.

"Here! I saw this and knew you just had to have it."

"Aww, you didn't have to--" He smiles, tearing open the wrapping.

Once he sees the plush face of Ghost Bear looking back at him, Raph immediately gets choked up. His eyes widen and start to water, bringing the plush up to eye-level.

"How did you find this? I thought they were all discontinued!"

Laughing, you do a little spin on your toes. "I knew it, I knew you'd love it! I found it at the pawn shop up top.

Before Raph can get too emotional, he collects himself and calls the rest of the turtles over.

"These are all amazing, and all we got you was..."

You peek over his shoulder as he motions over to the center of the lair. Sitting next to the skate ramp and workout equipment was some kind of long bench. When did that get there?

Walking over, you get a better look. It was, from what you can tell, an old gymnastics bar used for balancing.

You run your fingers along the side and marvel at it. "Is this for me?"

"Well, duh!" Leo smiles. "We tried finding one of those asymmetrical bar things for you to flip off of and stuff, but we sorta--"

"Donnie broke it moving it down here." Mikey cut in, eyeing Donnie up and down.

Sighing, Donnie shoves Mikey aside. "I told you to pivot, and you didn't pivot!"

Shushing his other brothers, Raph steps forward. "The point it is: We know we can be kinda a handful, and you don't always get the same treatment. But, we wanted to do something nice for you."

You beam, watching them come in to squeeze you into a big group hug. You agree, they could be a lot sometimes. But, they were your family. And you wouldn't trade them for anything.

"You guys are the best!"

taglist: @saspas-corner

#rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #sfw #mikey x reader #michelangelo x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #leo x reader #leonardo x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #donnie x reader #donatello x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #raph x reader #raphael x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #requests #headcanons

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andromedako · 24 days

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hi hi! so me and my friend sloth (over at @slothpower-central) have been working on a collab video idea, except we need one thing...

theories! (and other such things)

project moon fans, i am asking you very kindly for your theories and such! parallels between characters, speculation on characters, world notes, things you've noticed, impactful moments you feel could be highlighted, anything really!

( however, we would prefer if ship-related theories were not included. this is simply to avoid possible discourse. ) ( we are focusing on limbus company more for the video, but all project moon games/media are open! )

if you have a post relating to it somewhere, please feel free to link it! (that way if we do include it, we can give proper credit somewhere!) or if you want to ramble in the reblogs there, feel absolutely free to!

( in the end, what we want for theories is a good bit of evidence behind them to show off! be sure to show why you believe those theories and such! for facts and tidbits, do prefer lesser known info! i.e, fact that probably aren't noticable at a first or second glance. )

[ note: this post was made after canto 6, and may be revised or remade in the case that new cantos release before we get this done. lol. ]

#emil.rtf #ok to rb #project moon #lobotomy corporation #library of ruina #limbus company #limbus company meta #go wild. go apeshit. i wanna see what you got.#also putting in the tags this will be one of those iceberg-type images so :3 ya kno #i've been waiting for a bit to post this so now is the chance LOL

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andypantsx3 · 9 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

Thank you to @itoshisoup @saetyrn9 and @seravphs for the tags!! I am late and so I apologize if I’ve missed any other tags while I was out!!

I want to say I think this is such a cute idea. I am very proud of how hard I’ve worked on my fics, and I am grateful for the chance to give my Andie director's cut lmfao even if I kind of wanted to curl up like a pill bug writing this.

Um, I think in no particular order, these are my top 5 recs of the moment:

Deceiving the Duke | Shouto x Reader

When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a lady’s maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

I am a huge fan of regency romances and I have incredible respect for them as massive drivers of the romance genre as a whole. So it sort of shocked me when I was talking to Mermie and Cat and we realized we hadn't seen any x Reader regency fics (although I am certain they are out there)!! As much as I love a good pro hero AU (my bread and butter), I really appreciated the chance to try my hand at something that's a little lesser explored in this niche. It's kind of messy in retrospect but I had so much fun working on it that I'll let past Andie off the hook for that.

2. ab intra | Shinsou x Reader

When a wave of disturbing crimes sweep the city, underground hero Hitoshi Shinsou is assigned to work the case with you. What’s even more frustrating than his obnoxious personality is the fact no one will tell you why he’s involved. Things only get more suspicious from there.

This fic was the first time I really sat down and tried my hand at a case fic. I was reading a bunch of Japanese police thrillers at the time, and although my attempt does not measure up, it gave me the tools to understand how to better execute on case fics in the future. Again I really liked trying my hand at something I'm not necessarily good at, because it was fun and I learned a lot. This is probably my most distinct out of all my fics in terms of tone and subject material!!

3. unconventional | Midoriya x Reader

HeroExpo is incredible, and that’s not even counting the really cute hero fanboy you just met. Well, you think he might be cute under that Deku cosplay. It’s hard to tell because it’s really, really good. Like, too good.

I was so nervous to try my hand at Izuku that I actually thought about not publishing this one several times. But this ended up being one of my all-time favorites to write and I get really nostalgic for the time of my life I was in while I was working on this. The fic was so light and fun and such a comfort to write, and to this day I am very touched by how kind people are about Izuku's characterization. It makes me feel really good. 🥺

4. vested interest | Shouto x Reader

You’d just thought Shouto was absent minded, accidentally leaving behind a jacket or a sweater or his vest. You didn’t realize this was a thing. (In which Todoroki Shouto—despite his quirk—has zero chill, and uses his clothes to ward off other men.)

I am probably best known for my Shouto fic if i could keep cool, but vested interest is actually my favorite child!! In retrospect this one is messy too but I had the absolute time of my peddling my little shit Shouto agenda. This fic actually forms the backbone of how I characterize Shouto currently, with just a touch more of spoiled youngest child energy than I had been doing previously. :) Viva la jealous Sho.

5. incendiary | Bakugou x Reader

When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

This is the fic I have worked the hardest on and I am very proud of it (and excited to publish the next chapter when I get back)!! This is my only attempt to tackle an issue of real substance and I am very grateful for the perspective I have been given by my sensitivity readers @cat-slippered and @darkenedniqhts.

I also feel really protective over this one as it got plagiarized and slightly rewritten into something that exploded in popularity and massively outstripped this fic. Though handling that situation was uncomfortable, and this feels like a strange thing to say, it was a good ego check for me. It reminded me that I still have a lot of growing to do as a writer if I want my ideas to be unique and memorable enough that a situation like this won't arise again. I will work hard.

My no pressure tags (and sorry if you've already been tagged!!) @restwellsoon @bobawithpomegranate @darkenedniqhts @cat-slippered @ofmermaidstories @willowser @lorelune @petrichorium @heich0e @sipsteainanxiety @shibaraki @kedsandtubesocks @potionpeddlerpatchy @meggsngrits @coopigeoncoo @crowned-peony @stellamancer @namodawrites @streimiv @ghost-flakes @ghostbeam @kimkaelyn also @procrastination-artist @bluebird-in-the-breeze @acerathia bc I love ur stuff even if I know u have a smaller fic count.

#ur not hallucinating i keep editing to add more ppl i wanna hear talk about their stuff

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sgiandubh · 9 months

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La passante de la Place des Vosges/ The Passerby of the Place des Vosges: in praise of Caitríona Balfe

I have recently discussed, in as much detail as possible without becoming completely boring, S's memoir Waypoints. It is, no doubt, an interesting strategic step, aiming to buy much needed time and respite from unwanted fan attention.

But if there is a memoir I would probably read in a very different, almost sentimental way, that would be hers, not his.

We have an enticing idea of the way she writes, with this lesser known essay published by the totemic NYT just a day shy of her birthday, in 2017: The First Time I Left Home (and Fell in Love), which you can read online right here - https://shorturl.at/uTX12. It is a short, dense piece with a deeply personal, even sentimental, view of Paris in autumn and spring. Something very unusual for the feisty, secretive, almost paranoid C we all know and love (admit it, you do: fair's fair). It immediately grabbed both my attention and highlighter.

Writing about Paris, especially from an Anglo-Saxon/American perspective, is a very tricky affair. So much has been said and done, from Janet Flanner's priceless Letters from Paris and Paris Journal, to Anais Nin, to Edmund White, to Hemingway, to Orwell - just to name the ones that immediately come to mind. In this particular case, we'd be dealing with a nice PR fine tuning detail, with a relatively short lifespan, aiming perhaps to reach a more sophisticated demographic than Twitter banter or a three minutes long Q&A about the current season's antics. But a wonderful detail, nevertheless.

The year is 1998. A young 19-year old Irish model wannabe just landed in the chaotic brouhaha of Roissy Airport and the first contact is brutal, language being a considerable barrier. But before that, we are treated to a masterful bistrot snapshot, with a cheeky, self-deprecating sense of humor. I mean how perfect is this?

Quite a contrast to the dream version back home:

Touché. All the moody young Frenchmen are named Pierre, C. All. Of. Them. As for watching far too many French films, there's always been something very Nouvelle Vague about you, Jeanne Moreau and Jules et Jim & all that, and I have to say this is what I found immediately endearing. I am not talking about Claire Fraser: it is you, emphatically you. The kind of impeccably dressed woman one can find pretending to read Le Monde at Le Café de Flore's terrace in Saint-Germain-des-Prés. The kind of self-evident, celestial creature whose high heels are never heard on any pavement (what is your secret?). Late Jane Birkin didn't even come close, C., mark me. However, red lipstick stains look way better on the rim of a nervously half drunk cup of noisette coffee: but then, that is me.

It was not at all like that, of course, but then something happened just across the street from the Saint-Eustache church, at Quigley's Point, a long gone Irish pub I vaguely remember. Circa 1998, our own boisterous squad used to play darts and get plastered on cheap draft beer and that undignified, syrupy manzana Basque liqueur (idiots, I am telling you, but it was very cheap) at The Bombardier, on the Place du Panthéon, just across the Seine:

Thick brogue, a quick laugh, kind eyes and blonde hair. An interesting combo, for sure. No further comment except well, this is very personal, isn't it? You've said it yourself: sometimes (fun fact: always) the really important people have nothing to do with fantasies. But we know, C, we know.

And then, suddenly, it all falls into place: Stendhal would talk about a crystallization moment. It is that split-second when everything becomes very clear. A pact of sorts occurs and all barriers are lifted. For C, it happened in one of the perfect places of this planet, spare perhaps the Piazza del Campo, in Siena:

No doubt, by tomorrow evening at the latest, I will be crucified by Mordor, but this made me think of that - different setting and context, same type of seminal moment. Draw your own conclusions:

(SRH, Waypoints, Day Four: The Hard Road)

Important things happen, too, Place du Panthéon and this moved me to bits, even if this was not a happy ending. So shamelessly glad it wasn't, by the way:

For (and forgive me for ineptly tinkering with your words) "It’s true, you never forget your first love". And for that man on that random pavement in LA, that will always be you, passerby of the Place des Vosges. The wonder you are, despite anything else: it is perfectly irrelevant.

Jacques Brel says it best, in what is almost a prayer:

youtube

#Youtube

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cloudykaii · 1 year

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little things: txt

the second installment of the little things series.

includes: sixth member of txt

genre: cute, platonic, personal headcanons

you have a significantly different relationship with each of them, but none of them are lesser. it’s very obvious that the six of you have a very deep amount of love and respect for each other, and that doesn’t change. you have been through a lot with the support of each other, and also suffered together. there are so many moments to remember and choose from, but some of them just stick out more than the others.

YEONJUN

i just feel like you and yeoniun have a very funny relationship. He's definitely like your pretend sworn enemy. You'll joke together all the time. His favorite one to tell is that he raised you yet you constantly disrespect him. There is even a viral video of him talking to the camera about how you're his least favorite member because all he's done his best to teach you wrong from right and you just couldn't get it, and then immediately followed by clips him letting you do whatever you want, like putting random clips and pins all over his hair while he's talking.

He's notoriously known for lying about you lol. Notoriously known for pretending he's not soft for you. There are viral videos of things like him yelling about who ate his leftovers and being mad then seconds later soobin tells him it was you and he's just deflating and going, "just ask next time, I'll order you your own fresh."

He's also your favorite to prank yourself. It's always a war; he'll put salt in your drink, you'll saran wrap yeonjun's door so that he has to run through it to leave his room. If anyone ever asks about why yeonjun dyes his hair so much, you always say because you're sneaky and yeonjun doesn't buy his own shampoo. Despite all of that though, whenever anything goes too far, he is always the first to apologize

SOOBIN

Soobin best brother is my favorite agenda. He's very attentive and protective. Possibly a little overbearing but not in a "you can't be around anyone" way. He's just always concerned. He makes sure that even if you say you're fine that you pack a sweater or something when it is cold, always making sure your favorite snacks are stocked up.

He's kind of like your moral compass because he's definitely the one to be like "hey not tonight we have an event in the morning" and definitely makes you take care of yourself, but also, he does in fact lie for you in a heartbeat. one time yeonjun ran into his room covered in whipped cream, "where's y/n, I know she did this" and soobin just patted the pile of pillows under the blanket next to him and shook his head. "sorry to burst your bubble but she's been in here all night"

Coordinates matching outfits with you all the time. You probably steal his clothes claiming they will help in your mission to make your outfit iconic. Which..honestly you could tell him you needed it for any reason and he'd give it to you. Soobin is physically unable to tell you know unless it is a matter of your health. There are lots of videos of you wearing soobin's jacket whenever the stylists give you a dress or something. He's definitely the one to lay it over your lap when you're sitting

BEOMGYU

Gyu is a tough nut to crack. I think that you guys are probably shipped the most, but it's ironic because the usual shippable moments that fans latch on to either don't happen or are very lowkey the two of you are.. unique. For a better insight into your relationship with beomgyu, a list of viral moments/thins relating to your and your third oldest brother are:

You are constantly copying him. Most of the time it's not even direct or on purpose so most fans find it adorable how you're wearing the same outfit he wore two performances ago.

You jumping over a table to full body tackle him over a game of uno, him picking you up in the air by your ankle because he asked if you wanted to go somewhere and you said no so he literally took you anyways. Beomgyu going in for a hug only to turn it into a chokehold. The two of you sharing one blanket at a little campfire thing and him holding your hands to keep them warm. Beomgyu pouting and asking you to dye your hair to match him, you falling asleep with your head in his lap

The two most iconic moments that no one ever forgets, is when beomgyu said he was proud of you without knowing that a camera was filming, and when he was crying because his family was in the audience, and you just hugged him the entire time the guys were talking onstage. These are the famous moments because despite how much you two mess with each other it is obvious that you both love each other.

TAEHYUN

Very soft best friends. Lots of inside jokes, very hands on. It is far from uncommon for the two of you to be found giggling about something found totally mundane by anyone else. And when I say you guys are soft I mean it's literally like the famous dynamic between you both. Countless images of you guys being cute together are spread, first most shipped duo where you're concerned

He's an absolute sucker for you. Would let you get away with burning the world down and stop anyone trying to hinder you. Lets you practice things on his hair like braiding or pins. Whenever he buys something like food or a souvenir and you're not there you can always hear him mumbling to himself, "should I get y/n one?" usually then turns to ask kai for advice if he's there.

Tbh, would probably also egg on the shippers. Never in a way you're not comfortable with or is obvious, but he'll do things like hold your hand for extended periods of time, pat your head. One time, he had been extra bold and kissed you on the head and slid his hand into your back pocket. That little move is a rare occurrence, but he does it because he loves fueling the running joke of your being his girlfriend lol.

Also loves when you baby him and make him feel completely taken care of. You carry around extra water and snacks- or sometimes they're just for him and the way you remember little things he tells you always reminds him that even if he has no one else he has you.

HUENINGKAI

If you and Taehyun are soft best friends, you and kai are soft soulmates. He is your biggest fan, and I will in fact die upon this hill. He loves you so much, and he sees the way you go out of your way to care for literally everyone else, and he has enough people taking care of him. For every one thing you do for him he does three for you.

Carries around three hair ties on his wrist. If stylists say he has to take it off he makes sure to keep them in his pocket just in case. He has a pack of bobby pins and he bought you a jacket to match his favorite that he keeps in his bag for you. Has a list of all your favorites; movies, shows, snacks, colors, materials, restaurant orders. Has a list of things you hate that he keeps both on his phone and printed and posted on a wall in the kitchen so mistakes never happen. Ever since the great pumpkin fiasco of 2020.

Has previously sat with you in his lap, bundled up in his coat because you fell asleep. I think everyone who knows the two of you and like k-moa ship you, nit international fans think it's all platonic. Very touchy, finding moments where the two of you just so happen to be linking pinkies or high fiving each other while performing is like the moa equivalent to finding easter eggs in taylor swift songs.

I mean literally soulmates, whether platonic or romantic is yet to be found, but the two of you are attached at the hip, sharing the same brain cell and everything. Ironically, I think he would also be the most protective. He has sisters and after hearing about their struggles within their groups and knowing that things are already different for you as the only girl in an otherwise boy group, he tries to be like your advocate, wanting things to be easier for you.

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rubynationwins · 2 years

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The Best Part of Waking Up (18+)

PA! Steve Rogers x Dom!Boss! Reader

Summary: His boss may not be a morning person, but it’s up to Steve to get you to work on time. Things don’t exactly go the way he expects, though.

My Masterlist

Word Count: 4,153

Warnings: smut, slight dub-con/coercion, light dom/sub, mild use of restraints, power imbalance, oral - m & f receiving, petnames, dirty talk, body-inclusive reader, fem reader

A/N: First time dabbling w/ dom reader so I hope that element presents itself well. Personally, I think mcu Steve (especially in the earlier movies) screams sub😋 so I will probably experiment more with that aspect of his character in future fics too😍 Tho not always bc dom Steve is just...🤌🏻 Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

“Steve, I need you to wake me up at exactly 5:30 tomorrow morning.”

Those were the words that kept rattling around in Steve’s head as he rode the elevator to the top floor of the lavish apartment building you resided in. When the elevator’s bell dinged and its doors slid open, he swallowed heavily as he stepped into the modern-looking hallway.

This was not going to be enjoyable.

It wasn’t that the early rise bothered Steve, he usually woke up at 6 am to go on a run before work, so an hour or two earlier didn’t kill him. The problem laid in how you acted in the early waking hours. You were notorious for your hatred of mornings. You weren’t a fan of them in general, and waking up before 8 am was pure agony. For him.

Sure, you disliked mornings, but he was the one who had to deal with your cranky attitude and unyielding criticism of every single thing he did when you were tired. A 5:30 morning wake up call was definitely going to put you in a foul mood, and Steve would be the recipient of that sleep-deprived anger. Even worse than that was actually trying to wake you up.

It was a well-known fact that normal alarms were no match for you. He had replaced many broken alarm clocks and phones that you had thrown across the room in your slumbering rage. You claimed that you had no memory of your destructive actions since you were such a deep sleeper, but Steve suspected you just didn’t want to admit that you threw such dramatic fits. You always carried an air of assertive power with you, and breaking alarm clocks did not fit that professional aura.

So, because of said fits, when it was vital that you arise earlier than what your circadian rhythm deemed acceptable, someone had to physically wake you up. That didn’t mean you were any less violent, it just meant you couldn’t get rid of them by throwing them at a wall– not for lack of trying.

Steve hadn’t yet had the displeasure of being the one to wake you up, but you had point blank told him to do it, so he couldn’t shirk the responsibility onto one of the lesser assistants.

Which was why he was now unlocking your apartment door with his spare key. He flicked on the entryway light as he walked across the threshold. He knew the layout of your home as well as his own — significantly smaller — apartment. As your personal assistant, he was at your beck and call 24/7, which entailed a lot of house visits. He glanced over at the couch he slept on whenever you worked late into the night without dismissing him for the evening, even though you had a guest bedroom.

He set your steaming cup of coffee on the counter along with your usual breakfast. Hopefully, they would compel you to rise without making a scene. Glancing at his watch, he headed down the hallway and stopped at your closed bedroom door. It was 5:28. You had said exactly 5:30, so he waited with bated breath as he watched the tiny hands of his watch tick. As soon as the long hand hit ‘6’ he opened the door while saying in a voice that lacked conviction, “It’s 5:30, time to wake up, ma’am.”

There was no response. He looked toward the large bed and saw a lump covered in lush blankets. It rose and fell with your every deep breath. He stayed at the door, but increased his volume, “You have a very important meeting, so you need to wake up.” Your slumbering form didn’t move an inch.

Steve cleared his throat loudly but still, nothing. With a frustrated sigh, he walked closer to your bed and repeated himself. He was met with the same, unmoving response. So far, Steve had stayed out of arm's reach, keeping an eye out for any sudden movements. When it was clear that method wasn’t going to work, he gave in and moved to the side of your large bed.

He held his breath as he reached out and grasped what he hoped was your shoulder – it was hard to tell with all the blankets – and began shaking it. His coworkers who’d had the misfortune of waking you up before had said this was the best tactic. After a few seconds, he felt you shift and heard a low groan. He kept shaking, upping his speed just a bit and leaning into it.

Just get it over with, Steve.

Suddenly, the pile of blankets rolled away, and he fell forward into the mattress. He let out a loud “oof!” as he landed face first into the soft but firm cushion. He heard what sounded like the mutterings of a gargoyle as the bundle beside him squirmed. At least he’d done something. Hopefully, now you could hear what he was saying, “It’s a little past 5:30 now so you should really get out of bed and-”

He was cut off by a mountain of blankets tossed on top of him like a tsunami. Startled, he thrashed under the smothering heap of expensive fabrics until he was finally able to throw them onto the floor. When he got his bearings, he turned around and found you sleeping on the opposite side of the mattress. You were curled up on your side, a pillow clutched around your head.

With more caution, he approached you again. That time it was blankets, next it might be something that could actually leave a dent. He glanced at the large bedside lamp that sat next to you and felt sweat start to bead at his forehead.

At this point, he felt ridiculous. He, a grown man, was stealthily crawling across an unreasonably wide bed while his power-house of a boss snoozed on the other side. He had never imagined being the executive assistant for one of the most powerful women in the city would end up like this.

When he reached you, he stretched out a hand and squeezed your upper arm, cringing as he did so. You didn’t throw anything at him, which he took as a good sign. When he spoke, he tried to keep his voice calm and low so he didn’t startle you so much, “Hey, boss. It’s-uh, time to wake up and start the day,” he sounded like a cautious dad trying to wake up his unruly kid from a nap, “I know you don’t care for mornings, but I got something special waiting for you that’ll really help boost your energy. Get that blood pumping.” The only reply he got was the muffled sound of your even breathing. He dropped his hand and looked towards the ceiling in desperation, out of ideas other than to throw you out of bed.

He was gearing up the courage to shake you awake again when he heard the rustling of covers. He whipped his head down and saw you slowly rise so that you were leaning on your elbow. The pillow you had been hiding under was nowhere to be found. Your back still faced him, and he sucked in a breath when you shifted on your elbows to face him.

His words caught in his throat when your eyes finally met his. They weren’t sharp and demanding like he was used to. In fact, your whole face held a softness he had never seen before. You were always serious and commanding. Now, though, your eyes were glazed over with a sleepy haze, eyelids only half open. Your fluttering eyelashes cast shadows on your delicate cheeks. You blinked a few times before your eyes slowly scanned him.

Steve’s body was stiff as a board and he felt like his tie was too tight around his neck. He had no clue how to act in this situation. He fell back on the manners his mother had instilled in him at a young age. He glanced at his watch, “Ma’am, it’s now 5:42, so we need to get going soon.” He looked back over at you and saw that you hadn’t shifted, your eyes still partially glazed over. It looked like you were still half asleep.

Your lips opened and Steve once again froze in place, “You said you have something special for me?” The sound of your low, raspy morning voice made Steve shift in his spot. He pondered your words, and then it dawned on him.

“Yes, I’ll go get it right now, Ma’am.” Steve scooted towards the edge of the bed. His plan was to sprint to the kitchen and back with your breakfast in hand before you had the chance to lay back down.

His exit plan was thwarted, however, when he a warm body pressed up against his back. You slung your arms over his shoulders and held him against your chest. You brought a hand up to his cheek and turned his head to face you as you leaned forward. “What-”

You curled your fingers in his hair and brought his lips to yours, hot and wanting. He let out a strangled gasp in surprise and you took advantage of the opportunity and plunged your tongue past his open lips. He was too stunned to do anything but react to your sudden advance, leaning into the heated kiss. When you flicked his tongue with yours he mewled and joined you in a fight for dominance. Your soft lips pressed against his as you explored his mouth. The kiss was fierce and rough, a mash of greedy need. When you pulled away he felt light-headed, his lips raw and his dick twitching in his pants.

You threw a leg over to straddle his lap, sitting right on top the bulge blooming in his suit pants. You giggled. The unfamiliar sound you emitted snapped him out of his reverie. He grabbed your shoulders before you could lock lips with him again, keeping your intoxicating scent at bay.

“W-wait. Y/N-I mean, boss, ma’am-whatever. What are you doing?” He let out a muddled huff and shifted beneath you as your core rubbed against his clothed cock. Everything was happening so fast, he needed to stop before he lost his grip and did something he knew you’d both regret. “Y-You’re not awake yet. And-and even if you were we can’t do this.” He attempted to push you off, but you grabbed his wrists and ground your pussy down into his crotch. He let out a lewd moan and cursed under his breath. You giggled again, the sound ringing in his ears.

You pouted your lips but your eyes were calculating, the sleep slowly draining from them, “What do you mean? You promised me a special treat, and now you’re taking it away from me? I expect my top employee to follow through on his promises. He should know that kind of behavior will get him in trouble.” Your voice was coated in honey as you slowly humped him, and he felt a growing damp spot on his pants. He didn’t know if it was from you or him or both, but he didn’t care. All his mind do was focus on his throbbing cock and keen for more contact. His dick wasn’t even inside you and he was already pussy-drunk.

“I-I was talking about coffee,” his weak voice trailed off at the end and he sucked in a sharp breath when you shifted so that you were only straddling his right thigh. Your knee dug into his growing erection.

“I think-” You ground your pussy against his thigh, rubbing back and forth- “that a much more efficient way to give us both a boost of energy-” Your sleep shorts did nothing to prevent his pant leg from getting soaked in your dripping arousal- ��Would be an orgasm.”

He had no comeback, too captivated by the feeling of your wet pussy sliding against his thick, muscular thigh. He couldn’t help himself from bucking into your touch to get more friction against your knee. You gasped and he moaned when you pressed it forward, grinding into his bulge.

He didn’t get to enjoy the feeling for too long, though, because you moved it away. Before he could protect, you pressed your palms against his chest and pushed him onto his back. He looked up at you as you leaned over him. You brought your hands to his collar and removed his red tie, undoing the half windsor knot in a heartbeat. Your fingers made light work of the buttons on his navy dress shirt and you pushed the material away as you explored the hard plains of his chest with your warm hands. His skin was flushed and sweaty. You flicked his nipple and he flinched, bringing his hands up to hold your waist. You stilled. “Hands off.” He immediately dropped them, your tone sounded like the commanding one he was used to, with an extra warning bite to it. “Above your head.”

“Wh-” he yelped when you pinched his nipple.

“I said, hands above your head, Mr. Rogers.”

Your tight grip only relaxed when he did what you demanded. With practiced motions, you quickly fastened them together, using his tie. “Now keep them there like a good boy and you’ll be rewarded.” His cock twitched at the nickname and you noticed. “Oh! Does it turn you on that I’m in charge? You’re such a big, strong man, so let me take control for once. We both know I already do outside of the bedroom, so this shouldn’t be too difficult.” You leaned down and whispered in his ear, “And you say ‘yes ma’am’ like the perfect little assistant you always are.”

Steve shivered at the feeling of your hot breath cresting the shell of his burning ear, “Y-yes, ma’am.” He had never felt so dirty in all his life. There was something about giving you control that made him weak in the knees.

“Good boy, Steve.” You pressed a quick kiss against his temple and pulled back up, once again looming over him. With his hands placed above his head, he felt more exposed than he’d ever been in his life. He wasn’t much of a player as it was, so this was wildly out of his comfort zone. But still, he’d never been so turned on in his entire life.

You ran your hands down his chest, raking your nails across his skin. He hissed at the sting but when you settled at his pants belt, a whine caught in his throat. You fiddled with the belt buckle. “I could help you out down here, as a thank you for all the loyal, dedicated service you’ve given me.” You straightened up and pulled your loose, silk top off. Steve could have melted. You weren’t wearing a bra, so your tits were on full display. He felt drool collect at the corner of his mouth at the look of your nipples. He wanted to suck them, worship them, worship all of your body. You shifted slightly and he looked down as you shimmied out of the matching silk shorts. “Or-” you said as you returned your hands to the top of his pants- “I could ride your face like it’s a fucking saddle.”

His cock strained. He’d be satisfied with either option, he just wanted to feel more of you, however you dished it out. You grinned like a wolf, he guessed you had made your decision, which was a good thing because he was about to bust. “Or, how about we do both?”

You unbuckled his belt, undid his pants, and pulled them down to his knees. His groan was low and instinctual when you grabbed his dick and stroked it up and down. While still stroking him, you pivoted your body so that your ass faced him. His hands itched to grasp your ass cheeks and squeeze. You must have noticed because you clucked your tongue. “Remember, no touching.”

He dropped his jaw, tongue at the ready as you backed up further and landed on his face. He lapped at your flowing juices like a man who had been lost in the desert for a year and had finally found water. The sound of your lecherous moans only egged him on further, and he dug into what was soon becoming the best meal of his life. He plunged his tongue further into your pussy, passing your entrance and diving right into your dripping hole. He repeated the motion over and over while nuzzling into your heat. His chin brushed against your clit and you mewled.

Until that point, you had been steadily stroking his straining cock from tip to base at a torturous pace. As you ground your pussy into his wanting face, you lowered your head and enveloped the tip of his cock in your mouth. You sucked up the precum beading from it and hummed at the musky taste. Steve’s hips bucked up and he groaned into your core. You dug your nails into his thigh as a warning. He panted against you but didn’t stop in his quest to make you come.

You continued to suck his cock, it was large and girthy, but you were plenty up for the challenge. Inch by inch, you lowered your head, pausing to adjust to his overwhelming size. His cock burned through your throat, but it was well worth it when you felt his absolutely feral reaction against your cunt.

He sucked against your clit and you groaned around him, starting to bob your head up and down. You worked together in tandem, sucking and licking. Steve’s cock was large and thick, it was heavy in your mouth as you worked your way down him, not quite reaching the base. You groan around him, the vibration and squeeze of your throat was sending tingles of heat through him.

When he flicked his tongue on your clit, you started pumping with a new vigor as you ground your hips down onto his face, riding him like a god damn horse.

It was the sexiest thing he’d ever experienced.

He felt lightheaded, partially from his life being sucked from cock, and that his entire face was enveloped by your velvety flesh and heady essence. He only got little spouts of air in when you would hover off of him for a second. Each time you did, he whined, wanting your sweet cunt back on him. He didn’t need to breathe, he just needed to consume you, devour your pussy like you were devouring his dick.

He’d never felt this kind of pleasure in his life, and having you on top, you in control, it brought out something deep inside him he never knew existed. He felt a connection beyond simple fucking; beyond the lines now blurred between work and play.

It was an undeniable urge to please, to obey. The want for his own release paled in comparison to his want to give you everything he had. Because he needed to be the one that gave you pleasure, that ate you out with abandon until you became moaning mess. All the while, you still held the reigns, able to lift away were he to make even one unapproved movement. So, he blissfully did what you commanded. Let the stress of his life and job fall away, and just focus on the singular task of getting you to cum on his tongue.

He could have spat his load ages ago, probably without you even touching him, but he knew that was taboo. He had to have permission. He just couldn’t voice his pleas. His desperation for relief from the almost painful torment you were giving him was muffled by your weeping cunt. You must have noted his obvious need, because the next time you popped off his dick, you replaced your mouth with a warm hand and asked, “Do you need to cum, Stevie?”

He moaned, that simple nickname coming from you did something to his brain. He tried to nob but you pressed against his head harder, wiggling your hips.

“I’ll tell you what. since you’ve been such a good boy for me and have been eating out my cunt like a starving man, I’ll let you cum.”

Tears were welling in Steves eyes as you teased his cock, rubbing your hand around his cockhead, swirling beads of his precum along the thick veins.

“First, though, you have to make me cum, understand?”

Steve’s reply of, “Yes, Ma’am,” was muffled from underneath you.

You chuckled. “Go ahead, then.”

He ran his tongue between your slit, collecting your dripping juices and mixing them with his own saliva. He brought the salacious mixture up to your bundle of nerves and twirled it around your trembling little nub. The sound of your moans combined with the sloppy shlucking of his own ministrations was like music to his ears.

When your moans morphed into blissed out praises, “Good boy, that’s it. So good - so good for me Stevie,” he lost all sense of control. Like a feral animal, he growled into your heat, nipping at his irresistible prey. He grazed your throbbing clit with his teeth and then fluttered his tongue on it. The sudden teasing took you to the edge, and when you pressed your ass down for more, he met you, smacking his lips around your sensitive clit and sucking. Not holding back, you mewled and cried out as your orgasm shot through your body, blazing with the most divine fire imaginable. You shuddered over him as he gobbled the arousal flowing from your quaking walls like a fountain.

Your pleasure still rolled through you as you bent back down and enveloped his cock in your mouth. Drool and precum slid down the sides as you pressed down, taking him all the way to the hilt. He didn’t know how you could possibly breathe, but before he could grumble his concerns, you swallowed around his pulsing length. The feel of his dick hitting the back of your throat as you gagged around his massive size was like heaven.

He almost couldn’t believe you were doing this with such vigor. The blowjobs he’d received in the past always seemed like a chore for his partners, something they had to do solely for his pleasure.

But not you. The both of you knew who was calling the shots. You could have gotten your fill, kicked him out of your apartment, and he wouldn’t have voiced a single complaint. The fact that you wanted him to cum in your mouth, that you craved his release as much as he craved yours, it set him on fire in a way he’d never experienced before. It was incredible. You were incredible.

God, your fucking mouth was incredible.

When you brought a hand to his balls and squeezed, he had no choice but to let go. His cum shot up into your wanting mouth as you sucked the leaking tip of his cock, pumping the base to milk out every last droplet so you could swallow it down.

Steve kept himself from bucking up into your throat, he knew better than that now. He roared into your pussy, the aftershocks of his orgasm shaking through his sweat-drenched body. He lapped at your sopping folds, drinking up every drop of your sweet nectar, still starving for your essence. You swallowed it down.

Steve let out a groan of protest when you pulled your delectable pussy away from him. His eyes were fixed on your ass like it had hung the moon. You shifted so that you were once again face-to-face. Reaching out, you untied his hands. He kept them in place until you gave the word to move. “That’s my good boy. Go ahead now, you can even have a little touch.”

With your permission, he placed his hands on your heavenly ass. Before he could partake in anymore of your generosity, a blaring thought shot into his mind. He wrenched his left hand off you to check his watch. “Shit! It’s 7:15! There’s no way we’re making it to the meeting on time.”

You set a hand on his chest, stilling his instinctive personal assistant panic. “Don’t worry about it, Stevie. They called last night to say it was pushed back to this afternoon. I guess I forgot about my-” A smirk played across your lips-“Wakeup call. My bad,” you chuckled, giving him a knowing wink.

Steve didn’t have the energy to even be a little bit annoyed at the (supposed) mix up. This was the best morning of his life.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers smut #Steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #PA! steve rogers #chris evans character fanfiction #captain america #captain america x reader #light dom/sub #mcu fanifiction #dub con #coersion #sub steve rogers #dom reader #modern au #my writing #me #rubynationwins

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