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sophiamcdougall · 5 months

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You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you. I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age." -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.

#ukpol #uk politics #fuck the tories #lost media #data loss #cultural vandalism

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bladeofthestars · 2 months

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#currently having one of those shits you have to get naked for #curled over the toilet and yelling as quietly as possible #hopefully whatever this is is out of my system before i have to go to lessons tomorrow #would hate to have to call off #i've been pretty consistent about my practice and would like to actually get good at it #also excited to go out for a latte tomorrow and put the lavender flowers i just bought in it. they smell super pungent so should be good #would also like to write or draw sometime soon #have mostly just been playing videogames with my SO when they're home and various homemaking stuff or piano practice when they're not #we desperately need to move out of here which means i need a job which aaaaaaa #i have desperately fucking needed this break after how that place was treating me #hoping to get a work from home job again to make moving easier #also would like to not burn through my entire savings but ey whaddaya gonna do sometimes ya know?#between med bills student loans keeping gas in my car groceries car insurance and whatever the fuck else life throws my way #my decently sized savings will likely dwindle fast #my partner is currently covering my car insurance but like. i pay significantly more than that amount for our shared groceries #maybe double or triple the monthly cost of my car insurance #and they have like 0 bills except the amount taken out paycheckly to have health insurance #hate ever even suggesting to take up more of the load tho #just awkward to talk about #in any event #here's to hoping for a decent wfh job. it's much easier to take care of the home and myself with wfh.

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knightsickness · 2 months

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westerosi perfume culture thoughts based on medieval/early modern ^^

incense in septs to the point of both cat and sansa immediately thinking of the smell of it when thinking about the faith. this is fully a ‘the faith is just catholicism’ thing theres reference to a censer being used at tywin’s funeral, though this is also to cover the smell of the body - i believe its implied theyre using a lot more incense than they typically would and failing to overpower the rot smell

scented candles and incense are both used in septs and to scent rooms - scented candles higher-end, beeswax candles, which even unscented smell quite sweet and are quite expensive (they burn cleanly and don’t spit). animal fat tallow candles are much cheaper but perfume can’t stop rotting fat smelling of rotting fat it just combines with it. tallow tends to be used in poorer settings, for light not scent

scented beeswax candles used by tyrion and cat, and in the sept of baelor - imo v unlikely most smallfolk or smaller septs are buying them regularly, especially considering how many candles they need to keep lit. i’d say tallow 90% of the time beeswax on holy days

basically every noble in kings landing seems to wear perfume, ned specifically repulsed by the fact that robert now does which is crazy. whats roberts taste in perfume like

varys specifically is always described as perfumed, which is like. effeminacy due to eunuch status he leans into but also his ambiguous origin - while a lot of people in westeros wear perfume it seems to be significantly more popular in the free cities + beyond, vv frequently mentioned in dany chapters

perfumed and powdered often go together, varys and lysa off the top of my head - powders could also be scented, quite popular in france

multiple references to oldtown being heavily perfumed, dual reference to incense as a faith centre and worn perfume on a dowager, oldtown as a wealthy city and consumer centre

perfume also strongly associated with prostitution, an irony - septs and brothels often scented with incense, the ‘perfumed boy’ slaves victarion kills, satin wearing scent in his beard

popular scents rarely described in more detail than a type of flower or ‘sweet’ - most interesting perfume a westerosi lady wears is taena’s wildflower and musk, which cersei compares to the smell of moss

the tyrells seem to only wear rosewater this is pretty explicitly part of their branding as a house. even the blue bard a tyrell servant washes his hair with rosewater. most roses actually don’t distill well i’m assuming they have some westerosi equivalent to damask roses grown in bulk at highgarden or some other reach territory (probably at highgarden their scent in the gardens would be part of the tyrell image cultivation there. henry viii did this specific thing so you would smell his rose perfume in the gardens even when he was away from home which some historians have referred to as a ‘serve’) only like two varieties of rose work in perfuming. i’d also speculate that the roses margaery and her ladies brought to tywin’s funeral, if they were strong-smelling enough to cover the smell of an unnaturally rotting corpse, were probably roses scented with rosewater

perfume application on people typically oils, waters and more rarely waxes - multiple mentions of perfumed beards or hairstyles and waxes would be easier for that - perfume in baths common for the wealthy

no mention of scented accessories e.g. gloves or fans, though both immensely popular in elizabethan england - are there civet cats or equivalent in westeros? there are whales and thus presumably ambergris, taena’s perfume referred to as musky but unclear if this means it contains actual musk - animal perfumes are best for scenting leather, strong and waxy and other lighter scents can cling to them. dany wears scented silk clothes

tyrion associates worn perfume strongly with old whores, which suggests cheap perfume widely accessible, probably perfumer’s shops in major cities (notable bc otherwise we could conclude perfumers worked primarily for aristocratic patrons)

there are probably westerosi perfume-makers but its also likely theres a solid luxury import trade - dorne and the free cities both have established distinct perfume cultures and strong trade links with merchants

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire

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asapeveryday · 8 days

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SHOCK FACTOR★彡 PART 3

Previous. Next.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing, suggestive jokes/language, tension

Summary: having Paige’s number means she can bother you whenever she wants, but maybe a night out with her isn’t a bother at all.

A/n: enjoy guys 😇lmk what you think of this one

YOU

is this paige?

???

Has anyone else given you their number since you got here?

YOU

no…

PAIGE

Aight, so who else would it be then? 🤘🏼

YOU

i should’ve thrown out that napkin tbh!🙂

PAIGE

Ignoring that. How’s the hangover?

YOU

it’s ok. getting coffee helped ig

PAIGE

Having another night out might help too…if u fw that

YOU

with you? id rather die then “fw that” 🙏

PAIGE

Ok rot in ya hotel room see if I care 🤷🏼‍♀️

Seen.

PAIGE

Actually nvm I feel bad for ur miserable ass. U shud fr go out and see what Connecticut has to offer. Ever been to Gianni’s?

YOU

no i haven’t, I’ve only been here for like two days. is it italian food?

PAIGE

Only the best in town 😉 u shud def go

YOU

ugh I would but i have to see if elaine can take me cus my teammates are busy

PAIGE

I could take u if u want?

YOU

typing…

YOU CAN FEEL yourself getting socially drained as you text her, at least that’s what you tell yourself. Paige is infuriating and arrogant, which comes with the deadly additions of charisma and the ability to keep you on edge with every word spoken, or even typed.

You’d always known of this, even before your game with her that day. A player like Paige can be hard to come across; perfectly capable, talented and independent yet somehow the best team player out there, sharing passes she can without a doubt make. Why? Because she doesn’t need to prove anything.

It often bothered you, especially since you constantly needed to prove yourself during the start of your college career. You took every shot you could get your hands on, and she gave shots away like candy whilst still having a huge reputation as a player. Obviously it went deeper than that, but the simple fact just stuck to your brain.

You can’t help but recall her face, inches from yours attempting to pry your ball from your grasp. Like she was deserving, like it was hers for the taking. She had made a similar face on the panel where she dissed you soon afterwards, and then again while watching you at the bar, and just before writing her number on the napkin. You wondered if she was making that face right now as she texts you.

PAIGE

I could take u if u want?

The text is simple but it summons some sort of unique feeling in you. Paige Bueckers is offering to pick you up in her car, on her night off, and take you to a restaurant. And you, for whatever reason, are considering saying yes.

Sighing to yourself, you weigh your options. Option one: you sit around your hotel alone till your teammates come back, most probably drunk from a bar since it’s a Saturday. Option two: you ask Elaine to take you out once again, even though you’re probably gonna see her the whole week you’re here. Option three: you let the girl who shit-talked you at a post game conference take you out for dinner.

YOU

i guess i should go out. DONT act like ur doing me a favour tho….n if I don’t have fun i’m blocking u.

PAIGE

Drop the addy. I’ll come by in an hour

Seen.

After hurriedly pulling yourself together, taking an Advil, checking out the restaurant’s Instagram and getting ready you can’t help but find your heart steadily hammering inside of you. Paige is coming to your hotel. You’re gonna be in her car. She’s taking you to her favourite restaurant. This has to be the most peculiar thing that has happened all year.

The car ride is significantly better then you expected it would be. Paige adamantly seems to prevent any room for awkward silence to seep through, commenting on your outfit and filling the vehicle with music that makes the interior buzz from the volume. She has a free look on her face, chair reclined more then you’d dare if you were in the drivers seat, hair blowing in her face from the windows being down.

“I’m surprised you’re driving me out.” You say, finally airing what was on your mind.

Paige shrugs. “Didn’t feel like drinking today. Plus, I’m in the mood to be generous and show you what Storrs has.”

“If someone told me I’d be hanging out with Paige Bueckers like a week ago, I think I’d be fucking appalled. Or disgusted. Or both.” You laugh.

She chuckles, glancing at you sneakily. “You swear a lot, don’t you?”

“Awe my bad.” You pout, giving her a fake-concerned look. “Forgot you can’t handle a little language.”

“I can handle it,” she grumbles. “I just think cursing is better for specific situations.”

“Like what?”

Paige wets her lips almost sheepishly, but she keeps her eyes straight on the road. “Like sex.”

A beat passes before you respond “Sorry I couldn’t savour a couple words for you and your little kink.”

She looks over at you now, and you meet her gaze as equally as you can. She just lets out a smile, shaking her head to herself as she pulls into the parking lot. You try to ignore the elevator-sinking feeling in your stomach from her words as you get out from the car.

The restaurant is beautiful. It’s cozy, ambient and well decorated. Not too fancy and not too full, just perfect. You’re seated in a more secluded area, per Paige’s request. She orders for you, insisting she knows exactly what to get for the best possible experience.

The food is good, and you don’t feel the need to hide it from Paige, who visibly grows at your praise for the place she picked out.

“So, are you jus in Connecticut for Elaine?” She says.

“Not really.” You reply. “Me and some of the others are just doing a little East Coast road-trip. I wasn’t really interested in coming to Storrs, but it made sense to come by and see her.”

“For a whole week?” She raises her eyebrow. “Seems like you’re close.”

“I was only gonna stay in Storrs for a couple days, then go to Hartford but the girls seem to like it here.” You shrug. “They think it’s cute, being a small town and all, but it’s pretty boring if you’re not a student.”

“It’s better if you’re with fun people.” She smiles.

“I hope you don’t think you’re fun.”

“Compared to Elaine I definitely am.” Paige scoffs.

You can’t help but feel a little more hostility than humour in her tone.

“Do you guys know each other?” You ask, as sly and innocent as you can muster. Paige seems hesitant.

“Nah.” She finally decides. “I mean, we’ve talked before. Ion know her personally.”

“It’s kinda funny, she said she doesn’t pay much attention to you but I think she might have a little crush.” You laugh.

Paige visibly stiffens at this, which catches you by surprise.

In a split second she regains her calm, unbothered composure. “What has she said?”

“Not much.” You shrug. “Just seems a little interested.”

Paige’s jaw clenches for a moment, and you’re not surprised when she changes the subject. “How many people have been on your case since I posted that picture of us from the bar on my story?”

“God, so many.” You laugh, shaking your head. “You?”

“You don’t even wanna know.” She scoffs. “Not sure why everyone was so crazy bout it though, s’not like we were beefing for real.”

“Right!” You say, happy she seems to be on the same page. “It was just some petty crap. I guess people just really were hoping there would be some rivalry.”

You think for a moment, before saying. “Maybe we should keep this drama thing up. Might be fun.”

“It’s a lil too late for that,” Paige shakes her head with a slight smile. “remember how KK and Ice were on live yesterday at the coffee shop? Yeah, we kinda were in the background at some point. People saw us talking.”

“You’re joking.”

“Dead serious. There are edits and everything.”

You rest your head in your hands, elbows on the table, lessening the proximity between you and her. “I only get into these weird ass situations when I interact with you, Paige.”

She sits up in her seat, blue eyes quickly looking you up and down. “Yet you’re still here.”

“Girl’s gotta have fun.” You shrug. Her foot hits yours under the table, her eyebrow raised as if challenging you. You have a sudden thought of going under the table and letting your hands unzip her cargo pants, but instead you just kick her back.

“Wanna go?” She asks. You don’t want to go back to the hotel, and she seems to pick up on it. “The area we’re in is nice. We can walk around a bit.”

You smile and nod. “Split the bill?”

“Fuck no.” She shoots you a look, pulling out her credit card from the back of her phone.

“You cursed!” You exclaim, to which she scoffs.

“I said it’s alright in specific situations.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Well we’re not having sex, are we?”

The way her eyelashes flutter at your question gives you jitters. “Aight, stop talking.” She finally manages to respond. You just send her a look that you hope makes her nervous.

“You’re not funny.” She grumbles, attempting to grab your phone from you.

“Back off, Bueckers! I’m serious.” You laugh, sidestepping her with your phone above your head. The street was empty and the lights were on, putting the two of you in a yellow glow against the night. You’d been walking around the neighbourhood, observing houses and learning a bit about Storrs for the past hour.

“Give me your phone, I know you ain’t deleting those.” She huffs, grabbing for your phone. You try to escape her grasp but she’s got longer limbs, so eventually your phone is in her pocket and she’s wearing a proud look on her face.

It’s nice to walk in the quiet of evening, her beside you. You have no idea where you are but you can’t help but trust she can get you back to the car in no time. Not just yet though.

You turn to look at Paige almost shamelessly. There’s just so much to observe with her. Her confident posture, toothy smile, sleek straightened blonde hair, even the baggy cargo pants and sweater. She always looked good, it never failed to annoy you.

“Either your pants are too tight or crazy baggy.” You note. She just raises her eyebrow.

“Sounds like you just want me to take my pants off at this point.”

“Wouldn’t mind a little show.” You reply almost instantly, shocking yourself at the surge of confidence. She doesn’t seem taken aback, in fact she’s intrigued.

“Is that your usual routine? Have a meal out then have a meal at home?”

“Maybe it is.” You shrug. “I never object to a wine n dine.”

“And what exactly would you object to?”

“Cocky girls who think they’re the shit.” You say, turning your head to face her. You don’t mean to target her, but she simply smiles.

“Is it really being cocky if I can back it up though?” Paige asks quietly. You’re not walking anymore, stuck in place on an empty path between buildings. She’s closing in on you until your back hits a brick wall. The way Paige is staring down at you, hands in her pockets, lip between her teeth. It’s nothing you’d object to, ever.

“I won’t believe it till I see it.” You mutter, holding her eye. The air is tense in a new way that you haven’t felt with her since you first met in the bar. Her face is entrancing.

Paige’s hands lift your jaw upwards, and she leans into your ear. “You might not see it,” she mumbles, breath hot against your skin. “But you’ll definitely feel it.”

When she pulls back from your ear she stays hovering just above you, hands chastely holding your head up. You’re in the perfect position to kiss, and you can’t stop your eyes from darting between her electric stare to her lush, pink lips.

You can literally feel her breath on your mouth when a piercing ring cuts through the moment. It’s coming from her pocket, and she pulls out your phone. Paige’s face twists as she reads the screen. “It’s Elaine.”

“Just- just decline it.” You rush out, not caring how desperate you sound. You can feel how wet you are, and the lack of heat against you is blaring.

“She texted you too.” Paige scoffs. “She’s waiting for you at your hotel.”

You don’t even know what to say. Paige’s face is expressionless. You’re disappointed, but there’s no point in begging. Nothing really happened.

“Let’s get you home.” She says, starting to walk back from where you came. “Shouldn’t keep her waiting.” Her tone is dripping with toxicity. It makes you shiver.

#Spotify #fanfiction #fanfic #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #rpf #paige bueckers x reader #paige buckets #paige x reader #x reader #tension #uconn women’s basketball #usc wbb #rivals to lovers

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nohiketoosmall · 3 months

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A Brief Summary of the Anaconda News

This post is about "Disentangling the Anacondas: Revealing a New Green Species and Rethinking Yellows"

Please note this post is not an analysis of the veracity of this paper, it is simply a summary of the findings.

This research team performed genetic testing on known species within the Anaconda genus (Eunectes). They are suggesting two things in their paper:

Two recognized species of yellow anacondas, E. beniensis and E. deschauenseei, are not significantly genetically distinct from E. notaeus. Note that E. notaeus has a slightly different pattern/morphology while the other two are more similar and differentiated mostly by location. They propose grouping these all three as one species.

The Green Anaconda, the heaviest species of snake, with a range all across the continent, may actually be two species. They found significant genetic differences between Northern and Southern Green Anacondas and are proposing they be made into separate species.

Graphical Abstract, sourced from linked paper, showing revised taxonomy. The Northern Green Anaconda's proposed scientific named is E. akayima. Akayima means "The Great Snake" in the indigenous language of the region.

The paper points out that there are conservation implications behind redefining these species. If the Northern Green Anaconda is accepted as a separate species, habitat loss may impact it more severely than the Southern, who has a wider range. For the the opposite reason, scientists may feel reluctant to group three previously defined species into one, as it could make it more difficult to protect the subcategories.

Read more: Nat Geo article on the findings, Bryan Fry Live Science article

Oh yeah, and one of the scientists who published the article posted this video of an Anaconda that's estimated to be 8 meters long and 200kg. Here's a still:

big dog

#reptiblr #snakes #green anaconda #anacondas #snake news #taxonomy #scientific paper

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girlgenius1111 · 6 months

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Just Admit It

part 2 of do you need me!!

does it count as proofreading if I scrolled through it really fast before posting?

Falling asleep in Alexia's arms seemed to be a cure all- you'd woken up a few hours later and the pain in your head had dulled significantly. Alexia was just so relieved that you were feeling better, and didn't want to ruin your good mood by bringing up how you'd acted earlier. So, even though your reluctance to allow her to take care of you worried her deeply, she let it go, vowing to keep a close eye on you.

You wished that that had been the end of it. It should have been; your migraines were normally really rare. You'd never had more than one in the span of a few months, normally going a while in between episodes. Which was why you just dealt with them; they weren't a common enough occurrence for you to go to a doctor or something.

You must have been extra stressed, though, which you knew was the cause of your migraines. Between a hectic club schedule, and an insane international one, you were exhausted. Seeing how stressed Alexia was only made you feel worse, until you were a walking ball of anxiety going into the holiday break.

You and Alexia had just played last game of the year, a champions league group stage game, extremely ready to relax. It seems your relaxation time came a little late, though, because you felt the beginnings of a migraine starting to pulse in your brain on the drive home.

You were determined to keep this one to yourself. What had happened a couple weeks ago, letting Alexia see you in that state, could not happen again. Even if she told you she didn't mind. Even if she'd specifically asked you to tell her the next time you didn't feel well. You just couldn't. You kept quiet all the way home, heading inside and immediately curling up on the couch while Alexia sat next to you.

Alexia wasn't stupid, and she knew you very well. She knew you weren't feeling well, could tell from your silence in the car; normally you'd be all hyper after a game, changing the song every other minute and talking nonstop about whatever came to your mind. She loved hyper-post game y/n, who always managed to bring a smile to her face, no matter what mood she was in. Your lack of energy in the car was concerning, as was your behavior upon arriving home. Normally, the two of you picking dinner consisted of you going back and forth until one of you was so hungry that you just agreed to something you didn't want. Alexia pulled out her phone, prepared to start listing ideas, expecting this to take a while.

"What about sushi?" She suggested, half joking because you really didn't like sushi, and would normally complain about having to pick something random off the menu.

"Sure." You responded quietly, and Alexia's head raised to look at you, thinking she must have heard wrong.

"Okay... do you want fried rice?" she asked, eyes studying you closely.

"I'm actually not that hungry, I'll probably just make a sandwich or something" you replied, and Alexia's eyebrows rose even farther up on her face. Ordering food out was... your favorite thing. Choosing to eat something from home instead of getting something from a restaurant was unheard of. She had half a mind to check you for a fever, but she was already suspicious that your head was hurting.

She took in your appearance, really looking at you. Your eyebrows were slightly furrowed, as if allowing your eyes to be open all the way was too much. You unconsciously rubbed your left temple with your finger, and your jaw was completely clenched. It was clear that you were in pain. Alexia set her phone down, scooting a little closer to you.

"Are you feeling alright?" She asked, bracing herself for your response. Sure enough, your whole body tensed, and she watched your face as all traces of discomfort were wiped away.

"I'm fine, just tired." You assured her, not really aware of how aware she was of how you were feeling. Alexia decided to push, just a little.

"If you're sure. You can tell me if you're not feeling well, cariño. I won't be mad." Her voice was soft, as if she was talking to a cornered animal, and you were suddenly fighting the inexplicable urge to cry. You want to tell her, you really did, but you couldn't. You didn't want to be too much, and you'd already been far too weak in front of her before. You forced yourself to meet her eyes, willing yourself to not feel anything as you took the love and worry she held on her face.

"I'm fine, amor, seriously." You responded, fighting to keep your voice steady. You were careful not to promise anything, not wanting to break it. You were fine. Your head hurt, and the lights made your eyes ache, and the room was starting to spin lightly whenever you moved your head, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle. You gave Alexia a half smile, and she sighed, smiling back. You could tell she didn't really believe you.

If you were going to be stubborn, you could be stubborn. Alexia was dead set on you coming to her this time, on forcing you to realize that you needed her, and that was okay.

The rest of the evening passed slowly. Alexia put on some random reality show that she insisted she only watched for you, even though she'd let out comments like, "well maybe if you weren't such a douche, derek, everyone wouldn't hate you" completely unprompted. You promised her you'd eat after the episode ended, her food arriving in the middle. Instead, the credits played, and you avoided her eyes as you spoke.

Standing up only slightly unsteadily, you said, "I think I'm gonna go to bed Ale, I'm really tired." The pain in your head had only intensified and you were desperate to escape to your bedroom where you could hide your tears in the pillow. Alexia looked up at you with surprise and concern.

"You haven't eaten anything, y/n, and it's only 8:00."

"I know, I'm really not hungry though. Goodnight baby, I love you." You didn't even kiss her goodnight as you headed to bed, knowing that if you tried to bend over to do so, you'd probably end up face down in her lap. She looked after you, bewildered. She really couldn't understand why you were so reluctant to tell her that you weren't feeling well.

You changed into pajamas and curled up under the covers, surprisingly finding yourself rather sleepy. Your head hurt, a lot, but somehow you felt yourself drifting off.

Alexia tried to stay up till a normal time, but she couldn't resist climbing into bed with you. At least in your sleep, you couldn't push her away from you. So, at 9, she headed into the bedroom, finding you asleep, head buried in her pillow instead of your own. She smiled, taking in the sight of you completely dressed in clothes from her side of the dresser. She was tempted to pull clothes from your side of the dresser as revenge, but instead settled on a pair of her own shorts, and the stupid fuzzy sweatshirt you loved. She didn't like wearing it, and she hated sleeping in it, but the look on your face when she put it on last time, as if you'd maybe begun to understand a fraction of the love that Alexia had for you, was enough to get it on her tonight.

She slid into bed next to you, fitting herself into the small space you'd left her when you'd taken over her pillow. You had the hood of one of her hoodies pulled up, and under it your face was flushed, you looked warm, so she carefully pulled the hood down, allowing fresh air to hit your face and hopefully cool you down. You grumbled slightly, shifting over until you were practically laying on top of your girlfriend. Alexia held in a laugh, and snuggled into you. She felt sleep tugging at her, and she hoped when you both woke up in the morning, you'd feel better.

-----

You didn't. You woke up only a few hours after Alexia had come to bed, in blinding pain. Your head had never hurt this bad before, no migraine had every felt this intense. You knew you should do something, wake Alexia up probably, but you really couldn't move. You were laid on top of Alexia, head tucked into her neck. She was sound asleep, one arm wrapped around you, holding you securely against her. You tried to shift, just a little, but the slight movement intensified the pain in your head, until you were biting your lip to keep from crying out. You couldn't stop the tears, though, and they fell steadily onto Alexia's neck.

Alexia woke to the sensation of something wet on her neck. She was incredibly groggy, and she just barely registered that you were laying against her.

"Why is my neck wet?" She grumbled, speaking in her normal voice, although much more garbled than normal. At the volume of her voice in your ear, you let out a whimper of pain, unable to contain it.

Alexia was fully awake in a second, remembering that you'd gone to bed not feeling well, the sound you'd just made alerting her to the fact that you were silently crying into her skin. She didn't move though, only starting to rub your back softly.

"Hey, bebé, what is it?" she cooed, keeping her voice at a whisper. You didn't respond, shoulder still shaking with silent cries, and she grew even more concerned. "Please tell me what's wrong, I can't help unless you tell me," she pleaded.

The desperation in her voice got to you, and you managed to roll yourself off of her, onto your back, with minimal sounds of discomfort. Alexia rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow to look down at you. She kept her touch feather light as the pads of her fingers lightly wiped away the tears on your face.

"Open your eyes for me, please?" You did as she asked, thankful for the darkness. Your face was screwed up with pain, eyes red and puffy from crying. "Now tell me what's hurting," she said, because there was no question you were in pain.

Your bottom lip trembled as you looked up at Alexia, trying to find the words to express what was going on.

"M-my head," you told her, voice breaking as you spoke through your tears. "Migraine. Really bad."

"Oh, bebé, I'm so sorry. What can I get you? Medicine? An ice pack? Anything," she seemed so eager to help, to fix it, and you felt even worse about what you were about to say.

You'd never felt this bad before. You could barely think. What few thoughts you could form, all told you that you needed to go to the hospital. You knew once the words were out of your mouth, Alexia would freak out, and there'd be no going back. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes, before speaking.

"Ale, you need to take me to the hospital." She was silent for a few moments, and you opened your eyes again to look at her. The fear painted across her face was horrifying.

Your words stunned her. For you, stubborn, independent you, to tell her she needed to take you to the hospital, you must have been in indescribable pain. She allowed herself to panic for only a moment, before she took a deep breath, and burst into action.

"Okay, hospital, I can do that. Should I call an ambulance?" She tried to sound more put together than she felt.

"No, too loud. Drive me?" You were back to speaking in half sentences. She would drive you, she really would, but she took one look at her hands, shaking uncontrollably in panic, and she knew she shouldn't get behind the wheel of the car. Maybe she should have been better in a crisis, maybe she would have been if it had been anyone else. But it was you, and you were her weakness. She didn't want to worry you, though, and she knew if she said she was panicking too much to drive, you'd worry, even in this state.

"Okay mi amor, let me change, and we'll go." You mumbled an agreement, and she climbed out of bed, grabbing her phone. She headed into the closet, shutting the door behind her before flicking the light on. She dialed quickly hoping to god that Mapi had her ringer on.

"This better be good Putellas, I swear." Mapi's voice came over the line, grumpy and harsh.

"Mapi, I need you to drive me and y/n to the hospital." Alexia felt tears pricking her eyes, and she blinked them away, knowing she needed to keep it together.

"Por qué?!" Mapi responded, sounding much more awake. Alexia heard shuffling over the phone, and a yelp that was probably Mapi waking Ingrid up.

"She has a migraine and she said it's really bad and she needs to go to the hospital."

"She asked to go?" Mapi sounded surprised.

"Si."

"Shit, okay we're coming now, we'll be there in a couple minutes." Like Alexia, Mapi recognized how bad you must have been feeling if you had asked to go to the hospital. Neither of them had ever been so grateful to live so close to each other before.

Alexia headed back into the bedroom, having changed while on the phone into sweatpants and a t-shirt, and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"Mapi's coming to drive us, she'll be here in a minute. I'm gonna pick you up to carry you to the car now, vale?" She whispered the words against your forehead.

You replied with a soft, "Okay," pain lacing your voice. You didn't care that Alexia had called Mapi, you didn't care about anything as long as you didn't have to go in an ambulance with the sirens on. As carefully as one would pick up a newborn baby, Alexia gathered you into her arms, holding you tight against her, carrying you out of the room and to the front door. It opened right as she got to it, and Ingrid was standing in front of her, spare key in hand, hair sleep tousled, but looking alert.

"Take her to the car, I'll grab your wallet and keys," Alexia nodded, sliding on shoes before heading out the door, thanking the universe that she had such good friends. Mapi was waiting by car, pulling the door open, wordlessly helping Alexia slide into the backseat. You sat sideways on Alexia's lap, head tucked back into her neck as your tears hit her skin over and over. You clung to her tightly, hands fisted in her shirt, as you tried to stop yourself from sobbing loudly. The walk to the car had been enough to almost make you pass out, but you'd held on to consciousness.

Ingrid climbed into the front seat then, quietly telling Alexia she'd locked the door behind her. Mapi pulled the car out of the driveway, looking in the rearview mirror every so often, studying your form curled up against Alexia. She'd never seen you like this, and she'd never seen Alexia this panicked either. Ingrid was thinking the same thing, and she reached a hand back, giving Alexia's knee a squeeze.

"Everything is gonna be fine, the doctors will know what to do, they'll fix her up fast." Ingrid kept her voice low and reassuring. Alexia nodded, slightly frantically, holding you tighter against her.

The drive to the hospital seemed to take forever, Mapi taking care to drive as carefully as possible, since every jerk the car made caused a whimper of pain to spill from your lips. Alexia paid no attention to the dark city passing her by, her only focus on you in her arms.

Mapi pulled the car right up in front of the doors to the emergency room, and Ingrid was flying out of the car, opening up the door and helping Alexia get you out. Mapi drove off to park the car, while Ingrid walked the two of you inside. Luckily, it was pretty empty, and the nurses ushered Alexia to put you down on a bed in a room almost instantly. She explained the situation, as you were clearly in too much pain to speak, and the nurses were nodding, hooking you up to all sorts of things, before telling Alexia to wait in the waiting room until they had run some tests.

She hesitated, looking desperately at you. You looked so small in the hospital bed, eyes squeezed tightly shut against the harsh lights, hands balled into fists. There were 5 people working over you, all seemed calm and not worried, but Alexia still had to fight the urge to climb into the bed with you, and pull you into your arms until you stopped crying. She felt a hand on her arm, tugging her into the hallway.

"C'mon. She'll be okay, you need to let them work though." Ingrid stated, encouraging Alexia to follow her out into the hall. With one last look at you, she let Ingrid pull her out of the room and walk her back to the waiting room. They found Mapi there, arguing with the nurse at the desk, trying to figure out where you went.

Alexia took a seat in a chair, sighing heavily, and burying her face in her hands. Ingrid and Mapi exchanged a look, taking seats on either side of their captain. Mapi rested her hand on Alexia's back, and was startled when she heard Alexia sniffle into her hands.

Ingrid rolled her eyes at the look on Mapi's face, who looked completely stunned to see her best friend crying. Sure, Alexia never cried, ever, but this situation definitely warranted it.

"She's gonna be fine, Ale. She's in a lot of pain, but thats how migraines work. They'll give her something for it, make sure nothing else is going on, and discharge her." Ingrid told her, clearly trying to make Alexia feel better.

"She's right. Y/n has had a stressful month, this is just her body reacting to it. She'll be fine." Mapi continued, pulling herself together enough to comfort her friend.

Alexia lifted her head then, and both other girls wanted to cry themselves at the look on her face.

"I've never seen her in that much pain before. And for her to ask me to take her to the hospital, she must have been in so much pain." Alexia's voice was shaking when she spoke, wiping her face with her hands to rid it of tears. Mapi and Ingrid looked at her sympathetically.

"I know, but they've probably already got her all drugged out, she's probably not even in any pain anymore. She's funny on pain meds, remember when she got her wisdom teeth out?" Mapi tried to lighten the mood. Alexia smiled slightly, remembering how goofy you'd been. Her friends had helped, she felt marginally better.

And Mapi was right. The doctors had ruled out any serious brain issues, and given you a nice big dose of painkillers. You felt the ache in your head fade as you yourself drifted off again. Your last thought before you fell asleep was that you hoped they'd let Alexia back soon, and that she'd brought the fuzzy sweatshirt she wore to bed, because you were kind of cold.

-----

When you woke, it took you a few minutes to remember where you were. Your brain felt heavy, but not in the painful way it had before. You tried to blink your eyes open, but they weren't really cooperating yet. You tried to bring a hand up to rub at them, only to find that you couldn't move your right arm at all. Using your left hand, despite the IV, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, and cracked them open. You looked down to see what had taken your arm hostage, and found Alexia passed out on it. Her cheek was smushed up against your sheets, both arms wrapped around your one, while her hand somehow held tightly to yours.

You were suddenly overwhelmed; by both the love you felt for the girl laying at your bedside, and the love you felt from her. Tears sprung to your eyes again, and you sighed, slightly annoyed with the amount you'd been crying recently. She stirred at the slight sound you made, eyes blinking open, slightly confused, before she shot straight up in her seat. Her hands released yours, and they hovered frantically over you, as her mouth opened and closed. She was groggy from sleep, and alarmed that you were crying, and her brain was not moving fast enough to decide on a course of action. It would have been funny if she hadn't looked so panicked.

She found her voice then, raising her hands to cradle your cheeks. "Are you in pain? Why are you crying? I should call the doctor, let me find a nurse," her words came out a mile a minute, and you smiled at her, placing your hands over hers.

"Relax, amor. I'm not in pain, sit back down." She looked at you doubtfully, slowly sitting back in her chair.

"If you aren't in pain, why are you crying?" She asked. She was surprised when you blushed, no longer meeting her eyes.

"I just woke up and you were here with me, and... I don't know. It was overwhelming. In a good way. I just love you, a lot." You stuttered through the sentence, before lifting your eyes to meet hers again. her gaze had softened, and you melted at the look on her face.

She pulled you in then, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips. She pulled back after a minute, peppering little kisses all across your face until you were laughing, and she had cracked a smile. Quickly, though, her face turned serious again.

"Of course I was here when you woke up. Where else would I be?" She asked, seeming genuinely unsure of where else she would possibly have been.

"I don't know. You still surprise me sometimes, with how much you care. I don't always expect it." You responded. You weren't sure if you were just feeling sappy, or if the drugs were making you talk, but you found yourself overly willing to be honest with her.

"Bebé, why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well last night?" She replied, eyes searching yours.

"I didn't want to bother you, you were tired too. And, I guess I'm just worried."

"Worried about what?"

You took a deep breath, picking at a stray thread of the thin blanket laying across your legs. "Worried that if I let you see me like that, all weak, you won't want me anymore. Why would you want to take care of me?"

Alexia was quiet after you spoke, and you made yourself look back up at her. She looked like she was thinking hard.

"Nothing you could ever do would be too much for me. Nothing. Not being sick, or in pain, or sad, or angry. I want you just as much then as I do when you're happy. And I always want to take care of you. You are mi niña bonita y perfecta. I want everything with you, even the stuff that isn't so fun." She spoke slowly, determined that you catch every word. "Okay?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, and nodded. "Okay. I promise to try to do better, and let you help me." You figured it was the least you could do, after the little speech she just made. A speech that made you want to run home and grab the ring you'd hidden in the back of your closet, and ask her, right then and there.

Alexia smiled, satisfied, leaning in to kiss you again. You asked her what the doctor had said, and she told you that he thought you hadn't rested enough after the last migraine, and you'd obviously been extra stressed recently. That, combined with the lack of sleep you'd been getting due to early trainings and late nights filled with... other forms of exercise with Alexia, had compounded to give you the migraine you'd experienced.

He recommended a neurologist, who could help you manage them, and also that you find a better way to deal with your stress than... not dealing with it at all. You were free to go once the drugs wore off though. Alexia made you promise to see the neurologist before she brought up the topics of visitors.

"Ingrid and Mapi are still in the waiting room. They were both pretending not to be worried but Mapi has been pacing pretty much since we got here, and Ingrid's gotten all snippy, the way she does when she's worried." You laughed, picturing the scene clearly. You told her to go get them, and she left to do so.

While she was gone, you thought about that ring in your closet again. You had big plans for it over the summer, but you wondered if maybe you couldn't wait until then. You might have to plan something sooner, or risk blurting it out while waiting for the right time. Either way, you were more sure than ever that Alexia was it for you, and more convinced that you'd ever been that you were it for her.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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pupyuj · 9 months

Text

→ “dress.” || ahn yujin x reader fic.

— you thought it was about time that you gift yujin a special present, especially after all she has done for you and given to you...

word count: 8.7k.

dynamic: dom!sugar mommy!ahn yujin x sub!sugar baby!reader.

content warnings: smut, use of strap-on, cunnilingus, fingering, nipple play, overstimulation, edging, praise kink, mommy kink, degradation, spanking, spitting.

requested ? : nope.

a/n: THIS ONE TOOK FOREVERRRR i'm glad to be finally letting it fly 🤓

gift giving had to be your favorite love language. it’s the way your friends’ face lit up whenever they receive something they like from you. their smile, the way they would immediately hug you — it made your heart feel full. sure, the money you used was barely yours but technically, you did have to ‘work’ to get said money. your friends never questioned how you could easily buy them expensive jewelry and clothes at the drop of the hat and you were thankful, because you haven’t got the slightest idea as to how to explain to them that you have a sugar mommy.

and that it’s the very same sugar mommy that you ditched movie night with them for. instead of snuggling with your friends in a pillow fort watching bad 90’s movies, you were sitting at a lavish five-star restaurant that served exquisite french cuisine. and the pretty woman staring intently at you right across the table, wearing a loose suit that looked way too good on her? ahn yujin.

older, mature, clever, and roguishly handsome as much as she is beautiful, ahn yujin was simply an irresistible woman. she was charming, and had given you butterflies in a way nobody ever has when she first approached you with her offer—the offer—so naturally, you couldn’t say no. not that you wanted to say no to her anyway. just look at her!

she smiled once you met her eyes, “you didn’t have to doll yourself up for a simple dinner.” she said, taking note of the branded clothes that you wore. her gifts. you looked down at your food bashfully. was it obvious that you poured way too much effort into your appearance? you did spend at least an hour and a half getting ready for this meeting.

“we haven’t seen each other in a while. i wanted to look good for you.” you confessed, blushing.

“well, you look beautiful,” yujin says as she reached for your hand across the table. you muttered a small ‘thank you’, gently squeezing her hand. “although, had i known that you would do all this just for me, i would have picked you right up from your door instead of letting you take a taxi.”

you shook your head, “you just got off work, and i live on the other side of the city. i didn’t want to tire you out, mo— yujin.” you cleared your throat, hoping that the guests in the nearby tables did not catch on to your slip up. yujin definitely did, seeing the smirk that appeared on her face.

nevertheless, yujin pretends she didn’t hear it. she merely leans back on her seat and crosses her arms, “i guess not. we have a long night ahead of us, don’t we?” she asked. you stared at the suggestive look in her eyes, already feeling your core buzzing from anticipation.

you smiled innocently at her, “indeed.” you agreed, taking a sip of your water.

you couldn’t wait until she takes you to her home.

and just like that, the night went by quickly. after dinner, the two of you decided to take a walk in a park, where you rested quietly on a bench, talking about what each of you had been up to weeks before. the entire time at the park, you couldn’t get over the way yujin’s dark eyes just pierced through you, more than eager to take you home, but she was too much of a gentlewoman to interrupt you while talking.

and of course, when the air got significantly colder, the night finally, finally started. the ride back to yujin’s house (her mansion, actually) was pleasantly quiet with only the soft tunes of the radio filling the silence in the air. yujin had her hand on your thigh, gently caressing your skin with her thumb and totally ignoring the way you occasionally squeezed your thighs together to calm that feeling in your core. towards the end of the ride, you couldn’t resist taking yujin’s hand and kissing it. she quite liked that.

you got some texts from your friends. they were asking if you got home safely from wherever you went and if you had fun, but you really couldn’t be bothered to reply when yujin’s lips were on your neck.

“did you miss me, baby?” she asked between kisses. you were on her lap, trying your hardest not to grind your core on her now exposed thigh because she was taking an excruciatingly long time touching you. it was irritating, but it always started out like this.

frustratingly slow, but so very worth it.

“ye—mhm… yes, mommy.. very much.”

she was leaving marks all over your skin; from your neck, to your collarbone, to your shoulders. she was usually more careful with that whole thing, but after not seeing you for weeks, she couldn’t help herself.

you turned your head to give yujin better access, not at all caring about the questions that might come from people once they see her work. conveniently enough, your phone buzzes. someone was calling.

“hm? who’s riki?” yujin whispered against your skin, glaring at the caller id on your phone.

“a friend… just a friend, mommy.”

“boy?” yujin asked, dark eyes looking up at you.

you nodded, “b-but he’s nothing. he’s not important.” did it hurt you to say that? a lot, yes. did it hurt turning off your phone, ignoring your friend’s call, and kicking it off the bed? oh, yeah. but it made yujin smile, it made her happy. and because of that, you decided that you didn’t care that it hurt.

“i’m all yours, mommy. nothing to worry about.” you reassured her, cupping her cheeks and putting your lips on hers. she returns the kiss, gripping you by the waist and pulling you closer to her. she brushes her tongue along your lips and you open your mouth obediently, moaning at the taste of her tongue.

on yujin’s crotch sat a strap, it was thicker than an average one and colored blue — your favorite. but you didn’t dare to make any movements towards it. as much as you wanted your mommy to pound you, you knew better than to be impatient and test her patience. you knew that yujin would give you anything you want anyway, you just had to wait.

yujin hiked your skirt up to your waist, her other hand making its way up to your thigh and then stopping at your soaked lingerie. she keeps on kissing you and even though your lungs burned for air, you kept the same energy for her. you didn’t want to disappoint her so early in the act.

you felt yujin’s fingers circling your clit gently. too gently.

you broke the kiss, gasping for air. “mmhm… mommyy…” you couldn’t help but whine.

“i know, baby. just be a good girl, m’kay?” yujin smiles at you, a clear message saying that you will be teased like hell tonight. you whined again, shaking your head, but you couldn’t do anything about it. it’s not like you could just push her down on the bed and ride her strap yourself. that would result in a punishment much more painful than being pounded out of your mind, which was being ignored.

“take this off,” yujin said, tugging at your top. obediently, you pulled the clothing over your head, revealing the thin bra that you wore just for yujin. she smiles when she realized your intent. “such a sweet girl. i missed you.” she kisses you again, much more softer this time.

yujin had been gone for a business trip weeks ago and even when she got home, she couldn’t meet up with you due to her busy schedule. and of course, yours as well. you had to suffice with sending her photos and videos of yourself. very rarely did she call you but when she did, you would end the night with your hand inside your shorts, touching yourself while yujin instructed you. none of it was really enough for you, though. even when you came several times during those calls, all you wanted was for yujin to come home and take care of you herself. it was actually a miracle that you managed to hold yourself back from immediately pouncing on her when she took you to her house tonight.

‘my poor mommy,’ you thought to yourself as you threaded yujin’s hair with your fingers while she kissed you. you felt her hands groping your tits and then move to your back to unclasp your bra. as soon as it was off, yujin starts playing with your nipples using her thumbs, smiling in satisfaction when you moaned into her mouth. ‘having to deal with those stupid men from her company for weeks on end.’

‘i’m gonna be really good for her. she deserves that much.’ you decided, throwing your head back in pleasure when yujin captures one of your hard nipples with her warm mouth. she pinches and pulls on the other one with her fingers which only made you tug on her hair a bit and whine. god, you were drenched. and horny to the point where you might just cum from yujin sucking on your breasts. just how much longer was she going to keep you waiting? you just wanted her to fill your holes already.

yujin flicks your hard bud with her tongue, and you grip her hair just a little tighter. yujin releases your nipple with a pop, and immediately repeats the same actions to the other one. one of yujin’s hands slips inside your lingerie and starts massaging your folds, while her other arm kept you close. fuck, it felt embarrassing moaning so loudly when she was barely doing anything but it was so hard keeping any sounds contained inside of you. yujin just made you feel too good.

“are you gonna cum just from this? huh?” yujin asked after a while, looking up at you with a smile. you could only whimper in reply, eyes a bit teary from the desperation. “you’re such a slut. you missed me that much? you’re not gonna wait for mommy’s cock?”

“nn-no… no, i’ll wait… ahh— i’ll wait for mommy…” you promised. she was challenging you. yujin knew from the way you closed your eyes tightly that you were trying your very hardest not to cum. your pride absolutely refused to allow you to, anyway.

yujin grins, “that’s my girl.” she places a kiss on your chest and pulls her hand out of your panties. you pouted, knowing it really will take a while before yujin fills you up. yujin notices this and pats your thigh, “don’t be sad, baby. we’re getting there. come on. on your knees.”

you kneeled down on the carpeted floor in front of her. your face was right in front of her strap, and then it hit you.

yujin chuckles at the way your eyes lit up, “i guess you know what to do, right? i can’t go inside you unless this is all wet.” yujin presses the tip of her strap against your lips and without wasting another second, you took it inside your mouth and started working. you already looked like a desperate whore, why not take it all the way? your eyes flickered up to meet yujin’s, and she was in the process of unbuttoning the white dress shirt she was wearing.

good god was ahn yujin’s body gorgeous. from her round, soft breasts to her perfectly sculpted abs… your clit throbbed just looking at her.

“baby, all of it.” yujin puts a hand on top of your head and pushes your mouth further down on her plastic cock. your hands clutched the bedsheets as you gagged from the size. “look at you sucking it off like it’s the real thing…” yujin says while chuckling. you could care less about how stupid this was — you’d do anything as long as it means getting fucked by yujin faster.

once she was satisfied, yujin pulled your head off the strap by your hair. “i have to admit… this little ‘riki’ boy got me worried about what you might have been doing while i was gone.” she said, pulling your hair down by the back of your head so you’re completely looking up at her.

you shook your head frantically, immediately knowing what she was implying. “no, no, mommy. i would never.”

“really? you’re telling me that you didn’t go around the city looking for someone to fill up that slutty little hole of yours while mommy was at work?” yujin tightens her grip. you could tell she was actually upset by the way her eyes showed zero signs of playfulness. she wasn’t teasing you this time.

“i didn’t. please—” you hissed at the pain. “please believe me. i belong to you, mommy. i promise. i promise.”

why would she even assume that you would even think of letting someone else touch you? even if other people got that chance, which is very fucking unlikely, they wouldn’t be able to make you feel good. nobody knows your body the way yujin does. no one else compares, it’s that simple.

“do you mean that?” yujin asked, her voice now taking on a more softer tone.

“every word.” there was simply no other answer.

yujin grabs your jaw with her free hand, “open up.” and so you do. you opened up your mouth, thinking that yujin was going to use your throat herself but instead, she leans close to your face, and she spits inside your mouth.

yujin quickly closes your jaw with her hand before you could even think of spitting it out, “swallow.” she demands harshly. of course, you had no other choice but to do what she says. you do what you were told, keeping eye contact to prove a point. yujin smiles in satisfaction and pats your cheek, once again happy.

again, you would do anything for yujin.

she lets go of your hair and starts petting your head, “you’ve been a really good girl tonight… wanna get your reward?” she asked.

you perked up, “yes… yes, please.”

yujin nodded her head towards bed and you immediately got up from the floor. your heart was beating erratically. finally. she was finally going to fuck you out of your mind.

you sat on the bed across from yujin, looking up at her. she tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, “you know your safe words, right?” she asked. you nodded, leaning into her touch. of course, despite everything that led up to this moment, yujin will still try to take care of you as much as she could. it makes your heart swell with something. you don’t exactly know what. and do you even want to know?

“tell me.” yujin said, running her thumb across your bottom lip.

“wait,” yujin hums, urging you to continue. “and no more. or i could tap out.”

“good,” yujin brings your face up to her and kisses your lips briefly. “now flip over.” she whispered against your lips. obediently, you did as you were told. yujin held your ass up with one hand and lined up her strap across your dripping, gaping cunt with the other. without warning, yujin plunges half of the cock inside of you, making you grip the bedsheets and gasp loudly.

you turned your head slightly to look at her, and she was smirking down at you. “take it, darling.” was what yujin said before pushing her strap deeper inside of you. you choked out a moan, and buried your head on yujin’s pillow, muffling any other sounds that came out of your mouth. but yujin was quick to grab you hair and pull your head back up, “scream. i want to hear you.”

as yujin thrusted her strap inside of you, slowly but roughly, you didn’t try to hide the sounds that she brought out of you. god knows you both needed this. you’ve gone weeks too long feeling empty, but now yujin was here, really here. she filled you up so well too, always making sure to use the entire strap’s length to penetrate your sweet spots just right. looking at yujin, with her dress shirt open and her black hair a bit of a mess from how roughly she pounded into you… it was enough to send you over the edge but you wanted to enjoy yourself a little longer.

yujin spreads your cheeks, finally picking up her pace and bringing you closer to an early climax. but you refused to give in just like that. yujin hasn’t even gotten started yet, you knew she would be disappointed if you let go of yourself so early. so you held on, completely ignoring the tightening in your abdomen and continuing on taking everything yujin was giving you: from her thrusts, to her hair pulling, her scratchings, and the slaps to your ass.

“if i were given a choice.. shit, baby… i would’ve brought you along with me on that trip,” yujin grips your ass tightly. she was going to leave marks for sure. “you know how much i missed this tight pussy of yours? hm? it was hard—fuck—trying to get through the day without having you writhe under me…” yujin moves down and leans her mouth close to your ear, “i’m gonna ruin you over and over tonight, baby girl. okay?”

god, her words just drove you insane. you nodded your head desperately, “yes, y-yes, mommy..! i’m yours, i’m all yours…”

yujin visits the gym regularly to keep herself healthy. and of course, you would know that because you have, in fact, accompanied her on one of her workout days once and miraculously did not get caught when she fucked you in the locker room. so, basically, it was easy for yujin to manhandle you, especially when you were in such a vulnerable position. she makes sure you were down on your knees instead of just laying down, and whenever you were losing strength in your legs, she keeps you up. you looked at her again, begging her to let you lay down with a look in your eyes but she merely glares at you before continuing to fuck into you like you were a damn fleshlight.

you clutched the bedsheets with a death grip, feeling the familiar pressure in your stomach building up when the strap starts brushing against all of your good spots. yujin would never let you come that easily. but fuck, you didn’t know how long you can keep it up.

“m-mommy…? please… i ha—aghh… i have t-to…”

“no. be a good whore and wait until i tell you when you can.”

you wanted to talk back and get her riled up, but at this point in time, she might just deny you of your release completely.

yujin keeps on thrusting into you in the same, mildly fast pace for minutes on end. every time you were brought closer to your climax, she rips it away completely and ignores your whines. you knew she wanted to make this night last as much as you did but fuck, you didn’t realize she wanted it to drag on! you loved it, of course. yujin was having fun and that all she deserved after weeks and weeks of nothing but work, but on the other hand, you fucking hated it too because you just wanted to cum so bad…

and you really thought she was finally letting you when she hits the spot.

you grabbed onto one of the pillows for dear life, soaking it with your tears. you were so fucking close. you didn’t even know how you’ve managed to hold on until now. “please, mommy..! please, please, plea—”

but all it takes for yujin to shut all your hopes down was to say one simple word, “no.”

fuck. at this point, you didn’t know if you were still moaning from the pleasure, or if you were sobbing from the pain and yujin being stubborn. maybe both. but fuck, you were exhausted and truthfully, a bit scared to make yujin angry so you still. keep. holding on. and it inflated the fuck out of yujin’s ego because wow, the things you would willing go through for her…?

“my obedient little slut… you make mommy so happy,” yujin said. she leans forward, putting her hands down on the bed (one holding down your wrist and the other intertwined with your other hand), and speeds up her thrusts. “you’re really gonna do anything for me, huh?” she says, her hot breath on your ear.

you nodded, leaning against her, “everything, mommy… i’ll do everything…”

“that’s my girl. you always know the right things to say,” she lets go of your wrist and uses her hand to pull your hair back, then she forces you to turn your head and kisses you. she was getting faster, bringing you closer to the edge once again. this time, however, you weren’t going to let her play with you again. you started moving your hips so that you would be fucking yourself into her strap. you feared that yujin might get angry at this but you hear her laugh. “fuck. good girl.” she said and then slaps your ass.

finally, she allows you to lay down. yujin grabs your waist in a tight grip and started moving you. she loved the sight of your ass bouncing as she pounded into you, and the red marks that started to form was an added bonus too. she might come with you at this rate.

“mommy’s gonna make you come real good, okay?” yujin said, peppering your shoulder with kisses while you’re nodding mindlessly. you would agree with anything she asked you, you were completely out of your mind. focused on one thing only. yujin uses her one free hand (she was still holding yours with her other one. she knew it kept you grounded.) and slides two fingers inside your mouth. you sucked on them, moaning and gagging on her long digits before she pulls them out.

yujin reaches down your body, “stay still, baby.” she says before circling your clit with her fingers that were covered in your spit.

you were pretty sure you were hurting yujin with the way you held onto her hand impossibly tight. tears spilled out of your eyes as she kept on pleasuring your clit, making it even more difficult for you to keep your promise of not coming. shit, it was too much. she has never edged you for this long and this intensely before… as bad as that sounded, it brought you comfort and you would be smiling at the thought if you weren’t fucking crying because if anything, this just confirms that yujin really did miss you.

“mommy…! sto—oh, god…!!” you sobbed, shaking your head as you felt yourself slowly losing control. you could feel yujin grinning against your shoulder. what a dick, but you couldn’t say that.

“it’s okay, baby. now. come.” yujin nearly pulls the strap all the way off of your cunt before plunging it back in, hard and using its full length. at the same time, she pressed her fingers against your clit and really, that was all it took for you to finally let go. you came with a long moan, shaking as yujin continues to rub your clit, riding out your orgasm and truly just making it all last.

your cum was seemingly everywhere: on her strap, her fingers, trickling down your thighs, on the bedsheets… it was relieving for all of that pressure that was stuck in your abdomen to finally be gone. after a while, yujin cautiously pulls the strap out of you, takes it off of herself before throwing it on the floor. she was going to have to clean up the mess the two of you made tomorrow. but for now? you needed her in another way.

yujin completely takes off her dress shirt and her bra before she laid down on the empty space beside you, immediately cooping you up in her arms and kissing your damp forehead. you were breathing heavily, chest heaving up and down, eyes dark and unfocused, and lips quivering.

yujin wipes the tears off of your cheeks and held you close, “you did a good job, baby. get some rest. i promise i’ll take care of you lots tomorrow.” unable to reply due to your voice completely just disappearing after you’ve used it to scream ‘mommy’ all night, you merely put your arm around yujin’s waist and rested your head on her chest. it was easy to fall asleep after that, with only yujin’s steady heartbeat accompanying you into your safe place.

the morning after, you woke up alone.

which wasn’t a rare occurrence. considering it was nearly ten in the morning, yujin should be sitting in her office miles away from her house right now. it was routine at this point: you wake up, yujin’s gone and all she has left you is a text message, maybe breakfast, and a hefty amount of money in your bank. so, imagine your surprise when you sat up, rubbing your eyes and wincing at the soreness that coursed throughout your body, and there was yujin entering the bedroom in a bathrobe, drying her wet hair with a towel.

“oh, good morning,” yujin says. she approaches the bed, brushing your hair away from your face. her hands were so gentle, greatly contrasting the way she completely ruined you with them the night before. yujin leans in and leaves a quick kiss on your forehead, and then she chuckles lightly at your dazed expression. “what’s wrong?” she asks, sitting on the bed.

“it’s just… rare to see you here…” you said, your voice hoarse.

“i called in. i promised i would take care of you, didn’t i?” yujin reaches for the glass of water on the bedside table and hands it over to you. yujin watches as you drank the contents of the glass… it was a simple action but for some reason, you got her heart beating louder and faster, and warmth spread in her chest when you smiled at her, saying a small ‘thank you’ before putting the glass back on the bedside table. in yujin’s opinion, you’ve never looked more beautiful than this: a bit exhausted, and very obviously fucked out but the morning glow looked so good on you.

yujin gently takes your chin in her hand and pulls you in, catching your lips in a soft kiss. something about this one felt different. it was in the way her lips quivered as it moved against yours, the way her eyes held nothing but adoration for you when she leaned back, the way she smiled shyly under your gaze, and the way she laughed softly when you gave in to your temptations and chased after her lips.

you spent a good few minutes, maybe even longer, kissing yujin. ocassionally sharing soft smiles, longing gazes, and quiet, short conversations before connecting your lips again.

“i got the bath ready for you. can you walk?” yujin asked after a while.

you nodded, “a little.” it was a lie. you could lay on the bed the entire day if you had a choice.

“you just want me to carry you there, don’t you?” yujin teased, bumping her nose into yours. you giggled, basically throwing yourself on yujin’s lap and lacing your arms around her neck. yujin was able to lift you up easily, and she took you to the lavish bathroom that she had in the house. it was the size of your room in your apartment.

“you can help yourself in my closet after you’re done,” yujin says after you’ve put both of your feet on the ground. she kisses you again, a bit deeper this time but it was quick. you could not express with enough words how addicting her lips were. “breakfast will be ready soon. i’ll be downstairs, okay?” and with that, yujin squeezes your hands before leaving, closing the door behind her.

did she have to be such a heartthrob?

needless to say, you got in the bathtub happy. and as you sat there, basking in the warm water and the sweet aroma of whatever soap yujin used, you started to think about all of the things yujin has done for you. of course, she makes sure you’re secured financially and that every meeting was worth your time, not to mention her randomly-timed and unnecessarily expensive gifts too. maybe it was time that you give back.

but what could a filthy rich and accomplished cfo of a distinguished company want more in life? yujin has it all: looks, brains, a handsome car, a big mansion, the cutest pair of dimples of ever, and a doll she could play with whenever she pleases.

then, it hit you.

“that’s perfect!” you muttered to yourself after putting your idea together in your head.

after your bath, you made your way back to yujin’s bedroom and opened up her massive walk-in closet. there was an array of clothes tailored specifically for yujin, and some she bought for herself taht you imagine costs more than your entire life. but, you headed straight for a drawer filled with her t-shirts. all of them were just as expensive as the dress shirts and the blazers, but yujin allows you to wear them because she knew how much you liked them.

you decided to wear your favorite one: a grey oversized tee embroidered with shooting stars in front. you paired it up with some random jean shorts you kept in one of the drawers and rushed downstairs. you smelled entirely like yujin, you loved it, and you knew she would too.

when you reached the kitchen, yujin, now fully clothed, had just finished preparing your coffee. you reached out for her arm and pulled her into you, “mommy, you like pretty things, right?” you asked with a grin.

yujin turns around and pulls you into her embrace, her hands resting on your hips, “why do you think i chose you, baby?” you swore your heart grew several sizes. you smiled up at her and then put your hands behind her neck, gently pushing her head down and catching her lips in a searing kiss. when yujin’s hands once again sneak underneath your shirt, the next few things that happened became a blur but one thing was for sure… you were going to take care of her next time.

“i’ve noticed something about you recently, (y/n).” your friend, wonyoung, suddenly said as the two of you browsed through a collection of expensive dresses at an outlet mall. her girlfriend, and your roommate, jiwon was elsewhere with your other roommate seonwoo and the friend that you ignored when you were with yujin, riki.

“what, do i have a pimple or something?” you asked, touching your face subconsciously.

“no,” wonyoung takes your hands off of your face with a laugh. “you’ve been looking… happier. not that you were ever depressed or anything but these days you’re glowing, you’re confident, and… you smile a lot more. specifically when you’re on your phone.” and of course wonyoung sees all that. as close as you were with jiwon, it was her girlfriend manages to read you like a book.

“what can i say? i love cookie run.” you joked, barely dodging the gentle slap on your shoulder that came from wonyoung.

“i’m serious, (y/n)-ah! are you dating someone?”

weeks ago, you would have denied her in a heartbeat with a reasonable enough excuse but now you don’t exactly know how to respond to that question. because after that meeting with yujin, the two of you have only gotten closer… and sweeter. you talk to each other in texts and not just send dirty photos, videos, or sexts. and the three previous meetings you’ve had, they have been so fun.

of course, the night always ended with you under yujin, but even the sex seemed to mean something more now.

wonyoung grabs your collar and opens up your jacket, and there she sees fresh hickies and bite marks across your neck and chest. “i knew it!” she gasped, bouncing on her feet and she excitedly hits your arm.

“wonyoung, you cannot be undressing me like that in public and while being taken by my best friend!” you said, swatting her hands away and covering yourself up again. oh yeah, apparently, yujin being careless with how she marked you was an added bonus in this level of your relationship.

'relationship'? you don’t even know anymore.

“tell me about her right now, (y/n)! does she go to our school? or some other university? older? younger? taller? i need to know! is she hot??” wonyoung was shaking you back and forth. the two of you have gotten several glances and looks from the other customers since wonyoung made no effort to lower her voice. nobody can blame wonyoung for getting excited though, you never really indulge yourself in romantic relationships since you had a lot to worry about. school, your family back at your hometown, money, rent… in fact, even before yujin, you’ve never let anybody make it past the first date.

you always thought it would be a waste of time, and that you’d rather put your energy into making yourself happy by tackling your hundred-or-so problems. turns out you can have both. and yujin made you realize that.

huh.

“w-we’re not dating, we’re just…” you sighed, blushing at the mere thought of yujin. this was weird. “it’s complicated, wonyoung. i don’t want to talk about it.”

the taller girl was smarter than that, however, and after staring at you for a good minute or two, she grins. “oh, it’s that kind of relationship.” she teased, nudging your arm while wiggling her eyebrows. you rolled your eyes. as pretty as she was, wonyoung can be so annoying. “wait… you’re shopping for her, aren’t you? oh my god, (y/n), you whore.” wonyoung slaps your arm, giggling.

you bowed profusely at the poor mother with a child who walked past as wonyoung said those words, and glared at your friend, “do not tell jiwon and the boys about this. they’ll have a heart attack.”

wonyoung scoffs, “they can’t just gatekeep you forever! sooner or later, they’re gonna have to accept that you’ll eventually claim your destiny as some sexy rich woman’s living fleshlight.” you kicked her in the shin, but it didn’t affect her whatsoever. god, you wished you brought jiwon along with you instead of her. at least jiwon wouldn’t even think to ask about your sex life!

“is she sexy and rich?” wonyoung asked. she was never going to leave alone, wasn’t she?

with a deep sigh you answered, “emphasis on rich. bigger emphasis on sexy.”

wonyoung squeals, suddenly grabs your arm and drags you away to some other section of the store, “you’re seeing her again soon, aren’t you? i have the perfect dress for you!” well, at least she’s helping. and when you looked in the mirror wearing the sleek and shiny black dress that barely left anything to the imagination, you can’t help but be as excited about this next meeting as wonyoung… perhaps even more.

“you are so going to get fucked out.”

“there are children in this fitting room, wonyoung. please—”

that night, after jiwon and wonyoung, as well as seonwoo, have tucked in for the night, you decided to call yujin, staring deeply at the dress that hung in front of your closet.

“hi, baby. it’s pretty late. do you need something?”

you ran your hand down the dress, feeling its silky material. you could just imagine yujin completely ruining you in it, and of course the thought gets you wet almost immediately.

“just wondering if i could come over sooner than we planned?”

you heard yujin laugh from the other end, “you miss me already?”

“i always do, mommy.”

“really?” you bit your lip, knowing full well what yujin was going to make you do next. you quickly pulled off your shorts, looking at your soaked panties and cringing at how much of a desperate slut you were. but how could you ever resist? especially when yujin says, “show me how much you miss me, darling.”

she was going to drive you mad.

well, three days later, you found herself standing in front of the gates of yujin’s mansion, clad in that black dress and holding a paper bag with cake in it.

yujin had mentioned that she has gotten busy again, but totally agreed on letting you come over and allowing you to do whatever you want in the house before she finishes off what she was doing and joins you. but you had a plan in mind, one that doesn’t require yujin to leave her office, or her chair at all. as for the cake, well, yujin loved caramel cakes so you just thought it would be a nice gesture. especially after you heard how tired she has been leading up to this day.

no, it will not be incorporated into whatever you will be doing with her today… but maybe in the future.

you were forcibly taken away from your head when the gates slid open. you entered and headed straight for the front doors, a duplicate of yujin’s house key ready in your hand. upon entering the mansion, you took off your jacket and hung it in the coat rack by the door before heading straight upstairs where you know yujin would be holed up at. a few ways away from her massive bedroom was her office, and you’ve spent as much of your time there as you do in yujin’s bedroom. mostly because that was where yujin did a lot of her work when she wasn’t in the actual company building, meaning that she would be pissed off more than she was happy, meaning that you would be bent over her desk getting fucked to oblivion as a means to reduce yujin’s stress.

you knocked softly on the door, but there wasn’t a response right away. you were about to knock again when you hear yujin’s muffled shouting, possibly over the phone with one of her annoying coworkers or seniors. a frown makes its way to your face when you heard yujin curse sharply under her breath, then a soft ‘thud’, and yujin speaking more quietly but still scarily.

you wanted your surprise to be perfect, so you stood still in front of the door, waiting until yujin has at least calmed down a bit. but perhaps it was a bad time? maybe you shouldn’t have asked to come over ahead of what was originally planned… yujin sets them up for a reason, after all. maybe this was the reason. she is a businesswoman through and through, and now you were afraid that maybe you were just being a nuisance.

yujin clicks her tongue sharply again, and then she was raising her voice once more. you could hear her footsteps as she paced around her office — frantic, heavy, and angry. then, you heard another ‘thud’, and that was when you decided that you needed to be here. for her.

finally, you knocked. a little more loudly than the last time.

“(y/n)?”

her voice was soft. your heart skipped a beat.

“y-yes. it’s me.”

oh, you were so whipped.

“it’s open. come in.”

you pushed the door open and it turns out that yujin had her back turned from the door, facing her bookshelf with her hand on her hip and her other hand still holding her phone close to her ear. she doesn’t look at you when you came in, probably hasn’t even realized it.

“who is…? she’s none of your business. don’t change the subject. focus, and do your fucking job,” yujin moves her free hand to massage her temple. she taps her foot on the carpeted floor, growing increasingly impatient once again. “if i hear anything about you mistreating my assistant in my absence again, i swear to god you’re going to regret choosing to work for this company. leave rei alone.”

you furrowed your eyebrows at the mention of yujin’s assistant. you’ve met her before. she was always the first one to greet you and talk to you kindly whenever you used to visit yujin at the building. she kept you company when yujin was in meetings, the ones that didn’t require for her to attend too, anyway. at first, you were jealous of her. she got to spend a lot of time with yujin and back then, you thought that maybe they had something together… but it turns out that they have been friends for a long time, and their relationship have always been, and always will be, platonic.

plus, rei recently told you that she was ‘rooting for you and yujin’. so yeah, somebody is going to lose an arm if you find out that they ever messed with her.

“feel free to not contact me for the rest of the week.”

yujin ends the call before the person on the other end could respond. you watched as she sighed deeply, took a few breaths in, and finally regained her composure.

“sorry you had to hear all that. they’re driving me crazy.”

you gently placed the bag on the couch and approached yujin, who was still massaging her temples. you grabbed her wrists and turned her around slowly, and immediately, she hugged you, burying her face on the crook of your neck and tightly wrapping her arms around your waist. you pat her back softly, your other hand combing through her hair before you pushed her back. you cupped yujin’s cheeks in your hands and stared deeply into her troubled eyes.

“are you okay?” you asked. yujin nods wordlessly and leans down to kiss you, which you allow her to. your kisses have turned into something else too. they’re more gentle, slow, and loving. even during the heat of a moment, you feel nothing but your growing feelings as yujin kisses you. you could only hope that she felt it too.

it takes a while for yujin to pull away. when she did, you head was hazy and you were gasping for breath, but you sufficed a satisfied smile when you saw the look on yujin’s face as she scanned your outfit from head to toe. yujin bites her lower lip as she checked you out shamelessly, even taking a step back to get a better view of your look. “for me?” she says, moving her hands to your hips and squeezing your gently.

“it’s always for you, mommy. you should know that by now,” you took note of yujin’s casual attire too. the oversized blue and white striped button-up and some simple white shorts and yet you would let her absolutely ruin you until sunrise. maybe it was the first three buttons being undone, or the half-up ponytail, or simply just yujin that made her so fucking sexy. “do you like it?” you asked.

yujin smirks, she cannot stop looking at you up and down, “you’ll find out.”

merely minutes later, you were sitting on top of yujin’s desk, moaning into her mouth as she kisses you hungrily while one of her hands is in between your thighs, pressing against your throbbing clit through your wet panties. as for yujin’s other hand, it was behind you, taking a hold of the zipper on your dress and pulling it down. you were so glad wonyoung bullied you into not wearing a bra—

(“(y/n), nobody wears a bra in a strapless dress. screw security, let the woman fuck you without interruptions!”

“wait, what?”

“oh shit. hey, baby! jiwon.. uh, long story…”)

—because it was easy for yujin to just lean down and catch one of your now exposed nipples in her mouth. while she did that, you opened up your legs a bit more and started grinding yourself on yujin’s hand, desperate for more but as always, not really having the patience for it.

yujin pinches your clit through your panties and you moan loudly, arching your back a little and pushing yujin’s head further on your chest. it only made you grind on her hand faster, and yujin grins while she looks up at you, loving the desperate look on your face. it felt too hot in here. and not the kind of hot that increased your libido, but the one that fucking irritated you. you tug on yujin’s shirt, “mommy… take it off, please…” you begged. you wanted to feel her skin against you… now that’s the kind of hot you could get behind.

“aw, well. anything for my princess.”

you could’ve come right there.

yujin starts unbuttoning her shirt, looking straight at you as she did so. you helped her pull it off her body and threw it on the ground, and then you pulled her back into you. you put one hand on her toned stomach—oh fuck, those abs—and leaned in, putting your lips on her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses and a few marks here and there. yujin slides her hands underneath your dress and pulls down your black, lacy underwear before letting it fall to the ground, directly laying on top of her shirt.

you continued on kissing yujin’s neck, relishing in the sounds of her quiet moans. ocassionally, you looked up to find her smiling down at you and during those moments, you share a quick kiss before going back to marking her up.

you were yujin’s, yes. but the world has to know that yujin was yours.

yujin probably noticed your intent, hearing her chuckle before grabbing your face and making you look up at her, “i’m not going anywhere, baby. i belong to you as much as you belong to me.” she whispered against your lips.

ahn yujin belongs to you.

you.

yeah, you were going to think about that all day.

yujin takes a seat on her chair, then she puts her hands on your knees and spreads your legs apart, giving herself a full view of your dripping pussy. you one of her hands and brought it up to your lips, giving it a kiss. “go ahead and make your day better, mommy.”

yujin glances up at you and smiles, a genuine smile, “it already did the moment i saw you.” she keeps your hands intertwined, and you stare at each other for a good minute.

that was where you realized that wow…

you were pretty fucking in love with yujin.

you had time to freak out about this revelation later, because when yujin's lips make contact with your folds, your mind goes elsewhere. your free hand goes to the back of yujin's neck, pushing her in further. fuck, if yujin was going to do two things great, it's using her hands and mouth on you. every lick, every touch, every single one, always had your head spinning, had you begging for more. and more yujin always gave you.

she is your sugar mommy, what else is she good for otherwise?

yujin reaches between your thighs and parts your folds with her fingers, giving your pussy one long lick before catching your clit with her lips. you gripped her shoulder tightly, throwing your head back and moaning when suddenly, yujin inserts two fingers inside of you and starts moving them in and out.

it was a reasonable pace but the feeling of both her mouth and fingers on your pussy was too good that she had your legs shaking already.

“mmhm.. fuck…! more, mommy.. more, please…”

you wrapped your legs around yujin's neck and pulled her face impossibly closer to your cunt. she moans at the flavor of your juices on her tongue, feeling like she could probably eat you out all day if she wanted. you were her favorite taste, and there was nothing better than yujin getting a well-deserved meal after dealing with the annoying fucks in her company. (save for rei, bless her heart.)

yujin was grateful for you, and through this, she gets to express just how much.

“ah— yujin…!”

has she ever told you how much she loved it when you said her name? sure, 'mommy' hits all the right places and that is the name you both agreed to when this all first started, but you saying her name was rare. and whenever you did, yujin feels warm inside. it was in your voice, the way you said it, how yujin knew that even something as simple as saying her name came directly from your heart.

as yujin looked up, head still in between your legs, she realized just how good it felt to be with you. besides the sex, you were good company and you knew yujin in a way some of her closest friends don’t.

ahn yujin has come to the conclusion that she was so sickeningly in love with you.

well, this realization gave yujin adrenaline somehow and she starts sucking on your clit, flicking the bud and moaning at the way you dug your nails on her nape.

“mommyy…! shit shitshitshit… i’m close, i’m coming…!”

you grabbed the edge of the desk with one hand as you fell apart on yujin's tongue. you’d think she’d be done. that’s how it usually was. come once and hard, and scene. but something was in the air today, apparently.

as you come undone, yujin finally lets go of your hand and uses both of hers to hold your hips down while she continues sucking on your sensitive clit. and holy fuck was she relentless. she dipped her tongue inside of your hole, making you writhe and scratch her back.

fuck, this felt good. even though it was more than you handle considering that you just came, you found yourself rolling your hips towards yujin’s face, wanting even more of what she wants to give you. she was completely entranced by your taste, blinded by pleasure and the only thing in her mind being you.

yujin presses her tongue flat against your clit before nibbling on it, sending you near the edge once again. she needed to make you come again. she has to have your juices completely cover her mouth and face again. that’s how thankful she was for your company and comfort.

she loves you, and this shows how much.

this time, you held onto her head when you came, gripping and tugging at her hair. your legs shook as yujin diligently lapped up your cum, feeling your ears burn at the sound of her savoring the taste. god, you were exhausted… although you wouldn’t mind if something takes over yujin and does it all over again, all day.

“mommy… thank you, thank you…” you managed to say.

yujin finished up her work and scoops you up in her arms, having you settle on her lap. your favorite place. “i should be thanking you, baby. you really did make my day better.” yujin said, planting a kiss on your forehead.

looking at her smiling softly at you, something pushes you to say a few words. “i love you.” …out loud, apparently. it was supposed to be a thought!

the complete surprise on yujin’s face scares you, but merely seconds later, she cradles you closer. giggling and… is she blushing? who knew the ahn yujin could be so… adorable?!

“i love you too,” yujin kisses your nose, and presses her forehead against yours. “a lot.”

who knew a few words could make you feel like flying?

for the next few minutes, the two of you stayed cuddled up in her chair. occasionally, sharing kisses and lingering touches in each other’s bodies. it wasn’t until yujin was kissing down your neck when you were reminded that you were still, in fact, clothed.

you sighed, “i should probably take this off before my friend berates me for ruining it…”

however, yujin shakes her head. “no, keep it on,” there was not a single sexual intent in her eyes, nor her words. she kisses you on the cheek, and stares at you in complete adoration and, now, love. “i love this dress on you.”

#ive x reader #ive smut #ive imagines #ive x fem reader #ahn yujin smut #ahn yujin imagines #ahn yujin x fem reader #ahn yujin x reader #yujin smut #girl group x reader #girl group imagines #girl group smut #yujin x reader

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essektheylyss · 3 days

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One thing that I feel is really interesting and often forgotten about Essek is that fundamentally, his characterization has been from the start based upon his desperation for external perspectives and connection, which, along with much of his narrative and mechanical positioning, means that he actually has an extraordinary and almost (but not actually, as I'll show) counterintuitive capacity for both growth and trust.

(Buckle in. This is a long one.)

In particular, I would argue, knowing now that many places where the plot touches Ludinus have long been marked for connecting back into the current plot, that he was quite possibly built as a prime candidate for radicalization by the Ruby Vanguard. He felt isolated from his culture, he was desperate for other connection, and he was certainly of the type to believe he was too smart to be drawn into such a thing, given his initial belief that he could control the situation and the fallout. If things had gone any other way, he easily could've been on the other side by now.

As such, he has been hallmarked by being fairly open to suggestion, perhaps for this reason, but the thing about that kind of trait is that it is both how people are radicalized and deradicalized. This is certainly true of Essek, who experienced genuine kindness and quite frankly strangeness from the Nein and was able to move from the isolation the Assembly had engendered to meaningful and genuine connection, largely propelled by his own internal reflection. By the time Nein are aware of his crimes, he's already begun to express regret to an extent and, furthermore, doubt in the Assembly, including explicitly drawing a line against Ludinus, even in a position where he was on his own and probably quite vulnerable.

Similarly, when the Nein reach the Vurmas Outpost some weeks later, he has moved from regret for the position he's ended up carrying a heavy remorse. This makes sense! He's fairly introspective, seems used to spending a lot of time in his own head, and was left with plenty to mull over. It's not some kind of retcon for him to have progressed well past where the Nein left him; it just means he's an active participant in the world who has done his own work in the meantime.

This is another interesting aspect to him. I've talked about this a bit before but I cannot find the post so I'll recap here: antagonists in D&D have significantly more agency than allied NPCs. Antagonists are active forces, against which the party is meant to struggle; allies are meant to support the PCs, which means they tend to be more passive in both their actions and their character growth. Essek was both built as an antagonist, in a position that gives him significant agency, and also was then given significant opportunity to grow specifically to act as a narrative mirror for Caleb's arc. Even when he becomes a more traditional D&D ally, he still retains much of that, though he occupies a supporting role.

I believe that this is especially true because of the nature of Caleb's arc, which I've already written on; the tl;dr of this post is that Caleb is both convinced that he is permanently ruined and also desperate to prove that change is possible. Essek is that proof, because he is simply the character in a position to do so. But this also means that his propensity for introspection and openness is accentuated! He has to do the legwork on his own, for the most part, because that's where he is in the meantime.

But he still ends the campaign necessarily constricted; he is under significant scrutiny, he's at risk from the Assembly, and he goes on the run fairly soon after the story ends. He spends most of the final arc anxious and paranoid, which is valid given the crushing reality of his situation. It would be very easy to extrapolate that seven years into this reality, he would be insular, closed off, and suspicious of strangers, even in spite of the lessons he's learned from the Nein and their long term exposure.

So seeing his openness and lightness now is surprising, but at the same time, given this combination of factors in his position in the narrative over time and his defining traits, it's not by any means unreasonable.

But one thing that I found so delightful is how much trust he exhibits, which is obviously a wild thing to say about Essek in particular, given much of what he learns is both earning and offering trust, which was something he says explicitly in 2x124 that he's never really experienced: "I've never really been trusted and so I did not trust." It makes up much of the progression of his relationship with Caleb, and the trust that he is offered by the Nein in walking off the ship is the impetus he needs to grow.

But I think it's easy to talk about trust when it comes to people who have proven themselves to you or to whom you've ingratiated yourself, and that's really the most we can say about Essek by the time he leaves the Blooming Grove. There is this sense in a lot of discussion of trust (not solely in this fandom) that it is only related to either naivete or love, but there's far more to it. Trust at its best is deliberate—cultivating an openness to the world at large is a great way to combat cynicism and beget connection instead. It allows a person to maintain curiosity and be open to experience, but it can be incredibly difficult to hold onto.

It is clear that the Essek we meet now is a very pointedly and intentionally trusting individual. He trusts Caleb and by extension Caleb's trust in Keyleth, as he shows up and picks up a group of strangers from a foreign military encampment and walks in without issue. He trusts the Hells to follow his lead moving through Zadash and to exhibit enough discretion so as to avoid bringing suspicion upon all of them. He trusts that Astrid will respond well to his entrance, but he also trusts himself and the Hells enough to execute a back-up plan in the case that she doesn't. In the end, he even trusts them enough to give them his name and identity.

He doesn't scan as someone who has spent half a dozen years living like a prey animal, afraid of any shadow he runs across in an alley, withdrawn into himself and an insular family, which would've been an easy route for him to take. He scans as someone who has learned the kind of trust borne of learned confidence and a trained eye for good will and kindness, which are crucial weapons one would need for staving off cynicism in his circumstances—as if he has survived thanks more to connection and kindness than paranoia and isolation. (If we want to be saccharine about it, he scans quite poignantly as a member of the Mighty Nein.)

So it is easy to imagine this trust and openness as a natural progression of his initial search for perspectives external to his own cultural knowledge. Though he makes those first connections with the Assembly to try to vindicate his personal hypotheses, he finds in them exposure to the deepest corruption among Exandrian mortals, which could've—and did, for a time—turned him further down that same dark path.

But it's also this same openness to exposure from the wider world that allows the Nein to influence him for the better, and in spite of the challenges he's certainly faced simply surviving over the past seven years, he seems to have held onto this openness enough to move through the world with self-assurance and a willingness to extend the kinds of trust and good will that he has been shown.

(I would be remiss not to mention that I was reminded about my thoughts on this by this lovely post from sky-scribbles and their use in the tags of 'light' to describe Essek's demeanor this episode, which is really such an apt word for it.)

#something something hope is a weapon hope is a discipline hope is a garden to cultivate!!!#HE'S SO GOOD HE IS TRULY EXEMPLAR OF THE WHOLE PHILOSOPHY OF THE NEIN AND I DO NOT THINK THAT'S AN ACCIDENT #truly just like. enormous proponent of letting trust and curiosity into your heart regardless of the horrors.#it's hard and it makes you more vulnerable and sometimes it hurts so so much but it will also save your fucking life!#cr spoilers #critical role #essek thelyss #cr meta #I was gonna apologize for the length but I'm not sorry. I'm also not sorry for being insane about him but he's so special to me.#head in my hands he's so GOOD HE'S BEST BOI! GUIDING LIGHT NORTH STAR!!! LOOK AT HIM!!!#also truly if i had two nickels for a span of time with no essek sightings where I wrote a lot of fic #with deliberate personal acknowledgment that I was writing some pretty maximal arcs for him in terms of character growth #and then end up getting essek for half an episode and having to go OH WE'RE GOING THAT FAR ACTUALLY. FUCKING INCREDIBLE.#yanno. two nickels. but good lord I am thriving that it's happened twice #augh this is ONE of the pieces I need to write this week. we're not gonna talk about it

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xxlovelynovaxx · 4 months

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Hm, that's funny, because higher voter turnout has occurred in every election that a democratic president has won since 1980, and notably Reagan and Bush JR were both elected during SIGNIFICANTLY lower voter turnout years. Sometimes it's as little as a difference of two percent of the population, but that's still roughly six and a half MILLION people.

So yes, your vote DOES matter, and I'll remind you that we have actual hard evidence of people trying to discourage voter turnout on tumblr in order to influence election results in the direction of fascism.

I don't think that is what OP is doing. I think they're a depressed doomer who is reactionarily trying to make others feel as hopeless as they do to feel less alone.

I'll also say: collective anarchist action is effective. The jab at "oh, if we could do anything, we would be," totally ignores the leaps and strides we've made precisely due to protests, strikes, and smaller community action.

Whether we're talking about the progress we've made on climate change, the multiple large strikes that were won last year alone, or even just stuff like vulnerable community members surviving another year due to communities coming together to provide meals, housing, and mutual aid... all of that matters.

Pretending it doesn't, or that it hasn't happened, unintentionally hinders the anarchist cause at best. Doomerism is a cancer within leftist communities that left unchecked will effectively kill our communities. And like I said, I don't THINK this is a psy-op, but I'd suggest that if you wanna do the feds' work for them it's kinda pathetic that you're not even getting paid for it.

I understand voting feeling hopeless. Truly I do. I'm a plural mad queer crip and am fighting multiple structural institutions actively and passively trying to kill me on several different fronts.

I'd still rather have a part content to ignore and occasionally give lip service to my existence than one that actively has plans to kill and subjugate myself and my entire communities. So I'll fucking vote.

(And y'know, let's work on getting ranked choice ballots in the meantime. Because polls of people's actual goddamn opinions show we have a lot more allies than your hopelessness is telling you we do, even if many of them still need handheld into true leftism.)

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serialunaliver · 7 days

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@waterberry-strawmelon personally I don't think there is a neutral way to use narcissistic as it's a derogatory term, and I also don't identify it as a mental illness but rather a maladaptive coping strategy. to me it's just a cluster of traits I wish I didn't have and I usually just say "narcissistic traits".

as for narcissistic abuse, the term doesn't particularly make sense to me because abuse normally has more than one motive, and what people often mistake as an overall narcissistic personality is straight up misogyny. my abuser would 100% come across as a narcissist until you learn his behavior is exclusively directed at women. unfortunately a lot of women victimized by misogyny have latched onto the whole narcissism thing and identify misogynists as narcissistic personalities which is unhelpful to addressing the real issue. also a lot of people assigning the 'narcissist' label to someone straight up just don't know how narcissism works. it does not make you an unfeeling supervillain, it's actually extremely easy for a narcissist to feel hurt, which is why it's more of a weakness. narcissism is also not inherently sadistic and a narcissist punishing you is most likely feeling threatened by you in some way rather than doing it for entertainment (this doesn't mean you're actually doing something wrong, it just comes across that way to the narcissist as you've somehow triggered an insecurity). overall the pop psych portrayal of narcissism in abuse is harmful to actual victims because it creates an image that doesn't exist in reality and can lead to more fear and hopelessness, because this false idea of a narcissist is significantly scarier than the reality. it also implies that people with narcissistic behavior are incapable of change which discourages any sort of self improvement. no matter what any psychologist tells you, a narcissistic personality is NOT incurable, the behavior and mindset can be identified and improved over time with effort. the reason this may happen "rarely" is narcissism is defensive so suggestions of irrationality feel like threats. also no one wants to be called a narcissist in the first place for obvious reasons, you don't seek help hoping to be told "you're a self centered asshole actually", which is why imo it would be easier to 'treat' if the term narcissist weren't even used in the first place. what would've helped me is being told the source of the issue and having the behavior separated from me as a person, not something as a default state of being. it hurts to know there are people in my family and therapists/doctors who think i'm uniquely more likely to cause harm...

ok i'm not sure at this point if I even answered your question or just started rambling lol but this is the best I could do I guess.

#psychposting #seriousposting

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cal-flakes · 9 months

Note

mean!rafe with prompt 30

╰┈➤ prompt thirty, mean/dealer!rafe

warnings: swearing, violence. (i changed this a bit because i really wanted to write this with a not-so mean rafe)

‘what are you? my dad?’ the snarky words circled in his mind as he fidgeted with his hands, eyes on the road as barry drove. “what’s got you in such a mood man?” his friend teased as he steered the car with ease. “she’s too fucking nice, that’s what” he retorted, leaning on his hand as his arm rested against the window. “too nice? the fuck you mean’ too nice?” barry chuckled, brows furrowed in confusion.

rafe sighed as his head fell back against the passenger seat, thinking over the situation from earlier. if he’d just agreed to go with her, he wouldn’t be so anxious, he thought.

“we got in a- in an argument earlier-” he started, stumbling over his words before barry cut him off. “argument? what’d you do?” he laughed, glancing at his frustrated friend. “i didn’t do anything bad man, was’ just tryin’ to protect her y’know?” he rambled, his eyes flitting around as the neared the coast.

“see- she came downstairs, all dressed up for the fuckin’ bonfire and shit man, and i- and i told her not to wear that shit, said’ she’d get too cold or someone would do something” sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “and look, i know it sounds like i was being a dick, but i just- just want her to be safe, y’know? i don’t know man, i just have a bad feeling..”

barry nodded along as rafe spoke, for once actually understanding what he was saying, rather than him speaking in incoherent mutters. “nah man, i get you..” he agreed, eyes narrowing at the street sign with directions to the beach. “listen bro, we could just fuckin’ go down there, find her? put your mind at ease or somethin’ y’know?” he suggested, using his free hand to toss the end of his joint out the window. the pair nodded in sync as silence ensued, both rafe and barry now focused on the task at hand, finding y/n.

rafe was first out of the car once they pulled up, his eyes fixing on the glowing orange light of the annual bonfire, guiding them both to it. “yo man, where abouts’ you think she’ll be?” barry called, aware of the sudden loudness surrounding them. “she’s wearing a white dress kinda’ thing, s’got flowers on it” rafe called back as the pair exchanged a knowing nod, parting ways to scour the groups of young adults.

after what felt like forever of pushing and shoving, rafe’s eyes fell on a small frame, cowering into the rocks as a taller boy caged her in. closing in, his eyes narrowed as his vision became clearer, and the look on her face said it all. anger coursed through the veins in his hands as they clenched, his eyes locking onto her wide ones, a nervous look behind them.

as well as his sight, his hearing only got better as he got closer to the interaction. “i don’t see your boyfriend anywhere, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him..”

rafe’s ears perked up at the sly tone, suddenly finding himself spinning the boy around to face him. “no but this will you fuckin’ cunt” he spat, launching himself forward to land a nasty right hook to the boys jaw, who turned out to be significantly smaller than himself.

once the boys back met the ground, rafe stood over him tauntingly, almost daring him to get back up.

satisfied with his intimidation, his eyes wandered to the trembling girl beside him, her hands grasping at his untucked shirt. “you’ okay sweetheart?” he cooed, turning fully to cup her face while barry dealt with his newest victim. “mhm..” she hummed, letting her head fall into his chest as she wrapped her arms around his lean torso.

“m’sorry rafe..” she whimpered as she pulled away from the hug, her glassy eyes meeting his hardened ones. “you were right..”

“don’t you apologise, alright? you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, this was that assholes fault, not yours” rafe stated sternly as his hands found her face once more, forcing her to look at him. “okay..” she whispered, her lip quivering slightly.

“c’mon, let’s go home..”

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sucroseswife · 8 months

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Seriously, don’t break the law

Wriothesley x gn! Reader [part 1]

Wriothesley with a reader who keeps breaking the law on accident, continuously getting multiple small sentences. Despite being a relatively good citizen, your run ins with Furina’s more obscure laws repeatedly lands you in the Fortress.

It started off small. Wriothesley didn’t pay much attention to your first arrival, as he receives many criminals every day. You were in for the small offense of naming your dog “furina”, thinking it would be cute.

He got a good laugh out of reading your trial record though. You had no attorney and no defense other than demanding why such a stupid rule was even in place (“it’s not even offensive!” You had cried to the court to no avail)

Poor Neuvillette said nothing, sentencing you to 2 nights at the fortress of meropide with a sigh

(He had found you later, offering a small apology and suggesting you read up on Fontaine’s… stranger laws to avoid such accidents again.)

During your two night stay, you only met the duke once—

You peaked your head into the infirmary, subtly trying to check if this was the right room. The cut on your hand throbbed with pain but you ignored it the best you could. Those machines were more dangerous than you thought. Inside were two figures, one significantly shorter than the other.

…was that a kid? You honestly couldn’t tell, but she looked no older than 11. Perhaps she was the child of that much taller figure who was- quite good looking, actually-

“Gonna stand there all day?” The good looking man asked, raising an eyebrow. Fuck.

“Sorry!” You said, rushing in. “Are you, uh… the nurse?”

Before he could respond, your attention was drawn to the smaller figure who swiftly took your hand, an expression of concern on her face.

“I am the head nurse, Sigewine. Please have a seat and I’ll start treatment right away!”

You couldn’t help but swoon over how cute the little melusine was, her professionalism contrasting her appearance. As she ran away to fetch some gauze, your eyes trailed back to mr. Tall Hot Man. He was observing you silently. When you met his gaze, he smiled in a wolfish manner.

“You’re y/n, I take it?”

You nodded. “And you are…?”

“Wrioth-” “He’s the Duke of the fortress of meropide, Wriothesley!” Sigewine butted in, beginning to clean your wounds. You paled. Had you really been thinking about your warden like a piece of meat? …maybe you were a criminal after all.

Wriothesley looked mildly annoyed at being outed as the Duke, but quickly let it go. His smile returned.

“I’ve read your file… seems you’re only with us for another day. We don’t usually see such short sentences around here.”

“Oh, yes… well I hardly committed a crime at all!” you said, anger and indignation returning to you once more.

“Hm…” he said, pretending to consider. “breaking the law is breaking the law, I’m afraid.” Wriothesley took great satisfaction n the way you spluttered, rushing to defend yourself.

“No really, what kind of laws are these?! Even the Iudex couldn’t explain— and the legal codex he gave me… ‘ketchup shall only be used as a condiment and not consumed by itself’? Are you serious?”

Wriothesley wanted to laugh at the image of the overworked Chief Justice having to enforce Furina’s questionable laws, but held back. Sigewine had finished her work, patting your hand gently.

“Y/n, please use this medicine to clean your wound twice a day. And don’t forget to change your bandages.”

You nodded. “Thank you, miss Sigewine. Am I all set then?”

She nodded happily. “Yep! Stay safe please!”

You smiled at Wriothesley, slightly sheepish after your outburst. “Sorry, please don’t extend my sentence for yelling.”

He didn’t look like he was going to extend anything, though. His expression was one of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place. Before you could leave, he gently took your injured hand in his, inspecting the cleaned and covered wound. He made a small noise of disapproval before speaking.

“If you ever end up back here— which I hope will not happen… there’s no need for you to work at the production zone. Just find me and I’ll figure something out.”

You blushed slightly before nodding. “Alright”

Was that normal? Didn’t all prisoners have to work?

Well, it didn’t matter. Not like you were planning to get arrested again. You said your goodbyes to the very beautiful and generous duke before leaving the infirmary.

Sigewine immediately knew something was up. The girl is an expert in reading human emotions

From the moment you had stepped in, your eyes were practically glued to Wriothesley, and his glued to you

Not to mention how the duke’s demeanor had softened considerably as he continued talking to you… and his suggestion at the end?! She had never seen him offer anything like that before.

Yes, there was no doubt in Sigewine’s mind that his grace was more into you than he was letting on

It’s such a shame you would be released the next day, never to come back to the fortress again!

…or so she thought

Unfortunately for you, your bad luck with Fontaine’s law had only just begun.

Notes: I want him sooo bad omg. Ignore the fact that neuv would probably never sentence someone to meropide for a crime this small it’s for the plot ok

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #fluff #comedy #crack

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dreamcubed · 8 months

Text

lover | mattheo riddle x reader

song; lover [taylor swift] pairing; duke!mattheo riddle x fem!baronet's daughter!reader genre; marriage of convenience, s2l, fluff, angst, hurt comfort word count; 9,1k timeline; bridgerton au (again lol) warnings; abusive parents (verbal, neglect, psychological), implied anxiety, panic attacks, near death experience (illness) summary; born into a loveless family, you had been denied the opportunity to marry for many years. that was, until, a duke noticed your situation and gave your parents an offer that they simply couldn't refuse - but would it be a love match?

suggested by @fictionisjustbetter ! (sorry this took so long)

icl mattheo is just so perfect for period aus

masterlist

"all's well that ends well to end up with you."

———————————————

Sir Vincent Malton was a baronet and nothing more. Of course, while being a low title, it was still a part of the aristocracy, which was much better than the alternative. He took his role very seriously, as his father before him had, and his father before him.

So, when the first Lady Malton of his passed during childbirth having sired not an heir, but a daughter, he had arranged for a new wife to marry ready for his first day of it being considered acceptable to be out of mourning. The second Lady Malton of his was more successful in the heir department: during her first pregnancy, she sired twins, both a boy and a girl. And then after two more girls (of separate pregnancies), she had another boy. Sir Vincent Malton then finally felt safe in the security of his baronetcy lineage.

But he never spoke to any of his six children. He left them up to the second Lady Malton, including his firstborn, who was not her blood. Where other ladies would have accepted their stepchildren as their own, Lady Daria Malton did not. As far she was concerned, Y/N was not her child and thus not her problem. But Sir Vincent was a traditional man who saw the children as the mother's business, so she kept up appearances to continue her life of comfort.

Sir Vincent didn't even bother with the marriage mart, instructing his wife to simply inform him when a suitor (with a title) proposed to any one of his daughters. And Lady Malton had - with her own eldest daughter, Samantha, when a baron asked for her hand. He was twice her age, but Lady Malton (like her husband) cared about title more than anything. Samantha was quickly married off to her new life as a baroness.

One thing Sir Vincent didn't know was that Lady Malton had never officially debuted Y/N. She brought her along to more casual soirées that other non-debutantes attended to keep up appearances, but as far as the one-and-twenty-year-old's actual debut - well, it was significantly overdue. The thing was, Y/N had received callers after such events before, but callers were received by the baronetess and not the baronet, and she quickly sent them away. Thus, the actual stage of proposal was never reached, so Lady Malton was by all technicalities following her husband's instruction.

Y/N knew that it was unfair, that her stepmother's abuse was unjust. She didn't see why she couldn't just allow someone to propose and get her out of the home: Lady Malton clearly didn't like her, so why not be rid of her?

But, she supposed, someone like Lady Malton must quite enjoy having a scapegoat around to target their frustrations at.

***

"Last year was a tremendous success by all means," Lady Malton spoke as her lady's maid attended to her corset, "To have Samantha married off in her first year as a debutante was a splendid result."

Y/N subtly rolled her eyes: Samantha was eighteen and her husband almost forty, it really shouldn't have been a permitted pairing. But, her husband was a baron, and title was all Lord & Lady Malton cared for. They couldn't choose to be fussy as the lowest titleholders of the aristocracy.

"Thus, Y/N, I do not wish you to cause any interference," she explained further, glaring at you through her reflection in the mirror, "I am bringing you along to Lady Bridgerton's birthday soirée out of necessity, as she always includes young ladies of whom have not made their debut."

You knew that: you had attended Lady Bridgerton's birthday event the year prior for the same reason.

"Rumour has it the Duke of Covenshire has returned from his travels to the Americas and will be attending tonight," she proceeded, "And it would simply be marvellous if Grace could secure him as a match in her first year as a debutante."

You glanced over at Grace, sat at the dresser as her lady's maid applied her makeup. She was putting on a remarkably brave face, but you could tell that she was nervous: she was too young to debut. After Samantha's success, Lady Malton had felt confident enough to debut Grace at only seven-and-ten. It wasn't entirely uncommon, but typically Mamas waited until their daughters were at least one year older.

Meanwhile you were one-and-twenty and still yet to have your debut. At this rate you would be a spinster before you had even entered the marriage mart.

You looked to your other side at Tia, your youngest sister at fourteen, who was more than thrilled to be allowed to attend that night. You never saw your brothers, really: Vincent (creatively named after your father) was away at Cambridge, and Henry, the youngest of the lot, was away at Eton.

"Right, is the carriage ready?" Lady Malton snapped at one of the servants, who quickly nodded.

And then with a curt bob of her head, the baronetess proceeded over to the door - a silent instruction for her daughters to follow - and they all headed to the front of Malton House, the London lodgings of the family.

***

"Lady Bridgerton! How good to see you," Lady Malton beamed at the dowager viscountess, "Such a lovely soirée."

"Why thank you, Lady Malton," the kind woman replied, "Pleased to see all your daughters could make it."

"Oh, is Samantha here already?"

"I believe Lady Halterton is over there," Lady Bridgerton vaguely pointed in a direction, "But how are all the Miss Maltons?"

"Grace is excited to make a match this year," the poor girl was pushed forward, "With any luck, she shall follow in her sister's footsteps."

"And what of the oldest Miss Malton?"

You looked up and gave Lady Bridgerton a hesitant smile.

"You know how Y/N is - still doesn't want to debut," Lady Malton sighed, "At this rate she shall be a spinster before even trying for marriage. But, we love her and support her decisions."

You scoffed internally, wanting nothing more than to blaspheme at your stepmother in that moment.

The conversation with Lady Bridgerton wrapped up and the focus then became the considering of various potential suitors. It was the first social event that you had the privilege of attending since the year prior, so you fully planned to savour the moments you were free from the house.

And then the room hushed into whispers as the door opened, it being remarkably noticeable how all the ambitious eyes of the Mamas zoned in on one particular man gracing the room with his presence.

"That's him- that's the duke!" Lady Malton whispered, mainly to Grace, but anyone close by could have heard her.

"Gosh, he's handsome," Tia mumbled to your left, "Shame I'm too young."

You kept your eyes glued on to the pale man with curly brown hair gelled somewhat neatly. His eyes were narrowed like that of a cat's, and his very presence commanded authority - yet he was polite to every hopeful Mama who approached him. Dismissive, but polite.

"Ah, Lady Bridgerton," he spoke, near enough to you for you to hear his gruff monotone voice as he bent over to kiss the dowager viscountess's hand, "Thank you for the invitation, and happy birthday."

"It is an honour you attended, your grace."

The man nodded, chatting to her for a few moments longer as the noise and bustle returned to the room, so you couldn't hear the rest of it.

"Now is our chance," your stepmother said as the duke's conversation wrapped up. She quickly sped towards him. "Your grace!"

The duke paused, and half-turned so he was fully facing your brood.

"Lady Malton, Baronetess of Catury," she curtsied, "And this is my daughter, Grace," she gestured towards the girl.

When his eyes flicked to Tia, she hurried to introduce her, but when his eyes flicked to you, she remained silent.

"And you are?" he inquired.

Your eyes widened: you were rarely spoken to, "Y/N- Miss Y/N Malton," you corrected.

"Don't pay her any mind, your grace," your stepmother quickly said, pinching you in the side as subtly as she could which made you flinch - as it always did. You didn't notice the way the duke's beady eyes followed the interaction. "She isn't a debutante."

"She looks old enough to be." He was clearly referencing the fact you obviously had a few years on Grace.

"It is her own choice."

You couldn't help the scowl that itched at your eyebrows, and the duke couldn't help but notice it.

"Would you care for a dance with Grace?"

The duke's eyes flicked over your sister again, "I have no intentions of dancing this evening- if you excuse me."

And with that, he departed, just to be ambushed by yet another Mama.

Your stepmother turned and glared at you, "You ruined Grace's chances."

"I didn't do anything," you said simply.

"You spoke. You know you're not supposed to."

"He asked me a question."

"I respond to the questions about you."

"Mama," Grace interrupted, shooting you a sympathetic look, "Is that the Earl of Kilmartin over there?"

Lady Malton's head snapped in that direction, "So it is! He has returned from India."

You couldn't be more grateful to Grace for the distraction.

***

"Saunders," the duke, Mattheo, called from his work study in Riddle Manor, his London residence. It was merely a couple hours after he had returned from Lady Bridgerton's soirée.

The secretary hurried into the office, "Yes, your grace?"

"What do you know of the Malton family?"

Saunders paused, "Sir Vincent Malton?"

Mattheo nodded.

"He is married to Dame Daria Malton and has six children. He attended Eton and Cambridge, studying history."

"And of his children?"

"Two sons and four daughters, I believe."

"And what of Miss Y/N Malton?"

The secretary immediately recognised the name, "She is the oldest, your grace. She is one-and-twenty and well-known for not having debuted yet."

Mattheo frowned, leaning back in his chair, "Is there a way in which she is different from her siblings?"

"I-" the secretary thought for a moment, "I believe she has a different mother than her younger siblings, if that's what you mean."

"Lady Malton is not her mother?"

"Well, yes and no. The current Lady Malton is not her mother, but the Lady Malton before her was. She passed in childbirth, I believe."

Mattheo hummed, "I see."

"Is that all, your grace?"

"Prepare the carriage to journey to Malton House tomorrow morning, Saunders, and locate my mother's engagement ring."

Saunders' eyes widened, but he quickly nodded, "Of course, your grace."

Nothing made Mattheo angrier than cruel parents.

***

Lady Malton and Grace were up bright and early the next day, as all debutantes and their Mamas were after a social event. They were to dress in some of their nicer but not so fancy attire ready to sit in the upstairs drawing room in await for any callers they may receive in the downstairs drawing room. You, however, stayed tucked nicely into bed until a more reasonable hour, since your stepmother certainly wouldn't want to catch sight of you until lunchtime - if then.

Still, you rose from your slumber at around eleven o'clock and called for your lady's maid, getting dressed in a simple baby blue piece that you had purchased a few years ago. You rarely got new dresses under Lady Malton's reign.

"I'll take my breakfast in here, please, Melinda," you smiled.

***

The Duke of Covenshire had been up at an exceptionally early hour, having taken a ride on his favourite stallion at sunrise, to then return to his city house and retreat to his office for a few hours accompanied by some breakfast.

He was still there at eleven o'clock.

"Your grace," Saunders began after having knocked on the door, "The carriage is ready for you."

"And the ring?" the duke inquired.

"Here," the secretary presented it, "It was still safely in the dowager duchess's bed chamber."

Mattheo had seen no point in keeping it anywhere else since that room had remained unoccupied for quite some time now.

"Excellent," he murmured, "Now, let us make haste."

***

It wasn't a long journey to Malton House, so really it was no time at all by the time that the Covenshire carriage pulled up to the smaller but still grand home. There were two or three other carriages parked outside, likely belonging to other potential suitors.

Mattheo wasn't worried: he was a duke, after all, and the Maltons were merely baronets. They would jump at the opportunity to marry a daughter off to be a duchess.

After knocking on the door, he was greeted by a short balding man with a seemingly permanently curved eyebrow.

"Here for Miss Malton?" he asked.

"Yes," Mattheo replied, although he had a feeling they weren't referring to the same one.

"Name?"

"Mattheo Riddle, Duke of Covenshire."

The butler's eyes widened, "Right this way, your grace."

Mattheo was led through the hallway into the downstairs drawing room, where Lady Malton and Grace were perched on an orange settee. On the other side of Grace sat an older gentleman, meanwhile on the settee sat across from them were two others. One of them was roughly the same age as the first, whereas the other was much younger - closer to Grace's age.

"Your grace," Lady Malton instantly said, shooting up to curtsy.

"Lady Malton," Mattheo nodded, "May I speak with Sir Vincent?"

"Yes, yes, of course," the baronetess said with widened eyes, "I'll go fetch him at once."

Typically she would have sent a servant to complete such a task, but clearly the shock had consumed her to the point she sprung into action. Once she had departed the room, Mattheo turned his eyes to Grace and the other three gentlemen who were all staring at him curiously.

"Who are you gentlemen?" he asked.

"Edward Cann, Viscount of Sancourt," one of the older gentlemen introduced.

"Gareth Warner," the other older one spoke.

Mattheo couldn't help but question the audacity of an older man to pursue the hand of such a young woman when he didn't even possess a title. Still, his eyes turned to the youngest man.

"Sir Charles Robinson, Baronet of Rackney."

"And how old are you?" his eyes were still on Charles.

"Twenty, your grace."

Mattheo hummed, that was more appropriate for Grace. Unusual for a man to seek a wife at such an age, but not unheard of.

"Lord Cann and Mr Warner," he began, and they perked up at his address, "May I ask what the devil men of your age are doing pursuing such a young woman?"

They were clearly taken aback by his blunt honesty, as were the servants littered around the room.

"I certainly will have to rethink my family's business with your estates in light of such news."

And with apologies to Grace and Mattheo, the two older gentlemen quickly vanished from the room, moments before the Lord & Lady of the house made an appearance.

"Your grace," Sir Vincent spoke, holding out his hand, which Mattheo shook, "To what do I owe the honour?"

"May we proceed to a more private location?"

"Of course, right this way."

"Your presence won't be required any longer, Sir Charles," Lady Malton said, clearly confused at the absence of the two other gentlemen.

Mattheo interrupted, "Oh, I'm sure it will, Lady Malton. I wouldn't dismiss the young gentleman."

Before she could ask what he meant, he was being led out the drawing room and to the baronet's office.

"I believe you know what I am here for," Mattheo stated simply, after declining the offer of brandy.

"I shouldn't want to get my hopes up, your grace."

"I would like your daughter's hand in marriage."

Sir Vincent nodded, "Of course, I shall dower her fairly-"

"Unnecessary. I have no use for a dowry, no matter the size."

"Oh- okay," the baronet paused, "Which daughter is this?"

Mattheo almost frowned: was Sir Vincent not aware of his daughter's status in society? Perhaps he left such matters up to his wife.

"Miss Y/N Malton."

"You're the first suitor that we have received for her."

The duke's breath hitched.

"This is such a relief - of course, we will arrange the wedding right away."

"I would like to marry her quickly," Mattheo said, "We will need to procure a special license."

Sir Vincent nodded, "Whatever you wish, your grace. It is an honour to be your father-in-law."

Mattheo turned to leave after saying his thanks, but paused and faced the baronet again, "You should definitely consider Sir Charles Robinson to marry Miss Grace Malton, he is a fine young man."

The baronet was clearly confused at such a statement, but absently nodded nonetheless.

***

You had been shocked when your father called you down to the drawing room: you couldn't remember the last time that he had requested your presence. Not that he requested your sisters' presences either, you were pretty sure your brother Vincent was the only of his children he spoke to.

"Excellent news for our family," he began, with Lady Malton looking thrilled at what she expected him to say, "Excellent news indeed."

You almost rolled your eyes, expecting that you had simply been called down to receive the announcement of Grace's engagement.

"The Duke of Covenshire has proposed."

Lady Malton stood up, "This is fabulous news! Well done, Grace."

"No," Sir Vincent silenced his wife, "Well done, Y/N."

Your head snapped up.

What?

"Whatever do you mean, Father?"

"His grace has asked for your hand in marriage," you had never seen your father so happy, "And naturally I accepted."

Lady Malton stood in absolute horror.

"I was beginning to become worried about your lack of proposals," he continued, unaware of his wife's reaction, "But clearly God was holding out in await for this massive surprise."

"But- what about Grace?" Lady Malton finally spluttered out.

"I am in the process of discussing that matter with Sir Charles Robinson, the duke recommended him himself."

You noticed the way Grace smiled to herself at that and looked abashedly to the ground. Clearly she was happy with such an arrangement - had the duke known that and so used his influence to help her?

"His grace wishes to be married quickly."

And thus, at the end of the week, you were married.

***

You had no idea what a honeymoon night was supposed to entail. Typically, a Mama would give a bride-to-be 'the talk' the night before her wedding, but Lady Malton would never do such a motherly thing for you. Thus, you were left completely clueless.

Plus, apart from the exchange of your vows, you had hardly spoken to the duke before, so you really didn't know where the evening was going to take you as you stepped out of the carriage outside Riddle Manor. You were both to spend the night in his London home before beginning the three day journey to his countryside residence the next day. It was a typical agenda for newly weds.

You were introduced to the various staff, including your new lady's maids - you now had two of them, as opposed to one - before you were both led through to the dining room. Your eyes fell on the long dining table, with the two distanced ends laid and nothing more.

You grimaced.

"Is salmon not to your tastes?" your husband asked you.

"Tis a very formal set up," you explained simply, but said nothing more as you assumed one of the seats.

"I mostly take dinner in my work study, so this will be a rare occurrence."

You ate the entire meal in silence, and then it was time to be shown your bed chambers.

"This is the duchess' chamber," he gestured to the door, "You may redecorate it however you so wish."

You hummed.

"My chamber is next door - we have an adjoining door, of course."

You said nothing.

"Are you going to enter?"

"But what of our consummation?" you asked.

Mattheo paused - he hadn't expected you to be so blunt.

"Lady Malton did not give me a talk like she was supposed to," you explained, somewhat shyly, "I do not know what is meant to happen, but I know that something must."

"Right," he said slowly, "We will consummate."

***

You lay awake in bed next to the duke the next morning, unable to get the memories of the night prior out of your head. Never would you have guessed that that was how babies were made, something that felt so heavenly, so good. But, you were also confused, many women muttered about it in fear, as if their consummation was unenjoyable.

Perhaps it differed with each man. Regardless, with Mattheo, it was completely and entirely soul-consuming, and you wished to experience it a countless number of times over.

A knock sounded on the door, "Your graces, breakfast is ready."

Mattheo was still sound asleep, "We'll take it in here," you replied.

You weren't used to having power in a household.

Also, how did the servant know you weren't in the duchess' bed chamber?

Mattheo woke up once the servants had wheeled in the breakfast selection, and once you were both loosely dressed, you began eating. It was then that he began speaking.

"Now is as good a time as any to set out the details of this marriage," he said, making you look up from your eggs, "I married you because I can't stand when parents mistreat their children."

Your heart warmed at that: he had noticed how Lady Malton treated you?

"I do not intend for love, but obviously at some point there will need to be an heir," he said, "You may have conceived last night, but it is unlikely. In the probable case that you haven't, we can wait a couple years to produce one should you so wish."

You thought over what he was saying - perhaps part of you had hoped that he had fallen in love with you at first sight, but you knew that was childish. This was a marriage of convenience.

"I only have one condition when it comes to children," you said slowly.

"Which is?"

"That you are an involved father," you said, "Like the Bridgertons are known for being."

Memories flashed through Mattheo's mind of his childhood: his father's coldness and distance all throughout the years until he returned from Cambridge a grown man. Only then did the late duke want anything to do with his son.

"I shall be involved," he said.

***

You couldn't look Mattheo in the eyes, you soon realised. He scared you, not in the way that Lady Malton had, but in a way you didn't quite understand. He made you nervous, made you unable to speak more than a few words at a time. Not that you did speak much: the entire journey to Covenshire Hall had been very much one of silence. The only sound to accompany you was the wheels and hooves against the cobbled roads.

The nights were spent in inns, in separate bed chambers.

Covenshire Hall was enormous: far bigger than the Catury estate that you had spent half your childhood on. It made sense, obviously, you were no longer a mere baronet's daughter, but a duchess.

"Your graces," the butler greeted you as you stepped out the carriage, "Welcome."

"Dantle," Mattheo replied, "Gather all the servants in the entrance hall."

"Right away, your grace."

The man disappeared inside, and you soon had entered through the same doors that he had, to be greeted by the largest entry room that you had ever seen. Symmetrical stairs curved around the walls either side of you, carpeted in plush blue velvet. The walls were decorated in a branch-design, but the once deep maroon colour had faded over time: it was evident to you that there hadn't been a lady of the house in quite a few years.

And then, quite quickly, the room filled with lines of house staff - more than you had ever seen for one household before. You were introduced to them all, including the primary housekeeper, Ms Godley. She was an older woman, with mostly grey hair that still held evidence of her brunette days, and a lightly wrinkled face that seemed more to do with the permanent pursing of her lips rather than age. Her eyebrows were ghastly thin, much like the rest of her, which could only be described as bony. She wore a pleated black dress down to her ankles, suggesting that she was in mourning.

You smiled politely at her, but she did not return it.

"I will leave you in her capable hands," your husband said to you, "She will provide a tour of the grounds."

"Where are you going?" you couldn't help but ask.

"My office."

You watched as he left, before turning back to Ms Godley.

"Where shall we begin?" you asked, attempting to be friendly.

***

You didn't like Ms Godley - not one bit. She reminded you of your stepmother, except this time you didn't even have younger siblings to provide a distraction. It was quite evident that she wasn't particularly fond of you either, although you had no idea what you could have done.

"This is the nursery," the woman said tightly, "It has been empty for some years now."

Gazing around the room of faded yellows and purples, you were cast back to when you were in your nursery, though you always got the short end of the stick when it came to beds. Nonetheless, it had been a relatively pleasant time for you, back when your sisters were too young to notice that Lady Malton treated you differently, so you would all play together as children do.

You didn't want any of your children to feel left out.

"Your grace," Ms Godley said curtly, "We don't have all day."

You sighed, exiting the room.

***

Loneliness was a familiar emotion to you, so a week of solitude in Covenshire Hall wasn't all that much of a change from your old life, other than the fact you now had servants waiting on your hand and foot. Although, you were growing quite bored: at least with the Maltons, you were always distracted by gauging your stepmother's mood.

You decided that you needed a distraction, and since the prestigious house was in desperate need of a fresh lick of paint, you landed on redecorating.

"You called for me, your grace?" Ms Godley stood before you in the duchess' office that you had taken to using regularly.

"Yes," you stood up, walking around your desk, "I have a matter to discuss with you."

It took everything in you to act courageous in front of a woman so similar to Lady Malton.

"I wish to redecorate the house," you said simply.

By some miracle, Ms Godley's lips pursed even more.

"Starting with the entrance hall - since that is the first room guests see, then-"

"No."

You paused - was she allowed to say that to you? "No?"

"No. This estate is not a part of your lineage, you have no right to tamper with it."

The amount of bravery that it had taken for you to have this conversation with her, just for her to pull a line that sounded so eerily similar to Lady Malton's.

"I am the lady of the house," you said, but it was obvious you weren't speaking as surely of yourself as moments prior.

"The dowager duchess was never permitted to redecorate either," she said, "And I imagine that the late duke would especially not want somebody as measly as a baronet's daughter interfering with his heritage."

You stood in shock for a few moments, eventually managing to splutter out, "You are excused."

Once she was gone, you finally gave in to the panic consuming you, feeling your breath beginning to dramatically labour and push against your corset. You felt trapped, suffocated, like you had your entire childhood, and you didn't like it. You had to escape.

So, you did.

You weren't running away by any means: you just needed fresh air, and the woods on the Covenshire grounds seemed perfect to hide away for a while. Just a couple days ago, you had taken a walk through them. Of course, that was on one of the paths that navigated between the trees, this time you simply started running straight ahead once you breached the tree line.

But you could only go so far when you had to hitch up your thick heavy skirts to make progress, so it wasn't long before you collapsed against a tree, your lungs pounding against your rib cage which were in turn pounding against your corset.

It was then that floods poured out of your eyes and down your cheeks, leaving a sticky, puffy trail behind.

You should have known better.

Just because you were a duchess didn't mean you suddenly had control over your own life.

You failed to notice the looming grey clouds gathering above, up until the sky thundered, and the familiar trickle of heavy rain commenced.

***

Mattheo was sat in his office, going over estate finances, when a knock sounded on the door.

"Your grace?"

He hated being interrupted during work, but still said a grumbled, "Come in."

"I am so sorry to disturb you, your grace," Dantle said, bowing his head, "But the duchess appears to be missing."

Mattheo's head shot up, "Missing, you say?"

"Ms Godley was the last one to speak to her, approximately two hours ago."

"Where has she gone?" the duke was now standing up.

Dantle appeared uncomfortable, "I do not know, your grace. Apparently she ran down into the woods."

"Ran?" Mattheo felt his blood boil, "Have you gone out to look for her?"

"No, your grace, the storm-"

"The storm?" he saw red, "The bloody storm?" He then let out a sound somewhat adjacent to a growl before pushing past Dantle out his office.

He was going to find his wife.

***

You probably had pneumonia or something at this rate, you thought to yourself. Your body was completely freezing and soaked, and your lack of cloak was becoming apparent as a massive problem in terms of your well-being. You should have gone back inside the second the rain started, but that was when you were still in the depths of your upset. It wasn't until you were too cold to move did you calm down a bit more.

To be honest, you were about ready to accept your fate.

"Y/N!" a faint cry came from nearby, and as much as you wanted to call out and alert them of your location, your voice was weak.

By some miracle, the man - your husband - managed to locate you.

"Y/N, oh, God," he blasphemed, "Are you okay? What are you doing out here?"

You couldn't even reply.

Mattheo scooped you up into his arms and began making haste back towards the mansion that you shared.

"Stay with me," he murmured at irregular intervals, right up until you felt the warmth of a fireplace hit you on the cheeks. You were in your bed chamber, you realised, upon noticing the faded floral pink wall decor.

Your skin was so numb you hardly felt your husband begin to peel off all items of your clothing, including your undergarments. Typically, you would have felt embarrassed, but you were completely spent.

As he picked you up again and carried you through to the bathroom, where a bath had been prepared, you couldn't help but curl into him.

"I ordered it be run before I went to find you," he said softly - the softest you had ever heard him speak.

The warmth of the water felt heavenly.

"What happened, darling?"

You shivered, this time not because of the cold, but because of the nickname.

"Godley," you forced out between your blue lips.

"Ms Godley? What did she do?" he asked as he began to wet your hair.

"I wan- wanted to redecorate the house," your teeth were chattering, "She said I couldn't change anything."

Mattheo said nothing.

"It's- it's the way she said it," you clarified, not wanting him to think you were a brat who had simply been told 'no', "She was so mean."

"How did she say it?" you didn't miss the edge to his voice that hadn't been there before.

"She said it would upset the- the late duke - and that- that he especially wouldn't want a measly baronet's daughter to-" you choked on re-emerging sobs, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, my love," you felt him press a kiss to your forehead, "I will handle this."

***

After you had warmed up in the bath and been wrapped up in thick clothing, Mattheo gently escorted you to one of the larger drawing rooms, where, to your horror, every single staff member of the house was gathered. Including Ms Godley.

"It has come to my attention that the duchess is not receiving the respect she deserves in this household," your husband sent an icy glare in the housekeeper's direction, "As the lady of the house, it is her right to decorate our rooms however she so pleases."

Ms Godley's lips pursed.

"The redecoration that her grace desires will commence immediately," Mattheo gave a forced smile, "Follow her every instruction. Any questions?"

"What of the late duke?" Ms Godley asked.

"What of a man of whom is dead?"

"Surely you should respect his wishes."

"How I choose to treat my father's wishes is none of your concern, Ms Godley. You are overstepping."

The old woman opened her mouth to say something, but decidedly shut it before saying, "My apologies, your grace."

"Apologise to my wife as well."

"My apologies," Ms Godley gave a stiff curtsy.

You had been glancing nervously between your husband and the housekeeper throughout the entire exchange, feeling overwhelmingly put on the spot. It was the second after Ms Godley apologised to you that your chest tightened and you erupted in a coughing fit.

"Darling?" Mattheo asked worriedly as you fell forward.

"Can't- breathe-" you choked out.

You felt a hand press to your forehead.

"She's overheating," the duke said loudly, "Help me get her to bed. And call the doctor."

Murmurs of, "Right away, your grace," came in reply.

"You're going to be okay," Mattheo said softly to you as he picked you up for the millionth time that day, "You must be."

***

The doctors concluded that you were pneumonic, which had been what everyone suspected but were too scared to say in front of you. But, you weren't an idiot, and understood what your symptoms meant.

There was a good chance that you would die.

It was dark outside: it often was when you came to from your fever dream episodes, for a few minutes of painful consciousness. You lurched up in bed, quickly producing horrific gurgling coughs and splutters, unable to stop yourself from groaning in pain in between. Tears pricked at your eyes as you placed a hand on your chest, your blurred vision just about making out the duke running in from the door between your bed chambers.

Mattheo grabbed the cloth from your bedside table and dipped it into the pot of water placed for this occasion, hurrying to press it to your burning forehead. You let out a brief sigh of relief, before you began coughing again.

He rubbed your back, "You can get through this."

You weren't sure if you could, in fact, you felt deathly, as it were. But, your husband's words gave you a sense of strength and hope, and it was all you could do but nod after the coughing subsided.

"If- if I make it," you murmured, falling back on to the pillows. Your voice was low and cracked. "Please- may we go to London?"

"Whatever for?"

"I..." you trailed off, "I would like to make friends."

And before Mattheo could question you further, you drifted back into unconsciousness and shallow breathing.

***

It was three days later, on a chilly but sunny morning, when you awoke naturally instead of being forced awake by coughs. Your breathing felt stronger, and you weren't overheating, which was the best feeling you had felt in forever.

You heard voices outside your door.

"Is she doing any better, your grace?" who you assumed to be the doctor asked.

"We were about to check," your husband's familiar voice replied.

The door opened, and you blinked a few times to clear your vision as the two men approached you.

"Mattheo," you said softly, your words still sore to speak.

"You're awake," he said simply, pressing his hand to your forehead. The physical contact comforted you.

"How do you feel?" the doctor asked.

"Better."

He raised his eyebrows, "In what way?"

"Every way."

He performed a more thorough examination, and concluded that while you likely still had a couple more days of illness, you had pushed through the worst of it and were well on your way to recovery. You were relieved to hear that, but even more relieved to finally be able to take a bath and and cleanse yourself.

"You wanted to return to London," Mattheo said simply at dinner that night, as he was taking it in your room with you.

"I said that?" you asked. You knew that it was what you wished to do, you just couldn't recall mentioning it to your husband.

He hummed, "While you were feverish."

He had been taking care of you?

"Well, yes- I wish to finally have a social circle."

"You mentioned that also."

You said nothing.

"Once you are fully returned to health, we shall make the journey," he said simply.

You couldn't help but beam, "Really?"

"Really."

"Thank you- thank you so much."

He shook his head, as if to say 'don't thank me'.

"I'm so glad you're my husband."

Mattheo chuckled, "I'll take care of you no matter what, darling."

***

Two weeks later, and the doctor had determined that you were back to being healthy and thus your convalescence was able to come to an end. It was then arranged for you and Mattheo to return to London for the remainder of the season but three days later, once you would have passed an appropriate honeymoon duration. While you were terribly excited to be able to properly socialise, you were also nervous. For one, your stepmother would be there, and for two, you weren't that experienced with the correct customs for socialising. The only comforting factor was that your husband would be there with you: a man who you held a lot of adoration for, and felt an immense amount of comfort from.

After the pneumonia episode, he hadn't distanced himself quite so much. Granted, you still hadn't engaged in your wedding night type of intimacy again yet, but you ate meals together, and frequently found yourself wandering over to his bed chamber in the night. The first time you had done it, it had been most nerve-wracking.

It had been a few days since you had snapped out of the fever dream episode, and were feeling much more energetic. Unfortunately, you had also been dealing with bouts of insomnia, which you suspected had something to do with your fear of falling asleep and re-entering the fever dream. Like usual, you found yourself up at the early hours of the morning, only the exhaustion was catching up to you and you could feel your chest tighten as hysteric panic began to set in.

Before you completely freaked out, you forced yourself up and over to the adjoining door, aiming to seek comfort from Mattheo even if the prospect of doing so petrified you. He stirred the second that you entered the room, at least it appeared like he did from what you could make out in the shadows. "Y/N?" he murmured.

You let out a sob.

"Come here," he said without hesitation and you gladly obliged, finding that you could finally drift into a slumber once in his arms.

And, thus, you went to him whenever you couldn't sleep.

But, now, you were in the carriage back to London, with your hands folded neatly in your lap and your husband sat across from you. You weren't sure why, but there was an awkward silence present.

***

Mattheo was conflicted.

He didn't know why he cared so deeply for you, why he was so willing to aid you whenever you were in need.

A strangled, screaming part of himself deep inside knew exactly why he felt how he did, but the part of him that he listened to feigned ignorance and told him it was simply expected of him to take care of his wife.

But the thing that confused him the most was the fact he felt the urge to tell you about his childhood, about his father, and about the lack of family and love he had endured. Why would he want to tell you such personal information that didn't even matter any longer, since the cause of it was dead?

Why did you make him feel this way?

"Mattheo?" he looked up at you sat opposite him. Your voice sounded small and timid.

"Yes?"

"Are you mad at me?"

He could have sworn he actually felt the searing pain of his heart breaking at that moment. He wasn't sure he was capable of being mad at you. "Of course not, why ever would you think that?"

You gave a gentle shrug, "You're quieter than normal."

"I'm often quiet." It was true: he was often regarded as a grumpy and brooding individual.

"Yes," you said tightly, "But not like this."

It stunned him how easily you could read him, but, then again, maybe he had never been close enough to anyone for them to know him. Maybe his emotions were obvious to anyone who cared enough to try and figure them out.

"Do you not wish to return to London?"

Mattheo paused for a moment. He hadn't put any thought into whether or not he wanted to go back to the capital, but initially it seemed like an obvious answer since he had always despised the season. Overbearing Mamas and their brood of debutante daughters were his idea of hell, but now he felt different. He realised that he did in fact want to go to London, not just because he was now married and off the Mamas' radar, but because you wanted to go. Mattheo was faced with the overwhelming realisation that he simply wanted to do whatever you wanted to do.

"Oh, dear, you don't, do you? We can turn around," you said quickly, making him snap out of his thoughts.

"No," he rushed to say, "We shall go to London."

"But you don't want to go."

"I do."

"But-"

"We are going, and that's final."

You opened your mouth to say something more, but decided against it, and turned your gaze to out the window.

The rest of the journey was silent.

***

"We need to discuss the rules for our time here," Mattheo said once you had settled into Riddle Manor for some dinner.

"We do?"

He hummed, "I will not be attending every social event we are invited to."

"But- people will think our marriage is rocky if you're not with me. The ton will talk, they always do."

"I said not every social event," he reminded, "I will attend some."

"You have to attend the first one," you said, "That one is the most important."

Mattheo agreed, "Of course, but from then on, it will be events here and there. You are welcome to attend alone."

You deflated a bit, but nodded your head, "Maybe we can host a ball at some point."

His eyebrows raised. Riddle Manor hadn't been the location of a ball in almost thirty years - there had been no lady of the house to host it.

"Perhaps," he replied pensively.

***

The next social event, to Mattheo's great horror, was the infamous Smythe-Smith musicale. Otherwise known as a torturous cacophony of four tone-deaf girls of whom were trusted with instruments that should have undoubtably never been allowed within five feet of them. You had heard what the quartet were like, having never attended yourself, and - honestly - you were rather excited to finally be a part of an inside joke of the ton that you had been left out of. Your husband was not nearly so enthusiastic, having attended exactly twice before, but not for a good many years.

Unfortunately, as selfish a woman as Lady Malton was, she was more than willing to sacrifice her hearing in order to secure impressive marriages for all of her (biological) daughters. So, you weren't surprised to enter the Smythe-Smith ballroom and see her stood with Grace closely by her side.

"Introducing, the Duke and Duchess of Covenshire," the man stood by the door announced, making your half-sister and stepmother quickly turn their attentions in your direction.

You squeezed Mattheo's arm tightly, to which he patted your hand and nodded when your family members approached.

"Your grace," Lady Malton gave a gentle curtsy - to Mattheo, not you, "How fares your marriage?"

It was a question that bordered on the edge of improper for polite society. "Most excellent," the duke replied coolly, making you smile to yourself.

Lady Malton gave the politest smile her sour face could muster.

"What brings you here?" Mattheo asked, trying to gauge why Lady Malton would put herself through the Smythe-Smith musicale with no daughters on the marriage mart.

"Marriage prospects, of course."

"Is Miss Grace Malton not engaged to Sir Charles?" he asked.

"Well- uh- yes."

The duke raised an eyebrow at the woman, and you must say that you were thoroughly enjoying this interaction.

"They shall be married at the end of the week," she said reluctantly, "But until the vows are complete, things can change."

That was when you realised: Lady Malton was praying on securing a last-minute proposal from someone of a higher status than Sir Charles. If it meant marrying into more wealth and more powerful connections, surely your father would agree to it.

"You should come to the wedding," Grace blurted out, "We thought you would still be in the country, so we didn't send an invitation."

You knew the real reason that you hadn't received an invitation was because Lady Malton would have taken control of all the wedding arrangements, and you were most certainly not on her invite list. But, she couldn't revoke the invitation to the duke's face and in a public setting, so she forced herself to smile and agree.

"That would be lovely," you beamed, purposefully showing as much enthusiasm as possible, simply to upset your stepmother, "Now, if you excuse us, I wish to secure front row seats."

Multiple people around you stared at you like you were insane - they just wouldn't understand your motivations.

"Trust me, front row seats are never the ones that need to be fought for here," Mattheo whispered to you as you both moved over to the rows of chairs set up.

You shrugged, "You're sitting with me whether you like it or not."

"Ah, Lady Danbury," he spoke as you came face to face with the renowned old woman sat in the very central front seat.

"Your grace," she raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Come to enjoy the musicale?" your husband asked, the sarcastic undertone impossible to miss - at least to you.

"But, of course," Lady Danbury smiled, "I attend every year."

You desperately wanted to enter the conversation, but you didn't know how.

"You're the eldest Miss Malton, aren't you?" she said towards you, making you freeze on the spot.

"Uh, yes - Lady Riddle now, actually."

She hummed, waving her cane around despite being sat, "Yes, Duchess of Covenshire. Quite grand, no?"

You awkwardly smiled.

The dowager countess turned her attentions back to Mattheo, "I must admit, I didn't think you would marry for quite some time, your grace."

"Nor did I," he simply replied, which for some reason, slightly hurt you. You had inconvenienced his life: you were a burden to him as a result of him being a good person.

"I fear that love does tend to have the effect of uprooting our lives," Lady Danbury said wistfully, a gentler emotion than you had ever witnessed on her from afar at the few social gatherings you had been allowed at.

Love.

"I only wish I had been so lucky as to have had it been with my husband."

You looked up in surprise. To be honest, you knew very little of the dowager countess' life: she had been a widow for as long as you had been alive, so it was hard to imagine her having a husband. All you knew was that she was widowed very young, and chose to never remarry. Part of you had assumed that it was because of how much she loved her husband, like the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton. It was clear now that you were wrong, but you knew better than to pry.

"Alas, let us enjoy this musicale," she said with a glint in her eye, "It is meant to be a joyous occasion, after all."

You knew she said it sarcastically, but, for you, this was indeed a joyous occasion. You were more than thrilled to finally be a part of London society - the ton.

Sparing a glass in Mattheo's direction, you were surprised to see that he was already looking at you.

***

The duke did not attend another social event with you for the rest of the week, but almost every night you were out. It was strange, not needing to be chaperoned as a married woman, but you quite enjoyed it.

The first two events alone you spent as a wallflower - albeit a married one - which weren't so enjoyable. But, once people realised that the Duchess of Covenshire was present at the social events, you began attracting a lot of attention from fellow ladies who aspired to be friends with someone of such a powerful status. Soon, you were mingling with the ton as if you had always done so, although your social skills were still inept. Thankfully, most were willing to overlook this due to you being a duchess.

Then, your sister's wedding came around, and it meant that you would have your second outing with your husband accompanying you. That made you more excited than you were willing to admit.

"Blue is most becoming on you," Mattheo spoke from behind you, making you jump. You hadn't heard him enter your bed chamber.

"Thank you," you replied, "I had it tailored on Tuesday."

"How much?"

You blanched - it had been quite expensive. You had felt guilty at the time, but found it difficult to say no to the Madam who had been dressing you.

"Darling, you are free to spend my money, I am simply curious," he reassured you, "My wife deserves only the best, after all."

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach. Was it normal - for you to feel this way towards your husband when it was merely a marriage of convenience? You were snapped out of your thoughts when he moved closer to you and began kissing along your neck.

"Mattheo," you murmured.

He hummed, "Shame you're already dressed," and then he reluctantly pulled back, "But, we must depart now anyway."

That was the first hint you had received that he wanted to repeat the intimacies of your consummation. And it made your skin feel hot and prickly.

***

Your half-sister was a gorgeous bride: her elegant dress matching her eye colour and making her glistening smile seem bright. It was obvious that she was elated to be with Sir Charles, the incredibly young baronet who hung off her every word. One could only describe it as a love match.

"Thank you," you said to Mattheo, who was stood next to you as you applauded the newly weds.

"For what?"

"For recommending Sir Charles - and for marrying me."

He chuckled, "There is no need to thank me, darling. I can hardly complain about having a breath-taking wife, can I?"

Yet again, butterflies, and the overwhelming sense of desire.

Soon, it was time for the first dance of the newly married couple, celebrated back at Sir Charles' London residence. After they danced the first number alone, more couples joined the dance floor for a waltz. You couldn't help but look up at your husband hopefully.

He sighed fondly and held out his hand, "My lady?"

"My lord," you murmured, taking his hand and allowing him to lead you on to the dance floor.

As you moved into position, you found yourself avoiding looking at Mattheo's face, as for some reason it scared you. Maybe it was the proximity, or the emotions you had been consistently feeling for the last few days. Regardless, you felt timid.

"Darling?" your stomach flipped, and you were forced to meet his eyes.

"Yes?"

"I prefer it when you look at me," Mattheo muttered before he could stop the words from tumbling out. Momentarily, he froze, unable to ignore the way his heart burned in his chest.

"Okay," you said breathlessly, now not being able to tear your eyes away from him.

"You're so perfect."

A lump formed in your throat, "No one's perfect."

"Perfect for me," he said so quietly you almost didn't hear, just as the dance came to an end.

You stood in silence for a few moments, unable to process his words.

Eventually, you spoke, "Mattheo, I- I..."

The look in his eyes beckoned you on.

"Heaven knows I know nothing of love nor what it's like to be loved, but- but I think I love you."

His expression was unreadable, and you felt as if you had said the wrong thing, right up until, "I think I love you too."

God, why were tears pricking in your eyes?

No one had ever said that to you before.

And then you shoved yourself into his arms, desperately seeking warmth and affection as if it were your life line. The other people at the wedding and propriety be damned.

Mattheo moved his head to whisper in your ear.

"All's well that ends well to end up with you."

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masterlist

written; 09/08/2023 —> 04/10/2023 published;05/10/2023 edited; —/—/——

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