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oval3000 · 5 months

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Chapter 3

Yandere Teacher Nanami x Student Reader

Warning: Abuse, Smut, Abduction, Violence, Rough play, toxic behavior, age gap, everything from all above. Mainly from his point of view...somewhat... modern au- idk. College teacher x student.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

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He could hear the voice of his fellow female colleague, trying to get his attention. He could hear her light heels speeding up against the floors, "Mr. Nanami? Could you help me with the new test sheets? I have to print a lot and my students are going to come in a few minutes." He rolled his eyes. Not the first time his colleague asked for help even though it was her responsibility to do so herself.

"You were supposed to have them ready the day before," he turned around to face, having his head tilted a bit. He had things to do, and he was a busy man so when someone came in and stopped him, it irritated him dearly.

"I know, but I got caught with the time." She placed her hand on his biceps, she looked at him with a sad expression on her face, "Please."

At that moment he saw another colleague, "Mr. Yamagachi, can you help Miss. Ito with her work?"

"I'm pretty sure Mr. Yamagachi is busy." She smiled letting out a bit of laughter.

"So am I. Next time plan more so you can actually do your job." Nanami turned back around and exited the building. He got into his nice car and drove off.

He pulled up to his new two-story house brick, victorian, home. He closed the dark brown wood door behind him, dropping his briefcase on the floor. He took off his tan blazer off, hanging on the coat rack at the corner of the front entrance. He opened the door to his office and placed his items on the desk. He pinched the bridge of his glasses, pulling them off his face. As he sat down on his chair, his head swung back making him stare at the ceiling. He side-eyed his computer, moving the mouse to turn it on. quickly logging in and going through his gallery. He saw the portfolio of pictures and images of you. Pictures that he took of you during his class. They weren't clear pictures, mostly blurry due to the fact that he had to zoom through the lens to take the pic of you and no one else. A perk of having a bunch of students that don't pay attention is that students won't notice Nanami, sneaking, pulling out his phone, and taking a few pics of you. He made it seem like he was just using his phone, scrolling through whatever. Sure, he has the photo of you that you took when you got your school ID, but it just wasn't enough.

He looked around his desk and imagined the empty space to be filled with pictures of you and him together. Pictures of you holding children. If he wanted to go through this, he needed a nice home. A home that resembles having a family with plenty of rooms and space. He got up and went towards the master bedroom. He walked over to the windows, opening the white curtain revealing a big wood board that covered the whole window, behind the board was another set of white curtains. He tugged on the board to test the strength and smiled to himself to see how secure it was. It wasn't a permanent thing, he'll eventually take it off once you are comfortable. He doesn't even how you'll react towards this, towards him. Are you going to scream? Are you going to try and escape? Or are you going to accept him a be the perfect wife for him? Questions that he wants clear answers to, but the only thing he can get is theories.

He went towards the bed, tugging on the rope that was tied to the headboard, again smiling to himself on how secure it was. He quickly swept the empty side of the closet so it was ready for all of your things. He dusted off half of the empty drawers, ready to be stuffed with your undergarments. The room is fairly large. A nice comfy armrest chair in the corners with a matching stool at the front. The bed, a king-size bed, perfectly centered, the headboard up against the while, and two nightstands on either side of the bed. On the other side, across from the bed, is a door that leads to the bathroom. He picked up the brown, paper, bag from the chair and opened the door to the bathroom. He grabbed all the items from the brown, paper, bag and placed them on the bathroom counter. He crumbled the paper bag and tossed it in the trash. He placed the extra toothbrushes and toothpaste in one of the drawers. He placed the box of pads under the bathroom sink. All hygiene products, he placed them in their designated spot; shampoo, body wash, conditioner, and body scrub. He went back to the room and placed all other products into the white vanity that he built and got for you; hair brush, moisturiser, sunscreen, all types of serums, spray facial mist, hair ties, hair oils, hair blow dryer, lip oils, lip balms, and some nail polishes. The cashier who scanned of of his items was calling him sweet for getting all of this for his significant other. Nanami smiled and thanked her. It was sweet, so you would be happy to be here, right?

He quickly cleaned the rest of the house, settling everything in. Tidying up the kitchen and living room, leaving everything simple and clean. Of course, things can change once you're here. If you want to move things around or add things, Nanami made sure to keep it simple that way you can add your personal touch to the house. Nanami, resting on the couch, turning on the flat-screen TV, resting on top of the fireplace, pulled out his phone and went through your social media post. He never used social media, but he knew he was to get to know you a lot more, so he quickly downloaded them and made fake names. You kept things private so it was a hard time for him to get through, you had friends and relatives who weren't private and who posted things about you. He saw posts that your friends and relatives have put out like the day they took you to celebrate your birthday at a restaurant or when you went to the movies and they posted a 'best day ever' selfie with you in the background. He was lucky to remember the people you talked to when he saw you at the college campus or else he wouldn't know more about you.

He went through many scenarios in his head. Was this the right thing to do? Is this necessary? Would it be easier if he just talked to you and confessed his feelings towards you? After all, what's the worst that can happen? Him being rejected? No. He just can't accept that.

Not when he could feel your body heat as he leaned closer to you, hovering over you. "I'm having trouble with this one Mr. Nanami?"

He placed his hands in front of you almost caging you in. Your back was turned to him as you were sitting down, staring at the question with a wooden pencil in your hand. You were so oblivious about everything it made Nanami go feral. He leaned closer to you, his mouth near your neck, "What are you not understanding, sweetheart?"

"Which formula am I supposed to use when they didn't give the percent number on how much it's been missing?" You said, rereading the question in your head.

"Which one do you think would work the best when one variable is missing, love." His cock felt like it was going to explode with cum on how close and how cute you were to him. He loved this. He enjoyed this.

"This one?" You pointed to one of the formulas tilting your head a bit.

Nanami smiled, "Yes, correct. You're doing amazing." His lips parted, feeling his crotch area getting tight. He thought he was able to control himself by now but clearly, he wasn't. He was thankful that the chair was blocking his hard boner from your back or else his plan was going to come to an end and all of his hard work would've gone to the trash. he saw the way you quickly solved the question of how easily you cached on. His high hopes were showing. Maybe it wouldn't be hard?

Days would go by and eventually, you fully understood everything he had taught you that you miss. You asked Nanami if you were ready to retake the test and he was trying to insist that it's okay to take more time to study, but you told Nanami that you are ready. Nanami enjoyed these moments he had with you even though you had no idea what was going on, he didn't want it to end. He needed you.

He knew that his time was coming close, so when he saw you outside the campus building, sitting on one of the benches, he walked up to you. "Everything alright, (Y/n)?"

You looked up from your phone, "Yes, I'm just waiting for my cab"

"Well," he looked around to find no one. The time stamp during this moment is where there are fewer students, and less crowded. "If you want, I can take you? I'm heading out for my lunch break, I can take you home." You weren't really sure about it. Nanami could see that you were hesitant. "It'll be no problem. Besides you most likely have things to do. Don't want to waste time waiting, right?"

"Right. Okay." You got up, quickly canceling your ride." Thank you, Mr. Nanami." You followed him to his. He opened the passenger side for you. When you got inside his car you were quite surprised at how neat and clean his car was. "You have a nice car, sir."

"Really? I mean, it's just a car in average condition." He said, starting his car and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Well, I guess I've never seen a guy keeping his car in good shape." You said, trying not to keep things awkward between the both of you. You never head a teacher driving you home or anywhere. Yes, you went inside strangers' cars, mainly cab and Uber drivers that you contacted before, but never someone that you sort of knew and definitely never a teacher.

"Never seen a guy have a clean car?" He questioned, giving you glances.

"No. My ex-boyfriend was really messy. He always had a messy and smelly car." You clutched your bag close to you.

Nanami felt his throat a bit dry. His hands were gripping the steering wheel. "Ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I used to date this one guy. He was my first boyfriend. We only lasted like three months so I wouldn't really call him a boyfriend. We hardly did anything together." You said. You looked out at the window and realized something. "Wait," Nanami pulled over to a curb in an area where it was isolated, and pulled out a white cloth while you stared out at the window, "I never even told you where I lived, I liv-" You couldn't finish the sentence because Nanami quickly covered your mouth.

The cloth had two pills in it, "That's it." Nanami felt his arm getting slapped repeatedly by you. He could hear your muffled screams, which made him pull you closer, lifting your head up so the pills could go down. You felt the small pills going down your throat. You felt like you were going to choke, so you had no choice, but to swallow them. It was painful and soon you felt weak. "Good girl." Eventually, you fell into your sleep. He got your phone and took out the memory card and battery before tossing it out. Nanami continued to drive off.

He pulled up to the house and parked in the garage that was connected to the house. He opened his door and quickly went towards yours. He opened the passenger door and carried you out bridal style. He entered the home and headed upstairs. He placed you on the bed and quickly tied your hands with the ropes that were tied to the headboard.

He finally took a deep breath, falling down on the bed next to you. He looked over his side and stared at you. He stared at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat slowing down a bit. His palms began to feel less shaky and the sweat forming finally calmed down.

He sat up covering his face with his hands. "What the hell am I doing?" He got up and paced around the room staring at your unconscious body. He got on the bed and hovered over you. "You're driving me crazy," he whispered to you. He placed his hand on your waist, " You're doing this to me." He placed a light kiss on your lips.

He got up and headed down to the kitchen and decided to make a light sandwich. After he finished he went to the car and gathered the rest of your things. He went through your bag and found your wallet. He found your IDs and cards.

He heard light noises coming from upstairs. He got up from the chair and placed the cards on the kitchen table. The closer he got to the second floor the more he could hear more of the noises and groaning. He opened more of the bedroom door and saw you opening your eyes. You moved to your side buring your face into your hands. He saw the way you peeked at the entrance and saw him which made you quickly sit up. He saw the way tears were forming in your eyes. You curled yourself up, bringing your knees up to your chest. " Please don't hurt me."

He shut the door behind him.

"Please."

He walked closer to you. "I won't hurt you."

"Where am I?"

"You're at home. With me."

@black-swan-blog27

@srae123

@foggyturtleknightangel

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 1 year

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Pandora was right, taking baths out in the wilderness was great! He could see the stars and point out the constellations as he scrubbed himself and practiced his singing where no one could hear him. This did not stop him from wearing swim trunks, so hess a litte paranoid. Sue him.

Pandora had been very clear about going deep into the wilderness where no one could hear him sing, because if they heard the siren song of a halfa and fled they would be haunted by it forever or until he himself tracked them down and sang a song strong enough to free them.

Ancients she knew him so well.

He had been minding his own business playing in the water with his multitude of floating duck candles, a purchase he begged Sam for when he was drugged out of his mind after a very devastating injury, and practicing one of the songs Pandora put on the "study list" called The Fairy King. If he didn't know any better he would think she was making fun of him.

He scrubbed his arm with a washcloth as he sung watching as the ducks floated around in the little super hero costumes Tucker had 3d printed for them. "Huh. It almost looks like they're dancing."

A light bulb went off in his head. He began practicing with his telekinesis as he sang, making the ducks dance together in little twists and twirls. He doesn't think he's ever had this much fun in a bath before honestly.

----

Red Robin and Nightwing were sneaking through the foliage looking for a supervillians secret base when they heard it. The sound of a full symphony playing live off in the distance. They nodded at eachother before heading in the direction the sound was coming from. They were almost on top of it when they heard the singing begin,

"When the house is still i can hear his song, beckoning me out into the ga-ar-den" the boys froze, this didn't sound anything like thier villain, they turned back to the noise edging closer, "his lullaby- promises sweet- escaaape"

Nothing could have prepared them for what they saw once they parted the underbrush, a glowing white haired teenager was standing in chest deep water, haloed by the moon behind, offering them an ethereal scene "He says, 'come my drifting flower i will hold you tight. Listen to the chime of stars and moo-oonlight-'"

The teen lifted up a floating ducky that was dressed like Red Robin in one hand and placed the other of his chest as he continued singing, "take my hand-and feel here- my heaart"

Red Robin turned beat red and Nightwing moved to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder only to have a twig snap underneath his boot. The guy whirled around and locked eyes with Nightwing for only a moment before screaming and falling backwards into the water. Bubbles rose to the surface of the pond only for a few seconds before they vanished all together.

It felt like a spell was broken and the two vigilantes just stood there for a second before nightwing jumped in to save a possibly drowning teen. No matter how hard he searched he couldn't find any proof that the guy was ever even there, save for the duck candles (?) that Red Robin had already finished collecting from around the pond.

RR didn't seem surprised that the guy had vanished and was examining the ducks. More specifically the bottoms. Dick went to see what was going on only for his younger brother to show him the bottom of the Nightwing duck.

There, in messy handwriting, was the ducks name: Duckwing

Dick laughed and started going through the ducks names, Quack-Hood, Bat-Bill, Red-Drake (which was kinda concerning and brought up the question of whether or not this guy knew any of thier identities) and funniest of all, a Robin one with a little plastic katana simply named Stabby.

----

Danny hid his face in his pillow after accidentally teleporting home. This was awful.

He waited until the heat in his face disappeared before taking a few deep breaths and thinking about how he was going to handle this. He obviously needed to track down the two Gotham vigilantes (what were they doing out there?) and break the spell on them before they become obsessed with him.

Then he remembered his ducks, "Aw man. What are the chances they didn't take my ducks?" Teleporting back to the pond after a full hour of being away showed a dark and duckless pond, much to his disappointment.

Now he added "recue the ducks" to his mental checklist.

Unbeknownst to him the vigilantes weren't the only ones to hear his song...

#fanfiction prompts #prompts #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #Nightwing #dick grayson #red robin #tim drake #duck candle #duck candles dressed as vigilantes #and heros #this song is so dramatic

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stariikis · 2 months

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𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡 | 𝐧.𝐫𝐤

royal flush ; (noun) a straight flush including ace, king, queen, jack, and ten all in the same suit, which is the hand of the highest possible value when wild cards are not in use. synopsis ; on your anniversary date with riki, he gets you thinking about how a deck of cards and a red string of fate bonded you forever.

pairing ; nishimura riki x reader genre ; fluff, romance, established r/s warnings ; mild cursing wc ; 1543

“You think we were fated to be together?”

As you let the words settle into the darkness, the weight of them simmer around you. It’s almost as if you’re speaking to, perhaps, a figment of your imagination, a ghost of a body you want to be present, but isn’t. But Riki’s fingers, slender and rough with calluses, (he’s recently picked up the peculiar hobby of monkey barring) slide through yours. Like a confirmation that he’s here.

Like a promise.

He likes to associate you both with the tied knot of the red strings of fate. Every gift you receive is tied to perfection with a red ribbon. He likes to decorate printed pictures of you and him with scarlet-licked ribbons, a string of yarn weaved through punched-out holes. You’ve never been much of an artistic person yourself, but Riki gladly takes care of the aesthetics himself.

“You’re my royal flush. Of course we were fated to be together.”

What on earth does he mean?

The night sky envelopes you in a cool breeze. Riki’s canvas, like a mirror, reflects the stars dotting it on the black background. A female figure, meant to be you, is sketched neatly in the middle of the portrait. However, your boyfriend has seemed to temporarily forget about the painting he’s working on.

He leans in closer, one hand supporting himself on the grassy field. The other squeezes yours in a tight reassurance. The grin he’s flaunting is one that makes you want to smile with him. But it’s hard to focus on him when your mind is running through everything it took for you to get here.

“Hey, yn, come here!”

Minji’s voice rings out loud and clear across the room the moment you walk in. In a circle with a few boys, along with Haerin, there’s a deck of cards laid out on the marble floor.

You walk over hesitantly, blinking at the unshuffled pile. ‘I’m not very good at playing cards.”

Your friend and roommate huffs in exasperation, grabbing your wrist and sitting you down in the empty spot beside her. Your new roommates stare at you expectantly, and it’s only then when you realise they’re waiting for an introduction. Hastily and half embarrassed, you nod your head and introduce yourself.

The boy beside you, his hair bleached and long enough to be considered a mullet, smiles amiably and greets you. “Hi, I’m Riki.”

The boy opposite flashes a smile somehow even brighter than Riki’s. “I’m Sunoo! Welcome to the dorm.”

Shyly, you wave and proceed to receive your share of the cards Haerin has silently been dealing amidst the introductions.

“I don’t know, guys…” you murmur lightly, trying to start conversation. “I don’t really play big 2 that often.”

“But do you know how?” Minji tilts her head. Her playful expression is difficult to read. You look through your cards and nod in response. “Who knows, you might be the next prodigy, like Riki beside you. He wins every time! Why do we even play with him anymore?”

Riki laughs boyishly, winking at you charmingly. “Nobody comes even close to beating me!”

… It’s only your first day at university. You should not be finding boys cute yet.

“Sure, sure. Maybe I’ll be the one to change that.”

The game begins, and true to his word, Riki starts off strong. He’s either the luckiest man on earth or has the skills of a professional gambler, because everytime he places down a set, everybody lets out a gasp. As expected, nobody in the circle is able to beat his high value cards, and they skip their turns.

You’re doing better than you expected though. Head to head with Riki, you both have six cards in your hands. Minji sends you a teasing glance, as if signaling for you to destroy him. The chances are pretty low. When Riki places down a full house, you have a feeling you’re pretty screwed. And since you’re his main competition, Riki quirks an eyebrow challengingly at you when he places down three 6s and two 8s.

One card remaining in his hand, he looks your way and giggles. Giggles. It, like, kind of alters your brain chemistry a little.

However, you’re lucky (and smart) enough to have saved your flush, and so you place down your ten, jack, queen, king and ace. As you do so, the whole room goes silent. Haerin is the first to break it, with the first sentence you’ve heard her say that day.

“You had a royal flush?! Now Riki’s definitely going to lose.”

“A royal flush?” You echo, unfamiliar to this term in the world of gambling. Riki’s smug expression has turned into an awe-struck one, and he’s ogling at the five cards you have just placed down.

“Look,” Minji spreads your cards and points at the suit. “They’re all hearts, right? A flush, with all the same suit, is called a royal flush. It’s the best set of five you can place down in this game.”

Sunoo gasps, all nine of his cards spread like a peacock’s tail in his two hands. He uses it to fan himself, shaking his head all the while. “Damn, I never expected anyone to beat Riki.”

Of course, everyone passes, even a begrudging Riki. He hangs his head low, and you don’t know whether to rub salt in the wound or comfort him with a bullshitted, “oh, don’t worry! Haha! Beginner’s luck!”

You toss your last card, a 7, onto the pile before excusing yourself. You don’t want to stay and risk being assaulted by a potentially extremely competitive 18-year-old.

However, that isn’t the case. After a while, you meet him in the dorm’s shared kitchen, stumbling upon him making himself a cup of coffee. At first, you’re nervous and avoid his gaze, because who knows what he could do to your social status if he’s truly upset. You’re slightly traumatised from high school’s notorious group of popular girls.

But instead of giving you a shit-eating glare like you thought he would, he taps your shoulder. It sends tingles through your body, and you almost physically reach up and smack yourself.

“I challenge you to another game,” he beams at you almost innocently. “Tonight, my room.”

As the days go by, these demanding three words leave Riki’s lips more and more often. Soon it is a tradition for you to knock on his door and be greeted with a deck of cards shoved in your face. You truly do somehow have a talent for playing cards, reigning above Riki – and you win him every single time.

It’s his life goal to beat you someday.

To this day, he still hasn’t been able to beat you. But when he confessed to you, his eyes glazed over with a nervousness you’ve never seen before, even during your heated matches. He shyly gifted you with a fresh new deck of cards, tied up with the red string of fate.

He claims to love the colour red because it reminds him of you.

“Look,” he whispered, in the middle of the dark and empty room. Minji, Haerin and Sunoo were all out late in class, and Riki had pulled you in with such a look of desperation and eagerness that you didn’t know how to respond. “It’s red, like the hearts on the royal flush you put down the first day we met. It’s red like the colour of your favourite flowers.”

“Roses,” he turns around and retrieves a bouquet of the prick-studded flowers from next to his nightstand. He sounds a little breathless when he returns to you, and the adoration in his eyes makes you want to break down into tears. “You love roses.”

The boy that you’ve liked since the moment you met him. Why would you not accept such a thoughtful, clumsy confession that is his?

“I like you so, so much!”

A royal flush. So that’s what he means.

“Happy anniversary,” Riki sighs, a little too dizzyingly happy when he leans in to kiss your cheek. “I got you yet another deck of cards because I didn’t know what you would want.”

He whips out a box with intricate lines and swirls, and the design is a little too familiar for your liking.

“Is this…” you reach out to touch it, your fingers connecting once more in the process. Riki nods enthusiastically, lips pursed proudly. “The deck of cards we played with at the very beginning.”

Something’s special, though, when you turn the box around and look at the bottom, you see that he’s engraved both your names there, in his very own handwriting. Your heart swells with pure love for the boy sitting before you. He may be clueless on what to get you, but at the same time he’s the best ever at giving gifts.

“Let me finish up this painting,” he sighs, and scoots back to scan you. His hands imitate a picture frame and he winks to get a clearer picture of you in his mind. “Pretty.”

He turns back to the painting, skilled hands picking up his paintbrush again. “After this, we can go home. I challenge you to another game of cards. Tonight, my room. And this time, I’ll win.”

thank you for reading !

more of my works >

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garoujo · 2 years

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WHATS IN THEIR PANTS — JUJUTSU KAISEN

feat : gojo satoru, geto suguru, itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi + nanami kento.

♱ warnings — dick analysis lmaooo, literally just me describing their dicks, balls + cum , mention of f! reader :’> aged!up characters.

♱ note — honestly this is just for fun cause ajahajaka idk i just wanted to okay, these are unrealistic n rly generous so take them w a pinch of salt guys … >////<

・✶ ｡ﾟGOJO SATORU

unfortunately his ego isn’t all for nothing, his dick is big. maybe around 7.2 inches, it’s got a slight upward curve to it and it’s thick, pretty veins decorating the sides and the underside is so fucking sensitive. the tip is a pretty pink but it turns darker when he’s hard, smooth ivory skin along the shaft but his dick is so fucking pretty, like as pretty as he is and his hygiene is exquisite.

he’s neatly trimmed, not completely clean shaven and you can still make out some of the snowy hairs when he’s got your nose pressing against his pelvis and your lips wrapped around him to the base. they also help when he’s grinding into you, brushing against your puffy clit until your scratching along his shoulders and leaving marks across his ivory skin — his neck and inner thighs are so fucking sensitive.

his cum is a little runny, not too thick and not too white — it’s almost clear and doesn’t have much of a taste, despite his sweet tooth he eats relatively well so it’s not too bad. even his balls are pretty, sensitive and just the right weight for you to feel them when they’re slapping against your ass with every heavy thrust of his. makes the prettiest fucking sounds, but there is no end to his teasing — once he gets closer he’s all moans, low grunts and whimpers though, so vocal about how good you feel and the filth that comes out his mouth makes it even hotter, he’s just so sexy and he knows it.

・✶ ｡ﾟGETO SUGURU

suguru’s cock is so thick! it’s basically the same length satoru’s but the prettiness sets them apart, satoru’s is prettier and suguru’s is more.. rugged, fatter, veiny. SO HEAVY. even when he’s soft he’s big but it’s so mouthwatering to watch him twitch against your palm, feeling him fill the space so quickly. he’s around 7.1 inches when he’s fully hard, he’s trimmed with dark pubes and they peak out the top of his sweats / run down his stomach, but he wants it comfortable for you to deepthroat him, and a tanned shaft with a dark pink tip — he just looks so sexy.

the stretch of his head hurts a little because it’s so thick but he always makes sure you’re prepped, but you’re still mindless by the time he’s fully sunk in and you can feel his heavy balls press against your hips before they’re twitching. i feel like suguru cums so much, his balls are so heavy and big. king of dick prints and grey sweats and he’s just so mouthwatering when he manspreads and you can see it lying along his thigh.

his cum is a little sticky, doesn’t taste of much though ( we’ll pretend he doesn’t have a diet of curses ), it’s just slightly white and pebbles along your skin whenever it smears against your body or cums across your tits / ass. feel like he has so much pre-cum when he gets horny, sensitive tip and makes the sexiest noises — he’s all deep grunts and growled praises when he really gets into it and he always bites on his lower lip to stop himself being too loud.

・✶ ｡ﾟITADORI YUUJI

fat dick huge balls, that’s it. yuuji’s not super long maybe like 6.7 / 6.8 inches at a push but fuck is he girthy, he’s so heavy and his pink is dark pink — curves a little to the right and he’s not too veiny, has a pale pink shaft. he definitely isn’t clean shaven, probably doesn’t even think about it unless you ask him, which may be best for you considering how much he needs to drain his balls.

he can and will cum more than once, he eats you out and stretches you out with his fingers before because he gets sad seeing you wince when he first sinks in ( T^T ) but he’s still gonna burn a little despite that, because he’s just so thick. gets so pussy drunk and ends up cumming in his pants while he goes down on you though, but hes fine he’s got more in the tank. he cums so much and it’s so thick and sticky, you end up choking a little because it really feels like he cums forever. maybe like a salty aftertaste? but it’s really warm.

yuuji babbles so much when he fucks you, drools along your skin and smears messy kisses into you — he’s all muscle and heavy thrusts and mating presses, will literally go feral for creampies he’s like an animal whenever it comes to you. has such a high sex drive and is literally bricked up like most of the time you’re together, they’re like love boners though.

・✶ ｡ﾟFUSHIGURO MEGUMI

megumi’s dick is so pretty, like so pretty! pretty, pale pink head and a ivory shaft that flushes when he gets aroused— his veins get a little more prominent when he’s hard. he’s not too thick but also not like too skinny, he’s like a satisfying girth, he doesn’t hurt too much but he’s long, maybe like 6.6 inches. so clean shaven because he just likes to keep it smooth down there, not really much of a curve to it but he’s so fucking sensitive everywhere — like as soon as your fingers even brush along his shaft he’s twitching.

pretty pink balls too, everything about him is pretty :( he’s really into fingering and fore play, always takes his time with you even though he kind of drives himself insane — dry humping makes him go feral, he will cum in his pants. he takes so much time to learn what you like and pays so much attention to your reactions even though you make him feel so fucking dizzy.

megumi doesn’t cum too much, it’s more or less clear and it’s pretty runny — kind of a dull aftertaste and he definitely is gonna need a bit before he can go again because he is soooo sensitive after. but his whines and whimpers are so pretty, he is up top with one of the prettiest sounding people to fuck you, he gets so shy at how needy he sounds but you make it impossible for him to hold back when your pussy or lips are wrapped around his cock.

・✶ ｡ﾟNANAMI KENTO

his dick just gives off such a handsome, masculine energy like ugh he’s so hot. maybe like 6.9 inches, a good girth but not too painful — pretty golden tan shaft and a dark mauve-ish tip and he’s so cleanly trimmed so you don’t have any problems when you’re deepthroating him, he’s like really neat and pretty and isn’t too veiny but they’re more prominent when he’s hard. curves upwards a little but it’s not super noticeable but omg he knows how to use it.

king of foreplay + aftercare he’s just so good, makes sure you’re always properly prepped and honestly he can cum a lot — it’s not too sticky or too runny, it’s just kind of normal, a little bitter / salty because he drinks a lot of coffee and is an overworked man okay. you can definitely see the imprint in his slacks if you get him hard but he surprisingly has really good self control, he loves cockwarming you or sinking into your throat after a long day but he’s sensitive when he’s tired.

his thighs are sensitive and he makes the hottest sounds, he’s all hissed curses and clenched jaws and ugh his groans — they’re so deep and gruff and he grips you so hard to keep himself steady. he really likes it messy, loves seeing spit dripping down your chin when you take him or smearing his cum along your thighs / pussy, he leaks a lot and i feel like his bulge is so prominent in stuff he wears? he can definitely go a few rounds but he’s a service dom so.

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #geto x reader #geto smut #itadori x reader #itadori smut #megumi x reader #megumi smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen imagines

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ecogirl2759 · 4 months

Text

THE MOMENT WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!!!!

Here it is, guys!

The Kiyotaka Ishimaru Mastermind comic from 4コマ KINGS Vol. 4!

SPECIFICALLY CITING THIS SO THAT OTHERS KNOW WHERE TO FIND THIS COMIC!!!

Huge, HUUUUGE thanks to @panicuriprince!!! They helped me with clearing the text, rewording panels and putting everything together! Pages 4, 5, and 6 are her doing! PLEEEASE go send her some love, they REALLY helped me get this done and I literally couldn't have done this without her :D

There's a document below the break with more literal translations for the comic, as well as translation notes, a link to a Google Drive folder with ALL of the pages, and other interesting tidbits! Please give it a read!

The Japanese pages will also be below the break! (As well as a little spiel of mine. It's quite long, so be careful!)

(also please forgive how many tags there are here-)

Remember to read right to left <3

As promised, here are the Japanese panels:

AND HERE'S THE DOCUMENT!

✨ WOW ✨

I can't begin to describe to you all how AMAZING this feels!

I've spent the past 2 years on what felt like a wild goose chase, desperately searching for this one comic that I wasn't even sure existed.

This all started with me finding a photo on Tumblr of this comic and spiraling into this deep dive. First I didn't know if this was even real, then I found out that this comic series had ceased printing, then I couldn't be sure which book it was actually in.

There is literally almost no information out there about the fourth volume of this anthology series. I've said this before and I'll say it again, volumes 1 and 2 both have full translations that you can download off of other websites, and while 3 doesn't seem to have that, there are a lot of separately translated comics floating around out there, namely on Pinterest.

The 4th volume had NOTHING! No matter how hard I searched or how many links I clicked, no one has really said ANYTHING about this book, which was why this specific comic was so hard for me to find.

But I have all of the books now, so I definitely want to do this again for all of them so that people have easy access to these translations. I'll start with book 4 though haha.

Also, I'm not sure who it was, but HUUUUGE thanks to the kind stranger on Ebay who was willing to sent me the whole series!! I literally don't know where I would be right now if these books weren't with me, so thank you <3

Also, thank you to all of my Japanese teachers that I've had throughout the years. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't have been able to understand the comic, haha! One even helped me out in the early stages of this process, so extra thanks to him <3

I feel really passionate about accessible media. I think that everyone should be able to read and find whatever they want. That's part of the reason that I've endeavored on this project. I want everyone to be able to seek out and find these comics if they really want to. And, of course, I want everyone to be able to understand them, too.

So please enjoy this comic! If you'd like to repost it, I'd appreciate being credited just so that others know where they can go to find the full comic.

This one-man project isn't so one-man anymore, and I seriously can't thank everyone who's helped me enough!!! I'm honestly so glad I didn't have to go through this alone <33

ALSO

If you see anything, LITERALLY ANYTHING, that you think I could change/improve (like formatting or different interpretations of the Japanese text), PLEASE shoot me a message!! I want to make sure this comic is as good as it can be, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Even if you don't have a suggestion and would just like to reach out to ask a question or something, PLEASE don't be afraid to do that! I know I get really cold feet when sending people asks, so I'm going to reassure everyone who needs to hear it now: You're never going to be a bother to me! I love getting asks! Whenever anyone sends me something, I get really excited <3

So ask questions! Tell me I did a horrible job and got none of the text right! Ask why Ishimaru literally cannot be evil! I don't know the answer, either!

Thank you all so much for the support and the kind words you've been giving me ever since I first announced I was translating this comic! Your support has been extremely motivating to me! Also, you guys are hilarious with your tags!

Seriously, thank you so much! Words literally can't express how I feel right now, but I guess the best way I could describe it is cathartic. I'm REALLY happy that I finally get to share 2 years worth of work with you guys! You've all been a massive help to me in more ways than one <333

KEEP BEING AWESOME <3

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 7 months

Note

How about some Yandere Hercules, Thor, Ares, Lu Bu, Rudra, Hades, Qin Shi Huang and Apollo x Hiyori Reader (Leodonis’ Daughter) where she just straight up BITCH SLAPS Apollo for insulting her father

She refuses to back down or bow her head for forgiveness because “I’m a Spartan’s Daughter, I will never back down! Especially when I know I’m Right!”

Underneath her cold, flirtatious and ‘vain’ exterior is a brave, compassionate and selfless woman who cares deeply for others, as she would manipulate any cruel and evil Gods, Humans and Demons with her irresistible beauty for their valuables and power until they have nothing left and give it all up to the people to live better lives

She loves and admires her Father deeply, and won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting him, as she has a high moral code, as her father was a brave and strong man (As she’s a total Daddy’s Girl, even showing her childish and tomboy side when he’s around *As she also tried to drop kick him, one of the moves he taught her for self defense, which he’ll laugh about since he’s glad she can at least defend herself*)

Leodonis is also on the floor cackling after hearing his daughter slap the hell out of Apollo (As her hand print is clear for everyone to see on his face)

-Leonidas couldn’t breathe, death was fast approaching as he held his stomach, never had his abs hurt like this before, even after years of intense workout or even getting stabbed.

-Before him stood a glorious scene, his daughter, who looked like an angel, delicate and soft, was standing over Apollo, who had just got bitch slapped right across the teeth, “I am a daughter of Sparta, worm, and if you insult it’s king, you insult me. And nobody insults Sparta.”

-Apollo was bringing it on himself technically, as the others around you could vouch for, as Apollo was trying to flirt with you, telling you how beautiful you looked and that he couldn’t understand how someone so crash and vulgar could be the father of such an angel.

-You were normally very level-headed and calm, but your papa was your soft spot, even if you would deny it, acting shy about it, you wouldn’t hesitate to throw hands to defend your papa, even though he could do it himself.

-You were known as quite the heartbreaker around Valhalla, but your targets were always cruel people, cruel gods and humans, and you would use your looks and never-ending charm to get in a good position with them, only to rob them blind.

-Many called you a villain and many tried to get you arrested for your crimes, but there were many more who would defend you, as everything you stole, goods, money, food, clothes, and you would always give it to those who needed it but didn’t have it, mainly because those you stole from had taken it or horded it, not distributing it like they were told to do.

-When the investigation was launched, you were actually thanked by so many high ranking gods for finding these thieves, who were punished instead. Many begged you for mercy, but you were cold and unforgiving, “I have no mercy to give to those who deserve none.”

-Many thought your icy nature was alluring, wanting to get to know you in a romantic sense, but in a serious romance, not your typical ones.

-You were always hesitant on making an actual relationship with someone, as you were afraid they would find out about your past exploits and what you’ve done, and you didn’t want to be deemed a loose woman.

-Leonidas would defend you, even if you told him you didn’t need his him, kicking his butt with your foot, telling him to leave, only to make him laugh while others would see your slight tomboy side.

-However, there were times like this where you easily showed your papa and anyone around you, that you were indeed a daughter of Sparta, and the daughter of the king, and you were not to be underestimated by any means.

-Many around were in shock, stunned with wide eyes but at the same time, they were admiring you, you took no disrespect and you slapped a god to the floor, not caring in the slightest that it was done in front of witnesses.

-Holy moly that was HOT!! He couldn’t believe his eyes to watch Apollo flirting with you, the object of his own affections, and then insult your father, and the next thing the sound of a slap is ringing around and Apollo is on the ground, a pulsing red imprint of a hand on his cheek as he lay twitching on the ground. Immediately approached you, asking if you were okay, taking your hand in his own, holding it gently; he was careful because he didn’t want a matching handprint on his own face. You felt your face warm as he held your hand so gently, massaging the palm gently, making sure you didn’t hurt yourself while praising you for making it look so easy. Leonidas couldn’t help but grin, seeing you acting so shy with soft affection, you were so cute!

-Ares, Hades, Hercules, and Qin Shi Huang

-Was in awe, seeing you dispatch a god so easily and with just a slap across the face. It made him curious on how hard you actually hit Apollo. It also made him curious on how strong you actually were; it wasn’t everyday where a woman could drop a god with one hit. Picked you up when you started getting a little feistier then you probably needed to be, wanting to yell at Apollo some more, and they were worried that Leonidas really was going to die from laughing so hard. He was surprised when you went silent, being held princess style before your face immediately went red and you started to push on his face, demanding to be let down. This was an unexpected but enjoyable surprise, seeing you so shy from being treated like a maiden. Leonidas couldn’t help but grin, wiping the tears from his eyes, he knew you could handle yourself, but if you came to him, he had no issues putting someone in their place.

-Lu Bu, Rudra, and Thor

-Stars in his eyes, birds circling his head, and ringing in his ears were all he could recall. He had been speaking to you but had realized, after you disciplined him, that he must have said something rude to you. Could see you glaring down at him, chewing him out but couldn’t hear anything but ringing. You were the whole package, beauty and strength, just like him, and he knew, being a daughter of Sparta, you could handle yourself, you were just like him! He couldn’t help but smile up at you as he became more coherent, hearing Leonidas nearby laughing loudly as well as many others laughing at his misfortune. Apollo beamed up at you, adoration in his eyes as he had never met a woman like you before, “Marry me!” Everyone went silent, completely stunned by the question, however it was your reaction that got more attention as you immediately flushed, holding your cheeks, “What are you saying?! Did I scramble your brains?!” before rushing to your father who was now standing, moving to hide behind him, however, seeing you so shy made Apollo fall even more in love. Now he just needed to convince Leonidas.

-Apollo

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror ares #ror hades #ror heracles #ror qin shi huang #ror lu bu #ror rudra #ror thor #ror apollo

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vanessagillings · 25 days

Note

Please talk about your favorite animated movies and what makes them special to you! I'm really curious about what you enjoyed about them both in the past and now?

haha, okay you asked!

I LOVE animated movies. My theory on this is that it took me a long time to emotionally relate to most media growing up, where I felt next to nothing watching most movies and shows as a young kid, and didn't relate to books until I was quite a lot older (I read picture books until I was around 10, and then suddenly in middle school, I hopped right to adult novels like 1984 and the entire Darkover series by Marion Zimmer Bradley, ha). But even before I emotionally related to fiction, I really enjoyed watching animation. It was nice to look at, and I enjoyed watching everything move and change. I grew up in the 90's where animated movies were largely 2D, and I spent hours watching and re-watching my favorite movies just studying how the characters moved -- it's definitely a lot of where I got my understanding of human expressions from. But I also think as I got older and started to relate more to fiction, animation was easier to parse emotionally than live action. The body language is clear. The stories are direct and not as forgiving of bad human behavior (I get frustrated sometimes with the defeatism in adult media, that assumes that People Just Act Badly, and that just needs to be accepted). Facial expressions are also exaggerated and more stylized -- think of a single arched eyebrow, for example, an expression that's commonly drawn to express one particular emotion in animation/illustration but which you next to never see on a real human face. My first introduction into serious reading was also manga -- a highly visual medium -- which uses a lot of the same tactics stylistically as western animation: big, expressive faces, bold gestures and big stories. Compare manga with western comics being printed at the time and it's even more obvious to me why I didn't particularly like comics until I was given manga as an option -- and thankfully I lived close to a kinokuniya, so I could spend all my allowance on untranslated books and magazines, which is also where I learned Japanese (もうたくさん忘れてしまいましたけど).

As far as my favorite movies? THAT IS SO HARD. The first animated movie that BLEW MY MIND was The Lion King. I saw it in theaters when I was eight and I was obsessed; it was definitely one of my first special interests. I know that entire movie line by line, frame by frame, and I had the stuffed animals and the trading cards and the clothes (man, was I teased for those clothes!). My other favorite movies as a kid were The Land Before Time, American Tale, and The Secret of NIMH (I was a big Don Bluth fan!) which have left deep impressions on how to approach storytelling for children; I warn you, I go hard on emotions for kids, because I needed that as a kid, and I know I'm not alone. Some of my other favorites are anything Miyazaki but especially Howl's Moving Castle (I relate to Sophie a lot), Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs (what I watch when I'm In A Mood), Ratatouille (a huge source of echolalia for my husband and me, we often detect nuttiness, let me tell you), Wallace and Gromit and Fantastic Mr Fox, which I watch every fall as an autumnal tradition. Even as an adult who likes live action, too, I still tend to like slightly over the top directors like Wes Anderson and Guy Ritchie, or movies that are highly cinematic like Road to Perdition, which is still one of my favorite films of all time.

In my opinion, animation is a super important medium outside of it being a very beautiful one. I truly believe it helped me access and understand emotion better as a child, and as an adult, it's a massive source of inspiration in my own work 💛

(Sorry for length, but you did ask!)

#actually autistic #asks

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peterman-spideyparker · 2 years

Text

Pure (Matt Murdock x Fem!Virgin!Reader)

Author’s Note: Well, everyone, I’ve strapped on my slut pants for this one. How I got this idea, I don’t know. All I know is that I had it, wrote it, needed to take a cold shower in the middle of writing it, and finished it. I think it’s even a little funnier after this last episode of She-Hulk, especially since I wrote it before I saw it. Is this self-serving? Yes. Is this also the perfect alternative fic option for me to include a gif of Bed Matt™️ when I wanted to but didn’t for another fic? Also yes. Enjoy, sluts (affectionate)! :)

Summary: After Matt overhears a conversation between you and Karen, his feelings that he holds for you already take on a new life, and his thoughts won’t rest until he sees them through.

Warnings: Fluff, mutual friends pining but neither of them know it until they know it, swearing, smut (virgin reader, nervous/excited reader, oral - f!receiving, fingering, sloppy kisses, P in V, praise kink! praise kink!, soft!dom!Matt (did I use that right?), Communication King Murdock, light corruption kink?, unprotected sex--if I’m gonna do a corruption kink, I might as well go all the way on it), cutesy cuteness because I just love seeing Matt happy.

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson and Karen Page

Word Count: 5,957

Matt’s not sure what word he’d use to describe you—one single term seems impossible to ascribe. Every time he tries to think of one, it never seems to capture your essence. You’re the furthest thing from selfish, and you only want to help those around you. You’re like light, a soothing breeze on a warm summer day.

One day, he’s talking with Father Lantom, finally having taken the old priest up on his offer of a latte at a chat. When the word “pure” falls from his lips, Matt immediately thinks of you—your kindness, your laugh, your optimism, and your heart. Everything about you is pure, and only enhances every last thing that you do.

But when Matt overhears you talking with Karen the following week, both Foggy and him up to their necks in casework, he comes to realize just how true that connotation is.

“So,” you hum, a lithe tone up-pitching your voice. “How’s everything going with you and Frank.”

Karen blushes and laughs, shaking her head as she files paperwork while you print. “We’re doing good. We went to Coney Island last night.”

“Cute. Did he win you a giant stuffed animal?”

“Actually, yeah. A giant frog.”

“That’s so sweet, I think I’m gonna get a cavity from the story. A full night just playing carnival games?”

“Well, we kind of cut it short. We went back to my place, and, well.”

It takes a second for it to click for you. “Oh.”

“C’mon, (Y/N)! You know how it is. That giddy excitement, especially when you haven’t had a chance to see one another in a long time. You get handsy with each other, he whispers something in your ear . . .”

You nervously clear your throat, and Matt can hear you nod your head as you work to organize the papers printing on the braille machine. Your heart is racing. “Y-Yeah,” you breathe. “Of course.”

Karen notices your shift in tone. “(Y/N), you have done it, haven’t you?”

“Well, um . . .”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I—,” she tries to backpedal.

“No, Kare, it’s fine. It’s just something I’ve done yet, that’s all.”

“Can I ask why?” she asks hesitantly.

Matt can hear you shrug.

“It’s a big step,” you say softly. “And I don’t know . . .”

“Is it like a religion thing, or—?”

“No.” You pause, unsure how to explain your mentality, mortified when your brain plays a ‘What if?’ situation with the idea and your crush on Matt. “If I’m not good at it or . . . I don’t know. It’s the idea that they could just leave the next day because they don’t like me anymore or because I wasn’t good enough. I’ve been rejected for less. I don’t want that to be added to the list of reasons why. To know that they’d stay is important for me. So far, none of them have or have wanted to.”

Matt feels his heart sink while Karen shuffles, unsure of what to say.

“I know the right guy is out there for you,” she settles on. “And I’m sure when you find him and when you’re ready, you’ll know, and it’ll be great. So great, you won’t be able to walk right.”

You let out a soft sigh; with your dating history, you’re not entirely convinced that her words are true, but you appreciate her sentiment. “A girl can only hope, right?”

He’s so caught up in what he just heard, Matt barely registers your footsteps moving towards his office. A gentle knock on his door brings him into the present and away from his thoughts.

“I’ve got those files for you,” you say. “I can put it in the case folder if you want and you can get to them when you’re ready.”

Matt clears his throat and straightens. “I can take them,” he says with a little tilt of his head and a smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Matt,” you say, placing them in his open hand before you walk back to your desk.

After overhearing your conversation, Matt can’t prevent his mind from wandering. He’s thought about maybe asking you out before, but he’s been worried that with everything he is, everything he does, he’d ruin your friendship. But now that he had overheard this conversation? Not only does he wonder what it’d be like to kiss you, but now to feel your body under his, completely at his mercy as he is the first person to explore you in the most intimate of ways, his hands being the only thing to give you support as he ruts into you, feeling you clench him tightly. Having you sit in his lap, bouncing up and down, rocking back and forth, your face buried in his neck as you moan and whine just for him. Bending you over his desk, leaning over you to kiss down your spine, marking up your flesh . . .

“Are you even paying attention to a word in saying?” Foggy says. Matt couldn’t tell God Himself the point at which his best friend and partner entered his office he’s so lost in thought.

“Sorry, no,” Matt says sheepishly.

“Who is it this time? That short lawyer with the curly hair heading the new GLK/H office in SoHo?”

He chuckles nervously and shakes his head. “No, not her.”

“Well, I expect the full details when you’re a little less horny.”

“Sure, Fog,” he appeases. “What’s up?”

“I have some things for the discovery on the Christiansen case. Turns out the McNeils were a little less honest than they lead us to believe . . .”

“Thanks for staying late,” Matt says, casually leaning against his office door frame, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie long gone somewhere in his office with a few buttons undone.

“No problem, Matt,” you smile, adjusting at your desk to turn and smile at him. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You always do more than you’re ‘here for’, (Y/N).” He pauses and licks his lips. “You know how much I appreciate you, right? Everything that you do, both for your job here and what you do outside of work.”

“Thanks, Matty,” you say softly, his words making a warm feeling spread across your skin.

He leans away from the doorframe, slowly walking toward where you sit, his hands in his pockets. “You want to get out of here? We could grab a bite, if you want.” His fingers graze over his watch. “It’s late, and I can’t go starving my favorite employee.”

You laugh, the pads of your chair gliding across the floor as you stand up and move toward him. “Don’t let Foggy hear you say that.”

“Eh, he doesn’t count. We’re partners. You’ve stepped up in an incredibly huge way since Karen started at the Bulletin full-time. Nelson and Murdock would’ve sunk without you.”

A blush burns at your cheeks as you dip your head. “You’re giving me too much credit, Matt. It’s all you and Foggy.”

Matt lifts your chin with his finger, gently urging you to look at his face, to stare at his eyes behind his the red lenses of his glasses.

“You’re too good for everyone, you know that? Pure,” he says softly, his voice hitting a low register. “If people can’t recognize that, they don’t deserve you.”

You’re afraid that your words will catch in your throat while your heart races. “Are you saying that you deserve me?” you whisper.

“I’d love to think I do, but, you’re far too good for me. But I’d like to stick around—find that answer out for sure.” He takes a half step closer, feeling your body heat pour onto his frame. “Tell me to stop,” Matt breathes, his voice hitting a sinful timbre as his hot breath tickles your skin. “Just tell me to stop, and I will.”

“Matthew, I . . .” you whisper, your lashes fluttering as you try to keep your thoughts straight.

You shouldn’t. He’s your boss.

He’s your friend.

But you want him.

And he wants you. First and foremost, he wants you for who you are and how you make him feel.

You’ve never felt this before. You’ve never had your heart race so fast and your brain short circuit like this.

“Words, angel.”

Those two words make you lose all self control as you crash your lips to Matt’s, your arms flinging around his neck, your fingers running through his hair and tugging at the strands. Matt moans against your lips, pulling you impossibly close as he leans forward to meet your kisses. Your bodies spin around, pinning you between him and the wall as you exchange passionate embraces. The metal of Matt’s glasses creak between the force of your kisses. Matt’s tongue deftly slides into your mouth, needing to taste every inch of you. Your noses smush together as Matt tightens his grip on your waist, keeping your body in place as he pushes against you. This feeling of his hips against yours is enough to send goosebumps all over your body, parting your lips in a moan that allow him to capture your bottom lip between his, his teeth tugging at the flesh. You’re both breathing heavily as you stand in the office.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Matt admits, tucking some hair being your ear. His hand gently slides down to your neck, holding onto you softly before leaning forward to kiss you again. His tongue parts your lips once more, making the kiss a little sloppy and wet. His lips are as soft and plush as a new pillow, easily clouding your thoughts and judgement.

“Matt, wait,” you stop him, your hands on his chest to create some distance between the two of you, your chest suddenly feeling too small for your beating heart.

Oh no, he thinks. I fucked up, and I fucked up bad.

“(Y/N), listen, I’m sorry, I—,” he starts, but you halt him with some soft taps to his chest.

“No, Matt. It’s just . . . Well, I’ve never . . . I haven’t . . .” You dip your head, embarrassed at the moment, just like you have felt every time you’ve gotten to this point before. Unlike the other times, however, there is so much more weighing on this for you—this is Matt. “I don’t want to just be a fling for you, Matt. I can’t be a fling. I . . . I care about you too much.”

Matt hears your heart race faster, your entire being on the verge of becoming a complete and utter mess. You’re not sure at what point you started to have feelings for Matt, but you know that they’re there and they’re strong—the fact that he even reciprocates them in the slightest is exciting and terrifying. But at the same time, you know that Matt has quite a reputation, and you don’t want to be just another name on a long list of ladies.

Matt moves one of your hands directly above his heart, holding your other firmly in his. “You could never be a fling. You’re so much more to me than any relationship I’ve had before. It’s only you. And I want to show you just how much I mean that.”

Matt’s words wash over you like warm water from your shower head, His heart beats steadily with each word, the posture of your hand on his chest a silent, wonderful reassurance that he means everything he says. You capture his lips with yours, the embrace languid and tender but absolutely brimming with burning desire. He smiles down at you after your lips part, his nose brushing against yours. “Then I guess the question is if you can keep your hands to yourself long enough for us to make it back to my place.”

The door to his loft isn’t even closed before you bring your lips back to his, pulling him by his shirt collar and into your body, snaking you hands over his shoulders and onto the back of his neck when you feel you have him close enough. Matt’s hands slide down your body and under your thighs, lifting them up around his waist. You moan in delight into his mouth, his lips moving to your neck to nip, suck, and lick at the think skin that you are all too eagerly offering him. He tosses his glasses on the table by the door as he walks your bodies from the entryway to the bedroom. Matt’s attempt to gently place you down on the mattress is skewed by his own growing desire, turning the motion into more of a toss, your body bouncing up and down on the furniture.

Matt kneels at the edge of the bed, volleying kisses back and forth on the inside of your legs. Pushing up the fabric of your flowing skirt, he gains access to your thighs, becoming a little more aggressive with his ministrations, nibbling at the skin, licking down the little stings that accompany it. You let out breathy little sighs, each press of Matt’s lips against your skin making your heart race in a glorious fashion. Each kiss moves higher up your leg, spreading new branches of goosebumps and warmth all over.

That when you feel it—an overpowering wetness between you legs, trapped in your panties.

“Matt,” you breathe. Internally panicking that you’ve started your period far before you were supposed to, you wanted to push Matt away to save your embarrassment. But Matt knows exactly what really happened—it’s a sign of your enjoyment, your eagerness for him, your want. You really are so pure. Part of him feels guilty for making a move on you like this no matter how readily you accepted him, no matter how you both feel for one another, but the thought of being your first, being the one to tarnish that pristine virtue, to make you his, it makes him rock hard.

His hands snake up your thighs and push them wide open, letting your scent hit through his nose, permitting through your panties.

“Matt,” you try again, begging God above or whatever supreme being is there to spare you any further embarrassment.

“You smell so pretty for me, angel,” he groans, brushing his nose on your clothed core. “Can’t imagine how you taste.”

Matt presses soft kisses to your clothed core, pulling a whine from your lips.

“Your panties are so soft,” he mutters, nipping at you through the soft, thin fabric some more. “I bet your cunt is even softer.”

Dragging his lips up your panties, he grasps the hem of your underwear with his teeth, slowly pulling it down your hips and off your body. You watch the movement as Matt seductively works, and you’re shocked to find the inside of your panties void of any red color. Instead there is just a large damp spot in the middle and a long string of a clear something coming from you and to the fabric. Once your underwear is midway down your thighs, Matt uses his calloused fingers to slide them off of your body, letting the fabric pool on the floor between his bent legs and the bed.

“I want you to tell me how it feels,” Matt whispers, his hot breath fanning across your glistening folds as his nose brushes up against the top of your pubic mound, placing a little kiss there in anticipation. “I want to hear those pretty little sounds fall from your lips, okay?”

You don’t even get a proper chance to really comprehend or answer his question. Matt’s lips are on you in a second, pressing a soft, open kiss right on a special bundle of nerves that make you moan and your heart sharply skip a beat.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he smirks, gently grazing his hands over your exposed thighs. “That feel nice, hm?”

“Yes,” you breathe, looking down at him, the sight of his face between your legs sending you absolutely wild. “Do it again.”

A devilish smile grows on his lips before he complies to your request, this time adding light sucks to the way he wraps his plush lips around your clit. You can’t help the needy moans that fall out of your mouth, keening for more attention from his lips. You can feel Matt’s lips pull into a big smile as he continues to work his mouth. He pulls away for half of a second before licking a stripe up your folds. You whine, your back arching off of his mattress while your head tosses to the side. It’s like you’re not in control of your body while Matt’s lips are on you, twisting and turning into the pleasure. Matt has to use his forearm and one of his strong hands to pin your hips down to the mattress as he eats you out like a starved man. The combination of licks, sucks, and kisses turn you into a whimpering and moaning mess. When he lightens the embraces, you think you’re getting off easily. What you don’t expect is for a finger from Matt’s free hand to lightly brush up against your glistening folds. You suck in a hiss at the sensation, causing Matt to glance back up toward you while his finger continues to move up and down.

The sight is something glorious. His fluffy brown hair is disheveled and the tip of his nose, lips, and chin are covered in a marvelous slick from having his face buried between your legs. His honey hazel eyes are warm as they focus just to the right of you, making you feel safe as you cross a boundary you can never come back from.

“If you enjoyed that, angel, I think you’ll like what comes next,” Matt teases, his voice low with lust.

Dragging his fingers back down, you feel him at your opening. His fingers, absolutely covered in your arousal, gently push your lips open as he feels you; then, he carefully prods your entrance with his middle finger, pushing in slowly. Your eyes flutter shut and you moan as you feel him, slowly moving his finger in and out of you.

“Tell me how that feels, angel,” he urges, unable to stop himself from pressing a gentle kiss to your hipbone.

“G-good,” you exhale, closing your eyes to focus on the way that he manages to sneak his finger a little bit deeper in you each time.

“And do you like this better?” Matt punctuates his question with a curl of his finger, the tip of his digit scraping against your wrinkly walls and hitting something soft and spongey that draws an intense moan from you. A deep chuckle rolls from Matt’s lips and coats your warm body like honey. “Is that a yes, sweetheart? I need you to try and use your words for me.”

“Better,” you whine, writhing against his arm. “More.”

“More.” The way he coos my words back to you is somewhere between a question and amusement. Regardless of his exact tone, Matt carefully slides another finger in you. Rolling your head from one side to another, you let out a low groan, basking in how amazing the sensation feels as Matt manages to hit something so spongey and wonderful, increasing the pleasure with each ministration. You can’t but help the way that your toes curl and your back arches when he puts his mouth back on you. Your hand shoots towards his head, fingers tugging at his hair to keep him close. You’re an absolute mess as Matt works you, and you have no idea how or what to focus on more—his fingers or his mouth. What does begin to register, however, is a tightness in your tummy, a fluttering. You’re not exactly sure what’s going on, but you know that the longer that Matt works, the way that his touches set your body on fire, the more prominent the feeling gets.

You wine as he removes his fingers from you, his mouth kissing everywhere but where he had been thoroughly inspecting the real estate. Pushing your dress up and off your body, Matt wastes no time kissing as much of your gradually exposed skin as possible. Once the fabric is pushed over your head and off of your arms, Matt peppers kisses all over your collarbone and neck as he pulls your bra down and off, just avoiding your lips as he changes locations.

“You’re going so good, sweetheart,” he praises, his hands finding a home on your waist as he finally brings his lips to yours. “But that feeling you had? That good one in your tummy? I want to be in you when it finally lets go. Will you let me do that, angel?”

Matt barely has a chance to finish his sentence before you blurt “yes” and bring his mouth back on yours. The kiss is deep and needy, and he lets you undo his shirt and feel all over his sculpted figure. You don’t know what takes over you, but all you know is that you need Matt in every way, shape, and form possible. Matt finishes the work you started, wriggling off his white button down as he paints kisses all over your chest. His senses are in overdrive as he comes in contact with the supple skin of your breasts, his nose filling with a cocktail of your fruity body wash, your skin, and the thin sheen of sweat that has emerged on your body. While the noises you make as you move against his sheets is a beautiful symphony, the way your heart sings for him is the best thing he has heard in his entire life. Its rhythm is one of elation and tenderness—pure.

There’s that word again.

Even as you lay under Matt, completely at his mercy as the two of you engage in an activity that should pollute the very core of the term, but still manage to embody the fullest extent of the word.

As the thought crosses his mind as he brushes the tip of his nose up your skin to rejoin your lips, that’s when the thought comes to him.

You’re it for him.

“I thought I was the one who’s supposed to get flustered,” you chuckle breathily, your hand moving to caress his cheek.

A smile pulls at Matt’s lips, bringing those beautiful crinkles out for your enjoyment. “I just want to remember this,” he explains softly before pulling you in for a lusty kiss, a moan falling from his lips into you. Matt gives your swollen and tingly skin a few more tender kisses before leaning back on his knees, undoing his belt and ridding himself of all fabric below the waist.

You suck in a gasp when you see his cock out, hard, painfully taut, and leaking. All for you. Matt shifts his weight to his left, twisting his body to reach for the nightstand. You take his hand in both of yours, preventing him from going anywhere.

“Angel, I—,” he starts, but you give his hand a squeeze.

“Matt, I want this,” you keen as you try to calm your excited breathing. Everything feels right. “I want you.” You pull him back into you, and he lowers himself over your body so his hair tuft flops in front.

“Are you sure?” God above, is his voice so soft when he says that question. It’s brimmed with excitement, affection, tenderness, and nerves.

“I’m sure,” you confirm as his thumb gently strokes back and forth on your cheek. The pad of his digit roams to your bottom lip, letting him feel just how soft it is. You open your mouth slightly, and Matt can’t help but slide his finger in, letting you capture it and envelope it in warmth. Now, it’s Matt’s turn to moan as he feels your tongue swirl around his finger, letting his mind wander to what your mouth would be link around his cock.

That question will have to be answered another time.

Right now, he wants nothing more than to be buried as far as he can possibly get in you.

Pulling out his finger, he presses one more kiss to your lips before adjusting himself between your spread legs. You've gotten even wetter for him, if that's at all possible, and the smell of it drives him up a wall.

"I'm gonna go slow, okay?" he tells you. "I want to hear those beautiful nosies from you, angel, but you need to stop me if it hurts and you need some time. Can I hear you promise me that?"

"Promise," you whisper, your heart racing in an out of control pace. Matt takes one of your hands in his, lacing his fingers with yours in an effort to soothe you.

"Good girl," he coos. You feel a deep blush burn at your cheeks and your heart race as you squeeze his hand involuntarily. "You like that, huh? You like when I call you my good girl?" Just like earlier in the night, your brain short circuits when the name falls from his lips once more. "Oh, I think l'm gonna have fun with that," he teases, bringing your entwined hands to his lips for a kiss.

Carefully, Matt moves forward, and you can feel the head of his cock press against your opening. He pauses for a beat before he continues to press forward, making you a whimpering mess with each movement. With each gentle push into you, your pleasure grows.

"Wait," you squeak when the burning stretch becomes too much. "Hold on a second."

"That's my good girl," he praises. "Doing what I asked, using your words. Tell me when you're ready for more, angel."

As you take your time to adjust, Matt brings your wrist and forearm up to his lips, kissing, sucking, and nipping at the skin, licking down each mark he makes in an effort to soothe the sting.

"More," you swallow.

"Kisses, angel?" he smiles against your skin. "Or cock?"

"Cock," you breathe. "I want more."

Planting a kiss smack dab in the middle of your palm, Matt continues moving his hips forward slowly, letting out a low grunt as he pushes deeper in you.

"Oh, God, Matt," you moan, the sting of intrusion having turned into something only of pleasure. "Oh, so good.”

"So perfect, sweetheart," he sighs as his face controls in pleasure that matches your own. A low rumble falls from his chest when he bottoms out in you, somehow managing to fit all the way inside.

"Talk to me," he hums as he leans back over your body, kissing up the curve of your side and up and over your breasts, up the column of your neck, and finally to your lips.

"Move," you beg, tugging his bottom lip with your teeth before you press kisses up his jaw and to his ear. If that's what him pushing in felt like, you want it all. Over and over and over. "I-I need you to move."

A blissed-out smirk falls across Matt's lips before he kisses you hungrily, one hand resting on the side of your neck while the other weaves through your hair in the back of your head.

"You're doing such a good job taking my cock like that," he praises as he slowly beings to set a rhythm, the drag of his length against you unlike anything you have felt before. "Such a good girl for me, letting me spread you wide and take you. God, angel, you’re doing so good, taking me all the way like that, nice and deep.”

How Matt is forming coherent sentences is fully beyond you at this point. Maybe it’s because he’s done this before, maybe it solely something he’s doing to keep you calm as he pushes through his own pleasure.

“So tight, angel,” he grunts, his hands sliding up your thighs towards your hips. “Oh, you feel so good. Fuck.”

You moan and whimper with each one of Matt’s thrusts, and you yank him down on top of you, desperate to feel every last inch of him against you. He groans but quickly lets out a little chuckle, thrown off and endeared by your excitement as he cages your body below his.

“You like that, sweetheart? Feel good?”

“Y-Yes,” you moan, moving your hands along his incredibly soft skin. You paint a trail of kisses all along his shoulders, collarbones, and neck while he keeps on rocking into you. His hot breath tickles your skin as his beard brushes goosebumps all over your body while he tries to match you embraces. Matt whispers and grunts little praises into your skin, never faltering to let you know how good you’re doing for him.

“M-Matt,” you whine, your nails digging little crescents into his back. “S-Shit! Mmm!”

“Words,” he grunts, his ability for full sentences now starting to escape him.

“God, you’re so deep!” you cry, your eyes fluttered shut as you absorb the pleasure he gives you as your words being to slur together. “So big.”

Matt tunes into your body, listening to how the blood rushes through your veins down to where your bodies join together and your heart races. He knows you’re not going to last much longer.

“Angel,” he pants. “Angel, it’s okay.”

“Matt!” you cry, your voice curving up in pitch. You’re so close, he can taste it—and it drives him wild.

“I know, angel, I know. You’re gonna feel so g—fuck, that’s nice. So good for me.”

“Matt, I—.”

“‘M right here,” he assures with a kiss. “Right here. Let go for me, angel. Let me hear you.”

With a few more thrusts, an intense pleasure rips through your body, unlike anything you have felt before, and far better than what you’ve ever experienced. Your hips buck up to meet Matt’s while your legs latch onto his waist. Matt up above you is the only thing keeping you from thrashing around in euphoria. You hold onto him for dear life, your hands mussing his hair as he buries his face in your neck, moaning as he chases his own release and spills into you. He forces his hips to keep moving fast as he cums, desperate to make sure that your first orgasm is memorable, that the tremors ripple through your body long after it has past, even if it means the sensations verge on too much for him. Only once he feels you start to loosen up and your breathing begin to relax does he pull out, pressing kisses into your skin all the while his hands caress your shaking body. He hears your head roll to the side to face him as he lies down next to you.

“Matt,” you breathe, and he can hear the blissed out smile spreading across your face as you curl your body into his.

“You alright, angel?” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

“Amazing,” you sigh softly.

“I’m gonna go get some things to clean you up, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You hum a confirmation as Matt gives you another kiss, carefully rolling out of bed and through the loft. He returns quickly with a warm damp towel, some water, and a pack of grapes. Putting the glasses down on the nightstand, he sits on his knees, pressing gentle kisses into the skin of your stomach, hips, and thighs.

“Can you open your legs for me, sweetheart?” he asks softly.

“I don’t think I can do more,” you breathe dreamily.

Matt chuckles, absolutely beaming at your happy disposition in his bed. “We’ll get you there eventually, sweetheart. But I want to clean you up. I’m gonna move your knee, okay?”

You oblige with his request, a soft moan falling from your lips as you spread wide for him, the delightful soreness reminding you of how perfectly his body fit with yours. “That’s it,” he whispers as he helps gently guide your leg open. “That’s my girl.” Matt is careful with his wipes, sprinkling kisses here and there as little reassurances. He’s extra careful when he gets to your core, knowing all too well how sensitive you must be. When he’s finished, he tosses it to the side and leans up over you to kiss you.

“Can you sit up for me now and drink some water?” he whispers into your cheek before stamping another kiss to your skin.

You do as he asks without another word and he hands you the glass, a gentle arm around your shoulders as you hydrate. “Can I get you anything else, angel? Do you want a snack? I can give you a little massage, if you want.”

“I’m okay,” you tell him, your mind beginning to reorient itself as you snuggle into his body. “That was . . . I don’t even know.”

“I hope it was a good ‘I don’t even know’,” he smirks.

“The best ‘I don’t even know’,” you chuckle. “I, um . . .” You blush deeply before you mutter, “Thank you for being my first.”

Matt notices the skip in your heartbeat, the shy and scared tone of your voice, and the salty tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks.

You’re embarrassed—ashamed, even. Why?

Matt pushes your chin up with his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at his face.

“Thank you for giving me the honor. For trusting me,” he whispers, placing a light kiss on the apple of your cheek. “This is something important. Personal.”

“You don’t think . . . I mean, I . . .” you start, unsure of how to even form the question you were thinking.

“Not too many people are like you, (Y/N)—pure like you in everything that you do. I’m glad you were able to trust me with this.” Your wrap an arm around him and turn your face into his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else tonight with anyone else.” He kisses your temple. “Let me take you to dinner tomorrow,” he whispers in your hair. “Let me date you. Because I don’t want this to be it between us.”

That sentence makes you tilt your head up, amazed how he’s facing you with nothing but utter adoration. “I told you you weren’t a fling. I want the chance to show you how happy you make me, how you make me feel. Please?”

A bright smile pulls at your lips, a new wave of energy washing over you. You pull your body up, having your lips meet his, rolling on top of him. You gingerly straddle his hips with your legs, kissing him passionately as he reciprocates with just as much emotion.

“Can I take that as a yes, or?” Matt chuckles, a deep red blush speckling his fair complexion as you carefully place your body weight on his lap.

“Yes,” you hum, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth before moving back in and slipping your tongue in his mouth like he did to you earlier.

“Mm, angel,” he murmurs against your lips, and you feel something begin to press against your thigh, Matt’s strong hands moving up your waist as his thumbs brush the sides of your breasts. Your heart swells with excitement and your face flushes with heat, a tingly buzz in your lower abdomen. If you thought Matt was intoxicating just by sitting at his desk doing legal work, you are simply drunk on him with his body below you like this.

“How about we test my stamina?” you sigh between kisses.

Matt smiles brightly and kisses you with urgency, understanding that tonight will probably go longer than he initially anticipated. Even in your desire to do something so sinful, you still remain so pure.

And you’re all his.

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jamneuromain · 4 months

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Wild Child Chapter. 5

Series Summary:

As the granddaughter of the sole Duke in your country, you know that you were going to marry some douche prince, because it is the only way to solidify the grasp the future king has on the Upper House. On the flight home, you come up with a brilliant plan to defy your upcoming matrimony.

Bringing a random man to your grandfather's place, and say you have a boyfriend already.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocks his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you wave your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

Ari Levinson x You

#i didn't know he is my fiance-douchebag-prince

#when i did, it was too late

It was not the first time that he met you, while on the plane. Ari jogged his memory by going through the photobooks (back when printed photos and digital cameras were a thing, Christ, he sounded like someone from the 70s). He stared at a small photo which had you and him on it. It was the only photo of the two of you, at the start of the royal ball, where he was ordered by his family to act like a prince and agree to all photos taken for him.

Ari flipped to the next page, where people gathered at the end of the ball to take a picture together. He saw your father right next to his father, both smiling as fake as possible. But he couldn’t find you in this picture.

Where had you been?

That ball happened a decade ago, when you had just reached your teen years and he was ending them. Looking back at his early twenties, He wrote essays about the burden of the king, and why people should vote for a functioning government rather than rooting for the royal family. Ari knew that he despised the monarchy back then, even though he was a prince.

Naturally, he was just as obnoxious regarding the planned marriage. Attending his coronation and the celebration ball with reluctance, he tried his best to maintain a stoic expression when his parents – the King and Queen – nudged him to smile and wave.

“I need a breather.” He grumbled as soon as the guests started dancing, ducked from his mother’s hand and slipped out from behind the curtains, turning a blind eye to his mother’s warning glare, stepping into the royal garden.

He hated the fucking crown. He hated the photo shoot before the ball that made him look like a monkey up for display. He hated the first dance with his mother which made him feel like he was a 6-year-old boy. He hated his fiancé who was allegedly six years younger than him, which means when he was starting his sophomore year at the University of Ancetol, she had just finished her 8th grade.

How on earth could he marry a fucking child?

He mumbled these questions to himself, but they travelled in his head and returned with no answer as he ventured further into the royal garden, surrounded by bushes and trees, in the middle of a small track.

“I know. It’s unimaginable.” Spoke a voice from his left softly, “You’re Ari, right? I’ve heard about the plan to arrange a marriage between you and the Y/L/Ns.”

Ari turned his head in your direction. He vaguely remembered you had taken photos together, meaning you were either a daughter of the ministers and ambassadors, or one of the young kids from the noble family.

Ari hummed, neither confirming nor denying what you said.

You didn’t look rejected by his indifferent gesture, merely opening the little purse in your hand and extending it to him, “Want some mini-burgers? I snuck them from the tables just now.”

Ari led you to a stone bench in the corner, facing the roses and tulip bushes, where you shared the slightly squished mini-burgers in your purse in silence. Faint music of the ball could be heard, but people were too busy to mingle, he guessed, that no one bothered to enjoy the clear moonlight and the beauty of the Royal Garden.

You patted the crumbs from your sparkling dress and stretched your arms and legs, untangling the buckle from your high heels before landing on the pebbled ground with your bare feet.

A few simple movements made Ari close to smiling. Glad to know he was not the only one who found the royal rules a huge pain in the ass – or in your case, feet. You looked like a kid, really, no younger than ten but definitely not as mature as a 20-year-old. Maybe somewhere around 13?

“Your parents set you up with someone else too?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You sighed, “My father said it’s all for the best, but…”

“But?”

“He’s full of bullshit.” You swatted the invisible dust from the hem of your pink fluffy dress, “And I don’t believe him.”

Perhaps it was the food that you shared, having Ari feel like he was some kind of big brother, somewhat obligated to help, to resonate with your worry, “It’s probably wrong for me to say this, but have you thought about running away?”

You scoffed, eyeing him with a strange expression on your face, “I have no money, no skill to support me, and no connections that I can use and get away with. I’m 15, you can’t be serious about trying to persuade a teen to run away from her home.”

Damn, he sounded like a creepy kidnapper.

“Have you ever thought about running away?” You asked.

“All the time.” Ari let out a dry chuckle, “Can’t, though.”

“Let me guess, your skill set is too custom-made for being a Prince?” You cocked your head to your side, lifting the corner of your lips.

“Something like that, yeah.” Ari spared a glance in your direction. He didn’t notice that he was smiling too, which was … weird.

It felt odd, to have his spirits lifted so easily. Like you were meant to be close.

Ari felt like you were meant to be family. Brother and sister.

He’d love to have a sister like you.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” You flipped your carefully styled hair to the back, looking into his clear blue eyes under the moonlight, “Go ahead.”

“Do you know Y/N Y/L/N?”

His face burned for a moment. Deep down, he knew he should have met his fiancé and not probing answers from someone he had just met for fifteen minutes. But he’d rather have a fresh pair of eyes who could provide something more than the standard answer, “a proper lady”.

“Yes.” You lowered your head, so that he couldn’t see your widening eyes, filled with panic. If your thoughts could make noises, it’d be blasting sirens all over the Royal Palace by now.

“What’s she like?” His question grew more hastened. It was rumoured that his fiancé spent most of her childhood on the outskirts of Ancetol, and had recently moved back to the family house downtown. He missed the first few balls and banquets in which she took part, resulting in never meeting his future wife in the 20 living years of his life, and he was frightened over the possibility that his fiancé was indeed a “proper lady”, which scared him more than if his fiancé has eight legs like a spider (Don’t laugh, he once had a terrible nightmare about his spider-fiancé when he was 15).

“Do you want the truth or a lie?”

Your question caught him off guard. Noticing that you were not looking at him, Ari furrowed his eyebrows and answered, “Truth, please.”

Hope Mr. Prince will like the truth then, “She’s … stubborn. A thick-head, if you will.”

“Sounds like you don’t like her.” Joked Ari.

“I don’t. And she’s not a Princess material.” The first two words sounded heavy in your mouth, which was why you lowered your voice and continued the vile comments you plastered all over your image – your image as his future wife.

“What, you are?” Ari threw the question back to you.

“No.” You sighed softly, your nails fumbling with the diamond necklace around the base of your throat.

“Then what are you?”

Call Ari intrigued, but he did want to know you better. At least he wanted to know you better than his future wife. Hell, maybe he would ask you for your company at later events such as royal dinners and celebrations.

Considering that he still had zero clue as to who you were, you answered with sincerity, dropping a slice of sarcasm here and there, “A rebel, a black sheep, a wild child.”

“Wild?” Asked Ari in a tone of disbelief.

“My parents want me to study Art History – Hey, don’t get me wrong,” You raised your hands, a gesture of peace-making, when you heard him snorting out a laugh, “I love art and painting and stuff, but I love debating more. I want to be one of those sharp-minded broadcasters in the future, or reporters, taking down bad guys.”

The faint music of On the Beautiful Blue Danube reached Ari’s ears. As reluctant as he was, reacting to this music, knowing that it signalled the ball coming to an end after the next song, he must put this lovely conversation to a halt.

“I’m afraid that’s my cue.” He grimaced at the waltz piece, standing up from the stone bench. His legs were slightly numb from sitting still in the same position for too long, but he didn’t mind. The little fragment of time where he could let go of the prince’s duty was precious and worthwhile. Sadly, he had to pick the duty up again. “Would you like a dance?” His eyes lit up, and he extended a hand to you. It would be a brilliant defiance to his father and mother, dancing with someone who was not his fiancé.

“Maybe next time.” You shook his hand as if turning a blind eye to the gesture of starting a waltz, “Nice to meet you.” You lifted the hem of your dress and made a curtesy, “Your Royal Highness.”

After that, you turned your back towards him, put on your heels, and disappeared into the trees and bushes of the Royal Garden.

He hadn’t seen you since.

Ari knew now that while he was studying at the University of Ancetol, you had applied for your undergraduate programme abroad. After that, he was dispatched to the Army to serve the country and also learn about the skills to command soldiers during battle.

By then, you had started your graduate programme at UCLA.

He seemed to have missed every event you attended, and vice versa.

Until now.

Putting the photobook back into place, Ari strode to the full-length mirror in the closet room, checking the two suits he had in mind to wear for today. Your text had sprung on Ari last night, informing him that your father has requested to see him, catching Ari completely off guard.

The business casual navy blue one, or the formal black one.

He did not want to intimidate your father, though that was what he preferred, knowing that your father treated you terribly because of this engagement. And the sudden “meeting” your father demanded was, without question, not your idea, or you would have warned him.

Or was that your purpose all along?

Maybe your father, after Ari called, thought you were joking about the new boyfriend? Maybe your father did not buy your carefully woven lie after all?

Ari threw these doubts to the back of his head, and finally decided upon the business casual one.

By the side of the large mirror stood a small table with a few things on it. His family ring - the golden crest with a lion, spear, and shield, a bottle of cologne he preferred, a folder with almost all of your information since birth (it might sound creepy, but you gave it to him), and last but not least, the to-be presents he had for you.

A small bouquet of roses, or a sapphire necklace.

The problem was, that he could not hold both gifts at the same time, while he was hoping that he would deliver his gift as a surprise.

A blonde emerged by the door to this closet space, clearing her throat, indicating her arrival.

"Do you think she'd appreciate the flowers more? Or this sapphire necklace?"

Ari consulted Rachel, his head security, who was standing by the door with her hand crossed. She could easily be mistaken as a statue if it weren't for her breathing.

"I think she would appreciate whatever you prepared for her, Your Highness."

"Less official answer, please." Ari shot her a pointed look.

Rachel sighed deeply.

Ballenia was going to be ruined by this hopelessly romantic and that cluster-fuck of a noble family.

"Based on the intel - the more sparkly one." Rachel pointed towards the velvet box on the table.

Despite the fact that you were raised away from your father and grandfather, you never lacked any material upbringing. You went to the best schools, the best universities, and had some of the best teachers the royal family could find for your education as a future Princess. Whenever you went out shopping for some gala, banquet, or ball, the jewellery store would be the first stop to visit – you liked sparkly gems and stones indeed.

And this necklace that he chose, with a dewdrop-shaped sapphire pendant and a ring of diamonds surrounding it, would look marvelous to go with your dress.

Still, he could not shake the feeling that you would appreciate the roses as well.

The roses seemed cheap and cliché, while the necklace seemed sparkly and expensive.

He should have gone with the necklace, right?

To guarantee his safety, Rachel had two other cars escorting His Royal Highness’s vehicle while she flew a helicopter over his head. Due to Ari’s protest, she did not come along as she was supposed to – in case you recognized this dutiful Royal guard, and as a result, him, Ari argued – but chose her dutiful second-in-command, a man named Ethan to be Ari’s temporal bodyguard slash driver.

Ethan was just as quiet as Rachel on the way to your home.

It was an ancestral building since the 1800s and took quite a few renovations to be as modern as it could. However, your family was on the verge of losing the house around the 1950s, until your grandfather made a deal with Ari’s grandfather, helping him to stabilize the Upper House, and in return, asked for a marriage for one of his children.

You were waiting by the fountain in front of the house when Ari stepped out of his car, wearing a blue dress tailored to your shape.

“Morning.” You welcomed him with a warm hug, whispering, “Have to keep up the pretences. My father is probably watching by the window right now.”

“Morning.” His hand landed on your back with a soft pat, chuckling, “What do we have today, Miss. Girlfriend?”

You took a step back, quickly shoving a velvet box into his pocket, “The usual. Family drama, that sort of thing.” You eyed his bulging pocket as subtly as possible, “A watch. Give it to me after we meet my father. Shall we?” You gestured towards the house.

“One second.” Ari returned to his car, fishing the rose bouquet and the necklace from the backseat, and presented you the necklace first, “A gift.”

Ari popped open the larger velvet box with care, dazzling you with the necklace.

You blinked, stunned at first but quickly shook your head, refusing the gift, “You really don’t have to. We agreed that-”

“But I want to.”

The answer slipped out way faster than his brain could process, Ari added hastily, “I know what we agreed upon, it’s just that…”

After spending years learning how a diplomat and a proper prince would talk, Ari, for the first time in his life, was speechless, in front of someone he barely knew.

He wanted to give her something that could belong to her, not that the watch she prepared couldn’t, yet there was a minor difference that he perceived. The necklace was something he could have a say, something that looked good on you, he was certain, but different, from the watch.

He wanted you to have it, no matter if the marriage works out or not, even though this piece of jewellery could be interpreted by you – supposedly his real identity was unmasked – as bribery.

… a faint proclamation that he cared. He cared about you.

Thousands of thoughts ran through his head, but Ari simply said, “Considering what you offered, I’ve been taking your advantage.”

You raised your eyebrows, dragging your tone lazily, “So this is your getting even?”

“This is my thank you.” He murmured, making up his mind to shove this stupid necklace into your bag if given the chance. Or throw it in the darkest corner of the Palace. Whichever comes first.

Not intending on dwelling for long, he pulled the bouquet of roses out of thin air, twitching the corner of his lips.

“And the other thank you.”

You gasped in surprise, the twinkle in your eyes was visible like the sun in the sky, shining brightly.

You hugged the roses into your arms, dipping your chin to feel the soft pedals caressing your skin, blooming a large smile on your face.

“I like it.” You watched as he reciprocated your smile, your voice faint as the teary glint in your eyes, “I like it a lot.”

A sharp inhale and the water in your eyes evaporated. You held the roses in your arm, and made sure every hair on top of your head stayed in place, trying to present the best in you before your father.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocked his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you waved your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

“Where have you been?” Queen Olivia, his mother, hissed in his ear, “You got me worried sick – Hello, thank you for coming. It is a great pleasure to have you here.” Forcing her face to form an impeccable smile as another guest approached and bid her and King Victor good night.

“A stroll in the garden. I came back, didn’t I?” Young Ari challenged her nerves when the Queen clenched her fists, “Anyway, I met -”

Fuck, he forgot your name. He forgot to ask. Well, he’d ask when you come up in front, to bid the King and Queen good night.

A servant whispered by the queen’s side. His mother glared daggers at him, announcing with a tone sharper than usual, “… Prince Ari’s suit has been stained; therefore, he went to another room in the palace to clean up just now.”

Behind one of the pillars of the ballroom, masked by the loud waltz, where the Royal family could neither see nor hear, your father slapped you hard across the face, “Filthy little liar. You heard that? The prince was changing his outfit just now. God knows what pig you have been flinging yourself to. Fucking imbecile, I gave you one simple task…”

He ordered one of the servants to bring you to his limo, for you had nearly disgraced and embarrassed him, while he straightened his tie and went greeting the Royal family.

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chiropteracupola · 19 days

Text

"Sleepers in the Peat," 2022.

two years ago I wrote a short story. finally got around to posting it.

The water was bitter here. Beneath thick layers of branching sphagnum moss, it rose from the earth in drips and drenches, pooling in little reed-ringed ponds and lying smooth as glass. A faint curtain of mist drifted across the bogland, obscuring the far-off tree-line and rendering the world somewhat distant from the clear light of the morning.

It was beside one of these little wells of peaty water that she crouched, clipboard and pencil in hand, the raincoat drawn over her broad shoulders a green only a shade less saturated than the moss. Her name, scribed in graphite across the top of her sheet of notes, was Theo-short-for-Theodora, a fact that she had had to explain nearly every time she introduced herself. She had shaped it better to fit herself, although out in the silence of the marshes, there was very little need for such a thing as a name.

Kneeling now, Theo dipped a gloved hand into the water, pressed the acid-tangy water to her lips. She breathed in, and breathed in bitterness. Fibers of moss crept into her nostrils, taking root in her lungs like branching alveoli. This, then, was the culmination of all her work, all her study, the taste of it at last on her tongue.

The faces of the ancient dead had always fascinated her. Their empty eyes, skin smoothed by ice or desert to touch the contours of the skull, lips drawn back from ground-down teeth. It was not the frozen explorers with their eyes still wide and dove-blue that captivated her, nor the ancient kings with their desiccated, dead-lizard hands, nor yet the strange distorted faces of those preserved beneath honey until even their bones took on a sweetness. Theo, young, had traced the crisply-printed pictures set on slick photo-paper in the centers of her books, memorizing the images of those gone down and buried in the peat. She became something of an expert in names that her schoolmates did not recognize, Tollund and Lindow, Windeby and Old-Croghan. They lay still in black-and-white against their backgrounds of sand, so unlike the living people that walked just beyond her windows, and Theo, in her way, preferred that stillness.

Still, she watched the living move all the same. There was a casual grace to them that fascinated Theo, the way in which hips shifted as the feet fell one in front of the other, how hands settled in close at the waist. She herself stood with her hands apart, her thumbs tucked into the loops of a belt.

Just as other children had run in gleeful circles on the blacktop while she stayed inside, book in hand, they kissed and laughed now in dizzy blue-dawn hours. Theo preferred to sleep instead, lazing curled in bed while the world spun by outdoors. Dressed in pajama trousers with torn-out knees and rolled-up hems, she drew layer after layer of blanket over herself, sinking deeper into the quiet dark. In those solitary nights, though, she sought nonetheless, and dreamed of moss beneath her fingers, of the strange faces of the mire-mummified dead. She would see them sure and true one day, Theo knew, and know the taste of the same tannin that so preserved them.

The North, that was where they were to be found, where ancient peat tracked patchily across Europe and left the dead preserved in its wake. Her grandmother had called that place homeland, and Theo had scoffed behind her hand. What connection had she, really, to that place? Without invitation, she could not walk on that soil with the sort of fierce pride that her grandmother held onto so tightly.

“You’ll see one day, Theodora,” her grandmother said, and nudged back the crooked postcards of green, green hills that had slipped slightly from their places on the refrigerator. The words sat sourly around Theo’s shoulders, and with time, refused to rot away.

They clung, sticky and leaden, and Theo would have liked to scream at the feeling of them. What did her grandmother know, she with her good marriage to her good man, her ticking, soap-sweet house, her fine bed in the back bedroom where she slept as contentedly as a cat? Her grandmother’s hair was short in the fashion of old women, cut so that it hid how pale and thin it had become. Theo’s own hair was just as short, cropped by hand in a dim mirror with a sort of ferocity intended to put the viewer in mind of steel-toed boots and hard-wearing canvas. No use putting them back to back and calling them the same. And so, Theo shut her mouth, dragged her hand down the side of her face as if to tie shut her jaw. For all that she railed against those words, the postcards pinned against the refrigerator door were green, green, green.

Try as she might, Theo never slept well in her grandmother’s house. The air was hot and resolutely mint-sweet, the blankets thin against the heaviness of summer. Time was just as heavy there, a clock always ticking away beside the cabinets in the kitchen, machinery humming uselessly within the walls.

Theo crept from the house and settled in the still-warm chair on her grandmother’s far-too-neat lawn. It had been cut to within an inch of its life just that morning, the first of those two precise twice-a-week rounds of mower and rake and clippers that kept the street-facing yard perfect. All the same, in the warm night, Theo’s skin stuck, sweaty, to the plastic slats of the chair, and the heat of it felt far too alive for her liking. She peeled her arms away from it, drew her knees to her chest, sat folded up in herself like an Andean king of old. Behind her eyes, all was green, the green of hollow hills and deep water.

So she thought on it, and so she laid her plans. She did her work with a tired slowness, her motions static and mechanical even as the tasks, somehow, managed to get done. The grinding stasis of daily life dragged forward, every sample of moss and spreadsheet of data creeping closer to the proper work in the field she sought. And then, all in a maze of mist, there she was in the North of the world, the treads of her boots sinking into wet sedge as the fog drew itself in close around her.

There were other sorts of bogs than the sort that made a face into such a bitter ambrotype as those that so fascinated her. Theo had seen the ones where cranberries were grown before, red as all love in the dark water, crisscrossed with boards to serve as footpaths. This was not such a bog, and made no such deceptions about its helpfulness or its safety. This was peat all the way down, heavy and wet and certain. In another thousand thousands of years, pressure would render that peat down to coal, and in another circling of time, perhaps diamond. All carbon, just as she was, and no light. Cool, static, stable, deep, the water still as it filtered slow and soft through the moss. Not so kind, no, but all the same it might hold her gently in the wide green palm of its hand.

So she knelt down into it, uncaring of the stains it would leave on the knees of her trousers, twined her fingers in among the curls of sphagnum. Pulling it away in fraying chunks, as perhaps the ancestors her grandmother had spoken of had done, Theo dug, watching water rise, grey and changeable as the sky, to fill the opening she had made in the peat. Down below, she knew she would find what she had searched for for so long. And oh — her hand met slick solidity, not peat at all.

The girl in the bog was unchangeable, frozen in amber. She was no body behind museum-glass, lying in state as if to be awoken by a kiss, but sleeping fast in untouchable earth. Her face, leathery and smooth, was unwrinkled despite the years. She could have been born the very same day as Theo, for all that the centuries showed upon her skin. Her hair, falling wispy about her face, had been reddened by hundreds of years of tannins. The sun caught upon it and turned it to the gold of autumn-dried acorns, sharp as straw. There would be grit in her mouth, dust from the rough millstone that had ground down grain, hardly noticeable behind the rich green smell of the bog.

Gloved hands scraped away wet threads of moss, smoothing over skin with as light a touch as Theo could manage. Under her fingers, the girl shifted, drawing up her shoulders as she yawned. Her eyes stayed closed, but all the same, Theo felt that she was seen.

The girl raised herself up languidly on one elbow, water sloughing off in trickles and streams from every seam and crevice of her body. Her ribs stood out in perfect parallel, still wrapped tightly by the skin of her sides.

“Hello,” said Theo, not knowing what else to say. The girl in the bog smiled at her with crooked, blackened teeth, and reached out to her. Her hands were small, round, doll-like, but still soft as burnished leather, the fingernails as neatly trimmed as if she had cut them the day before the peat closed over her.

She stroked the buzzed-short ends of the hair at the back of Theo’s neck as she leant closer, drifts of wet soil sloughing from her skin, and frowned.

“Why did they cut your hair?”

“I cut it myself. I liked it better that way — it felt right to do it before I came here.” Then, pausing, seeing the wind flick at her rust-red, blunt-hacked locks, “Did you—“

“They cut it before they sent me here. But it fits, doesn’t it? It was you that made yourself ready for me.”

“I suppose it was,” said Theo, and meant it. There was a rightness to it, a reason that she had not put words to before.

“Come down with me,” she said, and Theo could not help but follow. Half-laughing, she thought of the promises of the red-haired rusalki she’d read of in her books of tales. To walk down into the sweet water and meet a maiden there, and hear her speak words just as sweet of eternal youth in her kingdom down beneath the riverbed, was an old story, and one that she might find herself believing now. But the water of a peat bog is bitter, as are all things that keep memories safe, and it wasn’t youth, but eternity only, that the girl in the bog had promised her.

To be preserved, young arms entwined with ones that centuries ago were young, was all that she’d receive. But what more had she desired to begin with? The choice had been made long before she had ever set foot there. Theo extended a hand, stripped off its pale blue latex glove like a snake shedding its skin. Placing it atop her clipboard, she set aside the plastic barrier as if laying out an altar’s worth of grave-goods. She shucked the green raincoat and heavy backpack from her shoulders — she’d have another coat of that same verdant color where she was going, once the moss had closed over the both of them. Then, lowering herself feet-first into the open space amid the moss, Theo leaned down and met the girl’s mouth with her own.

The kiss was thick with pollen, and Theo inhaled it without any of the fear she had previously associated with such things. There was a sweetness to it, a choking flavor of juniper and sap as it poured like sand into her throat. Theo wondered, a little, that she could breathe through it, but it was no longer a time for wondering. Instead, her eyes slid softly shut, and the cool, deep darkness was all that remained. It was not the iron-red dark of closed eyes in sunlight, but a bitter and at the same time refreshing green-dark, a soft sort of shadow that spoke of nothing at all but the faintest edges of dreams.

Drawing the peat back over them, the girl curled herself fast around Theo’s back, cradling her in earth as if in the palm of a hand. Twining together beneath the moss, the water crept up over them both one more. As Theo sank, her eyelids slipped closed, and her head drifted downwards all the while. It twisted sideways on Theo’s neck, slipping bonelessly forwards, and down with it she went into dreamless sleep, bog water growing ever sweeter in her mouth.

#em writes stuff #oc time again hehe #bogstory #there are some things that I would do differently if I was writing this now. however this one is going to be what it is.#look! they are posting an original ghost story on a day Other than halloween! what a rare occurrence!

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