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zhongrin · 17 days

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bound matriarch

✼ characters ┈ zhongli

✼ tags ┈ yandere, fem!pronouns ('wife', 'matriarch', 'goddess' used), zhongli as morax/rex lapis, set right after archon war

✼ a/n ┈ i have to be out all day today so i'm not sure if i'll be at home when this goes out but let me just say FINALLY I CAN RELEASE THIS. THIS HAS BEEN ON MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG (i'd also like to silently thank jessamine bc their comments on my posts were the main catalyst for me to finish this little blurb sobsob)

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

oh, what a dream it is to be the spouse of the strongest archon in teyvat, whom he wed right after archon war ended. some might see the celebratory wedding as something uncouth; an utter disrespect to the lives lost at war and the bereaved families, but the lord of geo disagrees. what could be a better reassurance to ensure the people of liyue would start believing in and striving for a brighter future, than the joyous union of the new geo archon who defended them throughout the arduously long war and the prosperity goddess who has the power to bless the land and its people?

you're draped in gold and red as you sign the oath in blood; sealing your matrimony amidst the cheers of the mortals and immortals alike. the ruby reds on your lips are plush and soft against their god's own, the gossamer thread of embroidered gold of your clothing matching your now-husband's attire. even the bright blue sky seemed to celebrate such a joyous occasion, casting its warm rays upon the now-peaceful land of liyue to offer you its blessing.

they do not know that one certain party was most ardently unwilling to take the vow under one of the most sacred contracts of all.

they need not know that the marriage was a desperate attempt to shackle you to him and erase your individual worth as a goddess; to ensure you are remembered as rex lapis' beloved wife, the matriarch of liyue. they need not know, for just as no one questioned why the god of freedom was not invited into the banquet, no one questioned why a sheer veil covered the lower part of your unsmiling face, or the fact that countless shackles cor petrae accessories heavily rested against your neck and limbs.

what they do know is that this is your prison home ー he is your captor home and you will never belong anywhere else.

and perhaps given a few eons, you shall learn it too. worry not, your husband is a patient god. but you best remember that a god's patience, too, has its limits.

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈

@abyssmal-skies ! @hamdehlesmis ! @sunnshineflxwer ! @queen-belial ! @silentmoths

@dustofthedailylife ! @marina-and-the-memes ! @mixed-kester ! @lordbugs ! @anonymousficreader

@irethepotato ! @sassy-cat-in-town ! @syrenkitsune ! @smokipoki ! @cakeboxie

@crystalflygeo ! @ciexuvia ! @illaasya ! @celestewritestoomuch ! @pams-comfortzone

@spidermanluvr444 ! @ourstrawberryclouds ! @ryuryuryuyurboat ! @hrts4hanniehae ! @fiannee

@frosts-intuition ! @florapocalypses ! @genshin-impacts-me ! @scarasmood ! @hellcatinnc

@beloved-brynn ! @malachitemischief101 ! @average-yandere-enjoyer

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli #yandere #rin writes

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wandasaura · 3 months

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LINGER LIKE A TATTOO KISS

summary — as the summer approaches, so does a shift in your relationship with wanda

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, sensory overload, anxiety, mentions of child abuse (very brief and nondescript), dom/sub dynamics, patience testing, bratty!reader, punishment, teasing, mild humiliation, orgasm denial, spanking, praise, aftercare, entrance of the mommy kink, men/minors dni

authors note — the moment we’ve all been waiting for… or at least one of them ;), we finally got some wanda action, and a couple little domestic scenes because they’re the cutest wives

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

The supermarket was beyond crowded for it being a Wednesday afternoon in early May. You supposed the air conditioned aisles were being used as an escape from the scalding temperatures of approaching summer that threatened to melt the inventory of every ice cream truck in the neighborhood, but to say you were overstimulated was putting it lightly.

You trailed after Wanda and Natasha with a frown on your face, making your disinterest known to both of the lawyers who were in desperate need of more produce and salad kits. You’d never understand why Natasha favored the plastic bags of lettuce over the perfectly green heads that Wanda grew in the back garden, but she’d thrown at least six prepackaged variations into the cart when you stopped at the stand. You were trailing down the cereal aisle now, and your attitude was getting on both of their nerves.

Wanda had been flat out ignoring your temper tantrum since the moment it started, but Natasha was not as keen to be dismissive as her wife. She’d been throwing out warnings since you’d first come through the automatic doors, but they had all fallen on deaf ears as you stayed persistent in your pout. Your arms were folded over your chest, your eyes slitted into daggers if anyone even attempted to look in your direction. You’d been near perfectly behaved for weeks, spare a few harsh comments thrown in Wanda’s direction, but they’d both been willing to overlook your harshness because aside from those, you’d been an angel. Whatever streak of good behavior you’d been running off of however, had seen its end, and both lawyers in front of you were shocked by the attitude you simmered in.

“If I have to ask you again to pick up your feet, I’m going to make you sit in the cart like a child.” Natasha’s voice was quiet, not willing to draw attention from the other shoppers in the aisle, but there was an unignorable warning in her tone. She’d asked you three times to stop dragging your feet across the floors, and each time you promptly dragged them harder. You were absolutely certain that smudges of black looped the grocery store floors and aided as a map to your current location, but you didn’t care. You’d been so good, so painfully good and pliant and willing to bend to even the slightest gust of wind, but not today. Not now. Not when it was too hot and too cold at the same time. Not when it was too loud and too crowded and you’d asked them both if you could just stay home. They hadn’t wanted that. They wanted to go together, told you that you were going together even after you protested, and you know it’s because they’d wanted to get you some of your favorite treats for the end of the semester coming up, but how could they blame you for being cranky when you’d warned them about not wanting to come along at all. You’d been here for what felt like hours, and if your phone wasn’t being held captive in Wanda’s pocket, you’re sure the digits on your lockscreen would support your accusation.

“Can we leave?!” You ignored Natasha’s warning, wiggled away from her when she got too close, and pressed yourself up against the shelves of cereal boxes. You wouldn’t fare well to the close contact she wanted to initiate, but she didn’t seem to get that, because the second you thought you had found peace in your little corner, she was right back in front of you with a glare only the worst criminals faced. She was not your loving and sweet dominant right now, you’d pushed her too far, and she didn’t take kindly to embarrassment. You’re pretty sure that the man three carts behind you had been gawking at your temperament since you came in, and while Wanda had sent him a glare, he still hadn’t gotten the hint that your little attitude didn’t concern him. Natasha grabbed at your wrists, pulling them away from your chest with a grip too strong to fight. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you wiggled immediately, but she wasn’t letting go. “Nat, let go.” You pleaded with her, desperately tried to get her to understand you needed space right now, but she was seething and subsequently blinded by your panic.

“Natalia.” Wanda called out for her wife, her careful eye watching your movements despite the seeming disinterest on her lips. Your eyes flickered over to Wanda, and while to Natasha it appeared that you were a deer in headlights anticipating a scolding, the Sokovian could see the wisps of actual panic in your stare. “Let go.”

Natasha listened, if only because a crowd had started to form toward the opposite end of the aisle and she wanted to move on before she became the cause of a traffic jam. Her hand left yours, and though it had been making your skin burn, you missed it instantly. Tears brimmed your eyes, but you refused to let her see that, and so instead of pleading that you leave only to be overlooked again, you just dropped your chin to your chest and followed along after them both with a drag in your step.

“This is your chance to tell me what’s wrong.” You practically jumped out of your skin when Wanda’s voice appeared closer than it had been all afternoon. If you had leaned any closer into her, your arm would have brushed her chest. You shuffled away from her, beyond the point of communication. You thought you’d made it pretty clear that you wanted to leave, anytime you acted out Natasha didn’t hesitate to drag you away, but she hadn’t this time. You knew that realistically it was because she needed supplies to make dinner, but after weeks of being good, you couldn’t deny that you had missed the feeling of her heavy hands on your skin in a way that was less than kind. You could ask for what you needed, but you would rather die a slow painful death then ask for what she called a ‘maintenance spanking’. “If you’re not going to communicate, then I don’t want the attitude. You are making a scene. Drop it, pick out some snacks, and try to be nice.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You huffed, making the rash decision to shove her body away from yours with both of your outstretched palms. Wanda’s lips set into a firm line, her eyebrows raised in surprise at the action. You’ve been rude, snarky even, but you’ve never raised your hands to her, even if it was only to create some space between your bodies. You shuffled on your feet, immediately regretting the decision to force space rather than ask for it. You’d been riding her last nerve for days, your sarcastic comments just the slightest bit meaner than usual, but she had been willing to overlook them because she knew you were stressed with finals and outside of those one-off comments you’d been helpful and obedient. There was no way she’d ignore this, and you wanted to cry thinking about how at the end of the night it wouldn’t be Natasha’s hands on your body that you wanted so desperately, but hers. “I– sorry.” You apologized weakly, not even sure what it was that you were apologizing for. Was it because the look in her eyes was undeniably scary, or was it because you pushed her? You knew that it was a mixture of both, but you needed that look to go away before you could even form a coherent thought.

“In the cart.” She demanded, not leaving you any room to argue. You violently shook your head, knowing that being confined to such a small space would only make the panic in your belly worse. There were too many noises and stimulus, too many conflicting temperatures, being confined between four metal bumpers would certainly set you off and you were only just barely keeping yourself together now. “If you want to act like a child you’ll get treated like one. Natasha has asked you four times to stop dragging your feet, and frankly, I can’t trust that you’ll keep your hands to yourself anymore. You either sit in the cart, or you and I will go out to the car and you won’t be getting any of the treats you want. Which one is it going to be?”

“I want Nat.” You pleaded with her, suddenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even know where the other redhead had wandered off to, or when she’d started moving. She had been right in front of you, but now you couldn’t spot her and the thought of losing her in the supermarket spiked worry in your chest. “Where’s Nat?” You didn’t care about how frantic you appeared, didn’t care that you were ignoring Wanda’s question and definitely making things worse for yourself. You hated getting separated, you hated breaking off into pairs even if the three of you had set a meet up location if this were to happen.

Wanda, though annoyed with your behavior, sighed softly and dropped the threatening glare she’d been pointing at you. “Nat went to get some grapes and strawberries. You finished them this morning, remember?” You could only nod, remembering that you had in fact finished their fruit after refusing to eat the eggs that Wanda made for breakfast. It was too hot outside for anything warm to eat. They weren’t giving you a choice in tagging along, and although you couldn’t control where they dragged you, well you could if you had called your safeword and asked for space, but that wasn’t really what you wanted. You still had control over what you ate even if the supermarket was non negotiable, and you knew that the cold fruit would sit better in your stomach when it inevitably came time to leave.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you what’s wrong, Y/N. If you refuse to answer, I will be the one you deal with when we get home. This behavior is unacceptable.” Wanda remained firm, but there was concern in her voice that made you wonder if you would avoid punishment if you came clean. Deciding that you’d rather face humiliation than her heavy hand on your ass, you relented.

“There’s too many people.” You whispered, shamefully dropping your eyes to the floor, counting the specs of black and gold in the tiles beneath your feet. The design was ugly when isolated, but somehow it worked for the aesthetic of the store when you focused on the full picture. “It’s too loud. And tomorrow's my last final and I’m not sure how it’s going to go, and I have to sleep at my dorm tonight and I haven’t done that since Natty was away. And I just need space right now but I don’t want to be alone.”

The Maximoff residence had practically become your residence since the night you showed up in tears. You’d spent all of your nights in the soft guest bed, and most of your mornings in the dining room eating a homemade breakfast for the last six weeks. It was embarrassing to admit that you had gotten used to being there with them, that now that you had it, you didn’t want to trade it in for your stiff dorm room with a roommate you hadn’t spoken a word to since the first week of classes, even if it would only be for a handful of hours to sleep. You hated sleeping alone, even if you had slept alone in their house almost every night, spare the occasions Natasha fucked you into that fuzzy headspace she adores and they had let you crash in bed with them. Sleeping in your dorm was different, and lonely. And yeah, you had survived three years of dorm living prior to meeting them, but things were different now. You are different now.

Wanda’s face melted into softness at your admission, and suddenly you felt silly for keeping it to yourself for so long, but you’d unasked for self-criticism had convinced you that you were being needy and unreasonable and they wouldn’t understand where your head was at even if you tried to articulate. After almost a year with Natasha, you should’ve known that wasn’t true, shouldn’t have even entertained that thought, but after showing both her and Wanda that you could be good for longer than just a couple hours, you’d felt like raising any problems no matter their origin would only aggravate them. You didn’t want to lose what you had, even if it meant being uncomfortable in a grocery store.

“It is pretty overstimulating in here, isn’t it?” Wanda coos, her green eyes understanding and sympathetic. It’s a violent switch from how she’d been talking to you, but you thrive beneath her gentle validation of your feelings and find yourself nodding along. “Natty and I try our best to accommodate you, but we don’t know everything that can be overwhelming for you. We need you to tell us, so these things don’t happen. Shoving me didn’t make it any less crowded, and ignoring Nat didn’t make it any less loud. I know you were trying your best, but how could we have handled that better?” You should hate the way she’s speaking to you; like a child made of glass, but somehow it makes you feel better. She doesn’t sound mad anymore, there's no unspoken threat of consequences or stripped privileges, she’s just trying to get on the same page as you, trying to get you to understand where your mistakes had been so you can fix them in the future. You hate that you want more of this, whatever it is.

“Telling you.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, trying to take away some of the blame that was becoming heavy guilt in your belly. “I didn’t think you’d listen.”

“Have we ever not listened to you?” Wanda quirks an eyebrow, and you feel properly schooled beneath the expression.

“I told you I didn’t want to come.” You tried to excuse yourself, but the lawyer was having none of your avoidance. You sighed, dropping your shoulders and focusing your attention on your cuticles, picking at the skin that had only recently begun to heal. “Nobody has ever taken me seriously before. My last girlfriend used to parade me around claiming exposure would ‘fix’ me. I didn’t think it would matter to you that I’m overstimulated.”

Wanda didn’t know much of anything about your past relationships. Whenever you talked about them, which was admittedly almost never, it was only ever Natasha who was around to witness realization crash over you like high tide. Your past romantic partners and the estranged relationship with your family had completely destroyed you, however these two successful lawyers that you found yourself entangled with were slowly putting the pieces of your broken heart back together, even if they didn’t realize just how much they were helping you.

“Do you want to leave?” Wanda didn’t dwell on your revelation, she didn’t pick it apart and hone in on all of the ways you knew that she could. She’s a lawyer, the very best one in the world, don’t tell Natasha you thought that; there were a million little things in your brief explanation that had set off alarm bells in her head, but she didn’t pry. You don’t know why you thought she would, but having the topic dropped before it was even picked up had soothed at least a fraction of your newfound worry.

The question startled you, having expected that to be the last thing she suggested, but it felt good to know that she was willing to order takeout for dinner if it meant getting you out of this situation. You wanted to leave, you desperately wanted to run to the exit at the first implication that you were allowed, but they needed groceries, and you wanted the chocolate ice cream sandwiches Natasha had promised. “No.” You whispered, shaking your head just in case she hadn’t heard you over the toddler screaming bloody murder in the juice aisle. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to sit in the cart while Nat and I finish shopping? I’ll give you back your phone and you can listen to your music until we’re done. It’s not a punishment, stop looking at me like that.” Wanda teased, and you giggled softly at her scrunched up nose and creased eyes. It was definitely a better suited look than her angry glare, and you couldn’t stop your finger from reaching out to poke her. “Did you just boop my nose?” She laughed, all of your bratty behavior forgotten about, at least for now anyways.

“It wanted to be booped. It told me.” You shrugged your shoulders, hyper aware of the fact that you’d voluntarily touched her and it hadn’t made your hand turn into flames. Your relationship was slowly on the mend, that much was undeniable, but physical touch was still something you shied away from at no fault of her own, but rather your own insecurities that needed to be worked through. “Are you gonna tell Natty I pushed you?”

“No.” Her honesty surprised you almost as much as her willingness to forgive your fatal misstep, but you nodded curtly, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I didn’t mean to. You were just too close, and Natty didn’t listen when I asked her to let go and I panicked.” You mumbled out the reason for your behavior, aware that it sounded like an excuse but there was no ounce of judgment or disbelief in Wanda’s eyes.

“I know.” She assured, and you deflated in relief. “You’re not going to do it again, if you do I will not be as forgiving, but I know you were feeling crowded, so I’m willing to let it go if you are.”

You nodded eagerly, and Wanda smiled. “Can we go find Nat now?”

As you expected, spending the night in your dorm was torturous. In the six weeks that you’d been away, you’d forgotten how your roommate snores and turns throughout the night, and her mattress was far noisier than yours had ever been. It hadn’t bothered you all that much at the start of the academic year, and maybe that had been because of your exhaustion with the adjustment and workload of seven classes instead of the typical four, or maybe you had just been able to get used to it, but now that you had discovered what true quiet sounds like when you sleep, there had not been a single ounce of rest achieved all night.

Your alarm went off at fifteen minutes to six, and you cursed whoever was cruel enough to schedule an exam for seven in the morning on a Thursday in May, but you shuffled out of bed anyway and dressed quickly in the few articles of clothing that still lingered in your dorm. Most of them had been brought to the Maximoff residence, but what hadn’t made it over because it was significantly useless with the presence of warmer weather, had been dropped off in the storage unit paid for by your mother. The woman was a flaky figure in your life at best, definitely no parent, but you appreciate her dedication to your education. She paid for your tuition, she assured you had the best meal plan and access to books and study materials, and when the seasons changed and you were let out on break, she made sure there was a safe and trustworthy place to store your belongings. She’d never once said she was proud of you, but when she asked for a report of your grades and didn’t immediately berate you, you knew that she was at least satisfied.

If you failed any of your finals, you knew there would be hell to pay. You already weren’t coming home for the summer like you usually did, and although your mother didn’t know the reason why, she was less than happy when you’d relayed the abrupt change in plans three weeks ago. She was a controlling narcissist, a woman that had brought you years of pain and suffering for her own pleasure, you knew what she was capable of the second she caught wind of academic failure, and you would not reward her the opportunity to berate you the way she did in high school when you received anything less than all A’s on your report card. It was stupid to allow a woman with no presence in your life to have so much control, but you needed to at least be perceived as a good daughter if she were going to keep paying your multi-thousand dollar bills.

The weather today was just as hot as yesterday, but there was a rise of humidity in the air that you could feel without even stepping outside. The sky looked thick and unpleasant, miraculously blue and clear, but still gross. As much as you wanted to hide away in your room and avoid the four hour exam that awaited you, it wasn’t in the cards, and so begrudgingly you laced up your shoes and grabbed your favorite pen. It was a simple pen, nothing truly special about it, but since the day you’d stolen it from Natasha’s desk, it had been used for every paper exam. The gold lettering across the black body, the name of her and Wanda’s company, was beginning to scratch and chip from the conditions you carried it through. And for being something so beloved, anyone would have thought that you’d treat it with respect, but you released copious amounts of anger and frustration on the ballpoint pen. Your teeth dug into it when you didn’t know an answer, your nails scraped at the paint when the words you had stored away in your memory felt impossible to grasp, and there were countless times that the entire pen sat dismantled and in pieces on your desk when you just needed something else to focus on for a few seconds. During one exam, you’d taken it apart mid-way through. The spring had bounced from between your fingertips and ended up halfway across the room. Your professor was a real bitch, and hadn’t let you retrieve the piece until every single person had already left and finished. You passed the exam, but not by much, and you blamed your grade on the fact that you had to finish it with a purple gel pen that was less than special. You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Leaving your room behind, you walked to the classroom that you’d be sitting the exam in. It wasn’t a building you were familiar with, and so you packed an extra ten minutes into your schedule to avoid being late. Flowers had started to bloom in the bushes, and the grass was so much greener then it had been in the dead of winter, but there was no comfort to be sought in this environment. Your university was fine, albeit a bit bland, but Westview had become your home. You thought Wanda’s flowers smelled sweeter then the ones planted here, and the grass in their yard was the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen. You don’t know how they have the time to take such tender care with their plants, but it made sense for them. They were busy women, women with a fast paced life and career, but there were still mundane rituals that clung to their routine. Before the contract, it had been almost impossible to imagine CEO and world-class lawyer Natasha Maximoff taking out the trash, but now you know she does it every Wednesday. It was also impossible to imagine Wanda Maximoff on her knees and covered in mud, there was never even a wrinkle in her business attire when she returned from the office after sixteen hour days, but now you’re privy to the fact that she doesn’t shy away from getting dirty when she tends to the weeds in her garden. It’s the simple things that make their company so much better then what you’ve found at Sword University, but no matter how much you wish you could be in Westview with them, no amount of heel clicking could take you there.

When you found the exam room, you noted that it was unpleasantly cold, and you cursed at your inability to have remembered to bring along a sweatshirt like Natasha had suggested. There was no consistency at school, some classrooms were blisteringly hot and you could work up a sweat in minutes just from sitting still, and some were so cold your fingers forgot how to function. It didn’t matter the season, or if you simply walked down the hallway, the temperature was never the same and it varied from room to room. You chose a desk near the windows. Not right next to them, knowing that it would get too hot if you were pressed right beside the uncovered sun, but close enough to still feel the lick of warmth as the golden beams of daylight nipped at your skin. It didn’t take much longer for your peers to start flooding in, and their presence brought another factor of warmth to the room, though it wasn’t much and some who hadn’t been lucky enough to find a seat near the windows shivered. You smiled at the familiar face of a student who had claimed the seat next to you. You didn’t have many friends, didn’t see the point in socializing when your focus needed to be academic, but you had grown fond of a few of the faces you saw every week.

“This your last exam?” Monica Rambeau asked you, leaning in closer to your desk so that you wouldn’t have to shout over the other students in the room. You had seen her around since your very first class in freshman year, and you quickly became reliant on each other for notes if one of you happened to be sick and needed to miss a lecture you shared. Your major was complex, not entirely science related but not entirely separate either. You wanted to focus more on security and technology, but for some reason your school demanded that all computer science majors take chemistry and physics. Monica was good at both, you were not. She had saved your ass with her color coded notes too many times to ever ignore her small-talk.

“Thankfully.” You laughed, tapping your pen against your desk anxiously. “I’m moving the rest of my shit out next week and then I’m spending the summer in Westview. What about you?”

The brunette shook her head, and you winced in sympathy. As grueling as it had been to have most of your exams scheduled in the same week, save for the three classes that had requested papers and projects from you, it was nice to be done so soon into the exam period. You knew that some other unfortunate students would be stuck here for at least another week. “I have two more tomorrow, then I’m heading back to Louisiana. You ready for this?”

“Not at all.” You laughed, though your jittery leg and fidgeting fingers easily gave away just how anxious you were. “Sitwell hasn’t made sense a day in his life, I doubt the exam will be any more coherent than his lectures.”

Monica laughed loudly at your acquisition, but she nodded eagerly in agreement. “Tell me about it. I’ve been going over your study sheet for the last two weeks and I think I just barely understand the content from chapter one.”

Your attention snapped to the door when it snapped open again, but unlike the last handful of times, it wasn’t a student that entered, it was your Professor Jasper Sitwell himself, and in his hands were thick bundles of paper that would determine the next year of your life. If you failed this exam, you could kiss your paid for tuition goodbye. You appreciated Monica’s attention to body language, because she seemed to get the hint that you were in no mood to continue your conversation now that Sitwell had arrived. She still offered you a smile though, a whispered ‘good luck’, before she turned straight in her desk and placed three colored pens down firmly. Leave it to Monica to remain dedicated to her color coding even at the end of the semester.

The time had flown by after that. You’d groaned when you saw that the estimated time of this exam would be four hours, but now you felt like that wasn’t nearly enough. The first six pages of questions had come easily to you, though it was still challenging and you doubted that most of your answers were entirely correct, but the last page had stumped you rather quickly and entirely. You jumped between questions, filling in pieces of information when they came to mind, but nothing could jog your memory when you were confronted with the very last question of the exam. Your brows furrowed, a sheen of perspiration clung to your skin. Was it a trick question? No, a professor wouldn’t purposefully stump you when so much was on the line. Despite your confidence in Sitwell, you’re absolutely certain that you’ve never gone over any materials that even slightly relate to the last topic. You’ve read the textbook forward and backwards, you practically dreamed about this course material, but you had never seen these words present in any of the lectures.

Your hand shot up from the desk before you could stop yourself, but by time you realized you were seeking attention from Sitwell, he had called you up to the front of the room. A glance at the clock on the wall beside the door told you there was just under twenty minutes left. By this point in an exam, most students would have been gone, but every single one of them still remained, and although you weren’t intentionally looking at anyone’s paper, the few that you had seen had all been open on the last page. You weren’t the only one confused.

“How can I help you, Ms. Y/L/N?” Sitwell kept his voice quiet, and like always, detached. You wondered how a man who seemed to hate every person even remotely younger than himself had found a profession in teaching, but you didn’t let his attitude deter you from asking anyway. This question could very easily make you seem like an idiot, but you were confident in yourself, and well, Jasper Sitwell seemed exactly the type to make a mistake like this.

Matching his quiet tone, assuring that only the first row of students could hear you, you laid your exam in front of him and pointed out the question. “This isn’t related to your course, sir. It’s not in the textbook, and we’ve never gone over it in a lecture.”

You waited for the moment he berated you for questioning his exam but it never came. When you grew the balls to look up at him, you found a smirk of satisfaction on his lips. “You’re correct. That question has no value in this course. It’s been on my exam for the last ten years and nobody has ever questioned me. Congratulations, Ms. Y/L/N, it seems somebody has finally read the textbook.”

A look of sheer bewilderment crossed your face, but Sitwell gave you no chance to speak again before he promptly took the exam from your hands and kept it at his side. Anxiety shot through your stomach when you realized that he wasn’t going to give it back to you. There was still thirteen minutes left on the clock, and you’d intended to spend every last second meticulously checking your work until he had to pry it from your fingertips when time ran out. So much could be wrong about your answers, you could’ve missed a question or twenty, and now you’d have no way of knowing because he wouldn’t give it back.

“Be on your way.” He nodded toward the door when you didn’t budge. There was no use arguing with him, he never listened anyways, but you couldn’t just walk away without checking over your paper one last time.

“Sir, I still have time to go over my answers.” You weakly protested, a single palm extended in the direction of your exam, hoping that for once he was willing to budge. No luck, his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened, and you took that as a sign to get the hell out of dodge before he did something drastic like rip your exam in half. You would never be taking another class from him again, if you even got the chance to finish your degree.

With a sigh of defeat, you headed back to your desk, collected your lucky pen, and waved subtly in Monica’s direction before you headed to the door and broke away from anything and everything even remotely related to academics for the next three months.

Ever since childhood, you have adored the sight of the sun in the spring and summer months. Not in the middle of the day when it was blinding and heavy, but toward the approach of night when everything it’s surface could touch was brightened by ripples of violet and peach presence. Tonight had been the first expanse of light across the shoretown the Maximoff’s lived in, and though they’d both been home all day with a rare break from office obligations, their cars were warm to the touch when you passed by them in the driveway.

Despite the warm air and lingerance of sunshine off in the horizon, your disposition was reflective of the colder times when attitudes clashed and people let themselves fall inward. You’d been blind to the change in mood as a child. There was no bad time of year when you were seven and strangers stopped to compliment your velcro shoes as they passed, but now that adulthood had claimed what remained of your innocence, you’d been shown the true nature of winter and fall. The first time you realized that strangers were nicer in the summer, you’d been fifteen. Admittedly, that was a bit old to only just be realizing that life was cruel and people were snobs, but you’d always been an optimist; you still are an optimist. You vowed to never become someone so mean after that day, but that was yet another promise you had failed to keep for yourself.

Your face is set in a permanent scowl, which seems to be the new normal as Wanda and Natasha move about around you. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest, your eyes staring straight ahead of you at the movie that’s playing in the background. They’re attempting to get the house straightened up, something about hosting a barbeque over the weekend and not wanting to leave the mess to deal with at a later date. Had you been in a better mood, you would’ve offered to help, would’ve laughed and joked along with them, but the unknown of your last exam has firmly pushed you over the edge and now every minor inconvenience is working on your last available nerve.

Wanda laughs at something Natasha whispers in her ear, the two of them somehow always finding a reason to gravitate toward one another despite the many different tasks that still needed to be accomplished. You didn’t think the house was as messy as Wanda claimed, but you hadn’t offered her that briefest sentence of reassurance. When you walked in, defeat heavy on your shoulders as you over analyzed the exchange between yourself and Professor Sitwell, you’d wanted nothing more than to fall into Natasha’s lap and let her distract you however she saw fit. She had, for a couple minutes at least, but then she’d pushed you out of her embrace and had started helping Wanda around the house. The Sokovian was practically on a mission to regain some order, dusting bookshelves and tables, collecting stray blankets that had made their way into the living room and across random furniture pieces. It hadn’t looked messy, just lived in, but that wasn’t good enough.

“Can you lift your feet for a second?” The taller of the pair looked at you expectantly, the neck of their expensive vacuum clutched between her ringed fingers. She hadn’t been the slightest bit deterred by your poor attitude when you came barreling into the house and hadn’t even offered her so much as a hello before you plopped down in Natasha’s lap and dug your face into her neck, and she had even let you put your feet up on her coffee table when eventually the Russian left your side start cleaning. She had been very patient with you, knowing how nervous you were about the exam and your results, but much like yours, her patience wasn’t unlimited. “I asked you a question, I expect an answer.”

You huffed, readjusting yourself on the couch, though you still didn’t move your legs out of her way. Natasha watched the scene unfold with an uninterpretable expression in her eyes. She was aware of how you’d been testing Wanda more and more as the weeks went by, and she had warned you that it was only a matter of time before the woman snapped and dealt with your attitude by her own measures. Three weeks ago, that would’ve been enough to scare you into submission, but you had shrugged off her warning to stop pushing boundaries, entirely uninterested in the conversation she was trying to have.

Wanda sighed and let go of the vacuum, resting it against the couch to be grabbed again later. You’d expected her to move onto a different task, maybe even march her way upstairs until you changed your attitude, but when her hands grabbed at your ankles and harshly removed them from the coffee table, you gasped in shock and flinched away from her touch, a glare settled in her direction.

“Stop!” You whined, kicking your foot out in her direction as a weak attempt at retaliation, but you made no attempt to put them back on the coffee table. Instead, you extended them outward, taking up almost the entire length of the couch. Not that it mattered, neither one of them were planning on sitting down with you anytime soon. Wanda quirked an eyebrow down at you, an expression that you were getting seriously tired of, before she reached for the remote and turned off the television. “I was watching that!” You cried out in annoyance, reaching for the remote that was held away from your hands.

“Good girls get to watch movies.” She simply stated and handed the remote over to Natasha, who seemed to know exactly where it needed to go. The remote was promptly placed on one of the highest shelves in the room, and the fact that it had been done on purpose because she knew you wouldn’t be able to reach that high without a stool only angered you further.

“So what? You’re gonna ground me? I’m not a child.” You snapped at her, your voice tinged with what could only be described as pure venom. The snarky comments you’d been making for days seemed like child's play now, at least then you’d had the decency to show her some semblance of respect, but now, there wasn’t an ounce of anything kind in your tone.

“If you’re going to act like one, I’m going to treat you like one. I have been more than patient with you, even though you’re being nothing short of a brat. My willingness to ignore your little attitude will not last much longer, so I suggest you get over yourself before I have you over my lap.” Her words should’ve scared you, they should’ve worked as a last ditch effort to get you to behave, but if anything, it only spurred you on further. You were beyond the point of simply wanting some kind of punishment. Unlike in recent days when it had been a tickle at the back of your mind, now you desperately needed it. The end of the semester always felt like the biggest relief until it actually came, and you were left with no productive purpose to fulfill. You needed a push in the right direction, and now that you had been introduced to this dynamic, where Natasha was more than willing to make decisions for you and take care of you, you wanted to fall right into that state of comfort and control. Your mind wouldn’t let you stop thinking though, and no matter how hard you pleaded with yourself to just let her take the reins, control would not be so easily relinquished. It had been weeks since your last spanking. Days since the last time she had fucked you hard enough to cause you to slip into subspace. For months you’d been shown and taught about the beauty of this dynamic, and it was just suddenly beginning to fall away. You knew that you didn’t need to be naughty to receive a spanking, knew that if you asked she’d be more than happy to provide it, but you didn’t want to need her just to feel content. It was like a double-edged sword had rammed its way into your brain and every time you turned your head you fought between completely surrendering control and always maintaining it.

“If I’m a brat then you’re a bitch.” You met Wanda’s stare, there was no backing down now. You were so close to what you wanted, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to care that it wasn’t Natasha you were seeking it from. Ever since that night curled up in her arms when the world felt like it was ending, something was undeniably different. You didn’t want to crave her but you did, and the longer she refused to play into your games, the more you wanted her. She was scary when she was mad, terrifying when she was livid, but somehow you had crossed both of those thresholds in only one sentence. There was something dark in her eyes that you’d never seen before, and it made your stomach twist into knots knowing that you were the sole reason she had lost her happy spark. She radiated dominance, expelled the radiant energy of someone who knew they had control, even if for the briefest second, you had been foolish enough to think you were the one with it. It wasn’t anger or frustration in her eyes, although they were both present, but rather dominance. You’d seen her be dominant, you’d been scolded by her many times, but it had always been concealed. She had always remained respectful of your boundaries and control to Natasha only, but you had pushed her too far. Things had changed too much. Neither of you were the women you had been at the start of this situation, and it was only a matter of time before the carpet rolled beneath your feet and you had to face the music.

“Get upstairs.” She demanded of you, and for the first time since showing up, you didn’t have the words to fight. You scrambled off the couch and practically flew toward the stairs, only to stop halfway up when you realized you didn’t know where she wanted you to go.

“Our bedroom, honey.” Natasha called after you, having watched the entire thing unfold. Now that you realized what position you had walked yourself into, there was anxiety flooding your desperate gaze as you pleaded with her to save you. Natasha wouldn’t save you this time though. She had warned you, told you that you wouldn’t like the trap you were walking yourself into, but you hadn’t listened. “I’ll be up to talk with you in a second, it’s okay.”

“Y/N, if you are not in that room in the next twenty seconds, I will not be so kind as to give you the choice about what I spank your ass with.” Wanda’s voice was level, it didn’t waver like you knew yours would if you even dared to try and speak. You nodded frantically, scrambling to get up the stairs and into their bedroom before the countdown in your head got down to zero.

You didn’t know what to do once you were inside, didn’t know if you should close the door or leave it open, didn’t know if you should sit on the bed or continue to stand beside it. You’d never been alone in their bedroom, it felt like an odd invasion of privacy now that you were. Your mind reeled with endless possibilities, though none of them pleasant. Wanda was going to spank you, she had practically promised that, but what else would she do? Would she make you terminate your contract with Natasha because you’d called her a bitch? Would she slap you around like your father had done when you’d ever dared to disrespect him so aggressively? Tears pricked your eyes at all of your unanswered questions, and you noted that this feeling in your belly was distinctly different then the times when Natasha pulled you over her lap. You’d gotten a handful of punishments before, of course you have because even though you like being good for her, it’s still fun to act out, but those punishments had always been light with the unspoken promise of sexual relief afterward. This was the first time you’d ever actually been punished outside of sexual interactions. This was the first time you’d ever pissed Wanda off enough to be the one who dealt the cards. So much was changing and you couldn’t keep up, but really there was nothing for you to keep up with. You didn’t know what would happen next, you had never been in this situation before.

The floorboards creaked beneath footsteps, and you noted that just beyond the window not covered by blinds, the sunshine had finally settled. Nothing was left to see beside darkened skies and the roofs of all of the other houses on the block, though even then the sight was void of any actual interest. The Maximoff residence was the largest on the block, and it towered over the houses that sat on both sides of it. You’d always thought that CEO’s lived in big lavish mansions, but Wanda and Natasha had chosen a perfectly normal town to settle down in. They had expensive cars, sure, but that wasn’t even a fraction of the money they had. They were total anomalies, and that fact was only making you grow more uneasy.

“Detka.” Natasha sighed, and you were thankful it was only her that had entered. Had Wanda been with her, you would’ve spiral face down into a panic attack that couldn’t be stopped. “I warned you, did I not?”

You sighed, knowing that there was no time for her to give you all the reassurances you needed. Wanda was being kind enough to let Natasha check in on you, but you doubted she had the patience to sit downstairs for hours as you pleaded with your dominant to give you answers even she didn’t have. “J-Just tell me what’s gonna happen. I need to know what’s going to happen.”

“She’s going to spank you, and then she’s going to hold you, and reassure you that you’re okay. No different from what I do. Are you okay with her spanking you? I know we’ve talked about it, but this isn’t the funishment you thought you’d be getting when we agreed to those conditions, huh?” Natasha collected you into her arms, being surprisingly gentle with you despite the fact that you had just called her wife a bitch. You shook your head against her chest, fisting her loose fitting t-shirt in your heads, fearing that she would pull away far too early for your liking.

“I wanted you to spank me.” You admitted sheepishly into her touch, sighing softly when her fingers tangled into your hair and gently worked out the knots that lingered near the ends. “I’ve been good and you’ve been… soft. And I just can’t get my brain to be quiet, and I wanted you to spank me so I kept trying to push your buttons and you just kept forgiving me.”

“Daddy’s been pretty lenient with you, hasn’t she?” Natasha cooed, not placing blame on your shoulders even though you knew she very easily could have. You nodded in response to her question, feeling better now that she was aware of the root cause of your attitude, even if that didn’t save you from Wanda’s wrath. “You’ve been breaking a lot of rules, rules that Wanda’s aware of.”

“She’s gonna give me ten for every one, isn’t she?” You winced, knowing that this would not be a pleasant experience and your ass was sure to hurt every time you sat down for at least the next week.

“She is, and it’s going to hurt. It’s supposed to hurt, but she’s not going to push you farther than you can handle. What do you call if you need a break?” Natasha asked sweetly, pulling your face away from her chest and holding your cheeks in her hands, forcing you to look up into her eyes and see that there's no lingering resentment or anger.

“Yellow.” You answered, the word engraved in your brain despite having never needed to call it. “Red if I need it to stop completely. But… we’re not playing.”

“Just because she’s not going to touch you after doesn’t mean that it’s okay for her to break you, detka. Is that what you thought was going to happen?” Natasha frowns, her lips turning deeper downward when you nodded as an answer.

“My dad… punished me with violence. He didn’t stop until he wanted to. You’ve only ever punished me sexually, not because I purposely broke the outside rules.” You whispered, another hint at your traumatic past hanging in the air. “I called her a bitch. I tried to kick her. I pushed her in the store yesterday.” You admitted, though when there was no reaction, you guessed that Wanda had already told her.

“Because you needed space. She is not going to punish you for that. She’s going to punish you because you were being disrespectful, and because you need it, huh? You need help getting that brain to shut off. You did so many big things this week, I bet it’s not that easy to just come back to this dynamic and allow us to take control when you’ve been the one in charge all week.” Natasha whispered knowingly, a glint in her eyes that reassured you of her understanding. “Finals are stressful. When Wanda and I were in college, we used to go at each other until we were red in the face and then we’d move on like nothing happened. We get it, milaya. We don’t expect you to be good at this yet, or to know how to ask for what you need. You can stop thinking the world is going to end because you made a mistake.”

“I meant to call her a bitch, but I didn’t actually mean it.” You admitted softly and Natasha chuckled, pulling you in closer and laying a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“We both know what you meant, malyshka. She’s not downstairs brewing in anger, even though I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. This dynamic is not about fear and power. I should’ve explained that better. You have all the power here, honey, but just like you can call red, so can she. It’s a balance, a team effort. You got it?”

“I got it.” You sighed, leaning into her touch, wishing you could just surrender to this moment for the rest of your life, but there was no way that was happening. As daunting as it was, you needed Wanda to punish you. You want to let go of the guilt, you want to relinquish control and just listen to what they ask of you. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to, but it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, even if I don’t exactly like you calling my wife a bitch.” She teased, her fingers leaving your cheeks to trail down toward your ribs where she knows your ticklish. You shrieked in response, wiggling away from her fingers just in time for Wanda to knock on the open bedroom door and announce her presence.

She was significantly calmer then she had been downstairs, and that faint lick of anger in her eyes had settled to dust, but she still captivated you and sought for your submission. Her eyes were green, you forced yourself to remember that fact. They weren’t overcome with blackness like all the other times you’ve awaited punishment, but thoughts of your childhood didn’t even come to mind as you let yourself be present in this moment. This was not your childhood. The second you needed this to stop, or you needed her to slow down, you had to say one simple word and it would. As much as this act was about you giving over control, you knew that the reality was you would never be fully powerless.

You didn’t know what to say, if you should even say anything at all, so you merely waved your hand in Wanda’s direction, not wanting to completely ignore her. She smiled softly at you, not softening her body language, but at least her face mirrored your greeting.

“Hi, malen’kaya.” She laughed softly, and you were relieved to find that Natasha had been being honest about Wanda not brewing in her anger, though you hadn’t really doubted her, just needed that validation for yourself. “You talk to Natty?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded your head, unaware of how your hand still tangled in the fabric of Natasha’s t-shirt gripped onto her harshly. It was an unconscious thing, but was quickly soothed by a kiss being placed into your hairline.

“I’m gonna be right here, ангел. If I think you need to call red and you’re not doing it yourself, I’m going to call it. Nothing bad is going to happen.” She promised, and you felt better at the proposition that she’d be looking out for you as well.

“That was quite the show you put on downstairs.” Wanda mused, her face back to that blank slate of dominance that made your palms clammy. You stepped closer to Natasha, just barely managing to nod your head at her admission. “Come with me.”

“Go ahead, I’ll still be here.” Natasha sent you toward Wanda with a gentle shove, and when you looked back at her over your shoulder, she merely smiled in reassurance.

Wanda led you over to the walk-in closet You’d never been inside, but you’d seen Natasha disappear into it after a scene, usually when she was scrounging around to find a specific cooling lotion for your ass. Wanda didn’t make any efforts to invade your space, giving you time to accept your fate on your own accord. The space was large, and there were no shortage of dresses and suits hung up on the taller racks. You smiled softly at a purple suit in the corner, wondering which of the two women it belonged to.

“That’s Natasha’s.” Wanda hummed, seeming to follow your eye toward the suit. “That’s not why we're in here though.”

You nodded, pulling your eye away from the suit in favor of following whatever box Wanda was pointing out. It was large and black, one of the only objects in the closet that looked like it didn’t really belong. She walked over to it, getting down on her knees and motioning for you to do the same.

“I can either spank you with my hand, or with a paddle.” You swallowed thickly at your options, but nodded your head and looked down at the case that Wanda had pulled open. Your eyes practically bulged out of your head at the sight of so many sex toys, but Wanda merely laughed at your flushed cheeks. “Natasha isn’t much a fan of being paddled. It stings and will burn for longer than a hand spanking does, but she has received plenty of both.” There’s a tinge of fond exasperation in Wanda’s words that make you think Natasha is better at asking for what she needs than you are, and that most of the spankings Wanda’s internally recounting aren’t all derived from punishment. You remember the conversation you had weeks ago, where Wanda had confirmed that Natasha was the submissive in their relationship.

“I don’t want that.” You whispered, shaking your head adamantly. “Never.”

“Okay. That’s perfectly okay. Not everyone likes instruments being used for a spanking. This is the lotion I’m going to put on you afterward. It’s the same one Natasha uses, but I want you to know what to expect.” Wanda gives you the bottle, and you don’t even bother to look down at it, entirely focused on her face. There’s something different about her like this, so easily dominant and captivating, you want to commit this new energy to memory. “You’re going to get fifty spanks. If you need to slow down, or if you need to stop, I expect that you call your safewords. If I need to stop, I’m going to call mine. Part of your punishment is that you will not be receiving an orgasm afterward. You're lucky I haven’t taken them away for the next week.”

You gulped, suddenly remembering that this was a punishment, although you didn’t know how you could have forgotten that fact. Wanda smirked in amusement at your flushed features, and tenderly she reached up to smoothing stray strands of hair away from your face. “Can I kiss you?” She asked quietly, and although it was Wanda not Natasha, you nodded eagerly. You didn’t hate her, you didn’t dislike her, you wanted her just as badly as you wanted Natasha. You didn’t know how you’d been so blind to that fact for so long. “Words, detka.”

“Yes.” You breathed out, already leaning into her touch when she set her hands on your cheeks and pulled your face into hers. Her lips were soft beneath yours, softer than Natasha’s, and she tasted like the fakest cherries. Her tongue swiped across your bottom lip, asking for entrance rather than demanding it. You didn’t hesitate to let her in, moaning softly into her mouth when her hot and heavy tongue licked against yours and officially claimed you the way you had seen it do to Natasha on a handful of occasions.

You don’t know how many minutes had passed as you sat on the floor of the walk-in closet, but when Wanda finally pulled away from you, her chest rising and falling faster than it had been before, your cheeks were flush for more than one reason.

“You can’t kiss me like that after you tell me I’m not allowed to cum tonight.” You whined softly, squirming on the floor as your arousal made its presence known between your legs. Wanda laughed in amusement, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips.

“I guess little girls need to learn how to behave if they want something from Mommy then.” The softest inch of her accent had drifted into the words, and if that wasn’t enough to send a rush of pleasure straight to your core, the added bonus of her title was. You whined desperately, your thighs rubbing together as you sought out even a second of relief. Flashes of Natasha teasing you on the phone came to mind, and the lust in your eyes only intensified. “Enough.” Wanda scolded, “I want you naked and bent over the bed in the next three minutes.”

You nodded obediently, having done enough arguing for the night. You got to your feet with the same grace as bambi, practically bolting out of the closet and into the bedroom. You giggled softly when you realized that your first kiss with the lawyer who was very proudly a lesbian had been in a closet of all places.

“There’s no way whatever happened in that closet deserves to be laughed about.” Natasha quirked an eyebrow in your direction, though it was significantly less scary then when Wanda did it. She watched you strip out of your clothes hurriedly, not sparing the few minutes you had been given to fold them nicely in a pile.

“Your wife is a lesbian.” You deadpanned, though you knew Natasha was very much aware of that fact if the felt pride flag in what you assumed was Wanda’s side of the closet had ever caught her attention.

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious.”

“And she just kissed me in the closet.” You giggled, and Natasha couldn’t say that she wasn’t equally as amused as you were, but she had the decency to control her laughter in front of Wanda, who you hadn’t even realized was standing right behind you.

“If you don’t want me to add another ten onto your fifty, you’ll bend your ass over my bed and stop making me wait.” Your blood went cold and your spine straightened as you felt the softest trace of Wanda’s warm breath against the shell of your ear. The warning didn’t need to be whispered twice, because you were already scrambling to get into position, a lot less nervous then you had been before. “I want you to count them all. If you miss one, I add two more.”

“Okay.” You whispered, already fisting the comforter in your hands, waiting for the first strike to land against your uncovered ass. You didn’t even have it in your to be embarrassed about Wanda seeing you so exposed, just wanting to get this situation over with so that you could fall face first into Natasha’s chest.

“Is that how we address our dominants now?” Wanda practically growled, standing so closer to you that you could feel the heat of her body radiating onto yours.

“Yes, Mommy.” You fixed your mistake, your eyes pinched closed as you pushed your hips backward until they met her thighs, unconsciously seeking relief for your clit that was pulsing between your legs. You shrieked in surprise when she abruptly stepped away and laid the first hit onto your left cheek in only a matter of seconds. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wanda was well practiced in this domain. The spank was hard, significantly harder then Natasha had ever started out with, and you knew you were in for it with the promise of forty-nine more to come. “One, Mommy.”

Your grip on the comforter got tighter and tighter with each spank that came next until your knuckles were white and your chin trembled from the onslaught of pain. At the thirteenth spank, you moaned in pleasure, and your hips bucked backward desperately searching for pressure between your thighs that never came and wouldn’t come. Wanda’s laughter was anything but genuine behind you, and you didn’t even want to imagine what you must look like to her; bent over the bed she shares with her wife, your ass pink from the assault of her palm, and arousal dampening the insides of your thighs.

“So much for not having a pain kink.” She mused, though she wasn’t really talking to you. Natasha was sitting at the head of the bed with a smug gleam in her eyes, and you knew the sight of you like this was turning her on, if the dilation in her pupils was any indication of that fact. “Little slut is dripping.” You gasped when soft fingers ran over your ass, dipping lower and lower until they found your empty entrance that begged for anything to fill it, be it a dildo or the fingers of the woman who was responsible for pushing you into this state. “Do you like when Mommy hits you?”

“Yes.” You whine, not even attempting to keep your hips still as Wanda collects your arousal on the tips of her fingers, but like promised, never reaches your clit. You cried out your protests when her fingers left your core, only for you to gasp in shock when she leaned forward on the bed and fed them expectantly to Natasha who let her mouth fall open in acceptance.

The redhead moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, lapping at Wanda’s fingers until they were clean of your excitement. A needy moan left your lips seeing the blissful expression on the face of your dominant, and desperately you reached out for her hand that laid next to yours overtop of the white blankets on the bed. She let you grasp it, let you squeeze it and pull at it, but she never leaned in any closer to you. This was a punishment, you would not be rewarded midway through.

Wanda’s additional weight caused the bed to dip, and you had to readjust your stance to keep from slipping onto the floor. She wasn’t behind you anymore, rather perched on the bed beside your body, leaning in close to her wife whose lips shone in the dim lighting of the room with traces of your arousal. Wanda kissed her deeply, the wet sounds their moving mouths made taunting you further, and you groaned in response to their teasing. The lawyer who hadn’t even gotten halfway through your punishment moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, only pulling away from Natasha when she needed a break for air.

She was back behind the second she was breathing normally, and the fourteenth spank came in the same place her thirteenth one had. You counted out the spanks as they came, but other than the contact her palm made with your ass, you were properly ignored. If Wanda made a comment, it was directed to Natasha, and the one time you had been bold enough to answer for yourself, you had been met with a spank to the back of your thigh that was admittedly very soft and careful.

It was after twenty that you no longer found pleasure in her hits, and your moans and whines had turned to cries and sobs. Natasha held your hand firmly, her thumb rubbing against your knuckles as you took your punishment well. Wanda was proud of you, even if she hadn’t told you that yet.

“F-forty!” You sobbed out, arching away from the lawyer's hand only seconds after it came down on your ass. Your entire body ached from the position you were half-stood in, your cunt pulsed with need, but your ass was on fire and you had no doubt that it would be bruised by sunrise tomorrow. “Please.” You cried out, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for.

“You’re doing so good. You’re doing so good for me, milaya.” Wanda soothed you quickly and effectively, her tone soft and gentle as she let you have your feelings. The heavy hand that had been assaulting your skin for the last twenty minutes if the clock on her bedside table was accurate was suddenly soft as she rubbed soft circles on your ass, soothing the sting into a more bearable ache. “Ten more and then we can cuddle. Why don’t you let Natty’s hand go and she’ll go get you some water.”

“N-No! No! Natty stay!” You held onto her desperately, like even the suggestion of her leaving would make it come true.

“I’m staying, malyshka. I’m staying.” Natasha assured you, scooting closer to your trembling body so she could lay a hand on your naked back, her firm touch grounding you in this moment where both of your dominants were with you. “You’re okay. You’re being so good. Such a good girl. Ten more baby, think you can do that?”

You nodded albeit weakly, and Wanda took that as her sign to keep going, to get this over with so that she could put her efforts into comforting you. It was on the last spank that you had crumbled completely, going limp against the bed as you sobbed in relief. You made the decision that you never wanted to piss Wanda off to this extent again.

“Good girl. You were so good. Took your spanking so well.” Wanda helped you stand up, spinning you around so that her eyes could meet yours for the first time in half an hour.

“Mommy.” You sobbed, falling face first into her chest, clutching the fabric of her shirt in your trembling fists. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You repeated it like a mantra, sobs and sniffles the only other audible sound that you could hear. You didn’t recognize Wanda praising you for taking your punishment so well, you didn’t hear her whisper of a promise that it was over and you were forgiven. You hadn’t even realized that Natasha had promptly left the bedroom and gone down to the kitchen to retrieve water and a snack if you wanted it.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, look at Mommy.” Wanda coaxed your attention up at her, pulling your face out of the pit of darkness you had found against her chest. “You’re okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”

You nodded weakly, letting Wanda guide you into the middle of the bed and onto your belly. As promised, she rubbed the cooling lotion into your skin, mumbling soft praises beneath her breath whenever you flinched away from the contact. The soft cooling effect hadn’t taken long to set in, and when it did, it was like an immediate sense of relief had washed over your senses, though everything was still foggy and far away. You only barely recognized Natasha sitting down beside you, but you whined in protest when she tried to pull you into her side, reaching out to Wanda with a pleading look in your eyes that neither one of them could ignore.

It hurt to sit, that was putting it lightly, but you forced yourself up into a sitting position so that you could accept the bottle of water Natasha offered. She held it up to your lips as you gulped it down quickly, finishing half the bottle before she pulled it away, worried that you’d upset your stomach if you drank it all so quickly. Wanda had laid down beside you, forcing you onto her chest to alleviate the discomfort in your bottom. With your head on her chest, your legs between hers, your eyes searched for Natasha as she moved around the room, collecting pajamas and a wet washcloth that would be used to clean up the unfixed mess between your legs.

The first pass of the warm fabric between your legs had rubbed against your clit accidentally, and you moaned in pleasure that was quickly taken away. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not tonight.” She shushed your cries softly, though it didn’t make you any happier. You wiggled against Wanda at the uncomfortable feeling you weren’t used to being left with, and she didn’t try to stop you from rubbing your legs together.

“Tomorrow.” She whispered against your temple when you grew frustrated at not being able to fully satisfy the ache. “The more you move the worse it’s going to get. Mommy will take care of you tomorrow, just rest for right now. Close your eyes, detka.”

When Wanda’s finger attempted to wipe the fallen tears off your cheeks, you were quick to capture the finger between your teeth, and she didn’t even stop you. She smiled down at your flushed face, feeling more than content with your current clinginess. She knew you were down pretty far in that floaty headspace Natasha managed to ease you into every so often, and pride swelled in her chest knowing you were comfortable enough to allow her the privilege of not only seeing you this way, but making you this way.

“Ten bucks says she doesn’t leave your side tomorrow.” Natasha had hummed softly once she was sure you were asleep, only half dressed in the pajamas she had pulled out of the dresser for you. The shorts on your legs were a pair of hers, but you had been adamant against her putting the t-shirt on your body when you realized it entailed pulling away from Wanda’s chest.

Wanda rolled her eyes, though there was a fond smile on her lips that gave away her true feelings about this shift in your dynamic. Not perfect, but getting there. “I’m not making a deal, I know I’ll lose, Romanoff.”

“It’s Maximoff. Or did you forget?” Natasha quirked an auburn eyebrow, mirroring the expression Wanda had mastered after years of practice. She leaned over your body, careful not to jostle you too much and rouse you from slumber, and she kissed her wide softly, though the taste of your arousal still clung to her taste buds, and when Wanda realized, she shoved her away.

“If you keep kissing me when you taste like her I’ll never be taken seriously again.” The Sokovian warned, already addicted to the taste of your arousal, though she took punishment seriously, and it wouldn't be until the early afternoon settled overtop of Westview tomorrow when you found out just how good she is with her tongue.

#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dom!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wandanat #wandanat x reader #dom!wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #wandanat fluff #series: you are in love #minors dni ৎ୭

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augustinewrites · 6 months

Text

cw: suggestive content, fem!reader

“come for a stroll with me.”

“i can’t right now,” wriothesley tells you, glaring down at the mess of papers atop his desk.

it was not in your nature to be petulant, but the over dramatic sigh that falls from your lips has him believing otherwise.

though he wanted nothing more than to abandon the day's duties and join you on the surface for an afternoon stroll, the lord of the fortress of meropide was a very busy man. he had a prison to run.

“fine,” you say, though your exasperated tone indicates that his refusal was anything but.

“you’re the head doctor,” he reminds you, gesturing to the stacks of paper on his desk. “you know how it is.”

“actually i don’t, because i don’t do all my work at the last minute.”

“you have sigewinne, who does more than half of it for you.”

“sigewinne likes paperwork,” you argue, settling yourself atop the corner of his desk. “you could have a whole team of people to help you with these things, but you’re too picky to let them.”

“they don’t do it right,” he huffs, pen scratching a quick signature across the bottom of the topmost report before shuffling it aside. “i know this place better than any accountant whose only concern is balancing a book.”

“fair enough,” you shrug, picking up and thumbing through his reviewed missives with about as much interest as one watching paint dry. he looks down just as a sneaky smile appears on your lips. “i heard it’s quite nice outside.”

“too warm,” he mutters distractedly, too lost in the process of estate management to chit-chat about the weather.

“perhaps i should shed a few layers before heading out,” you hum thoughtfully, fanning yourself lightly with his papers.

wriothesley looks up, about to scold you, but the words dry up before they pass the tip of his tongue.

you certainly hadn’t outfitted yourself as a future duchess might, forgoing a frilly, structured gown for one of his own loose white button downs that’s tucked into closely tailored trousers.

it’s with great intrigue that he watched your free hand undo the top two buttons of your (his) shirt, revealing the delicate swatch of skin over your neck and teasing him with a peak at your cleavage.

you catch him staring as you set his papers down, eyes flashing with delight. like a predator that’s successfully cornered its prey. wriothesley - in a last ditch escape attempt - quickly looks away, clearing his throat and staring hard at the report in front of him.

he could not get distracted today. not with so much work to do.

but you, oh you. you hop off his desk, walking around it to drape your arms around his shoulders, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. “i suppose i’ll see you later then.”

he mumbles a reluctant goodbye but your lips linger, brushing dangerously close to that sweet spot behind his ear.

do not give in, his brain instructs, even though it’s getting harder and harder to process the words in front of him with every slide of your hands.

schooling his features into a calm mask, wriothesley draws a deep, steadying breath. it hardly manages to settle him because archons, you were going to be the death of him. he’s always considered himself a steadfast person with an immense focus that’d been built up from a young age. when he set his mind to a task, he was a difficult man to distract.

you and your wiles have always been proof of otherwise.

“just be back before our audience with neuvillette this afternoon.” he tells you, doing his best to ignore the heat rising to his face.

finance reviews, surveillance reports, correspondence. finance reviews, surveillance reports, correspondence. finance reviews, surveillance reports, cor–

“stop it,” he demands when your fingertips glide across his chest, fiddling with the knot of his tie.

“why?” you ask, voice cloyingly innocent. “am i distracting you, your grace?”

“no.”

you clearly do not believe him in the slightest.

“care for a wager then? because i bet i can distract you by the end of the day.”

wriothesley knows that betting, wagering, or gambling against a former member of the house of the hearth is never a good idea. it’s a dangerous one.

he leans back, arms crossed over his chest as he attempts to salvage what’s left of his dignity. “what are the stakes?”

_____

you know your boyfriend. it isn’t hard for you to wind him up and get him right where you want.

which was on top of you.

or underneath you. it depends on the day.

there were no real intricacies in seducing the mighty and fearsome duke. it wasn’t even that hard to fluster him, because a simple brush of your fingers against his was enough to make his cheeks flush with colour.

you just needed to draw him out a little. you’re on the offense, and you know all the right moves required to force him to engage with you.

in an effort to avoid you and (attempt to) win the bet, wriothesley had locked himself in his office for most of the day. it worked out well for you, because you’d been able to sneak into his quarters holding a shopping bag from chioriya boutique.

your plan is put into motion when you hear the duke stomp up the stairs to get ready for the meeting with neuvillette.

“get back behind that screen,” he instructs when you poke your head out from behind the divider. he’s even slapped a hand over his eyes, intent on staying focused on the task at hand.

wriothesley huffs when you laugh, turning his back to you as he rummages through the dresser.

he’s murmuring the little rhyme he uses to knot his tie, so focused on the task that he doesn’t notice the crinkling of the tissue paper as you pull your new…outfit out of its bag.

“hey,” he asks. “are you almost ready?”

“i just need you to lace me up,” you call back, shrugging the shoulders of your gown down a touch before stepping out from behind the divider.

you turn to show him the undone laces of your gown, watching his reflection in the mirror. he’s regaled in the fineries of the duke, having swapped out his shirt for a clean black one and fastened a fine fur coat over his shoulders. you appreciate his appearance greatly, but even more so when he finds your little surprise.

“is this…new?” he asks quietly, gloved fingers brushing undone laces aside to get a better look at what hides underneath your dress.

it was new. a custom set, in fact. your duke likes you in dark lace and sculpted pieces.

he inhales sharply when you take his wrist, gently guiding his hand to one of the slits in the side of your skirt.

wriothesley breathes your name softly when his hand drifts up your dress and settles on your hip, meeting nothing but skin.

a smug, satisfied grin threatens to break out on your face when you feel his lips brush against your shoulder. you had him on the ropes now. he’s just so easy–

his sweet movements cease suddenly and he pushes you away gently.

“you almost got me,” he laughs, quickly removing his hands from underneath your dress. he grips the laces, deft fingers making quick work doing it up and pulling it taut and tight to hide the tempting lace of your brassiere.

“but–”

“go put your underwear back on,” he demands, delivering a firm smack to your rear.

defeated but not the slightest bit deterred, you reluctantly reach for the abandoned garment as your boyfriend glares at the opposite wall. but losing the battle doesn’t mean losing the war.

“should i put on the garter belt too?”

_____

downstairs, neuvillette sighs, cursing his better-than-average hearing.

at least you’d had the sense to leave out some good tea.

#wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #wriothesley x you #genshin impact fluff

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dreamingofep · 3 months

Text

A Blue Velvet Crush

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

TW: Cussing, teasing, SMUTTT, fingering

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello everyone! This picture of Elvis lives rent free in my head and I knew when I first saw it, I had to write something for it.

If you've never seen some of this performance, I'd recommend watching! I'll make another post with the youtube link!

Thank you again❤️

Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.

Mississippi, September 26th, 1956

Traffic was backed up for miles and the buzz in the air was electrifying. You couldn’t hide your nerves though. You weren’t even supposed to be here today but by the grace of God, you got thrown in the ring and had to cover today’s most important story. Elvis Presley was back in his hometown of Tupelo, Mississippi to perform a charity concert. His rise to fame seemed to happen overnight and everyone was dying to see him in person.

You were just an intern at the Tupelo Mirror and your supervisor that was running the Elvis story got sick this morning. Eric called you at the crack of dawn, frantic that no one was going to be there to take pictures. You had only been at the newspaper for a month and a half, you didn’t want to overstep your role and be too forward, but you mentioned that you have photography experience. You ran your college photography club and were majoring in journalism. You know you can take some decent shots of him. You try to sell yourself, affirming you can do this! The whole reason you were working for the newspaper was to get a better shot of getting a job at a newspaper company after you graduated. You thought this would be the perfect way to gain the experience. And if you got some good pictures of Elvis Presley? That could change your whole life.

You did have a fondness of the man but like, who didn’t at your age? He was the new cool guy who was causing havoc wherever he went. He was talented and had this luring sense about him. You hadn’t ever seen him in person, but based on the few televised appearances he’s made, he was beyond incredible. You knew he had a talent that no one had ever had. Your parents would always make a fuss if you were watching him and tried to make you feel bad for it.

“No Christian boy should be moving like that! It’s abhorrent.” Your parents used to say.

You’d just roll your eyes and grumble under your breath. Your parents didn’t understand that he was something young people could love and be fully immersed in without having to act all prim and proper about it. There was no other artist that would make you feel the way Elvis made his audiences feel. He was passionate and he felt the music to his very soul. It showed so easily he didn’t have to say he loved what he was doing.

And now you were going to be feet away from Elvis, taking his picture and maybe even getting the chance to ask him a few questions. The cars started moving forward more and before you could get through the gates, a police officer stopped you. You rummaged through your satchel and pulled out your press pass. He quickly nodded and directed you to the portion of the lot where other photographers and press reporters were gathered. You quickly find a spot and throw your car in park. You throw your satchel over your head and grab your camera out of its bag. It wasn’t the most high-end camera but it took nice pictures. You double-checked the camera had enough film and quickly made a beeline to the stage.

There were thousands of people here already and the buzz in the air was electric. You saw girls jumping up and down giddy that they were about to see Elvis live. You had some of the men standing next to them with a bored expression on their faces like they didn’t want to be there. You had to play it cool though. You had your press badge on and the last thing you needed was for someone to see you acting giddy when you had to be professional today.

There was a corralled section for the press behind ropes that gave you a bit better access on the side of the stage but it was still very crowded. Not only that, but it was all men here and they were all significantly taller than you. You couldn’t see a damn thing from this area and became worried you weren’t going to be able to get one good photograph of this entire thing!

You try to push and shove your way closer to the front but just get these condescending looks toward you and don’t budge an inch for you. You didn’t expect anything less honestly, the industry was made up of men and wasn’t exactly kind to women entering the workplace. You shake it off, not letting it get to you too much.

The audience starts screaming as the band takes their place on stage. It’s a small band with just a drummer, bassist, and guitar player. They’re all smiles when they hear the crowd go wild for them. Your eyes are focused on the side of the stage though. You want to get the first glimpse of him when he gets on this stage.

The audience continues to grow antsy and an announcer hops on stage. He steps in front of the microphone at center stage and taps it with his finger.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know you all are very excited to have one of our very own from Tupelo be here today. I need you to give a warm welcome to Elvis Presley.”

The crowd erupts at his name and everyone bursts out in insane excitement. You keep your eyes on the side of the stage and you raise the camera to your face, getting ready for the first shot.

The audience gets louder and you feel the hair on your arms rise. There you see him. He’s dressed in a velvety blue long-sleeve and loose black slacks with his perfect white oxfords. His hair was greased back and looked shiny. He had his guitar on and made his way to the microphone. From this angle, he looked so tall, his legs easily gliding him across the stage.

He carried this nervous energy about him tho. He puts his hand in his pocket and grabs the microphone with the other hand.

Click.

He starts Heartbreak Hotel and drives the place insane. Everyone is screaming and some girls are even crying. His voice rings out flawlessly and once he starts singing, there’s no stopping him. He can’t seem to stand still. Whether it’s the music moving him or the nerves, he is shaking and moving, making the crowd even more insane.

There are times when the screams overpower his voice coming through the microphone. He has an amused look on his face the whole time though. Especially when he swings his hips and makes the girls go bezerk. You catch yourself blushing at those moves, how he can move his hips so easily as he makes these in-passion faces. He made you feel something you’ve never felt before. It was bad, it was lust driving you to keep looking at what he was going to do next. You wanted him to move more to see just how those hips would move in other circumstances…

Click.

Fucking focus.

He wasn’t afraid to get close to his fans. It looked like he really loved them. You could tell he moved his leg just to get them going and have them look there. Or how he’d say a certain word and prolong it all sensually, it drove the place nuts. Even just the way he held the microphone and dragged it along beside him. He commanded that stage by doing the smallest things. Elvis walks slowly to the edge of the stage where dozens of fans reach out their hands for him. He gets close and reaches out his hand too, still singing and never missing a beat.

Click.

You get the side profile of him but you think it’s going to be a great picture when it develops. What you really want is a perfect picture of his face straight onto the camera. That would be a great way to solidify that you are a great photographer and can do this professionally.

Elvis finishes his set and gets rushed off stage into the building behind the arena. You follow the crowd that’s trying to get to him, hoping you can get another picture of him that’s even better than the ones you took. The other photographers aren’t paying any attention to you and push and shove their way through. You huff annoyed, hoping you can get in there before they close the doors.

You find a spot on the side but all the men in here are so much taller and crowding Elvis. You slump by the door, frustrated that you might have ruined your big chance to prove yourself at the newspaper as you haven’t gotten a single shot of his face straight on. You wanted to the perfect shot and it seems your opportunity was wasted.

“Alright everyone it’s time to leave. Elvis won’t be answering any more questions,” a man bellows. Most of the men try to protest but they slowly start to funnel out of the door. You continue to get pushed aside until you’re almost behind the door. You don’t move from behind there because, for a brief second, a devious idea pops into your head.

Just stay here long enough for everyone to leave and ask for a picture when he’s alone.

Your heart pounds away at just the thought of being alone with Elvis but you had to try it. The worst he could say was no and get out.

The last few remaining men shuffle out of the room and Elvis yells out that he’ll be right out. The door shuts closed, making your little hiding spot be exposed in plain sight.

Elvis had his back to the door so he didn’t see you right away. You sighed in relief for that but had to work up the courage to say something to him.

What exactly should you say in this situation? ‘Hi I snuck in your dressing room even though I was told to get out, can I take a few pictures of you for the newspaper?’

You cringed just thinking about it. You took a few deep breaths and straightened out your dress.

“Umm, excuse me, Elvis?” You say sheepishly.

He turns around quickly at the sound of your voice and stares wide-eyed at you. He doesn’t say anything right away and neither do you because seeing him this close and in person is too much.

He is beautiful, in every shape and form, he is beautiful. You’ve never seen such a handsome-looking man before in your life and have no words. Logical thinking went out the window with him and he looks at you with the same expression on his face. You haven’t said more than four words to him but you want him. You want him to look at you and touch you and never stop. Your core flutters at that scandalous thought.

“You scared me there honey. H-how’d you get in here?” He asks with a mischievous grin forming on his face.

“W-w-well I uhhh. Well, I work for the newspaper and I was wondering if I could take a few more pictures of you?” You ask nervously. A long silence fills the room and you are about to turn on your heels and run for the door when he gives you another cheeky smile.

“Sure, I don’t mind at all. What was your name lil’ darlin’?” He asks smoothly.

Lil’ darlin’.

Jesus Christ I’m not going to make it out of here alive with all his charm suffocating me.

“Oh gosh Elvis, thank you so much. This truly means so much to me. And my name is y/n.” You tell him in a hurry. You make sure your camera is on and ready before you look back up at him watching you intently.

“Y/n… that’s very pretty…Where’d you want me, honey?” He coos.

Your heart pounds in your ears and you can’t register anything he just said. All you can do is look at him in shock and can’t believe you’re alone with him. You know how many thousands of girls would kill for a moment like this? And the question he just asked?! Ooh, the sheer audaciousness he has. He knows he's irresistable.

I'd love you to cover me in kisses with those pillowy soft lips...

“Huh?” You say in a daze.

“Where did you wanna take my picture honey? You’re the photographer and all,” he teases. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks and you nervously look down at your camera.

“Oh yeah… sorry… I’ve never really done this,” you admit. His eyebrows shoot up surprised, “First time? Wow, that’s somethin’ for a little lady coming here and coverin’ a story on a day like this. The whole town is making a huge fuss over me, I don’t think deserve it, but it’s very special either way. I’ll make sure to give you the best pictures,” he winks. It feels like your heart just about stopped by that one minuscule movement.

Stop that. Stop that right now!

You sweetly smile up at him and move further into the room, trying to see what angle and lighting would be best. The wall behind him was blue and you thought that would be a perfect backdrop to accentuate the velvet shirt he was wearing and his piercing blue eyes.

“Umm, let’s try with you stand there. I think that would be a nice background,” you say.

He casually takes a few steps back and puts his hands in his pockets.

“Like this?” He asks. You raise the camera to your face, make sure the frame is straight, and push the button.

Click.

He looked good without even trying. He had this golden aura about him. Like he shined from within. He was remarkable and you know that without saying much else to him. Even if you didn’t like him already, you can see the appeal. He was so easy to love. So easy to be around. Everything about him was inviting and warm. You don’t know how you were going to peel yourself away from him…

“Okay, how about one smiling?” You ask. He nods his head and gives you this cute cheeky smile.

Click.

God help me I can’t breathe with this man around looking this good.

“How are they comin’ out honey?” He asks, his southern inflection on honey making you feel like the actual word.

“Oh, just fine. I think they’re going to be amazing when printed,” you try to say casually.

“Oh good… what are you doin’ working for the newspaper?” He asks, fixing the sides of his hair with a comb.

Click.

“I don’t work for the newspaper, not yet at least. I’m just an intern. I’m a student at the University of Mississippi studying journalism and thought it would help to work there for a bit so when I graduate in two years, I can hopefully get a job at a newspaper,” you explain.

He intently looks at you, interested in everything you have to say, “That’s wonderful honey. I think that’s great you’re pursuing that. I don’t doubt for a second you won’t get a job anywhere you apply for,” he says sweetly. You can’t help but blush at his nice words and fiddle with your camera.

“Thank you, Elvis,” you say quietly. He walks over to the sofa that’s up against the wall and casually takes a seat.

He stretches out one arm along the back of the couch and the other rests on the arm of it. His legs were spread open and your eyes can’t help but stare at them. They were so long and he exuded sensuality, it nearly made you dizzy. He sees how you’re looking at him, intrigued with the man that so many found attractive.

You raise the camera to your eye once again as he looks down the lens intensely.

Click.

You felt like screaming like those girls were earlier. You’ve never felt so attracted to someone’s presence. It kind of scared you in a way.

He moves on the sofa slightly, bringing his hand to his mouth and giving you this luring, sultry gaze.

Oh lord, I’m a dead woman…

Click.

He doesn’t change this pose after the flash goes off, he continues to sit there with his eyes drinking you in. Your body can’t take this, the tension in the room is palpable and you are seriously considering running out now since you have plenty of good shots. Elvis slowly starts to lower his hand from his mouth and you see he was biting his lip behind it this whole time. He slowly drags his teeth across it before letting it go with a pop.

“Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He asks softly.

You can’t hide your flushed cheeks anymore and lower the camera from your face to see if he’s being serious. His eyes look heavy and somber, but he cracks a little grin to lighten the mood.

“Oh, no… not something I normally hear,” you say insecurely.

“That’s a shame darlin’, you really are. You have the most gorgeous smile, beautiful eyes, and the longest legs I’ve ever seen,” he gushes.

I’m dead. I’ve gone to heaven and died. This can’t be happening!

“Well thank you very much. I could say the same for you,” you say coyly.

His eyebrows raise at the blunt remark and chuckles softly to himself. He lowers his hand off the back of the sofa and places it on the empty space beside him, looking at it, then looking back up at you. He doesn’t need to say another word, he pulls you in without trying.

You carefully place your camera on the table and take your bag off your shoulder. You make your way to sit beside him as your heart gallops like a racing horse.

He turns his body a bit to face you more and being this close to him is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You have to hold your breath or he might notice how nervous you are.

“No guy back home telling’ you how pretty you are hmm?” He says, tucking back stands of hair behind your ear. All you can do is shake your head no. His fingertips barely graze the lobe of your ear but it makes you feel weak anyway. The arousal dripping from your core is not helping the situation and not letting you think clearly.

“Oh, well I’m sorry men are so blind over there. I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he quips, giving you a cheeky smile. “The most pretty eyes, the most pretty nose, the most pretty pink lips I’ve ever seen,” he coos, leaning in closer until you can feel his breath on your lips.

You can’t take it anymore and lean in, devouring his lips with yours. You let out a deep breath as your mouth touched his, his lips feeling softer than you could have ever possibly imagined. He was so gentle with his kiss, making sure he wasn’t overstepping your boundaries. But you didn’t care about that. You screamed for more from him. More kisses, more long heated stares, more everything.

You boldly, place your hand on his bicep, pulling yourself closer to him. He responds to your touch and you can tell he likes it. His crushed velvet shirt felt nice underneath your fingertips and felt his toned arms. He places his hand on your cheek, pulling you in with more urgency. You feel breathless, loving the way his skin makes yours feel like it’s on fire.

Elvis softly pulls away, not before biting your bottom lip and letting a sigh slip out of his mouth.

“Those lips darlin’, I could kiss them all day,” he mutters, his eyes heavy with lust.

“What’s stopping you?” You whimper. He grins and pulls you in once more.

You can’t believe any of this is real. The way he is kissing you should not feel so good and yet it does. You put both of your hands on his chest, pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt. His hands start to roam along your back, feeling the curve of it and how well this dress fits you. Every inch of you wants his hands placed lower. Right at the spot that is yearning for friction from those perfect hands.

He starts to drag one of his hands to your hip, squeezing there then down the top of your thigh. Need coursed through you and you couldn’t help but open your legs a tad bit. You’re not sure if he noticed, but he let out a pleased hum as he kissed you with more intensity.

You needed to feel him. You needed to feel how soft his skin would be when it’s pressed against yours. Your hand sneaks into his shirt and feel the coarse little chest hairs he had there. You were right, his skin felt perfect and it only made you crave more. You snake your hand lower and onto the top of his thigh. You make the same movements he’s doing to you and you feel his body melt at your touch.

You move your hand a bit lower and go to caress the inside part of his thigh and you freeze.

“Oh…” you moan into his mouth.

What you felt underneath your fingertips made you cry in need of him. Dear God, he was blessed in more ways than one. He was so much longer than you expected and it made your heart leap out of your chest. His cock was warm and fully hard in his pants as your fingertips slowly start to rub against him. You pull away from his lips and have to look at what your hand is feeling.

You were going to die and see the pearly gates if you tried to have that inside of you. But God you didn’t care, you wanted him so bad. You’ve never wanted a man like this in your entire life. Looking up at Elvis, he looks calm and collected, still giving you a heated stare. He looks down at your hand, then back up to you with an innocent look about him.

“You like what you feel baby?” He asks low. You take a deep breath before answering him.

“Y-yes. Yes, I do…” you say softly, your hand moving along him more. He lets out a pleased groan and adjusts his hips slightly, liking the feeling of your touch on him.

“Do you want more? Do you want to feel what it’s like inside of you?” He coos, leaning in for a soft kiss that leaves you dizzy. Your breathing felt erratic and the ache you had in your core only worsened.

“Yes please Elvis… please,” you beg. He smirks at you and kisses your neck, sending a shock of electricity through you.

“Can I see what you’re wearin’ underneath this pretty dress honey?” He asks you. You nod your head and his fingers find the zipper of your dress easily. He slowly pulls it down and pulls down the fabric off the front of your body. You help him slip you out of your dress and sit there with your white bra and panties left on. He lets out a pleased little groan as he sees you sitting there, trembling with need. He gently touches your exposed skin, leaving little goosebumps behind. He touches your breasts gently, biting his lip as both of his hands cup them and start to play with your nipples through the fabric of your bra. You can’t help but lean into his touch loving every second of this.

He places a soft kiss on top of your breast as he reaches around and unclips your bra. He quickly puts one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it, groaning as he does so. Your back arches into his mouth, craving so much more from him. His other hand roams your body but only focuses on the top half of you. Your core was dripping with arousal and aching to be touched by those long fingers. You guide one hand between your legs and have him put pressure there.

You gasp instantly, his touch feeling better than you could have imagined but also realize you’ve soaked through your panties. He takes his mouth off of you and pulls away to look down at his hand.

“Fuck honey, how long have you been soaked like this?” He grumbles, his two fingers sliding up and down through your covered folds and creating the most delicious friction.

“Since I saw you moving on that stage,” you admit weakly.

He chuckles softly, “Oh honey, why didn’t you tell me sooner… this pussy just weepin’ for me?” He asks as his fingers slide the elastic of your panties to the side and expose your leaking core to him.

“Yes,” you moan. He nods his head and slowly pushes a finger inside of you. You both groan together, filling you so nicely. Your hips rock into his hand, needing everything he can give you.

You throw your head back as he adds another finger inside of you.

“Elvis,” you moan, your chest heaving for more. He watches you intently, liking how on edge you are for him. His fingers twist and curl inside of you and you gasp for air. He likes what he’s doing and can’t get enough got you either.

“You feel so nice and wet baby. Can I give you my cock now?” He asks.

“Please, I want you Elvis, please give it to me,” you beg, reaching for his belt and unfastening it. He pulls down your panties and you lift your hips to help him get them off. You then work on the button of his pants and slide down the zipper. He lifts his hips up too to take them off and you watch as his cock comes out. Oh God, you were weak by just looking at it. His pink tip was peeking out from his foreskin and clear precum started to dribble down his length. His hand wraps around his length and spreads some of that slickness around the tip of him, moving his hand up and down slowly. You look back into his intense eyes and don’t know what to say.

“You want to ride me, honey?” He asks. The look on your face must have shown the apprehension you had thinking about taking him like that. He rubs his thumb along your cheek and smirks at you.

“It’ll feel so good baby. You’re so wet for me, you’re going to cover my cock in your sweet honey and make us feel so good,” he groans as you watch him swirl his thumb around the tip of his cock. A pent-up moan escapes your lips and quickly straddle his hips, needing him more than ever.

He rubs his length through your folds, covering him in your arousal and making you both moan with the sensation. You hold onto his shoulders and press kisses to his cheek. You feel him line himself up to your entrance and hold your hips. Elvis looks up at you with need and his eyes are begging you to have him. You felt the heat of him pressed there against your entrance and you can’t wait any longer. You start to sink down on his impressive length, moaning as you take the first few inches. He felt so good, filling you so completely and stretching out your tight entrance. He throws his head back onto the couch and groans as you take him, squeezing your hips tightly.

The sounds he makes when he’s getting pleased goes straight to your head. You love the way he groans as you move slowly on him. You never knew you could be so attracted to the sound of a man getting pleased. You take more of him inside you and cry out his name, overwhelmed it can be feeling this good.

“You feel so good, honey. You like how my cock feels inside you?” He groans into your ear. You gasp as his hips move up into you, stuffing more of his length inside of you.

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you cry out.

You move faster on him, wanting more of him and feeling your walls fluttering each second. His eyes watch how your breasts bounce as you’re riding him, drunk at the very sight of you. You close your eyes, overwhelmed with all the sensations he’s giving you and those eyes only make it worse and worse.

Your hips grind at the base of his cock and you both whimper. Your clit rubs at the base of him and you feel your walls start to clench around him. You ride him harder, chasing the high of your orgasm. You look back into his eyes, desperate for him to help you.

“E-Elvis… oh please,” you beg.

“Come darlin’, I wanna feel you come for me,” he groans as he snaps his hips into you, causing his cock to get deeper inside you.

You whimper in agony, not being able to hold on much longer. His hands are back on your hips and help you move more. Your breathing is ragged and your vision is blurry, you thrust a few more times on him and you feel your body shudder hard. Your walls squeeze around his length and cry out his name like he’s your saving grace. He groans with you, loving how good you feel around him. He helps you rock your hips into him more, making you come more than you ever have in your life. Your head feels dizzy and your body feels like it’s floating. You never knew a man could make you feel this good.

You keep riding him and don’t want to stop. He was still making these sinful sounds that sent a pulse straight to your pussy as you hear him getting pleased by you. He bites his lower lip as he stares at you, beaded sweat gathering at his temples and his breathing becoming more frantic.

“Ah, honey you feel so damn good. I need to come now,” he says gruffly. He picks you up off of him and has you stand in between his open legs. He grabs his cock in his hand once more and starts to jerk himself off, staring at you with need. You wanted to touch him again, feel the warmth of his length fill your hand. You boldly get on your knees and take his hand off of himself. You wrap your small hand around him and his eyes roll back in his head. Your wetness covered his length and made it easy to move your hand on him. You angle his length toward your chest and he bucks his forward and falls apart. His seed comes out in thick, hot, spurts and lands on your chest. He groans loudly and cusses under his breath with each stroke of your hand.

“Oh yes honey, yes,” he moans.

He’s trying to calm down and regain his normal breathing but your thumb continues to tease his extra sensitive head. He groans in agony, loving and hating how you’re playing with him.

“God honey I-I-I ain’t never felt so good,” he sighs. “Come here,” he says opening his arms to you.

You get up and sit on his thigh, your spilling arousal making a mess on him. You wince when you feel the wetness spread on him and look up at him with an innocent smile.

“Sucha messy lil’ girl hmm?” He teases.

“Mhmm, you’re quite messy too,” you quip, looking down at your chest with him covering it.

He laughs amused, “Well, you felt too good what can I say,” he says cutely, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“I had to say thank you in some way for letting me take some pictures of you,” you say shyly.

“Oh, you didn’t need to, but I’m so thankful you did,” he winks.

You kiss each other more, reveling in this moment together, not wanting it to end so soon. But you knew he had other places to be, you couldn’t keep him in here forever.

“I don’t want to keep you from your day. The whole town is so happy you’re here,” you smile.

“Thanks, honey. It’s nice to be celebrated in sucha nice way,” he says caressing your face, “but this might have been my favorite thing I got today.” He says cutely.

“And what’s that?” You ask smartly.

“You, my new favorite reporter.”

Tagging:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @loving-elvis @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog.@myradiaz@tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938 @50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

#elvis presley #elvis fans #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis smut #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis x reader #50s elvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis imagine #elvis fic #elvis fluff

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hanniejji · 2 years

Text

doll

[ kunikuzushi!scaramouche x okami!reader ]

summary: in a desperate hope that yae could still give ei's puppet a chance to live, she turns to you, an ancient godlike being born with the physique of a wolf and a former friend that she hasn't seen since makoto's death. yet, as she persuades you, she starts to realize that maybe this was her biggest mistake yet.

notes: nah y/n's just being a silly wolf, they're not gonna do anything bad to kuni 🥺 not yet ehe just kidding she's just a lil salty i based y/n's form from okami, a mythological wolf deity in japan but im not japanese so i may be culturally incorrect im so sorry ackskf | m.list

words: 1131 | warnings: a little mean and rude reader but only a lil ackskf

"it's a kid."

"as you can obviously see."

you sent a sharp side eye towards the smug fox, your arms crossed in an attitude that only you are privileged to make known to the ever magnificent yae miko. if it was anyone else, she would have said a word or two about their respect towards her.

but this is you.

you who used to signify great strength among your kind—you still do, but not as much when you were still active in the battlefield—and once stood beside the ever wise makoto, the first archon of inazuma.

you, veteran warrior of the archon war who survived the great calamity five hundred years ago, now being forced into some… babysitting nonsense.

"it's a fucking kid."

"watch your mouth, dear. after all, he is a kid," she winked. "and what do they say about kids? they are easily influenced by the people they are surrounded with, so if i were you i would be very careful if i don't want him spewing curses here and there."

"what is a kid, he, doing here?"

your eyes stared down at the shivering boy on the ground, meeting his terrified purple eyes that resembled someone you once knew. he's the spitting image of them, long luscious purple hair and amethyst eyes that shined brighter than any other vajrada stones you've seen—you're just being a little biased, you secretly love those cor lapis you only seen merchants bring through the port but you don't exactly say they out loud where anyone can hear you.

"that's a long story."

"well then, get talking."

"my, my, what got you so sour today?" yae's alluring giggles infuriated you more than the sight of this boy in front of you.

"you are well aware of why i prohibited any trespasses in my abode, guuji yae," your tone nearly turns to a growl at your ex-acquaintance's new title—you can almost see the way she backs away but she surely regained her composure as quick as lightning, but her flattened ears says otherwise—"and yet here you are, shamelessly asking me for a favor after i made it clear that my ties with the shogun and her connections are severed with my own claws."

"yes, i am aware," she exasperatedly sighs, "but this is a pressing matter that i can only turn to you for help."

"by dumping the child of the shogun on me?"

"y/n!" yae frowned at your tone, one of her hands coming to rest upon the boy's trembling shoulder. "if you could please take the time to understand where i am coming from, it would be greatly appreciated. listen to me, just this time."

the two of you stared at each other in silence, both of you radiating an intimidating aura of authority that only some of the most prominent species in inazuma has. your eyes glowered menacingly, a growl resounding from the back of your throat that sent yae miko into tremors of fear. you, who had stood next to the defenders of inazuma. yae miko barely stands a chance against you.

"please," she faltered against your everlasting gaze. "at least give the boy a chance."

your eyes brought its gaze to the trembling boy. his head is lowered to the ground, an evident effect of your show of strength. fear is literally plastered in the way he's trembling, elbows shaking despite having both of his hands keeping him up from falling limp on the ground. tears were dripping from his pale cheeks, soft whimpers of his cries being desperately muffled by biting into the pulp of his lower lip. it's no doubt that they're swollen by now—in fact, if he was human, you could probably smell the smallest hint of metallic blood from just a tiny crack on the skin of his lips.

pathetic, you scoffed, this? is supposed to hold the gnosis of a god? perhaps ei has forgotten the difference between a celestial being and a mere puppet.

"why is the shogun rejecting her own creation?"

the boy let out a whimper louder than the rest.

sensitive, too emotional.

"she did not reject him," yae crossed her arms at the accusation, bravely sending you a dirty look, "i would love to explain everything to you in detail, just not in his presence."

"oh?"

she grimaces at the victorious smirk on your face.

"why not let him listen? after all," you walk towards the boy, crouching right in front of him. a hand raises to tilt his chin up, eyes glowing in amusement at his confused look, "does he not deserve an explanation as to why his own creator—or better yet, his mother—decided to entrust him in the hands of someone like me?"

you hold his face in your hands, thumbs caressing the apple of his cheeks and cooing at the way they turn pink.

the way humans do.

"is ei," your voice lowers to a sultry tone, a hypnotic sound that turns the boy into a puddle of something akin to reverence, doe eyes staring back at yours, "turning her eyes away from a mistake she made on her own, like the blind coward she is?"

"that's enough," yae hissed, snapping the boy out of his trance and he cowers away from your touch, "ei is entrusting him to you because she knows you won't do anything that will harm him. he's still just a boy."

both yae and the boy jumped when you suddenly laughed. it wasn't anything gleeful or genuine. it was cold, empty, something that tells yae that she should leave before you bare your fangs at her.

"ei still trusts me? how amusing!" your grin tells her another story, "well then, i shall honor such opportunity!"

"what?" yae stares at you dumbfounded for the nth time today.

"you're… taking him in?" she faltered in disbelief. she was almost sure you'd shoo them away, spouting how insolent she is to believe that you would even do such a favor, that you would not bore such a responsibility on behalf of the shogun. somewhere at the back of yae's mind, she's screaming at herself to pull the boy away from you before everything takes a turn for the worst.

"why not?"

gently, with cold hands that once held warmth years ago, you held his face closer, brushing the stray strands of purple out of his visage and whispering into his ears.

"what's your name, little one?"

"kuni… kunikuzushi," he stammered.

"such an entitled name you have, i like it. doesn't suit a face like yours, but we'll see," the grin on your face widened, leaning closer to his ears, "i would love to take you in, doll."

the sight of you, towering above ei's prototype, sends an unknown fear into yae's mind.

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tartigglez · 10 months

Note

For the 300 follower event. Can I request green with Zhongli as Rex Lapis?

"rest"

・❥・rex lapis x gn!adeptus!reader

・❥・1.5k

・❥・set in old teyvat, reader and morax are in a sort of weird soul bond situationship, half-dragon!li (i've just decided its his base form now so everyone cope), he calls reader "little one" at one point (lol?), reader has horns (that sounds so silly help), reader cries and it's kinda cinematic, (yes i am using this to heal the wounds my ex left me with because he was ashamed of our relationship thank you for asking!), this has gotta be one of my fav fics ive ever written LOL

・❥・HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO IT IS I, CAEL. today i present you all with: a thing i wrote!

・❥・if you want to request a prompt from this event, click on the green title!

the world is quiet when the dragon slumbers.

at least, that's what you think.

that's what the adepti think.

the souls of the old deities that have been subdued by rex lapis calm a little when he rests. their empty shells are less vengeful, and they, albeit momentarily, no longer seek to wreak havoc on the people of liyue.

it was a simple mission you had. go to the cave, retrieve any necessary cor lapis for streetward rambler and do not disturb morax. and of course, none of the other adepti knew, but this rule was an optional one in your mind.

the others would never know of your relationship with rex lapis, which was of a deeper level than you cared to explain. the deep, intricate weaves of your two souls together were much more detailed than anyone could ever imagine, so gently and carefully tied over such a long time that they could never be undone. they were roots so deep that neither you nor him could even tell how much you needed each other.

of course, when he is resting you shouldn’t disturb him, because he needs it. he works hard to protect his people, and for this reason he should always be allowed to rest when he needs.

as the few chunks of cor lapis you carried in your bag clanked together, you entered the mouth of a cave in mingyun village. you were fully aware that this was where he would be, since you could feel his presence. but you were only here since this was where the best cor lapis could be found, right? right?

a seemingly small tunnel in the side of the cave led you straight to the sight of him. he was completely still in slumber, tail of brown scales and golden spines lay a little curved on his hoard of various gemstones and chunks of metals.

you walked somewhat slowly to him, tiptoeing your way in to the cave, only to have a look at him of course. he looked quite strange when sleeping. his aura was much more peaceful than usual.

normally, morax was calm. but there would always be some sort of troubled glint in his eyes, one that it appears only you can see, perhaps it is only for you to know of.

as you made your way to the side of the cave opposite to the opening, you could see his hair and arms glowing a little in rhythm with his breathing. from deep in his chest came soft, yet low purrs. he was at rest. however, the small smile which appeared on his lips would say otherwise.

slowly, but surely his eyelids opened, the bright amber irises previously hidden behind them meeting you as you stared at him, not even realising he had actually woken up. instead you were busy admiring his presence.

“you haven’t been here long, hm?” he spoke with a yawn, pushing himself to sit up upon his hoard. the golden surfaces of a few pieces of mora reflected his sharp features as he took a sigh.

your expression was one of pure guilt. you had only wished to see him, after all it was rare that the two of you got much time alone, but you didn’t want to actually wake him up when he was so deserving of a sleep.

“not to worry,” he smiled, “i was due to wake up in a few days anyway.” he got down from the top of the pile, ground shaking a little as he jumped, and was all of a sudden by your side. “why the long face, little one?” he asked gently, tilting his head to the side and placing a loving hand on your cheek.

“i didn’t want to wake you up” you sighed, leaning into his touch. “i did miss you, but i only wanted to see you, not disturb you.”

he moved a little closer to you, his horns slightly touching your own as he moved his forehead against yours, “you are never a disturbance to me, dear” he spoke, closing his eyes and taking a few breaths with you.

but suddenly, it hurt.

“morax…” you opened, trailing off, unsure of how to convey what you wanted to say. instead, your eyebrows knit themselves together, and completely out of your control, a single tear rolled down your cheek, losing itself slowly to the fabric of your robe after making its way down your neck.

he felt it, all of the emotions that were happening for you were making their way to him, his senses more amplified after having rested. “dear-” he said softly, voice breaking a little, hands and eyes searching your body for some sign of injury or pain, “did something hurt you, are you well?” his eyes were filled with concern for you, and somehow that made you feel worse. he stroked your cheek with one hand, the other rubbing up and down your arm. “tell me, what troubles you?” he asked quietly.

“you wouldn’t want to know,” you giggled a little, more tears suddenly escaping your face. “it is a futile complaint”

“tell me,” he said, bringing his hands to your cheeks and gently wiping away your tears, “i want to hear all of it”

you were silent for some time after that, the dim environment of the cave allowing you to lean your head on rex lapis’ shoulder, holding his hand as the other was gently stroking over your hair, and slowly massaging at the base of your horns.

“do you think we’ll ever be able to tell them?” you said, nothing more than a whisper. so quietly that if morax didn’t have such heightened senses, he wouldn’t have been able to hear it at all.

“tell who?” he said back, shoulder slightly vibrating against your cheek as he did.

“the others. do you think we can ever tell them about us?” you asked, absentmindedly staring at a single coin of mora across from you. upon its shiny surface was painted the image of rex lapis of one and his adepti. no. upon its surface was painted two people who were held in a love that had been finely crafted over centuries, each piece chiselled out like the stone of a statue.

“do you want them to know?” he asked, turning his head a little to place a soft kiss upon your head, humming a little before turning back to face his hoard, leaning his head on top of yours.

you nodded a little, closing your eyes, unsure of what to say next.

“if you want them to know then we shall tell them. i doubt they will be upset about it. after all, i am the one in charge, no?” he chuckled a little, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“you’d really tell them?” you asked, moving from the way you were sat, instead sitting up straight to look at him, holding both his hands in your own.

“if that is what you want, then of course i will. i only wish you had told me sooner.” he smiled at you, standing up and pulling you with him. your eyes shone brightly as you beamed at him, and he moved a little closer to you to ask a very important question…

“would you like to rest with me for a little while?”

you nodded, and within an instant he had whisked you to the top of his pile. he began circling around, trying to find a comfortable spot before inviting you to lay down by him, tapping on the space beside him, which was rather funny, because a few of his treasures rolled down the side of the hoard, which made him pout a little.

you keenly moved to lay down beside him, resting your head on his arm. however, there was one major problem.

“this is kind of uncomfortable” you spoke, watching his face contort from being relaxed, to confused, to relieved. through his expressions you could already tell that he had found the solution.

“here,” he yawned out, swiftly moving you to lay on his chest as he rolled on to his back. “better?”

you laughed a little, cheek against the robe which (barely) covered his chest. “much better”

he wrapped both his arms around your waist, every effort being made not to scrape you with his talons. and in this moment, that was when it hit you, more than ever before. every piece of care that he had for you and you for him, it was all for one cause…

“i love you, morax” you smiled softly, squeezing him a little.

finally, you had put words to it. after centuries, you had finally verbalised on the affection shared between the two of you. for the first time ever, you knew exactly what you felt. it was love.

it is love.

sfw masterlist || event masterlist

#genshin impact #zhongli #genshin x reader #tartigglez 300 follower event #zhongli our beloved #zhongli x you #zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #genshin fic #rex lapis #rex lapis x reader #morax x y/n #morax x reader

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lovingherrscher · 11 months

Text

Cor destructum

Note: Cor destructum means Destroyed heart.Written under Dazai's POV Unexpected yandere at the end but oops? 👀 This was written when I'm mentally unstable and very sleepy so my apologize if I do make any mistakes or make Dazai seems OOC. 😭🙇‍♀️

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

She seems sad today, more than usual I mightsay. Was it because she lost her job? Or was she drifting in her memories again? Maybe it's simply because she is lonely.

Everytime she cries she told me that "I feel so lonely." or that "I don't want to be left behind." Both my fist and my heart clenched. Because I know exactly what loneliness is. It's not a monster but a poison. One that can kills us immediately but it takes its time, casually flowing in our veins as if it's the blood inside our body. It was as if Death itself was using a needle to slowly inject his venom into us. It was painful, and I myself hate pain.

I love to hear her stories. Yet for some reason, her stories wasn't as happy as the ones she used to told.

She told me about a place which was supposed to feel like home, yet she feel absolute dreadful just being there. When ever her family gathers, they would share memories about her mother, unfortunately, none of them are good ones. They tried manipulate her into despising her mother. It was the same when she was with her mother, though. When will they finally understand that (y/n) is mere human? She is not a rope you use for tug of war. If you continue to treat her that way, eventually, and inevitably, she will be tore apart, broke into pieces which can't be fixed.

Unfortunately, she did.

She told me of someone she treats like an older sister she never had. They had had deep, late night conversations, at least before I came in and take the position instead. They shared their pain, listened to each other and gave the other either a hug or just a pat on the head saying "You did great." after finished.

But eventually, every journey shall reach its end. They were like tangent lines which had one chance to meet and then parted forever. That person can't comfort her anymore. It's not because I'm here, it's because she chose to stop. My darling was heartbroken, but there was nothing she, or I can do about it. We respect their own choice.

There was an another story of her dearest friend who betrayed her. She thought they were still going to be best friends, through thick and thin. Oh how wrong my darling were. They had the chance to meet more people and befriend them, eventually they began to forget about my dear (y/n). When she tried to befriend their new friends, it was them who hurt her. But instead of defending her like they were supposed to do, they choose to side with their new friends.

Please, do not worry my dear kitten, it's not because you didn't deserve them. It was them that didn't deserve you.

I love you so much, dear (y/n). You are the light of my life. I really love your smile, it's like the moonlight that shines upon my night sky, even if it appears less nowadays. And I certainly do love it more when you smile for me and just for me.

If this cruel world is at fault for hurting you, then I guess it's time I lock you away from it, no?

#yoha writes #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs dazai #dazai x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #bsd dazai #yandere dazai #yandere dazai x reader

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opalthea · 1 year

Text

Let's Get Along, Just This Once.

♡ — Pairing : Kaveh x GN!Reader

♡ — Characters : Kaveh, Gender Neutral Reader, the Traveler and Paimon are both there for moral support (and the ones who asked you to tag along in their commission party.)

♡ — Summary : You and Kaveh just can't stand each other, or at least, that's what it is, until danger approaches.

♡ — Before You Read : Fluff, not exactly enemies to lovers but the hints are there. Reader has a Geo vision and is a bow user. NOT PROOFREAD.

♡ — Notes : This was a comm by my lovely senior for their OC! With their permission, I tweaked it here and there so all of us could enjoy a little silly Kaveh fanfic <3 Please let me know if there were any mistakes, I'm more than happy to edit it again 'n' again.

♡ — Links : Masterlist.

✧.

“Are you actually serious right now?”

Kaveh groans, pinching the bridge of his nose when you toss aside one of the Cor Lapis that you insisted on examining. Don’t get him wrong; he values quality more than you would, but to handle that pricey ore like it’s a child’s toy, has his pockets feeling empty (not that they’re ever full, anyway).

You, however, don't really share his opinion. In your eyes, quality really does mean everything; if this Cor Lapis is unusable for its original purposes (see: for the Traveler's commission from the Adventurer's Guild), then you would just have to separate it from the rest. Plus, it’s not like you're throwing it away in a dustbin, are you? You can always make use of this one after all of you are done with the task.

So, what is it that he’s so irritated over? They’re not giving that one to the Traveler, surely...

“What?” You raise an eyebrow, your temper being just as short as his. He scoffs at your confusion, finding it ridiculous as he kneels to grab the abandoned Cor Lapis.

Muttering under his breath – “You clearly don’t know how to be careful with gems like these.” – he inspects it closely, crossing his fingers in hopes that it hasn’t been scratched or damaged or whatsoever - the Traveler would kill him, he’s sure! People would’ve paid a hefty amount as far as he’s been told.. and he doesn’t want to witness their rage if they found out that you apparently didn’t care about the costs of these invaluable ores. Thankfully, the ore survives with no scratches after such a horrible, blunt hurl.

You clear your throat out of nowhere, pushing yourself upwards so that you're released from crouching on the ground. “Actually, these are called crystals,” you state, matter-of-factly, your nose pointing towards the sky above you two. “Crystals and gems are different, if you couldn’t tell. I guess even the Akademiya’s most astounding student still fail at discerning something as small as this.” With your arms crossed, you don a smug look on your face, as if winning this petty argument is your only goal today.. aside from earning mora, of course.

But Kaveh only mocks you with a tsk, looking away when his head unhelpfully thinks fondly of your pride-filled face. “Crystals? I thought a junior so high-headed like yourself would know this, but-“ he stands up, with the Cor Lapis in his hand, “- a gem is made out of precious minerals. Y’know, like diamonds. Even if it wasn’t a gem, I was figuratively saying that you really don’t know how to manage valuable stuff like this!-“

“Oi! What are you two doing, squabbling behind our backs?!” A whiny voice interrupts, and the body that belongs to it flies in between them. Paimon – bless her for intervening in their pointless debate – frowns, a noticeable pout on her small face, and gestures to the Traveler, whose expression displays their lack of amusement. Suddenly, you feel a bit sheepish; yeah, that’s right, you came here to help them with the commission, not to argue with some guy who claims that his seniority makes him a lot more knowledgeable than you are!

You clear your throat, “well,” you said, gritting your teeth, “we were both just discussing how very important it is to give our client the best ores of its kind, right?” And Kaveh would be a total idiot if he ignores the cues you're giving; unfortunately, his short temper only adds to the fact that he’s not a very good liar, so his honesty bleeds through immediately without much thought given.

“No! What, you’re not going to tell the Traveler that you basically decided that the Cor Lapis we gathered here isn’t good enough and threw them away?”

“That was not what I–!”

“Oh, sure, deny it all you want! At this point, I can even defend Alhaitham because at least he knows the difference between gems and crystals – and he’s from Haravatat!”

“Ugh, why you little–!”

A shrill shriek cuts their bicker short, and Paimon screams unintelligible words, except for her first sentence: “Look out!!” She points wildly towards something behind the two of you, prompting you to turn around-

-and the sight of a charging Ruin Hunter is not one you expect to see at Huaguang Stone Forest.

You had no time to react, not when the drill aims towards you specifically. Your eyes widen, your breath hitches, and you couldn’t do anything but stare as it finishes its charge.

Until Kaveh pulled you away in a split second, knocking the two of you both off balance and onto the ground. His arms wrapped around you – you stay unaware of its almost protective nature – as the automaton drives its drill into the air, where you last stood. Your breathing comes in quick gasps, and you know you're supposed to be used to this; the fighting and the unpredictability of the monsters you fight, but for the first time in a while, your heart threatens to leap out of your chest.

Kaveh groans, pushing you both up to a sitting position. His eyes skim through your figure, “are you alright?”

Effectively, the concern in his voice – “Is that real?” you wonder – pulls you out of your daze, and as you stand up, away from him, your bow is immediately summoned to your side. How careless, you tsk, overlooked the possibility of automatons being around this area of Liyue.

And as much as you don't like his guts, you wouldn’t even think about putting his life on the line, especially when this is something you could've easily predicted.

Kaveh ignores the fact that you paid no mind to his question. It would be good if it stayed that way, he didn’t want to deal with you interrogating him about that slip-up of genuine worry in his tone. Instead, he focuses back on the situation at hand, when the Ruin Hunter begins its Artillery Mode. It’s dangerous, and his mind tells him that they should all just run, that they should not waste energy fighting that today, but that’s because he’s a claymore user and the Traveler is a sword fighter; both of which are melee, helpless when that machine rises to the air.

But you use a ranged weapon. With one Geo-infused, precise shot, you bring the Ruin Hunter to a crash, temporarily disabling the flying giant. A huge smirk replaces your earlier fright, and you turn towards the other two with a newfound urge to settle her revenge.

He thinks that you're amazing, the way that you quickly recover from that surprise attack.

“So, you two gonna keep gawking or are you gonna permanently put this thing to sleep?” You taunt, and yell something incoherent from a distance, activating your vision’s potential. A tornado visibly forms for a second, and it grows larger, trapping the Ruin Hunter in an artificial sandstorm. Ah, yes, of course a Geo vision could create that! He's not about to question where the winds are coming from.

The Traveler nods from the corner of Kaveh’s eye, quickly running towards it before it gets a chance to wake up. To their willingness to fight, he sighs, and although he’s not the strongest in this group, it would be highly risky and rude if he leaves them to themselves. Kaveh calls for Mehrak, and his claymore, and thinks of himself as insane; logically speaking, he’s trained to be aware of safety risks as an architect and should’ve convinced these two to escape while they can.

“Yeah- I’m coming! Archons, this is crazy…”

Yet, if it’s you, he thinks that even Alhaitham’s rationality is thrown out of the window, and that guy has zero common sense. No, literally, take it from him, a guy who has to deal with his tasteless sense of decoration and furniture.

Besides, now that he’s caught up with them, he’s suddenly feeling a little more furious for the heart attack it gave him, and the stupid mistake he made when saving her. A mistake that he hopes you wouldn’t make fun of him for, and prays to the Dendro Archon that you'd forget it ever happened.… Honestly, it wasn’t so bad that time, when they were so close to each other. If only you could afford to be a little bit nicer, he thought, and know the difference between crystals and gems.

✧ Reblogs are much appreciated! Follow for more silly content, or feel free to brainrot about this kind of concept in my asks <33

#genshin x reader #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #kaveh imagines #kaveh genshin #genshin kaveh #kaveh fluff #kaveh x y/n #ae's works #genshin fanfics #kaveh genshin impact #genshin impact kaveh

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jacksgrealish · 5 months

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“it’s his job not to be soft” is crazy when a) what in the toxic masculinity, b) he was yelling at them in the second half, and c) he was brimming with anger in the post match interview saying it was unacceptable … it’s honestly a bit sickening time and time again to see all these micro aggressions against sonny. especially ppl who compare him with kane like why is kane shown so much grace for his bad games and sonny is not lmfao despite being instrumental in possibly our greatest achievement since 2008 (cl run). think we all know why really

like it's fine to say 'cor sonny was shit today' because he was, and it's fine to say if he's on a bad run of form too such as times like last season (not his fault) but this person was also questioning his commitment to club and the team... im sorry but you just cannot ask for more from a player. he's one of the committed players to the club i've ever seen, and even if kane had stayed there was no other candidate for the captaincy in my opinion. it HAD to be sonny. i have never once looked at him and thought he was lacking any effort, not even last season when there was a few players who i wasn't sure were quite putting their all in (understandable, they were playing under conte after all)

and yeah so what if sonny isn't a shouty person? players are allowed to have a 'softer' personalty. we know sonny has such a good relationship with his teams mates on and off the pitch that they'll all run through a brick wall for him. he's the bridge between all the players and language etc... people were also a bit like this with hugo as if he wasnt vocal on the pitch and would be angry when needed in interviews like sonny - people seemed under the impression he never fucking spoke lmao. there's also been some talk around this in how people talk about odegaard and his captaincy too... just because a player doesn't go around CONSTANTLY shouting a la henderson or roy fucking keane like its still the 90s doesn't mean they're not a good leader for being 'soft' it just means they have a different leadership style and personality and there's nothing wrong with that. there's definitely some racism when it comes to people thinking sonny's soft, imo. (it's also funny when you consider that rival fans think that sonny is some horrible dirty player who goes around trying to purposefully injure players because of a spell where he was petulant and got 2 reds and then his foul that lead to aurier breaking gomes' ankle... 2 completely differently views of him lmao)

look, i'll always love kane for all the goals but yeah, he really could do no wrong in a lot of spurs fans eyes. even when he went on strike. like COME ON, no other player would have been forgiven so quickly after that, and no other player wouldnt have it held against them. going back to the commitment thing, sonny would NEVER EVER pull a stunt like that. it's really annoying that people don't see that sonny is just as - if not more- committed to us than harry was. he could have pushed for a move every summer for the past 5 years and hasn't. sonny ALWAYS stepped up in kane's absence (as seen in the champions league that year). can't even say kane was afforded extra grace because he's an academy lad when you look at how our fans have treated other academy players over the years so what does that leave... i don't think people quite realise they're doing it, tbh (same with the 'soft' comments)

#answered #anonymous

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marcys-garbage-bunker00 · 2 months

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As a person form Uruguay, a country in latin ameroca, raised basiclaly in the tip toes of the broder with brazil, knowing people of many mixed races and ethnicities, the ide aof "whit epeople music" or "black people music" is entirely alien to me

The idea of a concept like "whit epeiple stuff" is strange to me, and i'm not usr eif this is because in theory nobody i knew would ocunt as white, or because it simply wasn't a thing that ever popped ibto my mind

To me, and all the peiple i know even today, there's no correlation of certain genres of music and ethnicity, or a music "typical" of a certain skin color

like, beyond the most bare, childish "most rappers are black" maybe, which was never taken seirous as far i am aware, not by me for sure, we just never had that concept

So when i see, say, americans use terma like "white girls when" or "whitest album eber" its just absolutely confusing to me, i feel like mentally incapable of understanding what it means, because as i grew up i never devleoped this concept of stuff "typical" of a group of people, for all the daults i can give to my fmaily and the enviorment i grew up in, racism was absolutely necer one of them, everyone shared and there was no sense of someone being different because they were black, or asian, or what have you

Im not going apecficially anywhere

its 2:44 cor me, and i wa shaving these thoughts after i watched Brad Taste in Music's title for his Tally Hall video and being sent in a weirdly introspective search to understand every time ive seen this kidn of thing used and why i seem just

utterly incapable of fully grasping it beyond my assumption its meant to imply soemthing is "plain" or "bland" but never sure if so, or understand why that is

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zhongrin · 2 years

Text

how elegant

◇ characters ◇ zhongli

◇ tags ◇ a tad suggestive but nothing explicit, collaring(?)

◇ a/n ◇ i love chokers too much hhhhhhh

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

"dear, could you help me wear my necklace?"

your husband's eyebrows raise as he senses the slightly mischievous tone in your innocent-sounding request. but of course, being the ever-patient gentleman that he is, he merely chuckles and closes his book, placing it on your dinner table before standing to his full height and taking slow steps towards the bedroom, where your voice had come from.

"of course, my love," he answers as soon as he sees you sitting on your vanity. the twinkle in your eyes and the slight crook of your smile confirm his suspicion, but he decides to humor you by inching even closer until he's standing behind you, "what will you be wearing today?"

"just something i bought recently," you hum almost too nonchalantly, and he tilts his head slightly - he does not recall seeing you buying a new accessory, so it must mean you've bought it without him present. interesting. "here, put it on me tightly, okay?"

the request sounds strange at first, but he quickly realizes what you meant when you hand him the short necklace- no. he believes there's a specific term for this accessory.

his finger rubs against the soft silk, and he immediately recognizes the details on the pendant.

"this is... custom made?" he gulps, eyeing you curiously for a brief second before returning to admire the jewelry.

though the craftsmanship isn't the best in his experienced eyes, the motif of the pendant - a portion of the geo symbol lines - the stone sitting on its center - cor lapis cut into a diamond shape - and the small engraving on its back - that he nearly missed - spells his name, a telltale sign of a special object that would not have existed in the marketplace.

you giggle shyly, cheeks warming at the elation in his voice, "i hope so, cause i'd rather not have other people walking around with your name engraved on their accessory...."

he hums, before meeting your gaze through the mirror. blazing amber pierces your soul, and for a moment you're left breathless by the intensity of them. the other hand that isn't holding your choker comes to trail against your neck, and you shiver. though his touch is feather-light, the moment they splay against your skin, you had to hold back a shameless whimper from bubbling up your throat.

your hands tremble when you hold your hair away from your neck, unconsciously bending your head downwards so that he can see the clasp better. unbeknownst to you, the small action makes your lover's breath hitch, stirring wicked thoughts into his mind.

so obedient and vulnerable.

the silk feels smooth against your skin, and the material wraps around your neck snugly. tight enough to always remind you that it's there, but not digging and scratching against your skin, just how you liked it. it was, after all, made to match your preferences.

zhongli swiftly clasps the chains to a close, and instead of retreating, his hands come to settle upon your own, pulling them away from your hair, before proceeding to comb his fingers through the strands. you watch his reflection carefully, searching for some kind of sign in his eyes, but as always, his expression is as collected and impenetrable as ever. when he's satisfied with the state of your hair, the slender appendages come up to cup your jaw, his lips meeting the top of your head in a loving kiss. your cheeks burn.

your husband gives your neck another glance and nods in approval.

"what an elegant collar, darling. you have excellent taste."

ps. if you want to be removed/added from the taglist, just send an ask!

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #rin writes

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thesinglesjukebox · 3 months

Text

ERIKA DE CASIER - LUCKY

youtube

Yeah, she’s lucky, but is she a star?

[7.38]

Katherine St. Asaph: I too enjoy "Boy's a liar Pt. 2" and Des'ree's "You Gotta Be." [6]

Nortey Dowuona: Apparently, this samples both "Sailing" by Christopher Cross and "Can't Let Go" by Linda Király. It's also liquid drum and bass. Excuse me... *leaves blurb to listen underneath an oil drum, waits for 5 minutes before realizing it is empty, thinks of actually analyzing the song, remembers the 2nd line of the chorus, shrugs awkwardly, keeps listening* [8]

Ian Mathers: YouTube comments section absolutely undefeated: I scroll down and the first thing I see is "Love the Chistopher [sp] Cross vibe going." I do get where they're coming from (WhoSampled tells me it's Linda Király instead), but if I didn't like "Lucky" what a weirdly specific diss that could be. The song always seems to be a step away from going full depressive breakcore to me, and I mean that as a compliment. [8]

Hannah Jocelyn: "Can't Let Go" is a lost gem from the late 2000s: too sparse to stand among Darkchild's best productions (unless you're listening to the Radio Edit W/ Guitars [sic]), but Linda Király sings the fuck out of it. Elementary-school Hannah was obsessed with the song: melodrama perfect for a 4th grader grieving her first unrequited crush. I smiled big when I heard that piano show up in "Lucky", but I kept waiting for this song to explode the way "Can't Let Go" does in its chorus and it just... doesn't. Instead, it stays in a quiet register, de Casier not even phased by the breakbeats skittering around her. The production is excellent, even if I'm already getting a bit sick of the drum and bass revival, but there's no catharsis beneath the smooth synth pads and frenzied percussion. The actual song's sophistication is captivating in its own right, but the blunt force melodrama of the original is missed. [7]

Harlan Talib Ockey: Erika de Casier throws the entire kitchen at us on “Lucky.” Between the Linda Király sample, the stuttering drums, the bass hits, the synths, and the laughs, her vocals are often overpowered. There’s logic to contrasting the busy production with her serene vocal performance, and it does prove very effective when the waves break in the chorus. However, when every element is bouncing off the walls at once in a drum and bass-inflected surge, it’s easy to lose track of the main melodic line. [5]

Jacob Satter: de Casier's wrapped-in-velvet vocal style brings to mind pop stars who have found ways to repurpose their delicacy as stridency (Nelly Furtado), as a firm corset of gossamer support (Coco O), as an internal monologue set free (Cleo Sol), as coyly kitsch confessional (Clairo). de Casier checks a few of these boxes -- she seems content to hold the center, to be simply present in "Lucky's" swirl of juddering trap, SOPHIE-esque squeaks, and music-box nostalgia. Her patience and clarity elevate near-house muzak into something distinctly, warmly human. [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Somehow even more gloriously energized than the singles off Sensational – the drums feel like hail falling on a sunny day, melting immediately on contact with the song's surface. Thanks to the great NewJeans convergence event we talked a lot last year about de Casier as a songwriter, but "Lucky" is a fine reintroduction to her power as a performer: that opening laugh, the way she says "Whoa," even the slight lift as she sings "lucky" for the second time on the chorus. It's all finesse, a highlight reel of perfectly struck moments that make the ordinary trappings of "Lucky" into something sublime. [8]

Dorian Sinclair: There's a tedious kind of social media post I'm sure we've all seen, where someone posts a lyric sheet from the '70s or '80s next to a modern one (I've most often seen it with Beyoncé's "Run the World (Girls)") to make some point about The Decline of Music Today. The lyrics for "Lucky" could make an appearance in one of those posts, but the song itself makes clear why the core argument the posts are making is nonsense. Sure, repeating the line "another night" 23 times in a 3 1/2-minute song looks lazy on paper, but in practice? Hearing de Casier's intonation changing, the piano shifting under her, the backing vocals slipping in and out of the mix? It's beautiful! And it's not beautiful in spite of the repetition of the lyrics, but because of them. "Lucky" is swoonily, overwhelmingly romantic, and getting that impact with such a deliberately restrictive set of tools takes a hell of a lot of skill. [8]

Isabel Cole: Retro vibes — not just the tinkling piano of the sample, but a particular unabashed sweetness in both content and melody that seems less in fashion than it once was — run through just the right amount of champagne-bubble glitchiness to make it feel up to date, but not in an ostentatious way. More love songs should draw attention to the erotic potential of being a good listener. [8]

Kayla Beardslee: “Lucky” is so delicate and conversational that at times you almost forget you’re listening to a song. Erika de Casier is one of few artists who can turn that into a good thing -- embraced by the glimmering piano line (even as it shifts focus away from the lyrics), she concentrates on feelings forming and drifting by like clouds in the sky so the rest of us don't have to, so that we can lay back instead and just feel. [8]

Will Adams: The liquid drum and bass revival of recent tends to have a winking cutesyness about it (see the de Casier-penned "Super Shy" as but one example). It's fun to listen to, but "Lucky" pushes beyond that to reveal something darker. The arrangement is in standard skitter mode with twinkling pianos, but throughout are throbbing beat rolls, glitches, and haunting exhalations, as if the song is threatening to crumble at any moment. Even the outro -- an emotional tug of war between repeated lines "another night" and "too fast" -- forgoes a standard fade out in favor of increased distortion and tactile whispers. Behind the timid smile, a more raw emotion bubbles up to the surface. [8]

Leah Isobel: Last year, I ended a friendship that I'd had for almost a decade. I had always known it would happen one way or another: either by the slow drift that accompanies physical or emotional distance, or by sharper, more sudden means. I chose the latter option, releasing myself from what would have been years of confused and angry longing. I'm proud of that choice. Yet, I still reminisce about what I thought our relationship was, and who I thought we both were -- to each other, to ourselves. The intensity of feeling that characterized my experience of the relationship made me feel fragile, girlish. Of course it wasn't sustainable. But it was thrilling to see how long we could sustain it; how much I could take from them while minimizing myself; how much I could give to them without them asking for any of it. How many times we could go out together, dancing, drinking, smoking, laughing on the street. On "Lucky," Erika repeats "Another night" over and over and over, each repetition surprising for the sheer fact of its existence. It's not about what's in the future, but the shock of the present staying present: day after day morphing into a zoetroped sequence of images, cycling but not moving, time itself standing still due to the horrible electricity of one-sided love. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: A lot of people in my close friend group shit on Erika de Casier, constantly pointing out that she’s a mediocre singer with unimaginative toplines. And yes, they were not slow to mention that this sounds like Des’ree’s “You Gotta Be” over a skittering beat that wouldn’t even turn heads a couple decades ago. But even though I can recognize their disdain, what keeps me coming back to de Casier’s work is the way her productions are integral to the emotional trajectory of her lyrics. You don’t understand this song without hearing that cackle and those sci-fi synths, which capture the anxiety and blissed-out possibilities of lasting romance. Indeed, this is the same artist who wrote NewJeans’ “Super Shy,” eager to define the complexities of a crush with a polysemic phrase. “I need ya another night” is repeated so often that it becomes a musical Rorschach test. Is it sweet and honest? Too forward and desperate? A sign of confidence? Of insecurity? Love will make your head spin, making you feel like all these things could be true. [8]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#erika de casier #music #music writing #music reviews #music criticism #the singles jukebox #Youtube

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