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bellaveux · 1 year ago

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i adored the soft college au wanda she’s so cute :(( may i request smth along the lines of r and wanda not going public yet because r is nervous but there’s still nat trying to pursue her and wanda gets jelly and clingy ? fluff or hurt/comfort pls ty <3

ALL I NEED TO HEAR | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: when fellow classmate, natasha romanoff, has her eyes set on you, wanda struggles to hide her jealousy.

content warnings: hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending, college au!, jealous!wanda, soft!wanda, minor natasha romanoff x reader, jealousy, insecurity, kissing

word count: 5.5k

note: do not ask me why this took me a whole month to write!! i’m so so sorry for the long wait but here it is finally! i hope u like it :> (i meant to do fluff along with hurt/comfort but as i was writing it turned more angsty *thumbs up*)

In the bustling college lecture hall, amidst the hum of anticipation and the eager shuffle of notebooks, Wanda couldn't help but steal glances in your direction. Her heart swelled with a tender longing, a yearning she struggled to suppress as she looked at you as you were intently listening to the professor. Each stolen gaze only deepened her appreciation for your beauty, igniting an unspoken fascination that seemed to vibrate through her very core. Every fine detail, from your sculpted cheekbones to the way your lips formed a gentle smile, held an intoxicating allure that effortlessly captivated Wanda's senses. It was a magnetic force, an enchantment that dared Wanda to surrender to her desires. As rays of golden sunlight danced through the tall, arched windows, they gently caressed your countenance, illuminating your flawless features with an otherworldly glow. Wanda, with her heart in awe, marveled at the graceful curve of your delicate jawline, the gentle curve of your supple lips, and the sparkle in your eyes as you keep your attention towards the professor in the front of the room.

Yet, in the face of this consuming temptation, Wanda exercised incredible self-control. She wanted to touch you. To feel you. To kiss you. To show everyone that you were hers, just as she was yours. She fought the urges that surged within her, understanding the sanctity of personal space and the importance of boundaries, being mindful of your decision to keep everything subtle and on the down low. Her hands, adorned with delicate silver rings, just itched to trace the contours of your visage, to feel the warmth of your skin beneath her fingertips.

But Wanda wasn’t the only one who seemed to admire you. No, there was someone else—someone sitting far, multiple seats down the lecture hall, eyes trained on you for much longer than Wanda liked. A hint of uneasiness coursed through her veins. Her captivating gaze was momentarily drawn to a woman named Natasha, who sat in a distant corner of the curved row of the lecture hall, far from your shared space. Natasha, an enigmatic figure with an aura of magnetism, possessed an allure that stirred Wanda's heart, igniting an unwelcome sense of jealousy. Though she knew your loyalty was steadfast, the persistent glances exchanged between Natasha and her beloved fueled a flicker of insecurity within Wanda's soul.

“She’s staring at you,” Wanda whispers quietly, the tips of her fingers softly fiddling with your free hand under the long table.

You shake your head slightly, all too familiar with Wanda’s regular signs of jealousy. You pull your hand away to write on the blank sticky note sticking onto your of her notebook saying: ‘ignore her.’ Wanda sighs in return and rolls her eyes at the piece of paper. After a beat, she huffs and leans back into her seat, beginning to nibble lightly on her bottom lip as her patience wore thin.

“Kind of hard not to,” she replied, tone laced with bitterness.

Wanda subtly places a hand on your thigh, close to your knee, underneath the table, wanting to touch in some way—almost as if she was reminding herself that you were hers, and if Natasha could see, that would be even better.

The pout that shows up on her face doesn’t go unnoticed as you move her hand away from you with a shy smile, “Wanda, they’ll see.”

“Sorry,” she sighed again, putting her head down against her arm on the desk as she glanced over at the other redhead who did nothing but keep her eyes on you. “It’s just annoying to me… that she’s staring.”

You chose to tune out Wanda’s jealous complaints, paying attention to the professor at the front of the room. As the professor's words flowed through the lecture hall like a gentle breeze, your unwavering focus became a testament to your dedication. Your nimble fingers gracefully danced across the pages of your notebook, capturing the essence of each scholarly utterance in a tapestry of meticulous notes. Meanwhile, Wanda, sitting still right next to you with an otherworldly charm, exhibited her annoyance by tapping her pen against the wooden surface of the desk.

Wanda seemed to get distracted once again, something she couldn’t quite control all by herself, so you decided to let her sneak soft touches of her hand on your thigh, tender and elusive, spoke a language only you could decipher—a language of intimacy and shared understanding. Her fingertips, grazed the softness of your thighs, traveling up towards the hem of your skirt—the one you decided to wear was especially pretty on you that not touching you became an impossible task. It almost didn’t feel fair, for her to hide the fact that this pretty woman, you, were not hers. She’d shout it to the world when she could, when you’d let her, whenever you were ready to.

After a while, the final bell resounds throughout the room, marking the end of another day of intellectual exploration, your delicate features transform with an unmistakable sense of serenity. The waning rays of sunlight, filtering through the slats of the partially drawn blinds, dance upon the mahogany desk, illuminating the array of meticulously arranged notebooks and pens that have been your steadfast companions throughout your entire academic voyage. With deliberate grace, Wanda watched as you reach out, your nimble fingers gathering your supplies and shoving them into your bag.

You were so pretty in everything you did that Wanda would never tire herself as she watched you. She was glad to call you hers, even though the people around her didn’t know it yet. To everyone else, the two of you were best friends, glued to each other, roommates sharing the same apartment, but nothing more. And Wanda continued to wait for the day when you would be ready to show everyone.

As Wanda sat still and poised in her chair while students squeezed themselves out of the door to head to their next classes, her eyes caught a flicker of unease. With an air of intrigue and curiosity, her gaze fixated on the elegant figure that graced the space, coming closer and closer to where the two of you were sitting. As Natasha began a deliberate stride, weaving through the sea of desks and students, Wanda's eyes narrowed—a kaleidoscope of emotions swirled within her, a potent concoction of jealousy, apprehension, and a burning desire to unravel Natasha's intentions. What does she want now? A tremor of uncertainty danced upon Wanda's delicate features.

“Hey, (y/n), you look beautiful today… like always,” she smiled that charming smile of hers, an action that would usually have others swooning for her. “Just wanted to check in. We still on for later?”

You ignored the compliment, one of many, and took a quick glance at Natasha, offering her a tiny, friendly smile as you packed your things, “Uh, yeah, 4:30, right?”

“Yeah, at the library,” she nodded before looking past you for a brief moment to smirk at the other redhead who had been eyeing her since class started. “Wanda.”

“Natasha,” your girlfriend greeted bitterly.

After a beat, Natasha cleared her throat and put her eyes on you once more, “Alright, well, I’ll see you, hon.”

Wanda glared at her as she walked away, biting the inside of her cheek as annoyance fueled in her chest. It was in those ephemeral moments that a tempest brews and Wanda finds herself grappling with the tumultuous waves of jealousy. Like a veil, thin and delicate, but bearing an invisible weight, her discontent unfolds, entwining her thoughts with insecurities.

Natasha and her had never really been close—not when they both fancied the same girl. It was always a fight for your attention, and now, a fight to keep the third party away from you.

“I don’t know if I feel good about you going later,” Wanda mutters so quietly under her breath, you almost didn’t catch it.

You give her a soft look, hoping to reassure her somewhat with a light smile, “It won’t be long, Wanda. And I won’t be the only one there, remember?”

“I know. That’s not what I’m worried about. I just…” Wanda paused and looked into your eyes for a moment, practically using all of her strength to keep herself from leaning into your touch. “Just text me later. I’ll pick you up.”

Wanda watches you nod, bringing your hand up to give your shoulder a gentle and reassuring squeeze. You want so badly to kiss her, to remind her how much you love her, if only you weren’t too scared to show everyone your relationship with her.

As the time reached about almost forty minutes past four, you found yourself enveloped in a quiet study session, diligently engaged with a select group of classmates, immersed in a collective pursuit of finishing this class project. The light of the setting sun delicately filtered through the grand windows, casting a warm glow upon the diligent scholars. Textbooks, notebooks, and scattered papers adorned the table, bearing witness to their ardent quest for knowledge. As the ethereal scent of books permeated the air, your focus was unyielding, your mind attuned to the intricacies of the project at hand.

But within the depths of your intellectual fervor, a gentle longing tugged at your heart. You can’t help but think of her, Wanda, tiptoeing through your mind, like a melody echoing in your soul. In your mind's eye, you yearned for Wanda's presence, her soothing embrace, and the way her eyes sparkled with encouragement. You envisioned Wanda's tender touch as if it were the guiding light that fueled your fire. And while you wanted to get the work done as soon as possible, you couldn’t help but think of her.

You wondered what she was up to right now. Maybe, in your shared apartment, she was napping, studying on her own, watering her plants, or cooking dinner… Whatever she did, it always put a smile on your face.

“Hey, why are you smiling?”

It was a small whisper that only you could hear, coming from your right. You cleared your throat and took in your surroundings once more, noticing that Natasha was sitting next to you, doing some research on her laptop for anything useful to add to the project you worked together on for another class with a couple of other students.

You shake your head and whispered back, “I’m not smiling.”

Natasha scoffed playfully, “Well, smiling or not… You look pretty.”

The compliment didn’t phase you one bit. Instead, you turned your head to look at Natasha, who sported a smug smile as she looked at you. You were accustomed to the delicate dance of adoration orchestrated by Natasha, whose flattery and flirtatious overtures had become as predictable as the sun's rise. Yet, within your eyes lay a quiet strength, a spirit unyielding to the allure of superficial charm. Though Natasha's words, like sweet melodies, danced upon your ears, they fell upon a heart unmoved, resilient in its pursuit of genuine connection. It didn’t mean anything—not when you were loved by the woman you adored the most, when you had the most caring girlfriend waiting for you at home.

Natasha's advances, though flattering to the world's eye, did little to stir your heart, as it was already enveloped in a love so pure and profound that it painted every fiber of your being with colors of contentment. You, ever graceful and empathetic, offered Natasha kindness and friendship, cherishing the genuine connection you two shared, but resolutely protecting the love you held so dear. Wanda.

“Finish your work, Nat,” you say simply before turning your head away from her.

You could feel the redhead smiling in defeat, returning back to her laptop, the sounds of her fingers typing away on her keyboard filled the room.

As you delved deep into your project at the library, your once zealous spirit began to wane, and weariness settled in your bones. The weight of countless hours spent pouring over research and refining ideas bore down on you, urging you to seek solace beyond the confines of the library. Restlessness tugged at your thoughts as you yearned for the comfort of home and the embrace of your girlfriend.

She had been texting you quite a lot while you were here. And, “a lot” was practically an understatement.

She texted you minutes before you got to the library, then again after you sat down at a table, and again when you took your supplies out, and even more when you began working, up until now, right when you began to pack everything up. She kept telling you that she misses you so much and asked how long you were going to be there. She also went on about telling you to tell her if Natasha was doing anything to make you uncomfortable, checking to make sure you were okay, and asking quite a number of times if she should pick you up now.

And, you understood why. You understood her eagerness to talk to you as she was never good at hiding her jealousy which led to her clinging onto you in any way, whether it was texting you, talking to you, holding you, or touching you. Anything.

The vibrant colors of the library's surroundings dulled in your eyes as your focus shifted from the intellectual pursuit to the emotional embrace you craved. Thoughts of Wanda wrapped around your weary mind like a comforting shawl, igniting a renewed sense of purpose and drive. You sent her a quick text as soon as you were finished, telling her you were ready for her to pick you up, to which she replied that she was on her way almost immediately.

Your group of classmates walked out of the library, right into the chilly air, bidding their farewells and wishing each other luck for the presentation that was due in a couple of days time. They each left one by one until it was just you and Natasha left standing by the entrance doors.

“It’s a little cold out. I can take you home if you’d like,” Natasha says, shoving her hands into her jacket’s pocket.

You adjusted the bag hanging off your shoulder reluctantly, glancing over to the redhead, “Uh, Wanda’s already on her way, so… but, thanks, Natasha.”

“Right,” she says quickly, almost as if she knew what you were going to say.

She was quiet now. Uncharacteristically quiet. A mixture of excitement and apprehension coursed through Natasha’s veins as if every nerve in her body had suddenly been awakened. Despite her usual confidence, Natasha couldn't help but feel an unexpected wave of unease wash over her. Just as she was clueless about your relationship with Wanda, she found it hard to fight for your attention against her. Any of her words crashed into brick walls as she tried to flirt with you and it only made her want to have you more, even when you had told her that you weren’t interested. She didn’t know why, but she liked to think you’d end up liking her eventually.

“There’s… There’s this new Italian restaurant that opened. In downtown, by the bridge,” she starts, watching you closely for you your reaction. “Would you like to go try it with me sometime?”

You see Wanda’s car turning into the lot up ahead as she said those words. A sigh escapes your lips before you turn slightly to look at Natasha, “As friends?”

Natasha chuckles and drops her head down in defeat, knowing very well what your answer would be, after countless attempts and rejections. Her eyes lock onto Wanda’s car as well after bringing her head back up slowly.

“Your chariot awaits,” Natasha nods her head towards the car that pulls up right in front of the two of you.

You give Natasha a small smile before beginning your walk, “Have a good night, Nat. Drive safe.”

Natasha smiles in return, watching you step away. You get into Wanda’s car smoothly, greeting your girlfriend as a sense of relief washes over you.

As you settled comfortably into the passenger seat, your eyes met Wanda's, but instead of the warm welcome you expected, you noticed a flicker of annoyance and jealousy. Wanda's features, usually so radiant and full of affection, were clouded with a hint of unease. Your heart sank as you realized the source of Wanda's distress—Natasha, the persistent pursuer. A tumultuous mixture of guilt and longing swirled within your chest as you searched for the right words to soothe Wanda's troubled heart.

“Baby, let’s go home,” you say softly, your hand subtly ghosting over hers over the heartsick. “I’m tired.”

Wanda blinks and her eyes dart from Natasha, who stood still by the library doors waiting for the two of you to leave, over to you. Her eyes soften as soon as she looked at you.

“Okay,” she nods softly, before turning her head to the front, starting her drive back to your shared apartment.

As Wanda gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white with tension, an unusual silence enveloped the car. The soft hum of the engine provided a gentle backdrop to the muffled thoughts swirling in her mind. Casting a quick glance towards you, she noticed her girlfriend's serene expression, unaware of the storm brewing within Wanda's heart. Determined to shield you from her internal turmoil, Wanda reached out, intertwining her fingers with yours, seeking solace in your touch.

Wanda didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the drive home. She kept her hand locked in yours right over your lap, occasionally using her thumb to smooth over your thigh so gently that you wanted to kiss her right then and there.

The drive didn’t last long as Wanda made it her task to rush home where the two of you would finally be alone, where she could have you all to yourself.

With the click of the front door, you stepped into the serene refuge of your shared apartment, an oasis of tranquility and familiarity. A palpable sense of relief washed over you, permeating the air as you shed the weight of the outside world from your shoulders. The soft glow of warm lamplight in your living room enveloped the space, casting a gentle ambiance that mirrored your contentment. As the two of you kicked off your shoes, a collective sigh escaped your lips, releasing the tension that had accumulated throughout the day.

You went about the evening as usual. Wanda made dinner before picking you up and you ate together. As the meal drew to a close, your determined gaze shifted to the pile of books and papers scattered across a nearby desk. With a sense of purpose, you excused herself and retreated to your work, placing a small kiss on the top of Wanda’s head, leaving her to her own devices. You told her you had to check up on some of your work just in case, not wanting to leave any mistakes on your part of the project. She watched you for a bit as you went to work before turning the television on to watch that cute old sitcom she loved so much.

Wanda's eyes occasionally flickered towards you, filled with admiration and understanding. She reveled in the sight of your unwavering dedication, recognizing the passion that fueled your late-night endeavors. At the same time, she wanted to pull you away from your work, keep you all to herself, kiss you all night long. Their cozy apartment was awash in the warm glow of lamplight, casting a soft ambiance upon the room. Wanda, feeling a sense of contentment, nestled herself on the plush couch, watching her show, patiently awaiting you to finish.

When you do finish, you excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to refresh before bed. Sensing a subtle ache in her heart, Wanda couldn't bear the thought of being separated, even for a moment. With a surge of affection and longing, she quietly followed you into the bathroom, unable to resist the magnetic pull that drew her towards you.

Inside the bathroom, the air was filled with the soothing scent of lavender, creating an atmosphere of tranquility. You stood by the sink, ready to wash off your face and brush your teeth. Wanda, unable to contain her yearning any longer, approached you, her eyes reflecting a deep longing. Your gazes met in the mirror, an unspoken understanding passing between the two of you. Without wasting another second, Wanda's arms found their way around you, enveloping you in a gentle embrace. The warmth radiated through your bodies, your closeness a source of comfort and reassurance.

“Hey,” you smiled at her through the mirror, listening to her breathe against your neck. Although, your smile faded slowly as she didn’t answer. “What’s wrong?”

Wanda shook her head slightly, tightening her hold around your waist, “Nothing.”

“Wanda.”

“I just…” Wanda sighed and pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, then one at the side of your neck, “I missed you a lot. That’s all.”

The words, gentle and delicate, struck a chord deep within your heart. A tingling sensation radiated through your being, as if every nerve ending had come alive, attuned to Wanda's every touch and breath. The weight of Wanda's absence had been temporarily lifted, only to be replaced by the overwhelming yearning that surged through your veins.

After a moment, you gently moved Wanda’s arms from your waist to turn around to face her. Wanda immediately put her arms around your frame once again as you wrapped yours around her neck. You saw her eyes flicker down to your lips, and it almost made you smile, knowing that she wanted to kiss you, but the undeniable fact that something else was bothering her interrupted your thoughts.

“What else?” you ask softly, bringing a hand up to h run your hand through her red hair. “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

Wanda sighed and closed her eyes—your hand in her hair, massaging her scalp relaxed her in ways nothing and no one else could.

“There’s nothing else,” she says nonchalantly, not giving in to your gentle touches that would usually urge her to do whatever you asked her to.

You pull your hand back and give her a look, a serious one that told her that you weren’t buying every bit of what she was saying.

“I’m not jealous,” she said quickly as if she could read your mind, knowing very well that that question was floating around in your head somewhere, begging to be asked.

You shook your head, “I didn’t say you were.”

You watch as Wanda sighed and dropped her head down to your shoulder, pulling you impossibly closer to her body, pressing you slightly against the counter.

In an instinctive response to the relief flooding her soul, Wanda nestled her head into the crook of your neck, seeking the familiar scent and the soothing rhythm of your heartbeat. Wanda's fingertips traced gentle patterns on your back, her hands under your shirt, drinking in the sensation of skin against skin, reveling in the closeness that had been sorely missed. Wanda's heart found respite, the ache gradually dissipating with each passing second. With a profound sense of gratitude, she clung to you, her body pressed against yours.

It took a few more moments of silence before you asked her another question.

“Is this about Natasha?” You knew the answer when Wanda didn’t move or say anything.

The air held a moment of silence as Wanda's heart wrestled with conflicting emotions. With a heavy sigh, she found herself caught between her desire for transparency and her fear of burdening you with her insecurities. A battle raged within her, but she summoned a fragile smile to her lips, masking the jealousy that had woven itself tightly around her heart.

“A little bit,” Wanda whispered reluctantly against your shoulder.

It was. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, it’s been bugging her the whole day. She wished Natasha would back off. She wished she could tell her to back off. She wished she could show her that you belonged to her, just as she belonged to you. And Wanda wanted to tell you. She wanted to voice this constant struggle of jealousy that she had been going through each time when the two of you were in the public eye, but she had to wait for you.

And she’d wait for as long as you need her to.

A heavy sense of guilt weighed upon your heart as you observed Wanda's pained expression. Though you knew you should have revealed your relationship to the world, fear had tightened its grip around you, preventing you from openly embracing your love.

Each time Wanda's eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of insecurity and longing, your own heart ached with remorse. In the confines of your mind, you fervently wished for the courage to proclaim your love, to shield Wanda from the torment of doubt and protectiveness. Yet, the words remained lodged in your throat, locked away by apprehension and uncertainty.

“I’m scared of losing you to someone else,” she confessed, rubbing circles against the small of your back.

As you watched Wanda battle her internal turmoil, your desire to ease your girlfriend's worries intensified. With each passing moment, your resolve strengthened, your determination to overcome your own fears deepening. You knew that the time would come when you could no longer keep your love hidden away, for the pain inflicted upon Wanda by you and her clandestine existence was a stark reminder that love thrived when it was allowed to bloom openly, casting its vibrant hues upon the world.

“Listen to me carefully, please.” You brought both your hands up to cup Wanda’s face gently in your palms, your eyes filled with empathy and understanding, “I’m not ever leaving you. I love you, Wanda, so much. And… I know it’s hard not to, but don’t listen or think about Natasha or anyone else. She doesn’t have me… And she won’t ever have me. Only you. I belong to you.”

I have you. Your words repeated in her head.

Wanda's expression softened as she leaned into your touch, finding comfort in the warmth of your palms, “I have you.”

You smiled softly as did Wanda, “I don’t belong to anybody else.”

And as if relief washed over her worries, Wanda smiled smugly, knowing no one else has you the way she did. The heaviness that had settled in her heart dissipated like morning mist under the warm rays of the sun. Your words, spoken with tenderness and understanding, had acted as a balm to Wanda's troubled soul. With every gentle stroke of your hands against her cheek, Wanda felt the lingering tendrils of jealousy and insecurity unravel.

She saw the sincerity in your eyes, a mirror of her own love and devotion. The weight that had burdened her heart had transformed into a newfound lightness, replaced by an unwavering trust and a sense of security that only you could provide.

“I love you so much,” she said with a smile, placing a tender kiss against your forehead.

However, Wanda's smile faltered as her gaze met your tearful eyes. In that fleeting moment, the air seemed to still, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions. Wanda's heart ached at the sight of your glistening tears, a stark contrast to the usual vibrant warmth that emanated from your expressive eyes. A mix of concern and tenderness etched itself onto Wanda's face as she reached out, her fingertips lightly brushing against your cheek. She yearned to understand the depth of your sorrow, to offer solace and support in any way she could, just as you did for her just a second ago.

No, no, no. Wanda started to panic as your eyes got glossier by the second, tears threatening to fall any moment now. If there was absolutely one thing Wanda hated to see, it was you crying. And if she was the reason behind your tears, she’d do everything in her power to make it right.

“Hey, hey, talk to me, baby,” Wanda pleaded, leaning down to get a closer look at your face, trying to figure it out somehow on her own. “(Y/n)… Don’t cry—I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Sorry, I– I don't– I can’t– I can’t—“

Tears streamed down your face, their cascading path tracing the contours of your anguish. Each sob that wracked your body seemed to tear through the tranquility of the room, filling the air with a symphony of heartache.

Wanda stood frozen, her heart sinking as she witnessed your tear-streaked face, overcome with a depth of sorrow she had never seen before. Wanda's chest tightened with an overwhelming surge of emotions, her own eyes welling up with unshed tears. The sight of your vulnerability shook Wanda to her core.

As your cries grew louder, Wanda's immediate thought was to provide solace, to offer a safe haven within her arms. Without hesitation, she pulled you close once more, holding you with unwavering strength and tenderness. Your sobs found refuge in the curve of Wanda's neck, the soft fabric of Wanda's shirt absorbing your tears as her hand smoothed over the back of your head repeatedly. Wanda whispered soothing words, her voice a gentle balm to your wounded spirit, assuring you that you were not alone, that you would weather the storm together. Always.

When your sobs died down to soft labored breathing, Wanda moved to place soft kisses down against your temple, then over to your tear-stained cheeks, wiping her thumb over them in the process.

“I’m sorry,” she heard you say.

“For what, baby?”

“For being too afraid… to tell everyone. I know you’ve been waiting and that it hurts to wait. And watch, and hide. But, I’m… I’m still…” You found it hard to breathe as you spoke, not exactly meeting Wanda in her eyes, scared of what she might say.

“I know. It’s okay,” she didn’t let you finish. She already knew. Wanda’s heart ached when you still didn’t move to meet her eyes, so she repeated her words. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Wanda's touch became an anchor of solace, her fingertips tracing soothing paths along your back. With each delicate caress, Wanda poured her love and compassion into her gestures, whispering soft reassurances that echoed like a soothing lullaby. The warmth of her connection enveloped you, creating a haven where vulnerability was met with understanding and acceptance. In this intimate moment, Wanda's touch spoke volumes, conveying a depth of empathy that words alone could not capture.

“Everything will be okay,” Wanda told you, kissing your temple once again. “I will be patient. I’ll wait a day, a week, a month, a year, a decade… a century. Whenever you’re ready to. I’ll be there. You have me, too, (Y/n). I’m not going anywhere.”

Wanda used her hands to turn your face towards her, forcing you to look at her.

As you gazed into her eyes, you found yourself captivated by the depth and intensity within them. The windows to Wanda's soul revealed a profound sincerity and unwavering devotion that surpasses any spoken words. In the gentle flicker of candlelight, you witness a kaleidoscope of emotions reflected in Wanda's eyes—love, adoration, and an unspoken promise of a lifetime together.

“Did you hear me?” Wanda asked, using her finger to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, I heard you,” you smiled softly, sniffling cutely as you moved to lay your head against her chest. “I love you.”

Wanda smiled again, hands moving downwards to your waist, as a surge of overwhelming love cascaded through her being, filling every inch of her being with a profound sense of warmth and contentment. In that tender embrace, time seemed to stand still, and the outside world faded into insignificance. The soft curve of your back molded perfectly against Wanda's chest, as if you were two puzzle pieces destined to fit together. The steady rise and fall of your breath against her own served as a rhythmic reminder of their intimate connection. Wanda moved to bury her face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent, a scent that held the essence of home. She felt the steady beat of your heart beneath her fingertips, a steady cadence that echoed the unwavering love that bound them.

“I can kiss you now, right?” Wanda mumbled into your neck. “I’ve been waiting all day.”

Your girlfriend couldn’t fight the smile that crept up on her face as your lips turned up into a smile as well, “Kiss me, then.”

“Oh, I will,” she said with a smirk, hands running up and down your waist, feeling you in her hands.

And she did. In that timeless space between breaths, Wanda leaned in, capturing your soft, quivering lips with her own. The world seemed to stand still as your mouths fused in a passionate dance of love and understanding. The taste of your tears mingled, but it was the sweetness of your love that prevailed, a balm that soothed both your souls. As you lingered in the embrace, your lips locked, the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the profound beauty of your love.

She loved you forever. And she made sure to prove it to you the whole night, and many more nights to come.

— navigation!

#bellaveux writes!#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #marvel #elizabeth olsen #wanda x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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justinspoliticalcorner · 4 months ago

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Erin Reed at Erin In The Morning:

On Sunday, President Biden announced he will not seek a second term and endorsed his vice president, Kamala Harris, as his pick to become the Democratic Party’s nominee. In the immediate aftermath, Harris' donations surged, and major Democratic officials rallied behind her. Republican influencers, however, seemed unprepared for a primary line of attack, initially conflating Harris’ potential presidency with the Biden administration’s policies. By evening, they appeared to have settled on a familiar but often unsuccessful tactic: focusing on pronouns and accessibility.

Within moments, several right-wing accounts posted the same video from 2022: a video of Vice President Harris sitting at a table and addressing a group of people, where she introduces herself by listing her pronouns and describing her clothing. She says, “Good afternoon, I want to welcome these leaders for coming in and having this very important discussion about some of the most pressing issues of our time. I am Kamala Harris, my pronouns are she and her, and I am a woman sitting at the table wearing a blue suit.”

The event was attended by a room full of disability rights leaders. According to White House Correspondent Andrew Feinberg, who stated that he was the print pooler at the event, “she was talking to a room of disability activists, including people who are/were blind.” Using descriptive terms to indicate who you are, your appearance, and what you are doing is a common technique to improve accessibility for audience members who may be blind. The Disability Visibility Project says of the practice, “A self-description provides information about a person that non-blind people passively glean. This includes identity characteristics such as skin color, gender identity, hair length and texture, wardrobe, and more.” Within hours, however, conservative accounts began pushing the video as their first major line of attack on the likely nominee. Anti-LGBTQ+ influencer Chaya Raichik posted it on her Libs of TikTok account, highlighting the footage. RNC Research, a collaborative social media account for the Republican National Committee and Team Trump, also spotlighted the video. Elon Musk quoted it, stating, “imagine 4 years of this…” Conservative influencer Wall Street Silver added, “Do we really want more of this woke junk?”

[...] The criticism to the line of attack is well-founded. Conservatives have attempted to target Democratic politicians over accessibility, transgender people, and other issues they deem to be “woke issues” for nearly four years, with little success to show for it.

The right-wing faux outrage machine’s attacks on Kamala Harris for using pronouns to address participants during a July 2022 meeting is a bit wack and a tool to push anti-trans and anti-”woke” fodder.

#Kamala Harris #Pronouns #RNC Research #2024 Presidential Election #2024 Elections #Abortion #Disability Rights #Chaya Raichik #Elon Musk #Wall Street Silver #Team Trump #Libs of TikTok #Anti Trans Extremism #Transgender #LGBTQ+

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coolbattlegirl · 4 months ago

Text

Dreaming in Solace

The first thing Silver notices when he wakes up is that he’s no longer in his dorm room. The second thing he notices is that he’s alone in a forest. Which is strange because the last thing he remembers is attending a party and then… and then nothing.

Silver frowns slightly as he mulls over his memories. But no matter how much he ponders over it, he can’t seem to remember what happened after the party. In fact, he can’t seem to remember who the party was for either, and Silver likes to think he has a good memory. He entertains the thought that perhaps he had another sleeping spell, but that wouldn’t explain how he ended up in the woods.

Nor does it explain the sense of dread he feels.

Despite the strange gap in his memories, Silver feels oddly calm. Not wanting to waste any more time, he picks himself off the forest floor, brushes the dirt off of his knees and looks around. And it’s when he finally looks around when it clicks.

“Oh…” Silver whispers out softly, and any tension in his body disappears, “I know this place…” How could he not? It was the forest he grew up in. Silver couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, there was no need to ponder his destination any longer. Soon, he finds himself walking down a familiar path, one he had walked many times.

As he walks, Silver passes by a wryly old tree, and he can’t help but stop to see if it’s still there. And it is. Silver brushes his hand against the trunk, his fingers tracing out the small indentations of a carving that had been etched into it. “S.V.” and “L.V.” It reads. His and his father’s initials.

He remembers exactly when he carved it. It had been his 13th birthday when his father had gifted him a small dagger. A gift that caused Sebek’s father to scold Lilia, saying something along the lines of how children his age shouldn’t be given weapons.

A small smile ghosts his face at the memory. Silver can still remember how his father laughed at the scolding, “But they grow up so fast!” Lilia laughed as he ruffled Silver’s hair, “And what’s the harm? He has to learn how to defend himself when little old me is gone!” And suddenly, the small smile on his face slips away.

“My time has come… That’s all there is to it.”

Silver feels his throat tighten and his eyes burn as his mind lingers on the memory. And there’s something more to it, but he can’t seem to grasp it.

Why can’t he grasp it?

Silver’s not sure why his heart aches at the memory, so he pushes down the sudden surge of emotion that promises to devour him, and chalks it up to feeling nostalgic. His gaze lingers on the tree a little longer before he finally looks away. There was no use loitering around any longer than he already has. And so he starts moving again.

After a few more minutes of walking, Silver pushes through a clearing and there it is in all its glory; home. The cottage is exactly as he remembers it to be. It stands tall and proud and his heart feels warm upon looking at it. Silver takes note that the inside of the cottage is dark and quiet, but still, he wastes no time walking up towards the door and knocking, bracing himself for Lilia to bust the door open with a big smile.

There’s no answer…

Silver lets out a small sigh, “Of course…” He whispers, he really should have expected that. Still, he can’t help but feel disappointed. He’s not even sure why he’s surprised by this, because he knows Lilia won’t be coming back home anymore.

Because Lilia is going away to live far away in the Land of the Red Dragon…

Because Lilia is losing his magic…

Because his father is dying-

And Silver freezes. Because what is he thinking? He lets out a shaky breath as the suffocating feeling from earlier looms over him again. His heart aches and so does his head, but most importantly, he just wants to scream and cry because there’s something terribly, terribly wrong going on and it’s eating up at him because he knows it’s important but he can’t remember-

“Oh. So this was where you were, Silver.” Silver gasps as his eyes snap open, he’s not even sure when he closed them. Whirling around, he is greeted with the sight of Malleus walking past the clearing he came through earlier.

“M-Malleus!” Silver gasped out, clearly not expecting to see the older fae here. “Wha-What are you doing here?” He asks as he tries to compose himself, hoping that he doesn’t look as frazzled as he feels. However, the older fae doesn’t respond, he simply stares at Silver silently. It’s only after a few moments of silence, that Silver decides to speak again.

“Malleus…? Is everything alright?” He asks quietly, feeling slightly unnerved by the silence now. Malleus finally blinks and a small fanged smile graces his lips, “There is no need to fret, Silver. I can assure you that I am quite alright.” He practically hums as he walks towards Silver. And as the prince approaches him, something inside Silver screams for him to run. But why would he? This is the person who helped raise him. The person who sang and read to him when father was away. And Malleus would never hurt him.

Right?

Before Silver can think any longer about the growing unease in his stomach, he’s quickly pulled out of his thoughts again when a cool hand brushes against his bangs. He looks up and is met with Malleus’s glowing green eyes. The fae prince’s brows are now furrowed and a slight frown has replaced his smile from earlier. Silver would almost say he looks a bit worried. “But what about you? You seem…a little distressed.” He hears the older fae said as he looks over Silver.

“By the Seven, do I really look that bad?” Silver feels a bit embarrassed, as he had been hoping Malleus wouldn’t notice. “Ah… Don’t worry, Malleus, I’m okay.” Silver says in hopes of reassuring the prince. However, judging from his unchanging expression, Silver can tell that he isn’t buying it.

In a moment of slight panic, Silver blurts out “I… I was just worried you were still mad at me…” The moment those words leave his mouth, Silver realizes how silly it sounds. And Malleus must share the same sentiments because he sees a spark of amusement flashes across the prince’s face.

“Why would I be mad?” Malleus asks as a smile graces his lips once more. Silver looks down at the ground, “Because I…I…” Silver paused, feeling mystified. Why was he so sure Malleus was mad at him? Silver frowned slightly as he tried to remember, yet the answer eluded him. “I… I’m not sure…” Silver finally admits, feeling a bit frustrated.

“There is no need to fret, Silver,” Malleus lets out a sigh that sounds fond, “However, if it brings you any comfort, do know that I could never stay mad at you for long.” As Malleus gently brushes the strands of hair away from Silver’s face, for a fleeting moment, his face seems mournful. But it disappears so fast that Silver can’t help but wonder if he imagined it.

Suddenly, Malleus moved away, “Well, I believe that we have lingered here long enough. Lilia and Sebek must be growing impatient.” Malleus extended his hand, offering it to Silver. Silver stared at the gloved hand held out towards him, and once again, something inside his brain screams for him to not take it. But why wouldn’t he? It’s Malleus.

So, Silver takes his hand, a chill running down his spine as he feels Malleus’s fingers wrap around his hand. And as Malleus whisked Silver away from the forest, the silver-haired boy failed to notice the once vibrant forest being devoured by the pitch black darkness that had followed him. And with it, disappeared the glimmering hope adorned with an aurora gem.

Clink

“Oh? It finally came off?” Ink stained hands grasped around the fragile golden chains, gently slipping it off the wearer’s neck. Glowing emerald eyes scrutinized the necklace. “Such a troublesome thing…”

CRACK

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #book 7 spoilers #book 7 twst #twst fic #my writing #the way I fought in order to write this #I’m a bit rusty so pardon any spelling errors and mistakes #I didn’t go too deep in revising it #this fic did multiple 180s while writing this 😭😭😭#I’m pretty happy with how it came out #tbh im surprised with how long it is #fanfic

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galaxysupreme17 · 28 days ago

Text

Birthday Surprise

Y/n = Your Name

AgathaRio x daughter!reader

The crisp November air whispered through the trees as Y/n stood in the kitchen, her brow furrowed in concentration. The smell of vanilla and chocolate hung in the air, mixing with the soft warmth of the oven. Flour dusted her cheek as she stirred the cake batter with enthusiasm, while across the counter, Rio sorted through a small box of decorations. String lights, candles, and little homemade garlands peeked out from the box, waiting to be put up.

“Do you think Mama suspects anything?” Y/n asked, glancing nervously at Rio.

Rio smiled, her dark eyes sparkling as she inspected the twinkling lights she held. “Not a clue, cariño. She’s too wrapped up in her work to think anything of it.”

Y/n let out a relieved sigh, the tension in her shoulders easing. For days, she and Rio had secretly planned this—the perfect, low-key birthday surprise for Agatha. Nothing too big or extravagant, just something warm and personal to remind her how much they loved her.

“How’s the cake coming along?” Rio asked, leaning over the counter to peek into the bowl Y/n was working on.

“I think it’s ready,” Y/n said, holding up the spoon and watching the thick stream of batter drip back into the bowl. “I hope it tastes as good as it looks.”

“It’ll be perfect, mija,” Rio assured her, touching Y/n’s shoulder. “And if not, we’ll just blame the oven.”

Y/n giggled at that, feeling lighter as she poured the batter into the cake pan. With the cake now baking in the oven, Y/n wiped her hands on a dish towel, stealing a glance at the clock. “We’ve got just over an hour before Mama gets home.”

“Perfect,” Rio said with a grin. “Let’s get these decorations up.”

Together, they worked swiftly, stringing the lights around the living room, lighting candles along the windowsills, and setting out the small gifts they’d hidden away. Y/n had spent hours painting a small mug for Agatha, carefully decorating it with stars and moons in various shades of blue and silver. Rio had found a vintage silver locket, big enough to hold a tiny picture inside, and she’d placed a family photo from last Christmas in it.

The house slowly transformed from its everyday coziness to something warm and intimate, with soft lighting and flickering candlelight setting the perfect mood. Y/n felt a surge of excitement. Agatha wasn’t one for grand celebrations, but she knew this small, heartfelt gesture would mean the world to her mama.

“Why don’t you go change into something comfy?” Rio suggested, her tone soft and reassuring. “I’ll finish up in here.”

Y/n nodded, hurrying upstairs to swap her flour-covered shirt for a cozy sweater and leggings. Agatha loved it when they all bundled up in comfy clothes for nights at home, and tonight would be no exception. Once she was ready, Y/n checked her reflection in the mirror, wiping away the last trace of flour on her cheek, and headed back downstairs.

As Y/n returned to the kitchen, the oven timer dinged, signaling the cake was done. Together, she and Rio pulled it out of the oven and placed it on the counter to cool. After a few minutes, Y/n began frosting the cake with thick swirls of chocolate icing. It wasn’t the neatest job, but it was made with love—which was the most important part.

Just as Y/n finished placing a single candle on top, the familiar click of the front door unlocking echoed through the house. Y/n’s eyes widened, and Rio quickly turned off the overhead lights, leaving only the soft glow of the string lights and candles illuminating the room.

“Mama’s home!” Y/n whispered excitedly, her heart racing.

The door creaked open, and Agatha’s voice floated through the entryway. “Hello? Is anyone home?”

Rio shot Y/n a playful look before stepping forward, holding the cake with its lone candle flickering softly. Y/n stood beside her, a wide grin spreading across her face as Agatha appeared in the doorway, clearly surprised by the sight before her.

“Surprise!” they said in unison, their voices filled with warmth.

Agatha blinked, clearly taken aback as her gaze swept over the room. The soft twinkling lights, the candles glowing gently on the windowsills, and the two most important people in her life standing there with a cake—it was all so unexpected, and yet so perfect.

“What’s all this?” Agatha asked, her voice a mix of amusement and affection.

“Happy birthday, Mama!” Y/n beamed, wrapping her arms around Agatha in a tight hug. “We wanted to surprise you.”

Rio smiled as she held up the cake for Agatha to see. “It’s nothing too fancy. Just a little celebration to remind you how much we love you.”

Agatha’s expression softened as she looked between them, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. “You two are too much,” she murmured, clearly touched by the gesture. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“Oh, but we wanted to,” Y/n said, her grin widening. “Make a wish, Mama!”

Agatha chuckled, her eyes crinkling with amusement as she leaned down to blow out the candle. For a moment, she closed her eyes, the soft glow of the flame flickering across her face. Then, she blew it out with a gentle breath, and the room dimmed slightly as the light extinguished.

“What did you wish for?” Rio asked teasingly, her hand resting lightly on Agatha’s shoulder.

Agatha smiled, shaking her head. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

“Well, whatever it was, I’m sure it’ll be perfect,” Rio said, her voice soft and affectionate. She stepped closer and, without hesitation, leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Agatha’s lips.

The moment was tender, quiet, and filled with the unspoken love that had always been at the core of their relationship. Y/n watched with a fond smile, her heart swelling with the contentment that came from knowing her parents were happy.

After a brief but sweet moment, Rio pulled back, her hand lingering on Agatha’s cheek as she smiled at her wife. “Now, let’s get to the gifts.”

Agatha laughed softly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Gifts too? You’re really spoiling me tonight.”

Y/n eagerly handed over the hand-painted mug, her face glowing with excitement. “This one’s from me!”

Agatha’s eyes lit up as she took the mug, carefully examining the delicate stars and moons painted across its surface. “You made this?”

Y/n nodded, her smile growing wider. “Yep! I thought you could use it for your tea.”

“It’s perfect,” Agatha said softly, pulling Y/n into a warm hug. “Thank you, sweetheart. I love it.”

Next, Rio handed over the small box with the locket inside. Agatha opened it, her breath catching when she saw the tiny photo tucked inside the locket’s frame—a picture of the three of them from last Christmas, huddled together by the fireplace.

“Rio…” Agatha’s voice trembled slightly as she looked up, her eyes misting with emotion. “It’s beautiful.”

Rio leaned in again, this time resting her forehead against Agatha’s. “I wanted you to have something to keep with you, even when we’re not around.”

Agatha blinked back, the tears threatening to spill over, and without another word, she kissed Rio again, her gratitude and love pouring into the kiss. It was soft, tender, and full of the quiet promises they’d always kept between them.

After the kiss, Agatha pulled away slightly, her voice thick with emotion. “You two… I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Y/n said softly, stepping closer to hug both of her moms. “We just wanted you to know how much you mean to us.”

Agatha wrapped her arms around Y/n and Rio, holding them close momentarily as the room's warmth enveloped them. The room was quiet, peaceful, and perfect in its simplicity. Agatha didn’t need anything more than this—her family, her home, and the love that filled the space between them.

As they sat down together on the couch, enjoying slices of chocolate cake and reminiscing about past birthdays, Y/n couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. She had the best family anyone could ask for, and moments like these were what mattered most.

As the night wore on, filled with laughter, sweet moments, and soft kisses shared between Rio and Agatha, Y/n felt truly content. Her mama’s laughter echoed through the room, Rio’s hand resting protectively on Agatha’s knee, and the three of them together—exactly where they belonged.

#AgathaRio x daughter!reader #x reader #reader insert #agatha x daughter! reader #agatha all along #agatha x rio #rio vidal #agatha all along season 1

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nightghoul381 · 1 month ago

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Well Deserved

Prompts: Guided touching/ Intercrural sex Pairing: Clavis Lelouch x Reader Smut | Explicit Content | NSFW | MDNI CW: Lingerie, marking, slight oral/fingering, thigh fetish, intercrural sex (thigh fucking), Clavis making a mess XD WC: 1.4k A/N: Prompts from @natimiles, @valkyyriia, @candied-boys's Kinktober prompts and @xxsycamore's Visions of Temptation Prompts! Found here and here Thank you guys for putting together such awesome prompts!!

You pull your long coat tighter around you as you approach the door before you. You managed to make it through the entire castle without being spotted, which is a blessing since it’s nearly time for most to be retiring to their rooms for the evening.

When two days in a row had passed with Clavis not returning to your room before midnight, you knew he must have something important that he’s been working on. You’d noticed the dark circles under his eyes and his hair had been uncharacteristically disheveled the last time you had bumped into each other.

He of course quickly smoothed it into place and acted as though nothing at all was amiss, but you had overheard the castle staff discussing a boy in town who was suffering from a mysterious illness after eating a strange mushroom, and you had no doubt in your mind that Clavis was feverishly searching for a cure.

Taking a deep breath, you walk up to the door and knock five times in the secret pattern that you and Clavis had come up with to let each other know who was on the other side of the door.

Waiting for a brief moment you hear a couple of thuds and an “Oh dear!” before you finally hear the knob turning and the door opens into Clavis’ room. His face breaks into a broad smile as he takes in your face, as though finally getting a breath of fresh air and you can’t help but return the smile. You’re quickly pulled into an embrace, the door clicking shut behind you.

“My darling, you must have read my mind coming to me at this moment,” Clavis sighs happily, letting his head rest against your shoulder and squeezing you tightly in his arms.

“I did it, just moments ago I sent Cyran out with the medicine for the boy,” He breathes, the pride and relief obvious in his voice.

You pull back just a bit and reach up and cup his tired face. Brushing your thumbs along the darkness around his eyes. Grinning up at him, you pull his face to yours, kissing him deeply.

You feel even more pleased with yourself at your choice to come to him tonight, especially the way you have. He absolutely deserves a reward for his hard work.

His lips begin eagerly kneading against yours, as though a new burst of energy has filled him. You instantly open your mouth, sighing sweetly as his tongue drags around your teeth and across your tongue. You let your arms drop down, quickly undoing your coat and letting it drop around Clavis’ hold on you, startling him as the fabric drapes around his hands.

“Oh my, whatever could this be?” He murmurs against your lips, golden eyes cracked just enough for you to see the mischief glimmering there.

“Well, originally I had intended to come here to help you relieve some stress,” you reply, gently moving his hands away from your waist and allowing the coat to pool around your feet.

“However,” you continue, stepping back, “I feel as though my amazing lover deserves a reward for his hard work and dedication.”

You stand with your arms behind your back as his amber gaze rakes across your body. You’re wearing a pale lavender negligee made of a sheer, gauzy material. Beneath that is your matching lingerie and thigh-high stockings, paired with the silver heels he’d gifted you for your anniversary.

“Oh… I… Oh.”

Your normally eloquent prince is now at a loss for words and you feel a surge of pride at your decision and how clearly enamored he is with your visage.

Taking a step forward, you press your hand on his shoulder, guiding him to kneel before you which he does without resistance. You lift your left leg and drape it over his shoulder, instructing him to place one hand on your left hip and the other on your right thigh.

“You are a sight to behold, my love. You smell like heaven, and your skin is so soft,” He praises, rubbing his cheek against your inner thigh before looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Use your mouth,” you murmur.

Clavis gratefully obliges, drawing his tongue along your inner thigh, leaning his body further inward to reach all the way to the edge of your panties, before latching his lips against the extremely sensitive skin. He moans appreciatively as your fingers card through his hair, guiding his mouth along your thigh and relishing the shivers his attentive tongue sends up your spine.

“Mmm, Clavis, your mouth feels so good,” you sigh, pushing his bangs back from his face before continuing, “but I want to do something new with you.”

His eyes flash with excitement, sucking eagerly at the skin of your thigh and leaving a dark bloom in his wake.

“Lick all over, Clavis, get my thighs nice and wet.”

As if granted freedom, Clavis begins to lick and nip at your legs with abandon. His breathy sighs filling the air and you can feel your panties growing wet with excitement. Without warning, his teeth catch the fabric and yank them away from your dripping core.

“C-Clavis!” You squeak, taken aback by his sudden aggression.

“Smells so sweet. Surely you mustn’t be intending to keep your delicious nectar to yourself my dear?” He purrs, letting his tongue swipe across your folds briefly.

You feel your knees buckle slightly, and Clavis wastes no time lifting you and laying you back against the couch, stripping your underwear off of you the rest of the way before using his fingers to dive into your heat.

“Oh God, Clavis!” You cry out, arching your back as his fingers draw more and more of your arousal from your cunt, smearing the slickness across your thighs and chuckling mischievously.

“Would this be wet enough for your needs, my dear?”

Clavis draws his fingers gently against the crease of your thigh as his hot breath blows against your folds, and you struggle to remember what your plan had been in the first place.

“I can’t think when you’re doing that…” you complain, pushing his head back to try and regain some sanity.

You sit up, pushing Clavis to stand upright before pulling his pants around his ankles and stroking his stiff cock. “I’m going to turn around and I want you to fuck my thighs.” You instruct.

Clavis’ eyes go wide as you maneuver yourself to kneel on the couch before him on all fours. You feel his warm hands glide over your ass, squeezing and stroking the skin as he leans his body against you. His cock slides smoothly between your legs and both of you moan in unison as his tip brushes against your clit.

Sparks of excitement shoot through you as Clavis rocks against you, dragging his cock back and forth against your body, his voice spilling in sweet moans of pleasure. You let your head hang down and feel your arousal grow even stronger as you watch his tip protrude and disappear with each thrust.

The brush of his cock against your folds is blissful and your own moans mix with his. His grip on your hips grows stronger and his fingers dig into the plushness of your thighs as his pace begins to grow frantic.

You feel your pussy clench as you anticipate his approaching climax, the erotic sensation and sounds driving you wild and you feel the urge to rock your hips back against him, bouncing your body along his cock until you hear his moans break off into strangled, panting breaths.

Squeezing your thighs together as tightly as you can you move your body faster and in mere moments you watch in eager excitement as thick white ropes of cum spill down your thighs and out onto the couch.

Heaving breaths are all that can be heard now, and you look up over your shoulder at your lover. His wisteria locks plastered to his head with sweat and you feel an intense surge of affection as he smiles at you.

“I think I very much like this reward,” He groans, easing his length out from between your sticky thighs.

You hum happily, pushing yourself up onto your knees and laying back against Clavis’ chest.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’m very proud of you Clavis. You truly are amazing.”

Taglist: @aquagirl1978 @queengiuliettafirstlady

#ikepri #ikemen prince #ikepri smut #ikemen prince smut #clavis lelouch #clavis lelouch smut #smut #nsft #ikepri clavis #ikemen prince clavis #ikepri clavis lelouch #kinktober #visions of temptation

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sshadowritestoriess · 1 year ago

Note

Hi hi, can I have some ramattra first time HC’s plzz ily it’ll actually make my week omg 🙏💖

Hiii I hope this is sufficient 🫶

Ramattra’s First Time

Outwardly, he wouldn’t seem nervous in the slightest despite it being clear he needs some guidance

He knows how it works, that much is obvious. But he heavily lacks an understanding on how important foreplay is, and that there’s more that can be done during sex than just rutting against one another— so you’ll just have to show him

You’ll likely have to ask him to slow down a couple of times, and after the third or fourth attempt to stop him from rushing into it, he’d eventually give up on taking the lead

“Now what?” Becomes a popular question when he’s checked off something to your liking.

He’s aware he needs to be gentle during such an intimate activity, a stark contrast to the typical brute force he exerts for most of his daily tasks. But he’s still partially rough in his first tries to touch you— you’ll just need to grab his wrist and tell him to be careful, and he’ll try again

But his excitement and steady rise in confidence will result in quicker and rougher movements now and again. So reminders, reminders. Else he may attempt to break you.

He’d definitely find some difficulty in being vulnerable, letting you touch him to get riled up was not something he had mentally prepared for. It’d be a whiplash of internal conflict over how terrifying it is (who would have thought he’d allow human hands poke and prod at him to elicit pleasure) and how nice it feels.

Omnics have far more control over the sounds they can produce and when. It doesn’t take much effort for Ramattra to stifle small noises of encouragement, but in such an exposed and trusting state it is extremely easy to catch him off guard. Dragging a nervous grunt out of him will make him raise a hand to cover his throat, where his vocalizer hides. (He didn’t know he could even make that sound.)

He’d be easily embarrassed if you compliment him on anything— how he looks, how well he’s doing. He thanks you every time very politely, but you can practically hear how bashful he is in the stammer of his tone, as much as he tries to hide it in his body language.

He’d have a preference for the ‘main event’ to be in missionary for his first time, so he can see your face and watch carefully to make sure he’s doing everything right.

He’d express his gratitude to you as he sinks in, agonizingly slow, for being patient with him and trusting an omnic of his model to be vulnerable with you. Maybe a bit cheesy, but he was mostly running words out to keep himself from rushing his full length in with a single shove. A self-induced distraction so he doesn’t harm you by accident.

He would invite you to keep your hands on his chest or the silver handles on his hips, just in case, to give him a small push if he does anything too rough. He was designed with heightened senses— even the smallest amount of deliberate pressure could be detected, so he’d know to take it down a notch.

But he’d do just fine when he starts thrusting, small and shallow rolls of his hips controlled by a surge of nervousness to perform well. He may even begin narrating what this feels like for him; “It’s… like I’m on fire.”

He’d become addicted to your warmth very quickly, hiking your ass higher and pulling your thighs further over his while he arches in closer to you, burying his faceplate into your shoulder and relishing in the way his sensors alerted him toward the rise in temperature.

He’d cage you underneath him with his arms, eerily quiet— focused— on how much warmer he could make you, already experimenting with angle of his hips as he slows his pace and rides into you with differing strokes.

And then your walls flutter around him and that would be the first time you hear him moan. This shaken, breathy sound that rumbles from his upper chest, and releases the air vents in his shoulders with a quiet hiss.

He’d notice your reaction to the sound instantaneously— not only seen in the reaction of your face, but additionally in the way your internals hug around him and nearly pull him back inside. He’d be elated that his voice could cause such a response, and he’d become a lot more noisy for you after that

Ramattra would find himself asking every so often “is this alright?”, and you may have to try and stay focused enough to be able to reassure him, or else he’ll stop. It’s hard to tell if he pauses because he’s worried when you don’t respond, or because he’s being smug knowing you can’t.

If you encourage him to try going faster, he might hesitate. But with further praise, he may comply, trying to be quicker while being just as gentle as before.

He’s an extremely quick learner, however. One correct response to anything he’s attempted is immediately memorized and saved, and he will try certain things again exactly as he had the first time to get the best reactions out of you. His first time quickly begins to seem like it’s his hundredth time, becoming an expert in just under ten minutes.

So quickly molded to your liking, trying things you would like, toying with your body like a plaything to earn more praise and encouragement. For Ramattra, it’s so much less about the euphoria he feels from you, and more about how long he can please you before you come undone.

But he still would like an orgasm, so he may get a little selfish toward the end of the exercise. He would whisper to you to please forgive him, pushing into you more rough than before, hammering wave after wave of pleasure into himself until he’s completely overwhelmed his systems.

You will literally have to brace yourself the first time he ‘cums’ inside you, his entire frame would tremble and shake while his limbs go rigid and lock up, until he eventually collapses on top of you with a deep sigh as he’s lulled into a brief unconscious state. But he would be up again in just a handful of seconds, and he’d apologize once more

And, being a machine with a nonexistent sense of stamina, he will make it up to you again and again if only you wish for it. Sex turned out to be a lot more fun than he had imagined, especially with a human, and he’d love nothing more than to show you how eternally grateful he is toward you for letting him play.

#overwatch #reader insert #overwatch2 #headcanons #ramattra #ramattra x reader #fluff #smut #ramattra overwatch #ramattra x listener #first time #sub ramattra #dom ramattra

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green-eyedfirework · 6 months ago

Text

Dick sighed as he dragged himself up the stairs, eyes dry and gritty. He hadn't slept properly all week and he finally, finally had a weekend off. All he wanted to do was sink into bed.

There were several downsides to not being a corrupt ass-kisser in the Bludhaven PD, and one of those was that his captain hated him. He was pretty sure Redhorn would love if he expired of exhaustion, but Dick wasn't going to give the bastard the satisfaction. He joined the police to do good, not take money and look the other way, and he wasn't going to let anyone bully him out.

Unfortunately for Redhorn, Dick was also damn good at his job, and overbooking his schedule was about the only thing the man could retaliate with.

It took him three tries to get the key in the lock--he was tired enough that his vision had started to go hazy, and every second he stayed slumped against the door increased his chances of falling asleep on his doormat--and he yawned jaw-creakingly wide as he stumbled inside.

Bed. He was so close to sleep. He didn't care if it was eight in the morning, that was what blackout curtains were for. He was just musing on whether he should choke down a microwave meal so he wouldn't wake up feeling like his stomach was trying to digest himself when he saw the guy with the gun.

Dick, three steps into his living room, froze.

The guy with the gun smiled. Before Dick could reach for his own gun, or drop to the ground, or let his sleep-deprived instincts catch up to the danger of the situation, his exhaustion-addled senses noticed the second guy with the gun. And the third. And the fourth, though this guy didn't have a gun pointed at Dick, he was just casually poking around Dick's bookshelf like breaking into a cop's home to examine his interior decorating was something he did on a casual Tuesday.

Was it even still Tuesday?

"Detective Grayson," the silver-haired asshole examining the pictures on his bookshelf said, not even turning to look at him. "Can I trust you not try anything stupid, or do you need to be disarmed?"

Dick's fingers twitched to his gun, but he didn't think he could unholster it and fire before the other three did, not with his current level of exhaustion. He mentally mourned the loss of his planned sleep. "Depends on why you broke in here," Dick said evenly. There was no cover between him and the door, so he couldn't even head out that way.

"If I meant to kill you, Detective Grayson, you'd be dead," the man said, finally turning around. "Come in and have a seat." One ice blue eye glittered dangerously. "Get comfortable. You look like you've had a long day at work."

Dick's heartbeat was pounding in his ears, everything abruptly clearer with the sudden surge of adrenaline. He did as he was told, crossing the room slowly and sitting stiffly on the sofa, never moving his gaze from the tall, broad, one-eyed man smirking at him.

"You have a lovely family," the man motioned to the pictures. "They seem very happy."

Dick resisted the urge to curl his hands into fists. "Is that a threat?" he asked as evenly as he could.

"A threat?" the man looked amused. "You're certainly very paranoid, Detective Grayson."

"One of the biggest mob bosses on the East Coast is holding me at gunpoint in my own apartment," Dick said tersely, "I think it's justified."

Slade Wilson shrugged, as if to say can't argue with that. He turned back to the pictures, as though he was studying them, and Dick went tenser.

Bruce was rich, he reminded himself. They had security. Tim was resourceful, Jason was destruction on two legs, and Dick pitied the poor fool that tried to kidnap Cassandra or Damian. They would be fine.

"No," Slade said finally, "it isn't a threat. Merely an observation. Family is important, isn't it?"

Dick forced his racing heart to slow down. "What are you doing here, Wilson?" he said, just shy of a growl. "Cut it with the cryptic bullshit."

Slade arched an eyebrow, but Dick didn't take it back. He was already being held at gunpoint in his own home, he wasn't sure his situation could get much worse.

"I came here," the mob boss said, "because I have a case for you--"

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"No," Dick repeated, keeping Slade's gaze even when he felt like flinching back at the dark scowl on his face. "My loyalty isn't for sale, Wilson. I'm not going to take your money, and I'm not going to be your lackey."

Instead of being met with a bullet to the head, Dick was met with, shockingly, a smile.

"I'm not asking you to do anything other than your job, Detective Grayson," Slade said, retrieving an envelope from his side pocket and tossing it onto the coffee table in front of Dick. "There's been a kidnapping--"

"Go to the station and file a missing persons report," Dick said evenly, not picking up the envelope.

"Unfortunately, circumstances require discretion," Slade said, expression darkening again.

"And half the department is in your pocket," Dick argued. He’d found that out the hard way when he’d been forced to watch as Grant Wilson strolled out of the interrogation room with a smirk. "Why did you decide to come to me?"

Slade was silent for a stretching moment, and then he sighed. "There's a traitor in my organization," he said plainly. "I don't know who it is, and unfortunately, that means there's very few people I can trust. In the absence of those whose loyalties may have been shifted," Slade pushed the envelope closer to him, "I decided to find a cop that was loyal to his job."

Dick kept Slade's intense gaze for a moment longer before reaching for the envelope. "I'm not going to do your dirty work," Dick reiterated, pulling out the papers inside. "If this person hasn't been kidnapped and doesn't want to be found, I'm not--" his words trailed off into empty air when he saw the photos.

A young girl, not yet a teenager, scowled at him in the first picture, hair the same color as the man she was sulking next to. The second, third, and fourth pictures showed the same girl, but tied up and gagged, her surroundings dark, looking up with wide, bright eyes at the camera.

"My daughter has been missing for five days. They've increased the ransom demand twice." Slade's expression is a mask of fury, but Dick can hear the desperation in his voice. "They're hurting her." Dick withdrew more papers, all the evidence that Slade had apparently collected. "I don't know who was involved, and I'm not going to risk my daughter's life on it. Can you find her or not?"

Dick looked again at the first person. 'Dad & Rose' had been scrawled on the back of it, and despite the sulking of the preteen, Dick could see her leaning into her father's side. "Yes," Dick said quietly.

"Great," Slade said. "You have twenty-four hours before the ransom drop." Wait, what? "And if anything happens to her, Grayson," Slade's expression was colder than ice, "I will ensure you share her fate. Do you understand?"

Dick swallowed and nodded.

~#~

Twenty-four hours.

The first thing Dick did once all the criminals were out of his apartment was set a timer. The second thing was to scarf down a microwave meal as he glanced through the evidence and wrote down preliminary thoughts. The third thing was to take a nap, because Dick was going to get nowhere on fumes.

Eight hours later, Dick felt marginally more human. Unfortunately, he was also a third down on his time limit, and most of his previous notes were utter gibberish.

Dick took a deep breath, put aside the indirect and direct threats of a mob boss that had broken into his home and held him at gunpoint--Dick was moving after this--and thought about this logically.

Rose Wilson had been kidnapped five days ago. The fact that she hadn't been found already meant that the mob's resources couldn't find her. Slade said that he hadn't contacted anyone in the police department, so police resources hadn't been exhausted. However, if Dick treated this like any other missing persons case, he ran the risk of tipping the kidnappers off and getting a bullet in the head.

Dick checked the time. Fifteen and a half hours left.

Maybe--maybe he was looking at this the wrong way. Slade had mentioned several offhand things--if they were all connected, that would give Dick a starting place.

So. Assume there was a traitor in the Wilson Family. Assume that they were working with corrupt cops. Assume that they had used police resources to snatch Rose Wilson.

Dick needed to get to the precinct.

He made it all the way to his building entrance before halting in the street. There was an expensive black car parked--illegally--right in front of him. One tinted window rolled down, and Dick met Grant Wilson's unamused expression.

"Get in," the other man ordered.

Dick wanted to point out that he didn't work for the younger Wilson, but getting into a shootout on a busy street seemed like a spectacularly bad idea. Plus, the clock was ticking.

"Where are you headed?" Grant asked, voice terse.

"Precinct," Dick responded warily, but all Grant did was nod and pull into traffic. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think, asshole?" Grant gave him a dirty look. "You spent nine hours in your apartment. Did you find Rose?"

Dick decided not to tell him that he'd been asleep. "Your father told me I had twenty-four hours until the ransom drop," Dick pointed out.

Grant jerked the car to a hard stop and turned to glare at him, eyes burning. "That's my baby sister that's missing, you fucking pig, so you're going to get one thing straight," he hissed, not noticing or not caring that Dick's hand had immediately gone to his gun. "If there is so much as a single hair missing from her head, I'm going to make personally sure that you regret it for the rest of your miserable and agonizing life, do. you. understand?"

Dick met his vitriol with artificial calm. "Was that supposed to incentivize me to work with you?"

Grant growled, actually growled, and Dick remembered that antagonizing the guy rumored to have a hair-trigger temper was not the smartest of plans.

"Look," he interrupted before Grant could speak, "I said I'd help, and I swear, I will do my best to find your sister. Which means going to the precinct to follow up on my lead, unless you think that being threatened is a better use of my time."

Grant's glare didn't diminish, but he did start the car again. Dick sat there in silence and wondered how the fuck he was supposed to explain this to anyone. Sorry, Internal Affairs, I was briefly held hostage by the Mob, but instead of reporting it, I investigated one of their cases and continued working with them. Redhorn would have a field day if he learned about this.

"So what's your lead?" Grant asked tersely.

Dick decided not to point out that they were going fifteen miles above the speed limit and answered the question. "I'm going to check if any of the cops have been investigating you guys recently. If you're worried about a traitor, I thought it was a good place to start."

Grant didn't seem to think so, between the mutters of "Jesus, did Dad tell you everything?" and "it took you nine hours to come up with that, genius?" but he dropped Dick off a street away from the precinct.

"Fifteen hours," he reminded Dick with a glower as Dick slipped out.

The precinct was marginally more tolerable. Dick made up an excuse that he needed to check something for a case, and it looked like most people bought it. Redhorn, of course, continued scowling at him from his office, but Dick ducked quickly into the records room, where it didn't take much to sweet-talk the sign-out list from the records keeper.

It turned out that there were a lot of people in here looking up records for cases Dick was pretty sure they weren't working on. But checking the sign-out list for the last month, there was only one who'd checked the Wilson Family open cases.

"Well, I always knew you were a bastard," Dick murmured, staring at Redhorn's name.

#my snippets #sladick #mob au #kidnapping

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genshindsau · 10 months ago

Text

Summary: A few months have passed since the war with one of your sisters had simmered down. Now with the bright lights and festivals taking place it almost seems like nothing happened. You were more than happy to watch from the window, not wanting to disrupt anyone but a certain consort couldn't allow that.

CW: Implications of war and threats to genshin characters (nothing happens), implied nsfw thoughts. Consort!Ayato, Empress!reader.

Taking in the bright sights around you, you mentally praised the work of your consorts. The sun had set, allowing the lanterns to shine and illuminate the streets. There were numerous food stands, drinks being offered, clothing and nonessentials being laid out. Each stand had people crowding around, aching to try the delicacies. Children were running down the streets, strings in one hand and sweets in the other. The atmosphere was lively and the people were overjoyed enough that they did not get nervous in your presence, though they still showed their respect by bowing their head towards you and your consorts.

You were originally not going to walk the street, happy enough to have watched the festival from your window. It wasn't until Ayato, who was the main one in charge of making sure that everything went smoothly with the festival, had come to see you. When he entered your room, he was wearing different clothing than usual. His hair was let down, beautiful blue hair framing his face along with a silver head piece resting on the crown of his head. The head piece was more festive than it was to show his position as consort. It has baby blue flowers interwoven with the silver and some blue gem dangling from the base to frame the side of his face.

"You look lovely," you praised him and watched as a beautiful smile graced his lips. It wasn't often you gave out genuine compliments and he couldn't help the pride that surged through him, his back straightening up as he practically preened under your gaze.

"Thank you, Your Grace. The clothing was gifted from the traveling merchants," his hands smoothed down the fabric as he talked.

"Well if you enjoy them so much, let me know that name of the merchants and we can work something out."

"I'll keep that in mind," He hesitated for a moment. "But that is not that reason I sought you out. "

You raised an eyebrow and took a sip from your goblet. The wine was delightfully flavored. Sweet but a gentle aftertaste. It was different from the usually wine you drank, more rare, which made sense why they took it out for the festival.

"I am heading down to the festival myself and I would like you to come with me," he had carefully planned and picked out his words before coming to meet you; knowing how important it was to say the right thing in order for you to agree with what he was about to ask. "This festival is done in order to show the prosperity of the land. It is to allow the people, your people, to celebrate their freedom and the fact that they can live out their lives the way they want."

"Mhh," You made a sound in the back of your throat to let him know that you were listening to him. Your gaze shifted to the window, looking down at all the people walking around. Families, couples, small children squealing happily as they took in all the new decorations. A sharp contrast to how it was just a few months ago.

"None of this would have been possible if it weren't for your actions,"

A scoff slipped past your lips. It wasn't in malicious intent nor was it to insult him in anyway but... it's been a rough few months. The planning, the sleepless nights, the dangers towards your harem members, ordering people to die for you, fighting, having to relive parts of your childhood that you really did not want to, all of it threw you in a mindset that was hard to get out of - even if its been just a few weeks ago.

"I know these past few months have been difficult. Everyone is trying to adjust from having to live on high alert to finally being able to live more comfortably." He walked up next to you as he gazed down the window as well. You could hear the residue stress in his tone and felt a tightness in your chest. Being a high level consort in the harem left him as a pretty popular target these past few months.

"It's a nice offer but I am more than capable on enjoying the festive from up here." You shrugged, moving away from the window. "Besides I think my presence may damper the mood."

You held no negative feelings on how your people view you. You have committed awful actions, not just in these past months but also multiple times throughout your life. It only makes sense that people would hold distain for you. You would actually be more distrustful with people who said they liked you after knowing what actions you've taken. In your position, being heavily liked isn't always the way to remain powerful - neither is being completely hated.

"I don't believe that," Ayato's voice distracted you from your thoughts. "Some may be apprehensive but that is just because they're not used to being around you. I am not saying to portray yourself as this all-caring and kind individual."

"Ouch," you deadpan at how he described you - though both of you know you really don't care.

His lips quirked upwards. "We both know that it would not be safe for most of the people who exist under your rule, if you did not have the… image you have. However, being viewed one way by your enemies and another by your allies would not necessarily be a terrible thing."

Unknowingly, you shake your head.

A sigh filled the air, one full of sympathy but also understanding as you didn't respond to his words. "I just wish that you would consider it." He wasn't getting to you. He could tell.

"Why is this so important to you?"

Ayato took a moment, silence filling the air.

"Is it really just to help boost morale," you set down your empty wine glass. "To offer some connection to people who I have no need to get close to - who have no reason to know who I am beyond what I let them know. It's easier - and safer - for the people to think of me as this cruel, callous person."

"yes," he cracked a smile. "but also no. Perhaps I would just like to spend this time with you," With one free hand, he wrapped it around your forearm in a delicate but firm grasp. Your lips quirked up as you looked at where his hand was clasping your arm. He's one of the rare ones who is brave enough to be so forward with you. "Let the both of us hear the praises personally while you view what we've accomplished."

"That's rather selfish." you quip back, no malice in your words.

"Well, I am selfish," he stated easily, no hesitation in his voice. "It's been so long since you've come to see me - since we've spent time just the two of us."

"There it is," with an amused quirk of your lips you turn to face him. "The truth of why you've come down here." Your hand pinches at his chin, your thumb caressing the skin, before softly tugging at his bottom lip. "Spare me all of your honey-coated words and save them for the people who would actually fall for them."

He lips tugged up at the corners. His tongue gently poked out of to flick at your thumb which was slowly caressing the soft muscle of his bottom lip. "I'll keep that in mind." He hushed out, his voice quieting due to the shift in the atmosphere. "But my words remain true."

"Do they?" You drop your hand from his face.

Even with the cloth wrapped around your head, Ayato can feel the piercing of your eyes into his. A shudder travels up his spine, his body shivering lightly. He focuses his gaze on your face, his eyes dropping to your lips and chin due to it being the one section of area that is not hidden from his view.

"Of course." He takes a step closer to you, the warmth of your body permeating into his. "So come with me." He tilts his head to the side, feigning an innocent look but there's a sly smile forming on his lips. "After everything I've done, how long I've waited, I think I deserve it."

You snort softly at his words. The subtle manipulation is perhaps not so subtle, not to you. He knows that as well. You can tell by the twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he leans his face closer to yours. "Please." He added on in a soft voice.

Gazing at him, you can tell why so many of the other nobles are entranced by him and fall for his words. He's good at his position. Good at manipulating weak-minded individuals into doing what he wants with his words and even his looks. Even you feel you well-developed walls dropping around him.

You suppose it wouldn't hurt. You can go out for five, maybe ten minutes before leaving, perhaps even managing to drag Ayato away for some time alone, away from prying eyes. You shake your head at that thought, ignoring the simmering of arousal in your gut as you can't help but imagine it - imagine him: sprawled underneath you, body bare and marked, covered in sweat, drool, and…

You clear your throat, refocusing on Ayato who was smirking softly, as if he knew your thoughts. He did.

You focus on the words he said earlier before you got lost in your own salacious thoughts. It would appease Ayato and his words actually have some merit to them. A sigh passes through your lips, your shoulder dropping and Ayato knew he won. Knew he wore you down.

He leaned forward, his face angling up a little as he stretched to press a soft kiss to the skin of your cheek, his lips barely brushing against you before he pulled back with a smile. He turned around, his robes flourishing behind him before you grab the back of his neck and drag him into a real kiss. "I'll see you at the entrance then. Five minutes."

#genshin au #consort au #empress au #genshin impact #genshin x reader #c:ayato #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #c:empress #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato #sub ayato #sub genshin #genshin impact au

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ilminnestrone · 4 months ago

Note

What do you think Genesis' childhood was like?

Genesis' adoptive mother had wanted him for a long time and had awaited his arrival with trepidation. So when the little one was placed in her arms, and she did not immediately feel a surge of unconditional love, she felt her blood run cold. How was that possible? He was her son, the only one she would ever have, and the much-vaunted maternal instinct had not exploded like all the other mothers in Banora had promised. Every night the baby cried for hours, inconsolable, and she cried too, as quietly as he was loud, rocking him without even looking at him. She really (really) tried. But every tiny scream was a knife through her chest, reminding her she wasn’t his actual mother.

Genesis showed signs of great intelligence early on, learning to speak and read before his peers. But he was smart enough to realise that he could only show it in ways his parents liked: in front of guests he was encouraged to express himself and show his maturity, but after every important dinner he was asked why he said that sentence or how he came up with that story. He soon learned that it was better to smile, ask permission to get up and go to his room to read. He could not make a fool of himself, for that would be his parents fault.

Speaking of dinners: he was accustomed to fine foods from an early age, and he developed an excellent palate for his age. That came with a nice share of diet culture too, of course, with his mother telling him to eat less not to get fat and his father telling him to eat more because he was too small. Junk food was strictly forbidden in his home, so much so that on his first night in Midgar he literally dragged Angeal to the filthiest burger place in town. The first bite was like being born again, and Geal had to tell him to stop moaning.

He never lacked for material things. Every toy or fashionable dress was bought on the day it was released. As soon as Genesis was old enough to have his own tastes, he was given any gadget that interested him. By the time he was fourteen, he owned practically the entire Silver Elite merchandising department. Anything was fine as long as it was heavily gendered: Genesis' father was very particular about colours and themes. Blue, black, brown and grey were masculine colours. Period. So when he was twelve, he stole a lipstick from his mother for the sole reason that it was red: he wore it just once, in front of the mirror, in the middle of the night, and it felt like a revolution. That night he decided to let his hair grow.

When he got old enough to hang around by himself, Angeal became his whole world. They climbed every single tree in Banora and swam every inch of the river together. They spied on girls bathing, and that’s when Genesis realised their opinions on the matter probably diverged.

One day he came home with a flute. He had already learnt some simple tunes by practising down by the river. His father took it away and asked him where he had got such an object, and he answered honestly: "Gillian Hewley gave it to me”. It was the only time his father ever slapped him, calling him a homophobic slur. When he tried to drag him by his hair, telling something about its length, Genesis laughed. He laughed for hours, hysterically. His father never dared to touch him again. He was thirteen.

#ask #rottenpumpkin13 #headcanon #ff7 #final fantasy vii #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #crisis core #genesis rhapsodos

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sourlemonsprout · 3 months ago

Note

Can you please write Leon(any version) encountering an ex-coworker! Reader that went missing, as a Mr. X or Nemesis-like B.O.W?

A part of B.O.W! Reader still remembers Leon from their past. Instead of trying to kill him, they protect him from zombies and other B.O.Ws. Basically they act as a sort of bodyguard.

Leon Kennedy x B.O.W Reader (gn)

I had a lot of fun writing this one! Thanks for the req!

Word Count: 716

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Every muscle in Leon's body was screaming. He wasn't sure how many more of these undead monsters he could take on. He'd been at this mission for hours, unable to get a breath of rest in. At this point, his body was moving on instinct, lashing out and dodging each threat that lunged at him. His mind chugging along, trying desperately to hold onto important mission info.

Off to the side, just out of Leon's line of vision, a cold, decaying hand shot out from the shadows and gripped his shoulder. He felt the putrid breath of the zombie on the back of his neck, its teeth just inches away from his skin. With a surge of adrenaline, he clamped down on its arm draped over his front side, dropped his weight, and with a grunt, threw the creature over his shoulder, its back hitting the concrete ground with a solid thud. He drew a knife from his side, clutching it tightly in his right hand. With one wide stride, he crushed its shoulder under his foot. Unintelligible gargling and screeches fell from the creature's mouth as it clawed up at him. Leon readjusted his grip on the knife as he raised it over his head, in a flash of silver, he plunged the blade deep into its skull, and the screeching stopped.

He let out a sigh of exhaustion. Just as he thought the area was cleared, he heard a mixture of groans, hissing, and shuffling. A sudden shower of sparks from a nearby electrical line revealed a sizable undead hoard approaching.

I can't stay her-

Suddenly, a loud boom followed by the crumbling of bricks just behind Leon shook the ground. He spun his head around to see a large humanoid figure emerging from the dusty rubble behind him.

Fuck

It paused for a moment, and the flickering lights and fire from the surroundings cast an eerie glow upon its glassy greyish skin. It tilted its head upward, revealing piercing cloudly white eyes that locked onto Leon. He felt his heart drop to his stomach. Despite the ghoulish complexion, abnormally intense muscles, and claw-like hands, Leon recognized it.

It was you.

You no longer remember how long you've been like this, days were starting to blend together. It feels like ages since they'd captured you and injected you with whatever serum or virus that turned you into this monstrosity.

How can that be? I thought they were d-

But Leon's train of thought was abruptly cut off once again, his attention snapped back to the hoard, which was dangerously close at this point. The air crackled with tension, he didn't have enough strength or ammo to deal with either threat. He was trapped.

"Shit" he hissed.

It was like your mind was in a different body, vaguely aware of everything happening, yet powerless to stop or interfere with any of it, until now. There was a sudden clarity as you gazed upon Leon's blood and dirt-covered body. He needed help.

You picked up a large metal bar from the rubble surrounding you and stepped forward. Leon clutched his knife tighter, convinced this was the end. But much to his surprise, you strolled right past him.

You drew the metal bar back and paused for a moment, looking back at Leon, you gave him a small nod, then turned back to the zombies just several feet in front of you. With one powerful swing, you whipped out a whole row of them, beads of black goopy blood, and brain bits slowly dripped from the bar, staining the dry ground beneath you. Leon stepped backward, finally catching his breath as he watched you take out the hoard, these creatures were no match for your brute strength and stature.

He wasn't sure what series of events led you to this state you were in, and it pained part of him to know that he wasn't able to save you on that last mission you shared together, but he was grateful for your protection, and the opportunity to escape. He glanced back at you one last time, unsure if he'd ever see you again, but he silently vowed that if he did, he would help find a way to return you to your original self. No matter what.

═════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ══════

To be continued...

#resident evil #RE #resident evil fic #resident evil fandom #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #B.O.W #req #sourlemonsprout

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viviennevermillion · 1 year ago

Text

ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴅᴀʏ...

❝ someday these dreams will all be real, still then we'll wish upon the moon. change will come, one day... some day soon. ❞ — the hunchback of notre dame

notes: for @briarvalleyarchives 'anthems of old' event. set during halloween.

contains: malleus x gn!reader, reverse hurt/comfort, ambiguous relationship

warnings: none

It was rare to see the young prince of Briar Valley on his own during an occasion that he had been invited to. The wind was strong today, blowing past the rafters of Ramshackle Dorm like the storm in Malleus's heart, leaving a creaking sound behind that made him once more wonder for how long the building had been here and muse about the souls that wandered through its halls, finding comfort in the walls that sheltered them and dreaming of something out there that they had yet to find. Even before the mysterious prefect from another world moved in here, this house had been somebody's home, albeit it may be hard to imagine for the children of man who had only just been brought into this life, compared to how long Malleus's people had roamed this world. Truly, if one were to look at it from their perspective, it was easy to see only an abandoned building, threatened to fall apart during the next rainstorm. But if there was one thing that Malleus had learnt to be privy to both fae folk and mankind, was that the things they left behind in this world; the crafts and projects one had poured their heart into, may persist long after one is gone, even against all odds, to see another day in a brighter future.

Therefore, Malleus mused, turning the invitation letter to the Halloween committee meeting in his hands absentmindedly, we must cherish them. Anger and disappointment surged through him once more as he remembered the trespassers from the previous day, intruding upon these grounds with no concern to the students who lived in this dorm. The dragon fae let out a sigh, looking down onto the vibrantly decorated front lawn. He had picked Ramshackle Dorm as the location for Diasomnia's Halloween venue. Did he bring this upon Yuu and Grim?

Maybe partially. Still, he never could have imagined the audacity of those "Magicam Monsters". Even Lilia seemed surprised, and he had traveled countless of lands and met an abundance of people. Maybe this was just one of those things that represented the distance between the children of men and the dark fae, one he wasn't sure would ever truly be bridged. Malleus's attendance of Night Raven College represented so much more than just the crown prince's education. It was a first step of connecting with the human world that was so foreign to him as a member of the royal family; of reaching out and seeking understanding after years of war and conflict had wreaked the lands and seemingly eternal silence had followed. Lilia had told him that maybe one day, fae and humans would walk hand in hand again. An endeavor that, for now at least, seemed to Malleus like the task of millennia. Was he going to be the one to achieve this? Malleus remained in doubt.

He had been looking forward to these festivities. A Halloween celebration that welcomed everyone from all over the world; getting to know the traditions and customs of other lands when it came to this important festival. It was a privilege for Malleus, a once-in-a-lifetime experience that was not meant to last or to be repeated. He had welcomed the visitors with excitement and kindness, looking forward to sharing this holiday with them and letting them enjoy the results of everyone's hard work. And yet...

Malleus remembered how the humans had treated him once he stepped in to assist Sebek and Silver with the trespassers. He didn't know whether this 'Draconia Challenge' had stemmed from bravery.... or stupidity. Either way, it felt like sheer disrespect to his person. There was guilt in his heart when he looked at the invitation. It was such a rare and special occasion to be invited like this by the other students, yet in his heart he knew he had to take a break from the whole ordeal, lest his impulsivity get the better of him. He wouldn't want to cause trouble for his fellow students.

"The famous wizard, Malleus Draconia, whom everyone is afraid of. If I take a picture of myself touching something like that, I will feel like I completed a legendary achievement."

Was this truly how people looked at him? Were most simply too terrified to voice it? Or was he, to them, like a curiosity to be gawked at? Once Malleus's unbridled rage had subsided, the comments left a bitter taste in his mouth, making him second-guess the way people perceived him. He'd be foolish to believe that his incredible magic power and his status as the prince of an isolated fae nation wouldn't alienate him from the human youths, but was it this bad?

"Hey, look, it's an old-fashioned bicycle"

He remembered the foolish man who had grabbed his horns and caused his temper to spiral out of control, almost causing an interspecies conflict then and there. Malleus remembered how Silver had tried to keep the humans away from him for their own safety. Malleus felt disrespected and wronged because of the Magicam Monsters. He felt frustrated because he saw that his attendants didn't trust him to handle the situation on his own... and ashamed, because they were right. In that moment he had felt the farthest from that dream of a united world that Lilia had spoken of. Malleus was the one who would represent his people in the future; the peace between humans and fae would partially rest on his shoulders, more so than it did already. And yet... he had almost compromised it yet again. Thunder echoed across the island once more as he thought about that moment.

"Hey, how are you holding up?", a voice disrupted his thoughts. The thunder seized when Malleus looked up at you, trying to figure out what to do with your legs and arms to make sure you'd be able to sit down next to him without risking to fall off the roof. "I just need some time to cool off", he spoke calmly, not wanting to let you see the full extent of his distress, "I hope I didn't frighten you." You shook your head.

"I won 5000 madol from the school newspaper for accurately predicting the weather."

At least something, Malleus thought, slightly amused at your statement.

"If you'd rather be alone right now, do not hesitate to tell me", you reached into your backpack to pull out a small bag of candy, "I still thought that no one should have to spend Halloween alone. I got these at Sam's shop, would you like to share? We could watch a Halloween movie too. They don't expect me at the stamp rally today, so if you want to, we could spend some time."

Malleus gave you a soft smile. "I would like that", he reached into the bag of candy that you held out to him, pulling out a pumpkin-shaped treat, "it would probably help to get my mind off things. And I've never actually seen a movie before."

"What's going through your head right now?", you asked out of curiosity, wrapping your arms around your knees and looking at Malleus's face in anticipation of his answer. "I was simply wondering whether fae and humans could ever see eye to eye and come to an understanding. If we could be neighbors and friends like Lilia wishes." "Well, one thing is for sure, if we watch all parts of Pumpkin Knight, you'll already convince one of them", you chuckled, thinking back to Idia's rant about his favorite Halloween movie.

Malleus chuckled too, before returning to his thoughts from before, looking up at the sky. "Am I truly that terrifying to people?", he mumbled quietly. Your heart broke seeing him like this. You missed that confident smirk on his face whenever he would try to tease you; although you knew that this mood was a long time coming, especially with the events that had transpired during the past few days.

"Man sees in the world what he carries in his heart", you mused, leaning back and following the prince's gaze, "are the things we fear truly objectively dangerous and scary, or isn't what we really fear more often than not our own limitations... our weaknesses and shortcomings... our lack of ability to adapt?" Malleus thought about your words, having to admit that there was some truth to it. "I don't think you're scary. I think you represent uncertainty to a lot of people and they don't know how to approach that", you theorized, "was it not similar for you when you left Briar Valley?"

Malleus thought back to the day that he received his admittance letter to Night Raven College. Indeed, leaving his homeland and coming to this primarily human-populated community took courage and it did make him unsure. Not exactly terrified, but unsure without a doubt. He mused that a group of humans just showing up in Briar Valley one day would cause quite the commotion as well. He remembered Lilia telling him about how the Zigvolt's neighbors reacted when word spread that their eldest daughter was going to marry a child of man. Memories of the war and the depression and grief that followed it like a shadow were brought up in light of such a joyous occasion as an engagement.

Especially to such a long-lived race as the fae, the distant past was like a deep scar struggling to heal and each time the lines between those two different worlds that Malleus had now experienced first-hand were blurred, it was like the wound opened and bled a little once more. He felt that internalized disdain and suspicion towards the human race everytime there was a royal gathering and everytime someone brought up his parents. He, too, hadn't been untouched by it growing up. Images flashed his mind of the rainy days, the loneliest of the year, where he had snuck out of the castle to visit his parents' grave. To get a moment alone with them; without a horde of guards or his grandmother on his heels.

Malleus didn't have many memories of his early childhood but he knew that there had been many moments where he had wondered why the children of men had taken his parents from him. How unfair it was, that he had to grow up alone like this. What was so important about this conflict that they had to die? That families were torn apart and homes destroyed?

Malleus, after centuries mostly spent within the walls of his castle, was, albeit cautious, excited to go to this school. But he could also sense his grandmother's fear when she had sent him off to these foreign lands that they remained so out of touch with that even they, as members of the royal family, were unfamiliar with the recent history of many nations across the world. Even knowing how strong he was and that he was accompanied by such reliable guards never eased her concerns. Malleus couldn't blame her, either.

"I suppose many of my kin feel the same about meeting children of men as the latter do about meeting a dragon fae like me", Malleus let out a sigh, "it is a pity how far apart we seem even living on the same campus because of those misunderstandings that persist from bygone times." You nodded. "To answer your question", Malleus continued, "I was not afraid of coming here but I was wary, too. It did take some courage."

You thought about his words for a moment, making note of his thoughtful expression and the way he seemed off in his own world, trying to make sense of the ideas in his mind and the feelings in his heart. "And...have your feelings changed?", you asked, absentmindedly brushing a strand of hair out of his face. Malleus looked up at you with a surprised expression on his face. "Pardon", you apologized when it dawned on you that you hadn't even noticed you did this. A smile grazed Malleus's features. "Heh. I do not mind."

He plopped another candy into his mouth, giving you a glimpse of his sharp fangs. He thought about the countless attempts at fearmongering he became witness to in Briar Valley when the topic of human civilization came up. How their society was described to him in comparison to his own perception of it. "I suppose it did", he answered carefully, still lost in thought, "there's a great divide between our people, and yet many of the things that we concern ourselves with are the same for the children of men. We may not be able to understand each other for a long time, but we care about our families and we're able to enjoy lively celebrations and gargoyles..."

You didn't have the heart to tell him in this moment that gargoyles were more of a... niche interest.

"That's a good way of looking at it", you smiled softly, giving Malleus's hand an encouraging squeeze, "and it's a start. This Halloween is a celebration that we all can enjoy, despite our differences. Don't let a few outliers dishearten you. Focus on the good things. Remember, there was a little boy who wanted to take a photo with you on the first day of Halloween week and excitedly showed it to his father. And on the last day, we'll have this big parade and share candy with everyone."

Malleus smiled at the thought of that. These moments weren't anything the tales about the children of man in Briar Valley made him think of. They were something new and special that he had to see with his own eyes to learn to cherish. And maybe one day it would be the same for the humans. Maybe someday he could show his world to them and they would find as much wonder in it as he did in theirs. He had to ask you to visit his homeland when you had time to do so; he'd make sure to show you around personally.

"Do you think I will one day see a world where humans and fae will understand each other?", the thought still seemed so far and unlikely to Malleus now. He was surprised by the confidence in your answer. "Definitely", you nodded, "you will live for thousands of years and this world changes faster with every passing day. And with it, the people who live on it grow too with the generations. When there's a moment where the rulers of other nations will dine at the same table with the court of Briar Valley and laugh together, I'm sure that you will be to see it."

Malleus chuckled. "That seems like millennia from now."

"It could be", you laughed, "sure feels like it sometimes." You listened to the sound of a tile falling from the roof of Ramshackle Dorm and shattering on the ground below. "I suppose the world is a little bit like this dorm." "How so?", Malleus asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's old, flawed... scarred and changed by tragedies from long ago. Sometimes things seem so bad that the next big storm feels like a disaster it can't come back from. But we still add things to it and repair what has been broken. Change is subtle, barely noticeable at times. But one day you'll wake up and notice that the roof has stopped leaking and the windows aren't cracked and birds aren't building any more nests in your bedroom."

Malleus laughed while simultaneously cringing a little at the state of this dorm, considering there were students living here.

"So the whole world is a little like an abandoned building", Malleus looked up and you sighed upon seeing the delight in his eyes. Undoubtedly he had slipped back into what you liked to call the "Malleus tunnel vision", a state of mind he entered when someone brought up ruins or gargoyles or dragons. "Not the conclusion I wanted you to come to", you chuckled, "but it's not abandoned. It won't be for as long as there are people looking to make it a better place."

Malleus watched the sun rise above the ocean. "I'll do my best to contribute", he promised quietly, closing his eyes and feeling the wind blow through his hair. "I know you will", you smiled and rested your head on his shoulder, enjoying the peaceful morning before the stamp rally would begin once more, "but that also means not making things worse if someone knocks down a pillar in the house. So tone it down a little with the lightning and the magic."

"I'm sorry for that", Malleus said, disappointed in himself for how he handled that situation yesterday. He leaned his head against yours. "Let's just enjoy this day together, take some time off from the whole fiasco and hope that the improvements in the future will outweigh the disasters", you suggested with a peaceful smile on your face. "That sounds nice", the dragon fae admitted, gently wrapping his tail around your waist.

Maybe a little faith wasn't misplaced here. Everyone in Twisted Wonderland had a habit of taking a step forward and two steps back, yet in the end, they were still moving forward steadily. Malleus reminded himself to not let his temper get the better of him; to not add upon the destruction and instead focus his efforts on nurturing his dorm and his country and to repair what had been broken, however long it may take. And who could know what the future would bring? Maybe that vision of Lilias, that had seemed like a fever dream to Malleus just 24 hours ago, was already in motion.

Change would come. One day... someday... soon.

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x you #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus draconia #malleus #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus x y/n #malleus draconia headcanons

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sebastianravkin · 8 months ago

Text

Another Book Recommendation for 2024

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

Seems obvious and possibly pointless for the Tumblr audience, but hear me out.

CONTENT WARNING: mention of dark moments in LGBTQ+ history. If you would like to avoid, skip Point #1.

The below notes reflect a discussion concerning the book Good Omens I had with a group of my undergraduate interns over a couple of lunches last semester. Given that they all loved the show, I had assumed they had all read the book. Not all of them had, and for those that did, their knowledge of when the book was originally published and an understanding of its historical context was surprisingly limited. I thought that others may be interested in these points, and so am sharing them here.

1) *SKIP TO AVOID CONTENT WARNING* To understand the impact of Good Omens when it was published in 1990 on the LGBTQIA+ community, it helps to understand the cultural environment at the time of its publishing, at least in the United States.

The book came out towards the end of the height of the AIDS epidemic (1981 - early 90s). I can not stress enough how terrifying this was for the LGBTQIA+ community to live through. People were afraid - of dying, of watching loved ones die, of being separated from their loved ones as they died, of being ostracized, of being denied medical help, of being attacked and beaten. While there was a short fluorescence of nominal acceptance of the LGBTQIA+ community during the 1970s, the societal response to the AIDS epidemic was a huge step backwards. People became cruel(er), whether out of fear or ignorance or opportunity.

Good Omens came quietly onto the scene during this time, providing an alternate universe in which a gay-presenting angel (and his gender-fluid demon friend) could live in a world without the AIDS crisis. At the same time, this angel did live in fear of his world literally ending, and really would like to have just gotten back to his comfy chair and his Regency silver snuffboxes. Escapism reading at its best, really.

In addition, the book was published in 1990, so before many of the cultural moments that helped lead to social change but are now taken for granted. Such as . . . .

-Freddie Mercury died of AIDS in November 1991 (which, by the way, means there was a very short window of time where people were reading Good Omens while he was still alive).

-Sir Elton John came out in 1992

-“Don’t ask, don’t tell” became official policy of the U.S. Military in 1993 (finally repealed in 2011)

-the establishment of LGBTQIA+ centers on college campuses surged in the mid-1990s

-Ellen came out on her show in 1997

-Will and Grace first aired in 1998

-Matthew Shepard was murdered in 1998 (the Federal Hate Crimes Prevention Act bearing his name was not passed until 2007).

2) The book is queer coded for 1990. As queer coded as the show is for current times.

I have heard multiple comments from GenZ students along the lines of ‘there is nothing queer about the book’, and I have read commentary that Neil Gaiman caved to fan pressure in modernizing the script for the show. But I have also heard comments from GenX peers, including one of whom said “it was the gayest book I read in the 90s”. I have highlighted 15 passages in my teaching copy of the book that would have been queer-coded in 1990, 12 of which would go unnoticed today as far as I can tell based on discussions with many of my Millennial and GenZ students.

It is important to keep in mind that the vocabulary of the 1980s and 90s relating to the LGBTQIA+ community was exceedingly limited; Mr. Gaiman and Sir Pratchett worked within this limited vocabulary, and were working within the stereotypes of the times, to portray Crowley and Aziraphale. And readers are meant to love them. Possibly more importantly, the derogatory comments concerning Aziraphale come from unlikable characters, and so the reader not only ends up feeling defensive of the angel but also does not want to be associated with those who hold negative opinions of him. I can think of few better ways to create social change.

In terms of the show adaptation, whenever I watch a movie or show based on a book, my first concern is whether or not the adaptation makes me feel the way the book did. I am not an artist, so I do not know how one translates the written to the visual and I do not envy those attempting to do so. But I do know that successful adaptations are almost never a one-to-one translation. What I can say in this context is that, to me, the show does feel like the book in terms of its themes, its humor, its timely social commentary. So whyever and however Mr. Gaiman updated it, I would argue it was successful.

3) It is my understanding that Good Omens is the first book written by cisgendered heterosexual males for a general audience that portrays a gay-presenting character and a gender-fluid character as main characters in a positive light that does not end in a tragic way. This is huge. This is Captain Kirk and Uhuru’s kiss huge.

Historically, LGBTQIA+ people rarely get positive representation in mainstream media. Rather, LGBTQIA+ characters in literature were often portrayed as villains in early writing, and are often used as comedic relief in more recent work. When there is a sympathetic main character, their story usually ends in tragedy. While tragic stories are very much a reality for many LGBTQIA+ people, it is incredibly important to also have stories that do not end in heartbreak or death. And it is also incredibly important for LGBTQIA+ characters to be part of the norm in main stream story telling as this leads to broader social acceptance. Good Omens provided LGBTQIA+ readers with a sense of belonging in the greater world, while ‘normalizing’ the happy existence of LGBTQIA+ people to a broader readership. This type of representation, presented by heterosexual white cisgendered male authors (at the top of the power structure in 1990) is a key moment in the slow but steady grind leading to social change.

In summary, read the book. Whether you are a fan of the show or not, and regardless of your generation, this book has a lot going for it. Above and beyond its importance to the LGBTQIA+ community, the book includes broader commentary on religion, good vs. evil, right vs. wrong, and identity in general. The menacing humor of Gaiman and the loving satire of Pratchett is a combination that is unequaled. The book is funny, thought-provoking, well-written, and has a lot of great characters above and beyond a particular angel and demon (who are only in about 1/3 of the book). And as you read it, understand its historical context, and love it for the role it played in getting us to this cultural point in time.

#good omens #evelyntyler #books #books and reading #book reccomendation #neil gaiman #terry pratchett

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