#i guess we all know how good it feels to be praised by a teacher lol

[linusbenjamin]

jesse “uwu” pinkman.

[millerscoffee]

Hello!! 🤍 I was wondering if you could write something where Joel is the reader’s college professor, and then Prof. Miller INSISTS that reader comes over to his home for tutoring assistance, (because of failed tests or bad essays), and then finally coaxes her into letting him have his way with her.

hi nonnie! here it is! i hope you enjoy 💖

extra credit

6.2k | joel miller x afab!reader (professor!joel au)

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: professor!joel au, age gap (joel is 46, reader is 21), soft!dom joel, pining, consensual sex, pet names (darlin', doll, baby), oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, piv (unprotected, wrap it folks), squirting, joel spitting over the reader's ass for 0.5 seconds (OOPS IDK???), a pretty dress with easy access, hints of after care, spoiler: honestly prof. miller could've told reader to just do the paper in a different format but – that's the point 🤭

When you picked your major, English was a necessary credit needed to achieve your goals.  It wasn’t your strong suit, but you weren’t one to quit just because you were bad at it.  So far you were coasting through, getting a mix of good and bad grades in your English Lit class when the last essay before finals was presented.

Among the crowd in Professor Miller’s lecture hall, you typically sat in the front.  He hands out papers, hovering by your desk.  Giving you a look of disapproval, he places the grade face down.  You peel the pages in anticipation, a sense of dread falling over you when you scan the big, red mark of failings.  “Shit,” you say to yourself.  That was it.  That was the grade that was the defining factor of whether or not you had to retake this course.  You use the side of your hand to wipe sneaky tears in falling.  You failed.  Doing your best to keep it together, you’re not sure you even heard the rest of the lecture from the possibilities running through your mind.  What were you to do?  How would you recover?

Class was over before you knew it.  The sounds of bags zipping and feet stepping, you stayed seated until you were able to look over to Professor Miller.  Dressed in black slacks, a brown button-up with leather shoes.  His hair was slick, the slightest bit of salt and pepper patched at his sideburns.  He looked like he had it all figured out, and that struck a nerve.  A feeling of jealousy that he knew what he was doing, and you obviously did not.

Professor Miller calls your name when the class is emptied, and you sniffle, standing up to straighten your skirt.  Your manicured nails pick up your essay as you walk over in an attempt to hand it to him.  “I guess you want this back,” you hold your full bottom lip between your teeth.

“Did you read the material?”  Professor Miller inquires, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  His voice is so dark and honied in comparison to his scowl.  Proving not to judge a book by its cover.  The irony.

“Well, I did, but… I struggle with this stuff.  Predicates and imagery?  I’d rather be learning about biology.  But I need this course, you know.  And I…,” you swallow hard.  God, the last thing you want is to embarrass yourself in front of your teacher.  He doesn’t know you, out of the hundreds of people he teaches – how could he possibly even remember your name?

“Hey,”  Professor Miller takes his glasses off, putting them on the table.  He looks as concerned as you are over it and crosses his arms.  Keeps his distance.  “It happens, you know.  There are things we can do to accommodate.  You’re very bright, I’d hate to see you fail.  You have options.  I can’t let you rewrite the paper, but I could tutor you for your final.  Another option is getting a student tutor, but it’s rare.  You know the workload of this university.  Not a lot of people are willing to sacrifice their precious time.”

“And you are?”  You look up at him with grateful, bright eyes and he loves it.  The praise just from your stare alone is cause for him to clear his throat.

“Listen, for someone like you, I believe it is important to help.  You just need a little more time understanding what you’re doing, is all.  I’m not in my office for the rest of the weekend, though.  You’d have to come by my house…,”  he watches those pretty eyes widen again, and that makes a smirk fall over his greying features, “if that’s okay, of course.  If it’s not, we could work something else out.”

You think about it.  You’ve never had a teacher invite you over, much less someone who looked the way he did.  Though, that was neither here nor there.  His lips formed words you couldn’t even pay attention half the time in hearing.  Maybe that was part of the reason why you were failing in the first place.  But you needed to pass, and if he could help you – and was so kind enough to do it in the first place, you should jump at the first opportunity.

“Okay.  Is there a particular time you’d like me to be there?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

What the fuck. That makes your heart race.  Tonight?  Tonight?!  Ton–

“Tonight… tonight is good.”  How did you even form the words?

“Perfect,” he started, bending down to write his address on a sticky note – his cologne wafts in your direction, and you clamp your legs shut reflexively.  “Here’s my address.  7 o’clock.”

“Seven.  Okay… thank you, Professor Miller.”

“Please, call me Joel.”  His teeth gleamed in a smile, and his personality shined through it.

A personality you didn’t get to see too often from your position behind a desk.

Shit.

---

According to your phone, he didn’t live very far from campus, and you were able to walk to his house without breaking too much of a sweat.  You decided on a black dress, although it was a casual one, that paired nicely with your sneakers.  It had buttons down the front with a relaxed collar.  Your bag slung over your shoulder when you knocked on his door, a nervousness fluttering in your stomach.  It was such a weird thing, meeting your professor in his home.  Much less having him request you call him by his first name.

Your knees all but buckled when you saw him on the other side of the door.

He looks… young in his jeans.  His t-shirt stretched over the broadness of his shoulders, but it’s still loose enough that it doesn’t look ill-fitted.  His stomach, soft at the bottom.  You flash him a smile, but internally you’re reeling over how casual he looks.  You’d never seen him like this, not even during those school meetings that were informal.

“Hey, you,” he’s bright, too.  Charismatic as he invites you into his home.  Takes your bag, lets you take your shoes off until you’re in your socks.  His words hit your stomach, how easy it is for him to talk to you like you’re the brightest sunflower.  What’d you even do to deserve it?

“Hi, Prof– uh, Joel,” you titter, taking in the curated decor of his home.  It was sophisticated, yet a little cheesy at the same time.  His alumni cover his walls and a mix of pictures.  Some with a couple of young girls you assumed were his children.  He has children, you swallow.

“Wasn’t too hard to find this place, right?  When I moved here, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t too far – not much of a mornin’ person,” Joel laughs and you do, too.  Fuck, this feels so easy.  But it’s nothing – it’s nothing.

What you don’t pick up on right away is his open body language.  He places your bag on his couch and you follow him like a puppy – he likes that.  You look so soft under the sienna hue of his lights, your hair falling into place naturally.  Plump and ripe for the taking.  Of course, he meant it when he said he’d tutor you, but the air got thick the moment the door was shut behind the two of you.  What were you doing to him?

Joel’s large frame walks over to his bar cart, turning on his heel to face you, “Interested?”

“Huh?” You blink and he laughs again at your deer caught in the headlights expression.  You’re cute.

“Do you drink?”

“Oh, uh… water would be nice.”

“Water it is,” Joel’s pleasant, gesturing his hand for you to follow him.  And you do – that puppy he was coming to know, right to his kitchen.  You study the marble countertops, the farmhouse style kitchen sink.

“So, tutoring,” he starts, taking a glass from the cupboard, he fills it with filtered water before handing it to you – you thank him with a nod, “I was thinking we could look at your paper, and then go over how to fix things in the future?”  When you take the water from him, your fingers graze.  The first sign of contact, your head continues to nod unthinkingly, but all that scorches your mind is how his skin feels.

“That sounds good,” you overcompensate, shoving the ideas from your mind.  He was your teacher, and it was easy to get back into the mode of why you were here.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change much, still the same grin with hooded eyes and wrinkles at his forehead.  The two lines between his brow.  “Alright, well I have it on the coffee table.  Let’s get settled on the couch, and we’ll get started, okay?”

So you agree.  You take your glass of water and follow him back to the couch where everything was set up – your paper, his laptop.  All of the correction marks in your face as you sit down.  You take another sip of water before placing it down on the coaster.  You dread it, you really do.  Going over your failures?  You scrunch your nose up to yourself, but Joel notices when you’re both settled on the cushions.

“You know, Voltaire said, ‘perfect is the enemy of good’,”  Joel bends his knee on the couch, thigh pressing into the cushion to turn to you and it causes the couch to shift.  The quote makes you giggle a little to yourself, and you shake your head.  “What?” His eyebrow quirks in curiosity.

“Voltaire also popularised the story of Newton’s apple, doesn’t make it true.”

“Huh…,” Joel trailed off, keeping his eye on you – his tongue skating over his bottom lip in thought.  You were so quick all he could really do was laugh, and that made your shoulders relax.  Makes you feel more in control and comfortable to laugh at yourself.  “You got an answer for everything?”

“Not everything.  See this,” you pick up your paper, thumbing over the ink of corrections the man on the couch made and you shrug, “I don’t really understand why this got marked wrong.”  Joel’s gaze flashes over your mouth when your teeth press into the plushness of your bottom lip – he should be given some damn award for having so much self control around you.

“Wrong format.  This citation works for your research papers, right?”  He nods with you before leaning in closer, that damn cologne coming back in full force just like earlier in the day.  You all but freeze when his warm touch graces you again – this time, fingers tracing over where you’re holding the paper.  “Oh,” your voice is soft, a bit of disappointment pangs at your ribs.  You were so busy you didn’t even realise that was the majority of the issues you had.

“So… it’s not really what I wrote, it’s how I wrote it?  You asked if I read the material?”

“Exactly.  If you read the syllabus, you’d see the required format.  Listen, there are some ways for extra credit, I do think this is salvageable.”

You suddenly feel silly.

You did all that work, Professor Miller was kind enough to let you into his home, and it was all for some redundant formatting.  An open palm curls over your chin as you look at the paper in deep contemplation.

“I really fucked up,” you say, hushed in the space.

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” you manage an exhale of amusement at the sound of your teacher curse.  You shift your gaze to look at him.  The curls at the nape of his neck, the way his t-shirt dropped enough so you could see his neck, his chest.  The freckles that splayed over his aged skin.  “You just needed someone to tell you what to do.”

That was the loaded statement.  And a pointed one, it seems.  Someone to tell you what to do.  And Joel wanted to be that person?  Your eyebrows raise for a flash, thumbing over the paper.

“That would be too easy,” you scratch at your neck idly before going for the glass of water, sipping in contemplation. “...I mean, I should’ve known better.”

Joel takes the glass from you, offering himself a sip of your water and it stuns you speechless, doing your best not to convey it.  Maybe he did that just because this was his house.  That must’ve been it.  He was comfortable, but goddamn – the eye contact he gave you when he swallowed the liquid.

It felt intentional.

He watches your features, vague as they were, in what to do next.  He honestly wasn’t so sure what he was doing either.  What?  I know how to give you extra credit, sweetheart.  Too forward, too boastful, too… cheap.  You deserved better than that.  He saw you in class, how hard you were on yourself.  He talked to your other teachers, how well you were doing in your other classes.  He felt for you.  And he was a bit lost in your eyes.  You were all too pretty, too brilliant to be dimmed down to a fuck for extra credit.  Joel could see that.  He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, you had him distracted.  You threw him off without even trying.  The plight within him grew stronger as he handed back the glass.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Joel straightens up, his hand cups over your forearm in a way that’s understanding, but also makes goosebumps rise.  You look down to see where you connect and he pulls away slightly.  “Sorry, I–,” “No, it’s okay,” you agree, “It’s okay.  You’re right.”

“It’s just, I see hundreds of bright, beautiful young people every year, but none of them have stood out to me like you.”  He can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth.  The candor, the nerve.  A filthy old man, that’s all he was in the eyes of someone as sweet and innocent as you were.  Even if you happened to be experienced – god, what was he thinking?!

Joel clears his throat, shifting a bit in his seat, but he sees the way your lips part, but your eyes don’t show an ounce of shock or distain.  They look soft, and… willing.  You know that is because the pull at your core feels too strong to think of anything else.  You look down at his left hand, making sure you’re not dreaming.  He’s not married?  You’d casually look at his hands from time to time during class and ignored the ache it gave you, but this?  So close?  Backed by the glow of his house?  It was so different from the boys you were used to.  In their dorms or disgusting apartments.  It smelled as nice as it looked.  You realise you’re not speaking, but the way you lean into him says more than you really ever could.

“I don’t know what to say,” shyly, you touch your knuckles to your cheek, “you should teach the guys that go here how to chat with someone.”

It’s a mutter, but not to yourself.  You drink one more mouthful of what you were offered before putting it back on the coaster.  Honestly, any distraction was welcome to defer from the ever-present density in the room.

“Those guys don’t know what they’re talkin’ about anyway.  I know I didn’t at that age.”

There.  The topic right in front of both of your faces.

“How old at you, anyway?”  You inquire, thumb mindlessly circling over your knee.  Joel tracks it, licking over his lips as he answers.  “Forty-six.  You?”

“Twenty-one.”

Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.

There’s this standstill, as if you’re both in the air together looking at each other in slow motion.  How will this land?  What are you both even doing here like this?

“I’m sure your boyfriend takes good care of you,” Joel’s eyes, round and bright brown, get lost in yours – the way your breath hitches, the shift of your thighs on his sofa.  He wondered what you tasted like, what sounds you make when these boys who don’t know what they’re doing with their tongue attempt to eat you out.  Do you fake it?  Do you give it to them straight?  Neither of you had a drink from that bar cart in the corner of the room, but somehow you’ve become closer – and more intoxicated.

“Don’t have one,” you respond softly, orbs flickering to the set of plush lips that grow more red the longer you let the tension build, “what about you?  N-no partner?”

Your attempt in confidence wavering the longer he stares at you.  It’s like staring back into the sun and you have your brows knit together until the tug of muscle makes your forehead hurt – smoothing them apart with the twitch of muscle fibers.

“No partner,” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh and you can’t hold it back; you gasp.  But you do something he doesn’t anticipate, or well, you don’t do something: you don’t pull away.

How did you two get to the topic, anyhow?

How did you end up straddling his lap, for that matter?

It’s within six eager seconds that his hand, hot and rough, touches your soft skin, and you – green, you – fervent, throw all inhibitions aside and lunge.  It’s more fluid than you realise, and his hands (both now) grip the backs of your bare thighs and you whimper at the sensation of him squeezing you.  Your wetness against your cotton panties grows from the kneading alone.  No, absolutely not, the boys back in the dorms didn’t know how to do this.

It takes an even shorter time for your mouths to meet.  He’s first to kiss, and he tastes like coffee and his dinner, and the faintness of a cigarette – maybe early in the day?  You couldn’t tell, your head was swimming too deep in now to come back from.

And although his calloused fingers roll patterns into your soft skin, he’s just as willing.  Just as desireful and you can feel it beg to be set free at the seam of his jeans.  His tongue skirts against yours, hips rolling up the second yours tempt to roll down; causing you both to moan in each other’s mouths.

It gets feverish after that.  All teeth, tongue, bite.

You don’t want to stop, you don’t want to take a moment to breathe because fuck, that could stop things.  That could make him realise what is happening.

But that only is another item to your list of naivety.

Because Joel, he’s ready.  His masculine arms wrap around your frame to lift you up just enough so he can get out of his fucking jeans that he now regrets wearing.  Shoulda been wearin’ sweats, but it’s effortless… eventually.  He hurriedly pushes the thick fabric down until they hit at his thighs and you’re pushed down onto his boxers that – holy fucking shit – leave nothing to the imagination.  “Joel, J-,” you pant between kisses, fingernails digging into the base of his neck, he pauses.  Pulls away, gets a good look at your face.

“Y’want this?” And goddamn, you can’t see yourself, but you imagine you look just as fucked out as he does.  On the cusp of every little fantasy he’s had about you from the moment you sat down behind that desk.

“I want this,” you repeat.  You weren’t sure exactly when the nerves subsided, maybe because all of the blood is now rushed at the apex of your thighs, but you mean it.

You want this.  You want Professor Miller.

“You got me,” his breath dances over your lips before guiding you back a bit, “here… I’m going to lie back, I want you to– I’ll show you.”  Your lips quirk up at the fact he’s so flushed he can’t even finish his sentence.

But that soon turns to you flushing when you realise his request.  “I – what?”

“No?”  Joel sits up on his elbows, looking over to you and you’re worried you’ve killed the mood.  It’s just, straddling his face?  Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“I’ve never done that… What if it’s bad?”  His eyes, reassuring, but a deep shade of black now beckons you.

“Darlin’, I think you’ll be a natural.  But I can teach you, if that’s what you want.”

You swallow, straddling his knees somewhere at the bottom of the couch and you think about it.

Joel, on the other hand, was living in a fantasy of teaching you things in and out of school.  Showing you how to make yourself feel good on his mouth – make you forget all about the essay that caused you grief today.  He leans over, pushing it under the couch out of view for good measure.

“Okay,” you agree, though nerves still flood you.  “Okay, you wanna take your panties off?”  You lick your lips at that, biting back another whimper that brought you to this predicament in the first place.  And you did – you wanted nothing more than to slip your underwear off and give into your pleasures.  His voice was deep, graveled with the prospect of him fucking you senseless on his couch and who were you to deny him that?

Who were you to deny yourself that, more importantly.

“Yeah,” doing as you say, you slip off your lace-trimmed undies and abandon them somewhere on your Professor’s floor.  “Fuck,” you mutter.  This was naughty.

“Already so good for me,” you weren’t even sure that Joel’s voice could get deeper, or more inviting, but it does.  You bite your lip and oblige when he pats his chest.  Going over to him, you straddle just above his broad shoulders, and he’s almost out of view with him like this – somehow making it easier to just feel what he could do to you.

Joel on the other hand?  All he can do is see the outline of your glistening core from the shadowed tent you’ve made of your dress and his groans are muffled slightly from the fabric, “Fuckin’ Christ,” he wants to devour you, but he takes his time instead.

Peppers kisses along your thighs that make you claw the armrest, causes you shiver at the contact and you can’t believe this is happening.  “J-Joel,” you hesitate, but his hands are wrapped around your hips now, fingers digging into the breadth of your ass.

“Sit.”  Joel commands.

Oh, fuck.

You’re almost certain you’ll break skin at your lips from biting down so hard, but you do as you’re told.  Anchoring down, it’s subtle at first – the brushing of his facial hair against your folds, his chin prying you apart.  Then, it’s incredibly palpable.  His lips are the first thing you feel as they press and kiss over your middle and as you shudder it only makes your muscles sink deeper on him.  You’re the first to moan, and then Joel, and his mouth is open when he invites you inside it.

“Oh, my god,” thighs shaking, Joel flattens his tongue under the hood of your clit, a body part you were certain hadn’t been touched by anyone else but yourself.  There was no time to compare, the white hot pleasure coursed through your veins and he took his time with it, too.  Made sure he was teasing you, his tongue dipping inside your entrance, as sloppy as it felt.  “Hmmn,” you can’t speak, forearms resting on the armrest now as your head hangs between your shoulders and his fingers make pliable work of your asscheeks.  Pushing you down, using your hips to move back and forth against his mouth – like he’s using you while you use him.

The air is thick under your dress, sticky and humid, as Joel swirls this tip of his devilish tongue in the most astonishing circles you’ve ever experienced, and you know it’s because he has more experience than you do.  Has so much to teach you, if you let him.  Your mouth hangs open as you try to inhale, but it’s just too much.  Especially with the way he thumbs into your stomach, then your pubic bone – lifting it just slightly to expose your clit to him.  An angle, not even you have found yourself.

It almost feels like too much.  It’s intentional, the way his tongue flicks over that bundle of nerves right at the top of your cunt.  Delicious, deliberate.  Two fingers greet your entrance and it startles you, the way he’s rubbing your hole with his two fingers in slow circles before pressing them where you want them most.

“Tell me you want it,” you hear, muffled and fucked, and you shiver at the slightest bit of lack of contact.

“I want it, I want your fingers – please!”

And that seems to send him over the edge of how much he’s willing to hold back because he’s exactly where he was.  Mouth on your clit, but fingers skillfully pressing inside of you and you don’t know how long you’ll last.  Not with the pads of his fingers tapping in the perfect tempo against the ridged spot inside you.

That’s when a weird sensation comes over you.  A pressure, you felt like you had to pee and your insides pulled in more trying to keep it all contained.  “I–,” you start, but it happens so suddenly.  Your orgasm rushes through you, convulsing and almost falling over the edge of the couch, you dig your fingernails into the upholstery.  Your eyes roll back, and fuck, so are your hips.  Unable to stop yourself using Joel’s mouth to keep you exactly right there.  Pleasure pricks your skin, it feels like every cell is ignited – but you jump when you feel a rush of fluid come out of you.  The pressure rebounding out, then rippling pleasure back inside you.  Joel fucks you with his tongue and fingers until he feels you calm down.

“W-what, what… did I do?” You pant, and Joel is groaning, too.  He lifts your hips to get lungfuls of oxygen, so dizzy on you and you notice how soaked his pair of fingers feel on your skin.  Sits you down on his chest and you can see his face finally.  Can see his mouth parting, gasping as his eyes are hooded and so gone.  Curls stick to his forehead, his shirt a dampened colour at the collar.  You blush heavily, embarrassed because you aren’t even sure what that was.  Did he hate that, was that weird?

“C’mere,” he growls with gritted teeth and sits up, the tables turning instantly.  Joel’s stripping his shirt off, kicking every last bit of the bottom half he had on to be abandoned on the floor.  His fingers remove the buttons, but he can’t really get them – those fingers too big for the buttons.  “Here,” you whisper, an intense feeling of lust falling over any self-conscious self talk you had.  You undo the top of your dress one button at a time until your breasts are released from your bra – you moan when he has no problem spilling your tits from the satin, nipples in stiff peaks from your orgasm.  And everything else.

“You know what you did?”  Joel asks, taking both of your nipples between his fingers from each hand.  You moan, lifting your hips and he bites his lip when he sees your cunt front under your dress.  “What was it?”  You ask, curiously.  Innocently.

“You squirted f’me, baby,” he slurs, thumbing over your clit now as he gets a good look at you and he’s drunk on you.  His cock throbbing against your thigh, he taps it against your skin before realising what he needed.

 “Fuck,” Joel mutters and you can tell by the tone it’s not just at your appearance.  “What is it?”  You inquire, eyebrows knit.

“Gotta get a condom,” you hear him mutter, getting onto one foot and you stop him.  “No.  No.  I want to feel you.  It’s okay, I don’t get pregnant–” well that sentence isn’t exactly how you mean for it to come out, but your mind is mush, your body feels boneless underneath him, and he chuckles at that.  At how gone your brain is.  Here he was, thinking he was the only one.  “Okay, okay, darlin’.  I believe ya.”

And really, maybe he should be using more discretion.  But he can’t get the feeling of you out of his head.  You were everywhere.  His mouth, his glistening chest and beard.  He takes you by the hips then, sitting back to flip you on your hands and knees with your help and you moan at the sensation.  Joel looks down at you, groaning of your ass in the air, pushing back for his cock.  “Such a needy little thing, now,”  it’s as if someone else is talking.  This isn’t the Professor Miller you know.  This man has layers and you’re first in line to know exactly what that entails.

Joel takes the base of his cock, bobbing it as it throbs alive in his hand and runs through your slick with the head of it.  “So fucking wet.  Beginning to think you’ve been wanting this for as long as I have.”

You bite a whine and he can see the back of your head nodding as you crane your neck back enough to make eye contact, but his eyes fall down to your ass pressing eagerly on his cock.  Doing your best to press him inside yourself.

“Go ahead,” he slaps his cock on your folds and you mewl at the wet sounds coming from it.  “Take my cock.”

And take, you do.  Joel holds it out for you, keeps it steady and you push back slow on his cock.  Clenching around the head and he growls at that.  “You dirty thing.  This how you fuck all your teachers?”  It burns your skin, pushing your face into your arm and you shake your head.

“Words.” He warns.

“Just you!  Just you, Joel!”

“Just me,” he parrots, hissing when you shift back and you both twitch and groan when you take him to the hilt of you.  It was so thick, stretching you out until you felt split apart from him.  “Just me, show me then.  Show me how you fuck me.”

You bite into your arm then, choking on a sob as you push your ass back over and over.  Your cunt taking him deep like this, it almost feels like too much and not enough at once.  Torturously slow against the spongy spot again

 It felt so amazing taking him yourself, but it was like an itch you couldn’t scratch on your own.  The tapping of his balls against your clit was too far apart in tempo, his cock speared inside you at a pace that didn’t have quite the same leverage as Joel did behind you.

His hands busied themselves on your ass, peeling the muscle apart – pressing his digits to leave bruises and just when you think it’s too much to take, he gives you something else.  His spit falling from his lips right to the velvet of your asshole.  You shudder and flutter around him when it falls to where you’re connected.  Your fingertips grip the other armrest now, cheek resting atop of your hand and you can’t do it yourself anymore.  “Fuck me, Joel!  Professor Miller, please!”

“Shit – you know where to push, don’t you?”  Joel’s wide hands slide up your sides, keeping them locked in place as he pulls your hips to him at first.  Using your whole lower body, your head hands doing your best to keep yourself up but you’re so close when he uses you like this.  When he picks up the pace and you let your head fall on his throw pillow – your screams of desire are targeted into the plush cushion.

Joel is bound up in amazement behind you.  How you feel around him, your gorgeous figure in front of him as he gives you every bit of power he can now.  His hips hammering into you, but with the right amount of speed – not too fast, not too slow.  The sound of his balls slapping against your clit is faster now, and the difference is what you focus on.  The way it sounds.  Joel feels you tighten, pulse around his own pulse and he has to say something to you.  Has to talk you through it, even if he’s not sure you’ll like it.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he drapes his body over your back, huffing into your ear as the controlled weight of him pushes your ass down just enough to make your thighs shake.  You are soaked, sticky against his abdomen, between your thighs.  Over your own stomach.  You move your face so you can feel his skin closer against your.  His lips staying on your cheekbone, he grunts and nods.

“That’s it, fuckin’ take it.  I know you can take it.  Those shaky fuckin’ thighs better hold on.”

You feel yourself coil and he is quick to sooth over your hips with his palms.

“Relax, baby.  That’s it, that’s good, darlin’.  Shh, easy.  Do you feel that heat?”

You nod hopelessly, the buildup was so strong you couldn’t do anything but curl your fingers into fists and whimper repeatedly.

“Give into that heat.  Come for me, I know you can be so good for me.  Good for – fuck – fuck.  Good for my cock,” Joel groaning in your ear makes you flutter uncontrollably, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your front, rolling quick circles at the split of your cunt, right at your clit.  “Milkin’ my fuckin’ cock like that, don’t stop.  Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he grits, and you’re gasping.

Clawing at the pillow, head craning up and back as you come.  Mouth gaped, Joel takes advantage – pouring his tongue into it, swirling and drinking you while his cock bottoms into you repeatedly until he can’t take it anymore.  You feel too good.  Perfect, even.

“Joel!” Your whine is high, as your wet folds take his merciless shoves.  “You feel so good, youfeelsogood!”  Your lip quivers, jerking in aftershocks that feel a lot like multiple orgasms.  You aren’t even sure how you feel, but he knows he has to pull out.  So he tells you, rough and pained against your ear.  He doesn’t want to any more than you do.  But as soon as he does, that reward feels just as sweet.

He exhales roughly through his nose, a popping sound filling the room when he pulls out.  Not even needing to touch himself to spill himself over the small of your back.

“Fuck,” he’s out of breath, grunting, and doing his best not to collide into you.  You’re still, the nape of your neck dews with sweat and you can feel it stick to your dress instantly.

“Stay there,” Joel pulls away, and you sit up on your elbows now that you’re fully flat and study his frame walk into the kitchen.

The back of him is just as irresistible as the front.

You hum hungrily at the landscape of his back.  But you do as you say, you don’t move a muscle.  When he comes back, you take note of the splotches of his chest, his neck red and sheened with sweat, too.  He’s just as disheveled.  The paper towel he comes back with is rough against your lower back, but tickles more than anything else.

Makes you wriggle and laugh.

“What did I say?”  He threatens, but his voice is much more smoother and tender.  More playful.  More like what you’re used to.

“Tickles!”

“You must endure it if you know what’s good for you.”  he’s finished enough for you to roll over.  You pull your tits back into your bra with another low laugh, but to yourself at how exposed and a mess you’re sure you look on your professor’s couch.

“I think I like that threat.”

“No more,” and that makes your heart drop.  He must be able to see the disappointed look on your face, so he rephrases his sentence in an instant.  “No more tonight.”

“Maybe I should be teaching you the importance of ambiguity.”

“Next lesson.”

Your heart soars just as fast as it dropped.

---

While you slip on your sneakers, you turn your heel to him – bag in tow.  “Listen, I don’t want this to be why I passed.”

“It’s not – it won’t be,”  Joel chews up the space between you – his hand pressing against the doorframe that your delicate hand adorns at the knob, fully dressed himself, now.  “You will pass by your own volition.  I meant it – you are bright.  You won’t let anybody take that from you, will you?” You knew that wasn’t a question as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but you still swayed your head ‘no’.

“Not even me.”  He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead before dropping his arm – allowing you to leave.  And that’s exactly what he’ll let you believe.

“Especially not you.”  You smile, leaning up to kiss his lips – your flavour lingers over his facial hair and tongue.  Your panties in his pocket.

“Goodnight, Professor Miller.”

“Goodnight, doll.”

taglist: @cool-iguana – comment to be added!

[katszumi]

“do you think i’m a good person?” you could tell katsuki had to swallow his pride in order to ask you, but when you made eye contact with the male in front of you, the clear look of insecurity was plastered over his face.

your eyebrows knitted together. “i do,” your eyes searched him. obviously, he was trying to maintain his robust appearance, but the way his shoulders slouched more than usual and the very very small pout on his lips, you noticed he wasn’t his usual self. “why are you asking me this?”

your voice lowered in volume and he hated how soft you spoke to him. he didn’t like pity, even if you didn’t view this as such.

katsuki lifted his shoulders and quickly dropped them, his eyes shifting away from yours.

“people talk,” he begrudgingly answered. “just wanted to see if the people around me agreed i guess.” and by people, he meant his stupid classmates and pro-hero teachers, but mainly he meant you.

your opinion mattered to him the most after all.

you shook your head, denying his speculation. you wondered who he was around to even hear something like this.

you inched yourself closer to katsuki on the couch in the dormitory lounge, slipping your hand into his dormat one that laid on his thigh. of course he would explode anyone else that would dare touch him in an affectionate way, but it was you. the only person who could even remotely manage to get him to feel tender inside and be sentimental back—or at least he tries his best.

katuski’s red irises ogled into yours, waiting for your lips to part.

“it doesn’t matter what they think. you’re bakugou katsuki, mr. great explosion murder god dynamight,” katsuki’s shoulders racked gently from laughter, “and you’ve saved countless lives at the age of 17. from what i know, that’s a good person and a damn good future hero.” you hoped your words would inspire him, but his eyes weren’t hopeful enough.

“yeah, i save lives, but if i’m an asshole about it then does it even matter?”

katsuki was being so vulnerable right now that you couldn’t believe it. he told you things he wouldn’t share with anyone else, but never would you have thought how open he could be with you. your heart was warm from the thought.

“don’t let people who know the surface-level bakugou affect the inner bakugou. if they choose not to learn who you really are, then their perspective of you is bias, and that’s unfair.” you explained.

“but,” he started, though you didn’t let him finish.

“and the people around you know that you are a good person. you may be loud, arrogant and brash at moments. but, we wouldn’t want it any other way. who else would we tease for fun if you weren’t there? or if we wanted some honesty, or a good laugh. we love you, kats. the inner and surface level of you.”

katsuki couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his lip, his shoulders lifting with relief. he lightly squeezed your hand that was still entwined with his. you figured it was his way of saying thank you.

“you love me?” he repeated, his smile now forming into a grin. he turned his back and started to lean back, resting his body in your lap.

you giggled, your face warming. “yes, i do.”

“say it then.” his eyes gazing into yours. of course katuski was aware of your love for him. there was nobody sane that would date someone like him; it truly seemed like a beauty and the beast situation in his eyes.

it was all more reason to fall in love with you even harder. he didn’t deserve your love and kindness, but there you were always giving it to him. you’re beautiful, delicate, and intelligent. it would be a sin to not praise the ground that you walked upon. because you were everything to katsuki and he wasn’t sure if he was up to par.

but while you were here, showering him in unconditional and gentle love, he was going to try and learn how to be the best person for you and the people around him. he would hate himself if he lost you because of his irrational behavior considering you’re the future in his eyes.

your smile matched his, crescent moon’s beginning to form under your eyes from how wide your grin was.

“i love you, katsuki.” finally. the words he loved to hear. and it ached. it ached all over. since when did he turn into such a big softie? but, it didn’t matter as long as you remained in his presence.

his rough, calloused hand reached up to cup your face, swiping his thumb across the apple of your cheek.

“i love you more, y/n.”

—

come here katsuki… lemme love u pls. hes so beautiful and soft. delicate bakugou 4 life !!!

[kayhi808]

Idk if I sent this already so please feel free to ignore buuuuuutttttt…..

For first crush:

Abby’s daycare hosts all these different events and one of them happens to be a daddy/daughter dance 🥺🥺🥺…. Guess who she wants to invite? She makes the invitation special by drawing Bucky a letter and maybe having her mama make cookies or something. When Abby’s going to ask Bucky she’s nervous!!!!!

Thank you @crazyunsexycool for such a sweet ask! This will actually tie in perfectly with an ask from @ozwriterchick

Bucky just returned from a 3 week mission. It's the longest you've been apart since you started dating 8 months ago. Bucky made an effort to call and check-in when he could. He returned today, and wanted to pick up Abby with you. "She's going to be so excited!"

Bucky pulls you in for a kiss & gives you a smile. He's just as excited to see Abby, too.

As you walk up to the playground, Abby's teacher waves at you and goes to gather Abby's backpack. "Look who's here, Abby."

"Mama?" She puts her toys away and runs to the pick-up gate. She notices you aren't alone, 'Bucky!!" She screams and runs to Bucky, only to have him scoop her up and throw her up in the air and catching her in a hug. She giggles so hard. "You're home!"

Making your way back to the apartment, Bucky gives her a shoulder ride home. "How's my favorite girl?"

"I's good!"

"Listening to your Mama?"

"Mmmhmmm," she looks at you, "I's good girl, right? I no tricks you at all."

You laugh, "Yes, she:s been very good." Abby blooms under your praise and does her happy wiggle.

******

After dinner, Abby is noticably antsy. "Cans I be done?"

"May I be excused?"

Giggles, "Yea, can I be 'scuse?"

"Yes you may." Abby gives Bucky a side-eye look and runs to her bedroom.'

He brings your hand up to his lips, "What is she up to?" You shrug as Abby runs back out with a sheet of paper.

"Um...Bucky? I's draw you...um a letter." She hops up an down by his side.

"Did you?" He lifts her onto his lap as she puts the paper down in front of them. "What have we got here?"

You quickly scan her drawing and you know where this is going. "Baby, Bucky just got home. I didn't get a chance to discuss this with him. Maybe we can do this in the morning." You give Bucky a worried glance.

You both can see her wringing her fingers together in her lap, "Discuss what?" Bucky unclenches her little fists in his hands, holding them gently.

Abby leans forward, "My scoon, has um..a big party." She traces the balloons in her drawing. "My Daddy went to heaven, so um..." She traces the stick figure of Bucky with his black and gold arm. "I don't has a dates."

Bucky's fingers goes to the smaller stick figure in a rainbow triangle skirt & a crown. "Oh, wow!" Bucky is speechless.

"Abby? Baby?"

"But I want Buckys as my date, Mama." Turning in Bucky's lap, "I hads an Uncle now," she shrugs her little shoulders and plays with the collar of Bucky's shirt. "But I wants you!" She squeezes Bucky's face between the palms of her hands and giggles.

"Honey, I think Bucky needs to check his schedule. He might have a mission and not be in town." You offer Bucky and 'out' if he needs it.

Silently shaking his head, "I can be there." Abby gasps and squeals, throwing her arms around his neck.

Cautiously, "Buck."

He gives you a proud smile, "Your Mama can give me the date and time and I'll be honored to take my Cinderella to her ball."

"Oh, tank you, Bucky! I loves you so much!" Giving him a loud kiss on the cheek.

Of course she loves him.

@waywardhunter95 @wintrsoldrluvr @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22 @littleredwolff @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05

[brighteuphony]

Got a bunch of Sasuke-centric asks, so here we are!

Sakura has some complicated feelings about Sasuke.

In my AU, Sakura was born to civilian parents who didn't really want her to become shinobi, even though that had been her dream for as long as she could remember- and it was no secret in the Haruno household that they were hoping she'd drop out, or at the very most, be career genin.

So Sakura never really had anyone to believe in her and had to go into the academy (late!) as a civilian-born, meaning she was automatically behind in development (and status) compared to the clan kids. (I headcanon that until the Academy, Sakura didn't ever spar with anyone, versus clan kids who had probably learned how to wield kunai before they knew how to walk).

So Sakura worked hard and did her absolute best to get the barest minimum that clan kids were afforded by default. Unfortunately, her best, without the resources/opportunities, just wasn't good enough. And Sakura knew it. Academically, she was brilliant, but that's not enough to be a good shinobi. And somewhere deep down, Sakura (at the very least Inner Sakura) knew it.

It's why I headcanon that she developed such a violent temper. People who are secure in themselves don't have such explosive, uncontrolled outbursts- it's why she picked on people like Naruto, who was probably the only person below her in the pecking order (maybe Tenten? But they're equals I guess). It's why she's so quick to anger and usually has those responses OUT of combat- it's because that's the only place her violence is actually effective.

It's also why she's such a teacher's pet- she needs validation from others to try and fill the gaping void.

So when Sasuke appeared on the radar, and everyone wanted him, so did Sakura. Because if she got him, she would do something that no one else- clan-privileged and better- could do. In fact, she staked most of her identity (her hair, her diet, her clothing) on it.

None of this was conscious. She really did have a crush on Sasuke, but the seed of it was born from a very misguided desire to prove herself on an even playing field.

After all, she didn't have a clan upbringing/resources to teach her how to find self-worth and actualization through her skills (she went home, and her civilian parents praised her for things that absolutely didn't matter in shinobi reality, amazement that she could throw a kunai! how good her grades were! and how cool it was that she could jump high!)

(and Kakashi absolutely didn't help, lol), so she defaulted to what she knew- which was being a regular girl with a regular crush.

Now, as an ~adult, she's come to the painful realization that her love for Sasuke was just a goalpost. Ironically, she set her sights on someone who would inadvertently feed into all of those insecurities, and because Sakura didn't love/believe in herself, she accepted Sasuke's abuse.

She also understands that she ran into the Chidori/Rasengan deathmatch of her own stupidity, but she just can't forgive Sasuke for leaving. For never owning up. 'Cause that's just coward behavior..

Basically, Sasuke's cruelty was just a reflection of her own self-loathing, and unfortunately, Sakura just wallowed in denial and ended up paying a hefty-ass price.

So if she ever sees Sasuke again? Honestly, she doesn't know whether she wants justice or revenge. It's complicated.

Whew- that was a text dump....

Once again, thank you so much to everyone for all the interest and asks! I'm so happy we can all share Naruto rotbrain together.

[yeehawbvby]

Hello! While I was doing the classes and Salvatore (the language teacher) gives you words in other languages and asks what they mean. He did this with 'I love you' and that gave an idea. What if reader and Arven are both in that class and Salvatore notices Arven's crush on reader (I feel like Arven's the type to stare at his crush and then get caught and get all shy about it) and tries to encourage him to confess. Sry this was a bit long. Hope you have a wonderful day/night!

WAIT STOP this is so frickin’ cute wtf 😭😭😭 Don’t be sorry at all for the long prompt!! The more details regarding what you’re looking for, the better :D

I hope you don’t mind that I went with a gendered reader – it just kinda naturally flowed out of me this way ;;w;; Enjoy! x

Love Languages | Arven x F!Reader

Rating: Teen+ | WC: 1,744

I have a crush on my best bud. I can’t help it. It happens, it’s not a big deal, and she definitely doesn’t need to know. But, I’m unfortunately far from subtle in my affections.

She’s just… so damn pretty. The way her hair shines no matter the lighting, the glimmer in her eyes when she’s excited, the blush on her little cheeks when she’s praised. With her brains, strength, and kindness on top of all that, it’s hard not to be totally enamored. 

Enamored enough to, y’know… check her out, every once in a while. I guess.

One time, Salvatore caught me in the act. She was answering a question of his during one of his lectures, and my eyes remained on her just barely too long. When he finished addressing her, our teacher looked at me, and his eyes widened. He glimpsed at her again, then back at me, and he winked. 

Now, I know Salvatore’s a good guy. He’s friendly, he often has his students’ and Pokémons’ best interests in mind, and he’s lackadaisical when it comes to grading and due dates… But I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t a little shit.

Whether I’m peeking at my buddy in class or grabbing lunch with her in the cafeteria, if Salvatore sees it, he gives me a look. Like, one of those “I see, I see…” sort of looks. It’s terrible. I could only ever hope to Arceus that her steel trap brain is oblivious to it.

Today, little buddy and I talked a bit before class – easy enough, with her sitting diagonally in front of me – and eventually Salvatore mosied on in, with his typical greeting. “My dear friends!” and so on. My bud turned around towards her desk, I got out my notebook and stuff, and everything went how it usually does, at least at first.

“Now, mes amis – my friends, that is! I’ve decided to change up our typical lesson format a bit.” 

Oh? 

“In le cours d’ajourd’hui – today’s class – we will learn about a very special phrase that you can put to use when the time is juuust right!” 

Salvatore smiles and scans the room as usual, searching for a reaction. But this time, before continuing, his eyes linger on me. 

“Ai shiteiru! Je t’aime! Te amo! Ich liebe dich! Does anyone know what these phrases mean?”

After a few quiet moments, little buddy raises her hand, and I notice what seems like a small blush on the side of her cheek. Salvatore calls on her to answer, and it comes out… timid?

“T-they mean, um… ‘I love you.’”

Hearing those words from her mouth makes my heart pound in my chest. 

“Très bien!” My eyes feel like they’re gonna pop right out of my skull as Salvatore turns to me. “It’s so very important to express your feelings about things to others, you know!” 

…He’s scheming.

Salvatore slowly walks across the class, inspecting us all. “So, mes merveilleux élèves – my wonderful students – I’m going to be setting you up into pairs.”

No.

When he reaches my row, he stops. He’s watching me. “I want you to practice amongst each other!” 

Nope!

“I’ll supply you with worksheets, made by yours truly,” he saunters over to the podium and grabs a stack of papers, “so that you all have prompts to work with! That way none of you will find yourselves ​​à une perte pour les mots – at a loss for words, that is!”

No thank you!

Whispers erupt amongst my peers. “Is he serious?” “This is so humiliating…” “What if I get paired with… you know?!” My eyes wide, I look around, studying everyone’s expressions and eavesdropping on their reactions to today’s lesson. At least I’m not the only one who’s worried. 

My gaze lands on my buddy, and she’s staring down at her desk. The same flush that coated her cheeks when she answered his question is still there – if anything, it looks a bit darker now.

“Oh my!” Salvatore laughs, interrupting the chatter. “Have I embarrassed you all, my friends?” 

No shit, man.

My brain turns to oatmeal as I zone out on my notebook. Salvatore continues instructing, and he’s probably trying to give me some kind of “wink wink, nudge nudge” of sorts, but it’s falling on blind eyes and deaf ears.  

He wouldn’t pair me up with her… would he? It would make the most sense for him to just pair us as we’re paired in our desks, right? Right?!

Two by two, the other students begin to shuffle around. And eventually, Salvatore calls my buddy’s name… followed by mine.

“Come get your assignments, you two!”

I hate him. 

I pack up my things, as does little buddy, and we both make our slow trek up to the front of the class. 

As Salvatore gives us our work for the day, he says, “Bonne chance – good luck!”

Fuck off.

Sighing, I stare down at the paper in my hand while we make our way to one of the last sets of empty desks available. My bud’s uncharacteristically quiet as we settle in, grabbing our pens and reading over the worksheets in front of us.

“So…” I prompt, wanting to get this over with. I can’t even look at her right now. “Y-you ready?”

When I don’t hear a verbal response, I look to my side, and she nods. Her face is still rosy, and she won’t look at me, either. Nerves getting the best of me, I do the only thing I really know how to do in a situation like this: I ramble. 

“Er, the first part here is to just match up the phrases with what languages they are. Easy enough…” 

“Mhm,” my friend hums quietly. 

“Alright, number one…” I can’t even bring myself to say the words out loud. Why is this so embarrassing?! At the end of it all, this is nothing more than an assignment, right? “...is Johtoan.” I peer up, and while writing down her answer, my bud nods. 

This continues until we complete the first section of our work. Maybe this won’t be so bad… as long as we don’t talk much, we’ll avoid any embarrassment, right?

“How are we doing, vous petits tourtereaux?” Salvatore asks. I don’t know what that last part meant, but little buddy seems to. Her eyes widen and she tenses up, her cheeks flushing. 

I squint at him. A look that says “You suck, and this feels like betrayal.” While doing so though, I verbally answer, “N-nous c’est bien…?” 

“Nous sommes bons, but I appreciate the attempt, Master Arven!” Salvatore winks, before suggesting, “You know, practice makes perfect.” Yeah, and? “Why don’t you two discuss the lesson amongst yourselves?” No. “You won’t improve without expérience de vie réelle – real life experience – after all!” 

“Er, we’re alri–”

“O-okay.” 

My head whips towards my buddy. When I look back up at Salvatore, he has a menacing grin on his face. He mutters something in Kalosian before moving onto another pair of students. I turn to my left again, and watch as my friend places down her pen, before shyly peering up at me to her right.

Are her pupils always so big? 

It’s probably just the lighting. Or I’m just seeing shit. Whatever.

“So…” she mutters. She looks down at her paper and fidgets with the corner. “We can just… go down the list here, I guess?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” That accidentally came out as a whisper, but she heard it well enough to begin. 

My buddy clears her throat, then mutters, “Um…” she pauses briefly, shifting herself to sit facing towards me. I do the same. “J-je t’aime.” 

Her eyes almost look hopeful as they flicker up to mine, then back down at her worksheet. Oh Arceus this is gonna be harder than I thought. 

“...Wǒ ài nǐ.”

More silence. Swallowing a lump in her throat, my buddy furrows her brows, then looks me in the eye. It’s like she’s hyping herself up… so cute. “Te amo…!”

Oh.

T-that had more of an effect than I expected. 

My eyes widen, and hers follow suit. She looks down promptly, while my cheeks redden to match hers. I quietly keep the flow going. “Ai shiteiru.”

“T-ti amo.”

“Didn’t you just say that one?” I softly tease. I’m relieved to see her shoulders relax a little, and her beautiful lips curve into one of her beautiful smiles, as I make light of what’s going on. 

She shakes her head. “Different languages.” 

Mirroring her grin, I keep up the antics. “Bullshit.” 

“It’s true! Ask Salvatore.” 

I glimpse over at him, and having heard his name, he’s already looking at us. I shake my head at him and turn my attention back to my friend. “N-no, it’s alright.”

We fall into another silence, so I go again. “Salanghaeyo.” 

Gnawing the cap of her pen, little buddy meets my eye again. “I-ich liebe dich.” 

Fuck. 

In a trance, we both seem to not want to pull our irises away from one another… so we keep going, just rambling based off of the word banks in our brains.

“Mahal kita.”

“Ya tebe lyublyu.”

“Se agapó.”

“Volim te.”

“I love you.”

Both sets of eyes widen. 

I… wasn’t supposed to use our own language. 

See, I could easily pass this off as an easy mistake now, but something is stopping me. I take in a deep breath, my eyes scanning my friend’s face. Somehow, her eyes focus even harder on me. Like she’s having some sort of revelation. Like… like she wants me to say more. 

I wonder if…?

“...I love you,” I repeat, adding her name to the end. Trying to look more serious, in spontaneous hopes that she knows I’m serious.

Taken aback, she squeaks. Her mouth opens and shuts a few times. “I…” she pauses, looks down, then looks at me again. “I love you… Arven…”

…!

“You…? Wait, a-actually?”

Fidgeting with her pen in her hands – focusing hard on the way she’s twirling it between her fingers – she nods. She grins to herself, too shy to meet my eyes.

“I… oh my god, I love you!”

I look towards Salvatore. My mouth’s agape. I silently mouth the words, “IT WORKED,” in his direction. He beams, and a broad smile forms across his features.

…Salvatore, you sly motherfucker. 

You actually did it.

[lottiecrabie]

hello sweet lottie, I’ve just reread cyosa and I am back on my hands and knees begging for the alternate cuddle ending before you inevitably leave us (still can’t think about that without wanting to die btw xx). as a cuddle truther I must say there are not many days I go without thinking about what may have been hahaha. lots of love 4eva and eva ily

if i could directly send u this and Never give the shower truthers any resolution I would

you lay on the bed, still sweaty and panting, covers and limbs crisscrossing all together. your head rests on his arm, clutching his hand as though holding onto the buoyancy of him, as though you’d be drowning without. the room smells of sex. a grin teases your lips, too proud and fucked-out to be disgusted yet.

‘thank you,’ you speak, quiet and comfortable in the heat of the room. bone-deep happiness curls inside of you. you want to stick to him and the bed and never leave this moment.

matty presses the back of your hand with his thumb. ‘you’re welcome.’ you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. ‘thank you for trusting me.’

‘of course,’ you say easily. ‘though, it’s not really a compliment on me. you did all the work; i just let myself trust a completely dependable person.’ matty hums, musing.

after a moment of silence, your eyes dropping with exhaustion, he finally asks, ‘so why did you choose me?’

you readjust in his arm, the pinpricks of discomfort on your skin. reality, and the immensity of the ignored, presses your chest. ‘i mean, as we’ve said, i trust you. and—‘ you bite your lip, wondering how much you want to share, how much there even is to say. ‘you’re a good person. a good friend. you never make fun of me for all my pro-con lists or my neuroses. i knew— i don’t know.’ he’s quiet, pensive, and it all feels too much. you force out a laugh, joking, ‘plus, you know, there were all these rumors on campus that you’re a sex god or whatever.’

matty laughs. ‘so am i?’

‘you don’t need me to answer that.’

‘oh, come on. i deserve a little compliment for that performance.’ you slap his belly, shaking your head, but he just laughs harder. ‘so that was all?’ he asks again. you wonder what he’s searching for.

you sigh. bite your lip. ‘well, i guess i found you pretty too, if we are being honest.’

‘glad to hear it.’

‘don’t let it get to your head.’

‘too late.’ you can hear the smirk. you tsk. ‘you know, you’re a very quick study,’ matty declares to the room. you flush, ego and pride curling pleasantly up your spine. your smile widens in earnest ways you’d bother to hide any other times.

‘you’ve a very good teacher,’ you praise back, tilting up to look at him. he still gazes up at the ceiling, hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks red and glistening. god, he’s so pretty. you bite your lip. ‘we’re very good at this,’ you try, dipping a toe in the terrifying.

‘yeah.’ he says, quiet, thoughtful. ‘too good. i think we’ll wake up to many complaints from your neighbors.’

‘oh, yeah. you’re about to have the most watched walk-of-shame ever.’

‘everyone trying to catch a glimpse at the talent,’ matty tsks, faux-mournful. you roll your eyes, vaguely slapping his stomach again. ‘y’know, it might be wise to avoid it altogether.’ again, his eyes stubbornly face the ceiling, but you can feel how his breath hitches and holds under your hand. your grin curls in your cheek.

‘right,’ you nod. ‘wait a few days. give them time to forget.’

‘exactly.’ his thumb rubs the back of your hand. from nerves or from the desperate need to feel you, you’re not sure. ‘and, while we’re here, we might want to check a few other items off your list. just to maximize our time.’

‘smart,’ you laugh. ‘two birds, one stone, and all of that.’

‘of course, i don’t want you to think i’m only using you for things related to your bed. i’m very open to having dinner and any other activities to pass the time as well.’

you can’t take it anymore. you flutter your eyelashes at him, teasing, ‘matty, is there something you want to ask me?’

finally, he looks down and locks eyes with yours. something gets relieved at the sight of you. his smile grows, his hand tightening in yours. ‘do you want to go on a date with me?’ your heart rushes, a flutter of feelings in the depth of your belly.

‘yes,’ you say, grin shining on your cheeks. he can’t hold back the joy either; his head dips down, catching your lips. you push against him to tease, ‘kissing me before our first date? what’s next, you think i’ll put out, too?’

‘oh, i’d never.’

[itsukismoon]

Yumekuro Artbook - Q&A (Yume Tsumugi)

>>> tsukiwatari ver. - magia seminar ver.

Canaan

Introductions: Canaan, the ring-maker. What I like are sweet sweet foods. …Ah. I’m silently sneaking out of the workshop right now, so please be quiet so they don’t catch me 🎶

MC first impressions: “Such soft cheeks”. Squishing them would calm me and give me motivation… I like them. However, I underestimated her tracking abilities… no matter where I go to slack off, she finds me pretty quickly. Hehe.

Bezer first impressions: Professor Bezel is super passionate. It’s amazing. I guess I’m surprised he’s that attached to me. I think it’d be good if he slacked off sometimes… wouldn’t that make him a better teacher, that understands his students’ feelings?

Meister you’re close with: Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t know if we really get along, but Volks always makes me behave. It’s like he’s always keeping an eye on me. It’s annoying, so I think I’ll seriously try to run away next time.

Adel

Introductions: I’m Adel, tailor for the royal warrant guild, Yume Tsumugi. I’ll tell you immediately: I only makes clothes for people I approve of. No matter how important their position or status. There are no exceptions.

MC first impressions: I was exasperated at the arrival of such a rookie. When she chose to speak, the content of her questions, everything was unpromising. Or so I thought— the speed at which she grows and her competitive spirit are not bad at all.

Jin first impressions: Jin, huh…. That one is so impatient there’s nothing to do about it. He quickly succumbs to his desires and indulges in as much pleasure as he can. At first, I thought he was knowledgable and with a good eye— though at least he has the good sense to be ashamed of himself. I’ll just have to wait and see how long he can keep up his self-control/abstinence.

Meister you’re close with: …unfortunately, there is no one up to such title. By the way, just to be on the safe side, if I you ever find me excessively praising the Meister named Merryrose, it’d be because of his powers, not because I truly mean it, alright? You better remember it.

Volks

Introductions: I'm Volks, a gems appraiser belonging to the royal warrant guild Yume Tsumugi. In addition to appraising gemstones, I’m also the guild leader and coordinate the royal family's activities. I look forward to working with you.

MC first impressions: I felt that she had the skills to be a winged guild keeper (TN: guild keepers have a wings shaped badge and Emma has it, idk if all guild keepers or only some of the best ones have it), and I was also drawn to that hidden charm of hers. I felt the need to make that brilliance shine even more beautifully by polishing it with my own hands. I got a little carried away.

Mel first impressions: I do not believe the time spent talking to Mel to be an unpleasant one. His knowledge and insight are remarkable, and above all, he is a diamond in the rough that is worth polishing. I plan to continue enjoying interacting with him in the future.

Meister you’re close with: I often eat meals together with Gastronomy’s Oscar, and we have a good relationship. I empathise with his greed in pursuit of fine cuisine. Whenever I entertain him, deciding on the menu is quite stressful.

Merryrose

Introductions: Dream perfumer, Merryrose. I belong to the royal warrant guild Yumetsumugi. The flowers on my arm? Don’t worry, don’t worry- Oh, that’s right. You shouldn’t get too close to me. Unless you want to be utterly charmed by me, mh?

MC first impressions: An interesting one. Her emotions are always showing on her face; she’ll react to everything. She’ll get mad if I play around too much with Adele, so I thought I’d found a new good person to tease, buuut… you never really know what’s going to happen in life.

Jester first impressions: Jester, huh… he’s so seriously out of his mind, it’s annoying. And what the hell do you mean by partner? (TN: The question asked is to talk about their “partner”, obv not in the romantic sense, aka the black fairies). He’s the one who decided to get attached to me on his own. He says there’s no shortage of unfortunate stories whenever he’s with me… tell a super happy story for once (?), dammit.

Meister you’re close with: It’s a guild thing, but Adel? It might not be mutual, since I’m only playing around with him one-sidedly… well, I like my guild mates. They’re strong-willed, so it’s easy being around them. Though I sometimes get really pissed at Volks’ unreasonable requests.

[gamblersdoll]

Hey pookie ^_^

guts calms nerd down after she fails a difficult exam

nsfw

cw: praise, oral(f)

you never really failed exams, because you’re usually good at remembering the wording or the similarities of the wording on the exams.

this, was entirely different.

first off, they completely blind sighted you, you answered correctly, you always did, besides the fact you werent good in math. the problem? oh, ‘you didnt show your work.’ that was the problem you found with school, because not showing work meant you either cheated or guessed correctly.

and because you didnt show your work, your grade of a passing one hundred turned into a forty five. and school was almost just about done.

word caught wind to Guts’ him immediately going to your place to do whatever he can.

“how did you possibly fail?” he gritted, sucking his teeth as well.

“i dont know! all because i didn’t show how the hell i got the answer! so that means drop my grade to a forty five.” you swore, putting your head in your hands as you bounced your knee.

when you curse, Guts’ knew it was bad.

“hey, it’s not that big of a–“

“no, its not a big deal to you!” you shout, rocking back and forth to try and calm yourself. yet, that obviously wasnt working. he sighed, bringing himself to his knees.

“you passed it, you know that.” he says, pressing your legs apart and looking up to you. you start to protest, immediately shutting up when you’re told to. “you know the answer, the questions.”

he pulls your panties off, having you raise your hips off the ledge of the bed to. he’s practically salivating from the scent of your pussy, swiping a quick stripe up your slit.

you jolt, pressing your hands flat against the bed to support yourself up. “you know that you shouldnt have failed, so why beat ‘yerself up?”

“Guts its not like–“ you try to say, immediately shutting up after feeling his suckle on your clit. you bite your lip, feeling his hands grip on your thighs.

you decide to lay on your back, knowing absolutely that you will fall forward. “thats it, there you fuckin’ go.” he said, drooling his pool of spit from his mouth to your slit.

“you didnt fail it, not my nerdwhore.” he reassures, sliding his tongue inside your cunny, then back out and up and down your slit. you moan out, tears in the corners of your eyes. “let go, little girl.”

you started to move your hips against his face, but he pulled away. he clicks his tongue, and you whine. “Guts, please not today..” you protest.

“what are we going to do next time for tests or exams?” he asks, resorting to rubbing circles into your clit. he waits patiently, pressing on the bundle of nerves.

you try to figure out what the fuck hes talking about, because first he’s eating your pussy now hes asking what to do next time.

oh, he’s talking about the exam.

“sh–ow the work next time..?” you hiccup, immediately moaning in surprise as hes back at licking in between your folds and hood.

“thats right, we’ll show our work. even if we know it, yeah?” he coos, his thumbs pressing into your hips.

why that felt good to you when he pressed into your hips, you have no fucking clue. but you did know that shit made you closer than ever, chanting his name in hiccups or whines.

“go ahead, cum in my fuckin’ mouth.” he says, growling against your sloppy pussy. he laps up at the translucent sticky fluid drooling from your hole, and hes finally satisfied from his craving.

you lay against the bed, panting and twitching from the fact he only had to make you orgasm with a few words—

hold on.

he’s back with a warm wet rag, wiping at your folds and between your cheeks. “ill fix it ‘fer you.” you couldnt protest to that, finding it better to just relax for the moment since you were a mess for a few days.

but whatever the fuck he did, your grade went from a forty five back to the one hundred you had before. word spread saying that he had failed the exam too, newsflash, he didnt. yet he had failed a exam and went to the math teacher threatening him to fix the grade.

your grade was fixed, being somewhat thankful for that, yet why did he feel it necessary to do all of that for you?

you had a sub for the rest of the year, finding out that the teacher was nervous about not fixing the grade, or it came to light that he had been cheating on his husband with a female colleague.

to hell with that, he was gone, and Guts had basically saved you.

[platonicallylovesick]

Let just say, Katsuki's mother is my BIGGEST op

I mean like.. Endeavor too. Obviously the shit he did was WAYYY worse, but at least Shoto had a good role model too, his mom, and so Endeavor didn't completely get to him.

Besides, you're SUPPOSED to take the abuse seriously in Shoto's backstory, Katsuki's abuse gives me the sickening sinking feeling that its supposed to come off as a joke. Maybe it would for people who haven't lived through similar shit. But I just felt angry and a little sick through the whole thing.

cw for the actual abuse being talked about and shown under the cut

First of all, she casually hits him. Its the first thing we see her do. Its HARD, not a light smack at all, and she doesnt even fucking blink. She does it with a smile, she does it while cheerfully talking about how much she wants him out of her house and into a dorm room.

He responds as anyone raised in a volatile household would, and yells back at her. "You hag! Hit me again and I'll kill you!" To which she hits him again, visually and AUDIBLY harder than the last time.

This time she throws in that he was so weak he got caught. Found out where his obsession with being the strongest came from. I actually clocked him for this a long time ago. When I started the show I assumed his father beat him for being "too weak" and "not enough of a man" and that his mother was an alcoholic. Turns out his mother is the physically abusive one that thinks he's too weak, and his father is a pathetic coward of a man, since he mostly just stands by. Obviously he's also being abused, but he's the adult in the situation, its disgusting that he just stands by and lets his child get hit.

What's important to me here though is that he stops fighting back, he leans away from her and puts his arms up defensively. We've literally never seen him actually take any real defensive stance at all any other time in the show. Not when he was being suffocated by the sludge monster in episode one, not a single time when he was fighting All Might, not when he was kidnapped and surrounded by villains. But when his mother hit him and yelled at him, he pulled back.

Then there's this shot, where Kasuki's mother has him by the cheeks and he's trying to get her hands off of him. The father stands by and addresses the teachers instead.

She hits him again, and then holds his head down while turning to tell the teachers that she would be grateful to have him out of the house and in a dorm instead. "People are always fawning over him whether he deserved it or not." Emphasis on the not.

Absolutely disgusting how she demonstrates why he ended up the way he did while blaming it on him getting undeserved praise from his peers. Listen, could this line be referring to how she developed a more physical approach to interacting with him AFTER he developed an explosive personality? I mean I guess its possible, I know of cases where that's happened, where the mother has to get on her unruly son's level. But that's usually because the child learned the behavior from outside influences, like running in bad circles at school, doing drugs, gang activity, ect. That's Not what we see happening here, being told your Quirk is pretty cool by your friends on the playground and being admired by your peers doesn't instill such hatred in a person. Abuse does. Especially since he was a good kid, he didnt just throw his weight around, he stood up for his friends against older kids, we see it in a flashback scene in season 2. He only became angry at Midoriya specifically when he tried to help him up out of the river, which got him so angry because of values INSTILLED IN HIM BY HIS ABUSIVE MOTHER. He internalized the idea that Midoriya thought he was pathetic and useless and weak because he must be if a Qurkless kid thought he needed help. That's not something a 6 year old just assumes, that's something that's already been beat into him by his mother.

This part hit me in the feels. He walks outside for just a few moments to ask All Might what Deku is to him, since he's observed a lot of the direct mentoring All Might's been giving him. For once he doesn't yell or threaten or anything, he's very uncharacteristically quiet. His mother yells at him from inside the house that the police told him not to go wandering off alone, and after a minute he turns to go back inside. "Yeah sure. If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. Oh and, thank you." Before getting yelled at again on his way inside. Thanks for coming to have him moved into a dorm, and out of that household.

I didn't really like Bakugo so much before this episode, at least in the beginning I thought he seriously needed to chill out and thought that he was just written like that for the sole purpose of having a loud and explosive bully for Midoriya to rise up against as the main character. I had looked at a few reddit posts that came up for the search "Why is Bakugo like that" and also asked my sister (who frankly turned out to have an awful memory, since her reasoning was that she was pretty sure his father had gone to get milk, so to speak) and nowhere did I find mention of him literally being abused, or even being in a toxic and dysfunctional household. The only deeper meaning for his character that I could find was that he felt pressured to live up to this image of himself that everyone else had, the aforementioned "Everyone thinks my Quirk is cool and that I'm destined to be a hero, so I HAVE to be the strongest and I HAVE to be the coolest, otherwise I'm absolutely nothing." But again, that's not really the full story since we see his mother reinforce the same message with a side of physical abuse. I mostly joked about the "I bet your father beats you and your mother's a drunk" shit before because I really didn't think they'd have actually written it in. Now I highkey feel bad.

Please enjoy this bonus paragraph about how Bakugo being so independent kinda made me think. Now im going to go and lose my mind over more of this show see ya

[thefictionalgirl]

The youngest daughter

You heard about me a lot,

She mentions me all the time,

They mention me all the time,

How she had to protect me

from the problems I've never caused.

You heard about me right?

But what do you know?

The lazy and unreliable one

in every story?

That's only natural for you to believe,

Because you know I believe that too.

The one who is admired,

The one who is loved.

And the one who doesn't care,

never try to be enough.

One who's "too much"

all the damn time.

And I know you heard about me,

And I know you heard,

How I spend a lot,

Someone your blood and flesh,

gets not as much as you thought.

Mom favours her,

Dad loves her the best,

She does whatever she wants,

a luxurious nest.

You practically heard this a lot, what I'm going to tell you,

Listen to me even though you know–

They sacrificed a lot, for building her life,

She did nothing, but she's the one at the edge of a knife.

Uncivilised, uncompromising and not so nice

No matter who becomes a virtue, she's always the vice.

The oldest's anger and dissatisfaction,

maybe not always it's the case,

But whenever the question is raised,

"They love you the most, they treat you the best"

Arrogant, rebellious and the unpleasant,

She gets that alot, that's how you describe the youngest.

And for whom, parents never cared about you,

And for whom, you had to refuse the last piece of cake.

For whom, you had to give up on your room,

For whom, you'll not be praised even for how much you make.

And you try, to go back on words, to change the fate,

because of the little girl, you want to, but you cannot hate.

And I guess y'all know about these,

The cat, the mouse and the piece of cheese.

And the cat leaves and moves out,

The mouse didn't know how to cope up,

So that's why she always shouts.

But then, how about reading some things unknown ?

What happens to the girl, why doesn't she smile anymore? Why does she always frown?

Did she have to take the responsibility of always being good?

She didn't need to be compared, she didn't need to be called rude.

You were busy complimenting the comparison,

An Individual, who was never known and given a reason.

Good or bad, she never wanted them,

You all made her the antagonist here who loves to complain.

And with the tag of being spoiled one,

she became the alter ego of yours,

The princess with a large mansion

And who never endures.

Someday you leave,

Making her all alone,

She never cries,

She has now grown.

It's the best, cause you never want to see

The teenage self in her eyes again,

Where everything is immature- love, happiness or pain.

She never had the idea of how the world works, right?

She said, "no I'm fine" whenever you charged her,

But the question in her eyes didn't surrender.

Hopeful- she wanted you to try a bit more,

"She never shares, she just knows how to close the door"

You wanted to be a teacher, punish for her mistakes.

She just wanted a sister to share her aches.

Hard or soft, whatever the feelings were,

She just never trusted you again,

And why would she do it?

You became a traitor

You never took the share of her pain.

And where were you, when she was on her knees,

Praying to make it all stop?

You were not there when she got home.

You were not there when she was trying to build her rome.

She never blamed you for choosing your happiness.

But why's that different when it comes to her?

Why can't you all see

That she too has a lot of scars?

To have nothing,

It must be hard, it must be bad,

But I had you,

Then why have I always felt sad?

I cannot describe the mixed feelings,

Maybe this all happened because of us.

I love you more than my life,

I cried a lot, weren't my eyes enough obvious?

I was not a criminal, nor you were,

We could have made it better, I swear.

But you never ever tried,

And I always denied.

You left the room, you left me alone,

Now you ask me about my feelings? Why have I never shown?

Was it so easy for you to abandon everything?

I know it's not bad, but why can't I do nothing?

TELL ME TELL ME I WANT TO KNOW,

don't you know that this crappy delinquent always feels so low?

After all this time,

After screaming for so long,

You hear the depth of my voice,

What about my continuous melancholic song?

Can't you see it falling from my eyes?

Can't you see I'm tired of tossing the dice?

Constantly hoping to earn a six,

I'll pick the pieces up in order to fix.

I refuse to believe in cracks,

I will try, I'll try to give what it lacks,

But you can never give me back, the years I spent yearning in vain,

Even if you try to have a conversation with stories from the memory lane.

Distanced soul,

Unattached roles

How do you think it happened?

How do you know it's not for the best?

Because that's way she became her,

That's way of the youngest.

✒mystica

[sokkastyles]

ATLA LA Ep 3 Thoughts:

I actually did really like the intro to Azula. The way the camera focused on her watching the rebels burn alive with cold satisfaction felt so true to the original character. The scene itself felt ameutuerish so it was hard for me to believe in the stakes of it. Like, who is this random kid with a ragtag bunch of misfits and why is the royal family so personally invested in him that Azula would even bother?

On that note, here comes Ozai's speech from the trailer. Again, everything feels too low-stakes for me to believe Ozai would even bother justifying himself to this kid. It's a nice speech, but it feels like it was written for the trailer and then plopped into the scene.

"Do not speak to me of loss." Love that line (although again, it feels too good for the scene). I fully believe Ozai believes that he is the ultimate victim in his life.

I was already spoiled for this and knew I would hate it but not only is Ozai praising Zuko to Azula a change from the original dynamic, it also does not make a lot of sense even if he's just trying to fuel Azula's insecurities. I can't imagine Zhao's letter puts Zuko in a good light. The Ozai of the original show would most likely focus on what Zuko didn't do (didn't capture the Avatar) and that he actually did find Aang and lost him would only be more fuel for Ozai to see him as a failure. In the original show, Ozai has a golden child/scapegoat dynamic with Azula and Zuko, respectively. And in this type of dynamic, even the scapegoat's accomplishments are subject to ridicule by the parent, and sometimes even intentionally sabotaged by the parent. This is why, in the original show, when Ozai hears that Zuko found and then lost Aang, he sends Azula to bring Zuko back as a prisoner, dubbing him a failure. The fact that Zuko got close to Aang both highlights how he didn't succeed in Ozai's eyes and is a threat to Ozai's need to make him a scapegoat, so it makes sense that when the possibility of actually succeeding at what Ozai thought was an impossible task is on the table, Ozai would pull Zuko back. I understand that the show is trying to "humanize" Azula but it actually trivializes the abuse both Azula and Zuko experienced to make it about what Zuko or Azula did instead of about how Ozai sees them, because abuse is never about how good the kids are at pleasing the parent, it is about the parent's insecurities and desire to take that out on a vulnerable party.

It also makes it kinda funny when Azula is like "lol Zuko didn't do shit." I'm not convinced this would actually work as the psychological manipulation it is intended to be because it would be too easy for both Ozai and Azula to brush off this as yet another Zuko failure. You just KNOW Zhao's letter was like "dear firelord, guess what your incompetent son did this time, neener neener."

I also understand that they're changing things, but you can't change Zuko's dynamic with Ozai this much and still have him burn Zuko's face. Publicly humiliating and physically mutilating someone you intend to be your heir is just not logical, and I don't believe that even Ozai is that dumb.

Aang is so cute I just. I do miss Katara's anger and thought we would see a flash of it when Aang went all "just feel your feelings" but it makes sense that she doesn't get mad at him because he admits he's not the best teacher because he never really needed to listen to his teachers, instead of OG Aang who was not very self aware about being a prodigy and that frustrated Katara, who had to work much harder.

I feel like they are building the antagonism between Zuko and Zhao instead of having them be rivals right off the bat like in the original. Which makes sense if the show wants to explain something that was not explained in the original, but I do miss the hints of a shared history from the original even if it was never explained. Not everything needs an explanation.

"Allow me to contact a few trusted sources." LOL Zhao stay sleazy.

Oh, I love Zuko getting mad at Jee for "gossiping about a superior officer" right after he does that himself. They really nailed Zuko as someone who is so desperately insecure about his own vulnerabilities that he vacillates very quickly between uncertainty and obnoxious swagger, and Liu portrays it seamlessly.

Aang info dumping about Omashu <3

Oh, it's Jet.

Sokka, Katara was supportive about YOUR crush just a few minutes ago, what gives??

I expect 100k fake married in Omashu jetkotara on my desk by morning.

Teo precious bb

The subplot with the bombings does bring an urgency to how the war has really affected people.

Azula absolutely would be two steps ahead and ready to undermine Zuko from afar behind her father's back even if she doesn't believe he's a real threat. That's not so different from the original.

"Uncle Iroh and I will go." 100k jetkotara fake dating.

Jet is such an inherently ridiculous character. I can't decide if the merging of his plotline with the machinist makes things more complex or less. On one hand, Jet is more obviously wrong. On the other, I like that Sokka's conflict is focused on his relationship with the machinist instead of acting the overprotective big brother with Jet.

The machinist encouraging Sokka to follow his talents, aw! Sokka is so clearly missing his dad and in search of guidance.

Love the Aang and Teo scenes

"We don't have to be afraid of our pain." This scene is so zutara-coded, I'm sorry. Still don't like that Katara has to be told about her own bending by the boys in her life. But the thing with her mom was nice.

"Father would never approve of these under-handed tactics." Oh, honey.

Azula and Zhao! Zhao and Jee! The betrayal! The drama!

The scarf!

"Things might get a little hot for us around here." When will the fanfic be on my desk, I ask you?

Aang being like "Zuko I read your diary, who hurt you?"

The first time we see Iroh firebend is to save people while sacrificing himself.

There was a lot of entertaining stuff in this episode! Unfortunately the mixing of several plot points and merging of what was before episodic content into a long two parter that takes up a fourth of the season makes the world seem smaller, but that was kind of inevitable when you adapt a show like this. The show still feels rather directionless, although there was one mention of getting to the North Pole this episode.

[robininthelabyrinth]

The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 15

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

———————————————————————-

“At least your catering was excellent,” Wen Ruohan said to the Jiang sect disciple showing them out the door, purposefully snide.

The discussion conference had been canceled, of course, or at least postponed by at least half a year, having never actually gotten properly started in the first place. It was a tremendous embarrassment to the Jiang sect, though most of it wasn’t even their fault – the Lan sect needed to go search for their missing heirs, the Wen sect had just shocked the world with their sect leader’s marriage, and then there was the assault of a sect leader that fell under the Jin sect’s purview…all the Jiang disciples looked on the verge of tears, seeing the results of what was undoubtedly months of effort disappear in a flash.

“I agree,” Lan Qiren said from his side, voice much less sarcastic. “It is a credit to your sect that you were able to stand together and maintain your sect’s dignity under such trying circumstances. As always, it can be seen that each of you strives to live up to your sect’s motto: achieve the impossible.”

The Jiang sect disciples at the door brightened under Lan Qiren’s praise, however measured. “Thank you, Teacher Lan! Have a good trip!”

Lan Qiren nodded at them and continued on his way with his hands tucked behind his back, Wen Ruohan easily keeping pace beside him.

“I did mean that as an insult, to be clear,” he remarked.

“To be clear, I do not care,” Lan Qiren replied, utterly at peace. “It is not their fault that Jiang Fengmian lacks the spine to get the sects back in line even within his own home.”

Wen Ruohan snickered, too delighted by Lan Qiren’s relatively unusual cattiness to complain further.

“How many people do you think have guessed by now that we know where your nephews are?” he asked. “And how many think they’re with us right now, despite all of our possessions having been searched three times over?”

They’d even dug into Lan Qiren’s clothing, tossing it this way and that, in what was very obviously meant to be an insult – it wasn’t as though two children could plausibly be hidden in a few bags’ worth of folded fabric, and the searchers had deliberately left everything a mess. Wen Ruohan had enthusiastically suggested that Lan Qiren consider simply forgoing clothing entirely rather than wear something stained with others’ fingers, but tragically the Jiang sect had been able to provide them with swift laundry service.

A pity, really. Wen Ruohan would have been more than happy to keep Lan Qiren company for as long as it took to find new clothing, and probably even longer. Especially after the display Lan Qiren had put on, draping himself in Wen sect colors and fashions and playing politics with all the skill of ten years’ able expertise, all of it for him…

The mere thought of it was driving Wen Ruohan insane.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. From the first moment he had woken up and heard about it from his subordinates, to when he’d made his way around the Lotus Pier eavesdropping on the chaos Lan Qiren had left in his wake, the deliberate chaos that had left everyone with the Wen name on their tongues, to when he’d walked into the main hall and seen Lan Qiren standing there, proud and untouchable as any immortal. Lan Qiren, wearing his Wen colors and a low collar that hid nothing and instead proclaimed that the untouchable had been touched, and by the only man who deserved the honor…

The entire thing went round and round in Wen Ruohan’s mind, inflaming his desire until he was very nearly in pain with it.

Truly, sometimes he envied Lan Qiren’s lack of innate sexual impulse. It certainly seemed to make his life a great deal easier! It must be much more straightforward, not constantly feeling the rushing heat of yearning desire in reaction to sight and sound and thought…and it wasn’t as though the lack of impulse impacted Lan Qiren’s ability to perform or enjoy the act in any way, in much the same way a man accustomed to inedia could still enjoy food. It was only the irrepressible need for it that he lacked.

“Many will guess the truth,” Lan Qiren replied, and Wen Ruohan had to tear his mind out of the gutter and return it to the conversation they were having. “And the rest will figure it out once they have conferred with their wiser fellows. It is not that difficult to deduce that we must have had something to do with it, or at least it will not be once they are no longer distracted by constant twists and turns.”

“It was a shocking discussion conference-that-wasn’t, wasn’t it?”

“Mm.” Lan Qiren climbed into the carriage that would take them back to the Nightless City. When they were both seated, he said, very abruptly, “I want to compose something. For you.”

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows at the change in subject. “I have no objections. Some music would alleviate the boredom of a long journey quite well.”

Lan Qiren glared at him as if he were missing something. Wen Ruohan thought that that reaction was rather uncalled for, given that his suggestion would have been to see if they could fuck the entire way back. Wasn’t that what enclosed carriages were for?

(All right, it was to travel in comfort while allowing a large delegation to keep pace with each other for a lengthy journey; such a thing would be impossible with all of them on swords, so going by carriage was necessary to avoid embarrassing the weak and unnecessarily exhausting the strong. That wasn’t the point. The point was that they could, if they wanted to.)

After a moment, Lan Qiren seemed to realize his ire was misdirected and deflated somewhat, though he still looked grumpy. “Perhaps later,” he said with a faint sigh. “In the meantime, a gift to keep you occupied.”

He shook out his sleeves and put his left hand into Wen Ruohan’s lap. Not in any sexy way, either: his palm was facing upwards, his fingers lightly curled, the whole limb at rest, all white and red and pink and – black?

That wasn’t right.

Wen Ruohan frowned and peeled back Lan Qiren’s long undersleeve, revealing the purpling flesh of a particularly nasty bruise around his wrist. There were several indentations that were worse than the rest, visibly forming the shape of fingers – someone had grabbed Lan Qiren by the wrist and held him hard enough to bruise, hard enough to damage the muscle and grind the bone, to cause injury that Lan Qiren’s high cultivation was still working to fix it.

Someone had hurt Lan Qiren. How dare they?!

“Who…?”

“Your anger was not the purpose of the gift,” Lan Qiren said firmly before Wen Ruohan could really kick off into a rage – not least of all because it was evident that Lan Qiren had purposefully waited until they were on their way out of the Lotus Pier to reveal it to him, thereby robbing Wen Ruohan of the chance to find and destroy the person who’d dared to lay a finger on him. “Do not succumb to rage.”

“Oh?” Wen Ruohan said snidely. “Then what is its purpose?”

Lan Qiren sighed again, as if Wen Ruohan were the one being deliberately obtuse, and reached over to wrap Wen Ruohan’s fingers around his wrist. “I dislike bearing the marks of others, and I would have you fix the issue. And no, before you ask, I am not referring to your sect’s famed medical skills.”

Fix the issue? Without using medical skills, how was he supposed to fix –

Oh.

Wen Ruohan’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, his rage abruptly forgotten and his whole body suddenly aflame once more. “You would permit me to hurt you? To mark you anew, so that the only thing left on your body is me?”

Lan Qiren arched his eyebrows at him. “I would not offer if I did not permit,” he said dryly. “And we are in an enclosed carriage, are we not?”

People did say that couples grew to resemble each other once they married, Wen Ruohan reflected as he pounced, sliding himself into Lan Qiren’s lap and pinning the other man’s injured wrist above his head to watch him wince. He’d never noticed that before with any of his wives, not even the first, but he thought he might be starting to see some aspects of it now.

Ah, but it was such an incredible rush, the power of knowing that he had lured Lan Qiren onto this path of darkness along with him. A rush to know, too, that they were walking the path together, walking side-by-side, Lan Qiren his equal in a way no one else was, the way no one else could be. The power of knowing that he’d had a hand in reshaping this rigid and implacable man, recasting him in a mold of his own making, taking all that he was and adding in Wen sect arrogance and reckless disregard, the sun so far above the rest as to leave them all behind. Even if Lan Qiren maintained his scholarly reserve, his insistence on abiding with his sect’s strict rules, his bone-deep commitment to his principles of justice and chivalry…well, that just made it all the sweeter when the fire Wen Ruohan had stoked beneath his cold stoicism flared out.

When he finally acted as though he understood what a treasure he was. As he should.

Even if other people still didn’t see it.

Wen Ruohan wondered idly if Lan Qiren knew that everyone in the cultivation world thought that he was the one receiving when they were in bed together. Jin Guangshan had made a few comments along those lines in his hearing, since he incorrectly viewed himself as being Wen Ruohan’s friend; he had been smirking and condescending, laughing as if he thought that Wen Ruohan were only fucking Lan Qiren in order to break him – which had admittedly been his initial aim, though now in retrospect Wen Ruohan was pleased not to have been so predictable. Qingheng-jun had said something disapproving about it, something which most people would take as mere Lan sect prudery and which Wen Ruohan knew to be instead genuine upset at the fact that Lan Qiren wasn’t suffering as much as he might have hoped. And based on his reaction, it was clear that Lao Nie, who really ought to have known better than to make assumptions one way or the other, had also thought (initially, anyway) that Wen Ruohan was the one forcing the issue, so to speak, rather than the other way around.

They weren’t the only ones, either.

With Wen Ruohan’s cultivation, he could hear the speculation and whispers from all around, and at least a few of them had torn themselves away from politics to wonder about Lan Qiren’s performance in bed. Most of them were hilariously wrong, thinking of Lan Qiren as some ravished maiden from a bad opera, although a few of them, mostly the ones who’d sent him students, correctly identified him as someone who would incline towards being dominating in bed – though those few had then incorrectly assumed that Wen Ruohan would have crushed such rebellious behavior at once. All of them fools, all of them thinking that a sexual position or inclination said anything about a person…

Of course, even if Lan Qiren knew, it was unlikely that he would care. Wen Ruohan certainly didn’t, not when he could have Lan Qiren wincing under his hands, voluntarily submitting to his cruelty, letting him twist flesh between his fingers and dig furrows in with his nails –

“I broke a rule at the discussion conference,” Lan Qiren panted. His lower lip was still a little raw from where he had bitten it during his confrontation with his brother; Wen Ruohan swept down to replace the mark with one from his own teeth, kissing him so thoroughly that he nearly forgot what he was saying. “Not just – a casual rule. An important one, and I broke it knowingly. I thought to myself as I did it that I would need to impose punishment upon myself, physical discipline, and that you might – mm – that you might enjoy being the one to administer it – ”

“I would indeed,” Wen Ruohan purred. “Do you have something in mind? Do you want me to beat you? I know the Lan sect uses wooden disciplinary rods, but with my cultivation I could do the same degree of damage with my palms alone. I could turn you over my lap and spank you until you scream.”

That sounded good. Very good.

“I would not scream. Discipline is meant to be taken with dignity – and spanking is a punishment for children.”

“Mm, yes, and humiliation is meant to hurt, so as to better seal in the memory. I find myself rather taken with the idea of beating your ass until it is red, and then having you fuck me against a wall again, knowing that every little move you make makes it ache and burn.”

“I think we have gotten rather far away from the subject of discipline. But if it makes you happy…”

“It does.” Wen Ruohan ground himself down into Lan Qiren’s lap. “You’d do it for me, wouldn’t you?”

He was mostly joking, not really meaning it, but Lan Qiren nodded.

“I would,” he affirmed verbally, as if it were that easy, as if he could just say something like that. “I would do many things for you.”

Wen Ruohan grinned triumphantly.

“And the next time you break a rule, I would return the favor twofold,” Lan Qiren continued, voice steady and unmoved, giving Wen Ruohan pause. “I do not think that I have the strength to actually harm you in that manner, of course. But perhaps I could make the experience enjoyable for you nonetheless – each strike driving you further into my lap until you are little more than a dog, shameless in your wretched display.”

Wen Ruohan glared at him. He was not going to let Lan Qiren thrash him!

Lan Qiren arched his eyebrows at him. “Humiliation seals in the memory, does it not?”

“…point taken,” Wen Ruohan conceded. “Perhaps we’ll limit it to strikes with the rod after all.”

At least to start.

Lan Qiren looked pleased – or he did until Wen Ruohan dug his nails into his already battered wrist, making him hiss and squirm beneath him as if trying to escape. Only he wasn’t, not really, because if he had truly wanted to get out, he would have found a way already.

“You’ll still have to kneel before me, though,” Wen Ruohan said, already imagining it. He used the friction between them to please himself as he did, rubbing himself against Lan Qiren. “Even in your sect, strikes are taken kneeling. I’m going to make you hurt – I’m going to make you bleed – ”

He stared at Lan Qiren’s face, avid, watching for fear, waiting for it…

“In that case, I think that I shall take the punishment in one of my newer outfits,” Lan Qiren said thoughtfully. “It will both increase your enjoyment and avoid ruining one of the ones I actually like.”

…and never getting it.

You are all alone, Wen Ruohan had told Lan Qiren. You have no one who would help you.

I have you, Lan Qiren replied straightforwardly. He had been so sure of it.

Even now, with Wen Ruohan hurting him, that certainty did not break.

How had Lan Qiren put it? Mutually consensual sadism?

Ah, truly, but it was so good that Wen Ruohan was a genius! To think, if he wasn’t so brilliant, he might have missed this chance to claim the treasure that was Lan Qiren for himself and for his sect. If he had done nothing but stood aside, someone else would have had this man, this man who was so obviously perfectly suited for Wen Ruohan and no one else, and then inevitably Wen Ruohan would have had no choice but to start a war just to get him.

Because he really truly had to have him. He had to have him in every way, in every manner, anything he could get –

“I want to dual cultivate with you,” he said without thinking, and then winced.

He regretted saying anything, of course. Even if he did want it, and he did, suddenly, want it desperately, Wen Ruohan still knew better than to bring it up just like that, suddenly and without preparation – dual cultivation was dangerous, particularly when there was such a difference in cultivation levels between the two partners.

Despite Lan Qiren’s talent, Wen Ruohan was by far the more powerful. If Lan Qiren lowered his defenses and yielded control over his qi to him, he would be helpless in the face of any decision Wen Ruohan chose to make. If he so wished, he could drain Lan Qiren dry, using him as a cultivation furnace to empower himself, sucking out years of painstakingly acquired spiritual energy from that beautiful golden core of his, so pure and shining bright. He could leave him as little more than the husks Wen Zhuliu’s core-melting technique left behind. He would not be wholly crippled the way they were, since he would still have his golden core and meridians intact, but assuming he survived the process, his power would be greatly damaged, requiring years if not decades of hard work to rebuild.

Sure, Lan Qiren could try to do the same to him, stealing what he could, but Wen Ruohan had more than enough power to spare. No matter what Lan Qiren did, he would survive the experience, however unpleasant it might be, and then he would kill Lan Qiren after. But Lan Qiren was unlikely to do something like that, being infamously virtuous and principled, whereas Wen Ruohan was a well-known madman – no, the risks here were all on Lan Qiren’s side.

Real dual cultivation required trust, the sort of trust that needed more than just a few bows and a vow to create. Not all married couples did it. Even those that did love each other, as Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan did in their strange, tempestuous way, might not be willing to allow their partner that level of intimacy, that level of vulnerability. And Wen Ruohan, who himself trusted no one, knew that he of all people was the last on the list of people that could be trusted –

“Very well.”

Wen Ruohan stilled and stared down at Lan Qiren, who frowned and amended his words: “Not in a carriage. I have standards.”

“You understand that I mean actual dual cultivation, correct?” Wen Ruohan said, feeling a little blank inside – not the usual sort of benumbed apathy that often came upon him and drove him to the Fire Palace to seek out any sort of feeling he could get, but a weird floaty sort of blank, like the type that preceded the mind-clearing lucidity of a really good orgasm. “Not the type you hear about in badly written erotic stories where it’s nothing but a thinly disguised excuse for sex, but the sort where both partners genuinely merge spiritual energy, share qi for qi, letting our golden cores resound and fill with each other.”

Lan Qiren blinked at him, as if puzzling through what he meant, and after a moment, his brows unfurrowed as he reached a conclusion that satisfied him. “Ah, of course,” he said, nodding judiciously. “Forgive me: obviously you would also not do something like that in a carriage, so my statement was unnecessary. I did not mean to imply that you lacked standards.”

Wen Ruohan did lack standards. He was the terrifying tyrant of the cultivation world, the unstable madman who lusted only for power and dreamt of standing above all the other sects as their master, and he knew it. He knew it was all true, what they said about him. There was little enough he would not do to achieve his goals, whether lying, cheating, stealing, murder or worse, and if he did not typically employ the most wretched of methods, such as human furnaces, that was not because of any scruple. His cultivation path was still an orthodox one, and so engaging in that behavior would likely harm him more than it helped; that was the only reason he hadn’t done the worst of the worst, the only reason. And yet, in the face of all that, Lan Qiren was still willing to give him the benefit of the doubt – to rely on him, to trust him.

Lan Qiren, Wen Ruohan decided in a moment of clarity, must be insane.

Luckily, it was the sort of insanity that went in Wen Ruohan’s favor, so he wasn’t going to complain.

Instead, he leaned down and kissed Lan Qiren again, using the hand that wasn’t busy digging new bruises into Lan Qiren’s already injured wrist to reach down and get himself off as efficiently as possible – which didn’t take long, as close to the edge as Wen Ruohan already was.

“Do you need something on your side?” he asked, after. “Or are you content to wait until later?”

“Later will do just fine,” Lan Qiren said, though he wrinkled his nose as he looked down at the mess on his bare abdomen. His slightly bruised abdomen, in fact, which Wen Ruohan noted in his heart as something else he’d have to pay back to someone someday. “A bath would be too much to ask for, I suppose, but some water…?”

Wen Ruohan moved back to his seat, allowing Lan Qiren to clean himself up and taking the time to simply luxuriate in the languor that followed release. When Lan Qiren returned to his seat, he took the other man’s wrist into his lap once more, this time to apply a few acupuncture needles to encourage swifter healing, then when that was done to smooth on some salve and wrap it in a bandage. And then, because he could, because no one would ever dare tell him not to, he slid down to his knees on the floor of the carriage and took Lan Qiren into his mouth.

“You are insatiable,” Lan Qiren said, though he sounded fond rather than complaining. Very few men would complain in such a circumstance, though Wen Ruohan suspected Lan Qiren might be one of them, if he were sufficiently motivated – though he didn’t seem to be now, based on the way he reached down with his injured hand to slide his fingers to rest in Wen Ruohan’s hair. “But if this is meant to be for me, then we shall do it my way, you understand?”

Wen Ruohan hummed in reply.

“Good. Just stay still, then…yes, just as you are, just like that. You may meditate or daydream, as you prefer – I do not require your attention – but do not move until I grant you permission. You can do that for me, can you not?”

He could, and quite happily, too. Wen Ruohan hadn’t kneeled in penance for a long time, though he still remembered that type of discipline from his childhood. Though shortly enough he discovered that this didn’t feel like penance or punishment – Lan Qiren would have made it clear if that was what he expected Wen Ruohan to get out of the act, and this wasn’t that. It wasn’t even meant to be humiliating.

No, it was more just…

A way to pass the time.

After a little while, Lan Qiren summoned his guqin, plucking at some song or another – not one Wen Ruohan recognized, so perhaps the one he had said earlier that he wanted to compose – while Wen Ruohan enjoyed himself. It was strangely meditative, in its way, and after a while it started to feel almost competitive, a race to see which one of them would break first: Wen Ruohan’s pride and paranoia against Lan Qiren’s stubbornness and stamina.

And Wen Ruohan did not lose.

Luckily, Lan Qiren might seem to have the endless patience of a block of granite, the way the Lan rules seemed to advise, but in the end he was still human. Eventually he gave in and let Wen Ruohan suck him off properly – and that, too, was a pleasure, and not just because it represented victory.

Wen Ruohan was in a very good mood.

That good mood persisted all the way through the long carriage ride back to the Nightless City, and even after, when Lan Qiren disappeared in the direction of their shared rooms with his guqin and a distracted air that suggested he was likely to forget to eat dinner that night in favor of playing music. Wen Ruohan saw him off with a smirk before heading towards the main hall: tragically, even though the time he’d been gone for the discussion conference that wasn’t had been shorter than expected, the never-ending work of a sect leader still beckoned.

Surely even those annoyances couldn’t dampen his mood…though they certainly seemed to be trying their best.

“Sect Leader, I swear to you, that is the rumor,” the reporting disciple bowed deeply. “They claim that our Wen sect cleared the area only through driving the monsters to the next region – that we are not only dishonest and untrustworthy, betraying the rules of the night-hunt, but that our great forces are only there to hide our weakness.”

Above all things, Wen Ruohan hated being laughed at the most. Normally, he would retaliate against such an insult by destroying anyone who dared make it, regardless of the truth of the matter – the truth didn’t really matter, after all. History was written by the victors, and the offense of insulting his Wen sect was far greater than whatever petty crimes his subordinates might or might not have committed. A subordinate could be punished, a scapegoat could be blamed, but someone who dared insult him…?

Perform acts of chivalry, have courtesy and integrity, take wins and losses…

Ugh, he could hear Lan Qiren earnestly chirping those stupid Lan sect rules even now.

Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes. Such a thing definitely wasn’t worth ruining his good mood over.

“Send a secondary squad to investigate what happened, both the initial squad’s behavior and the rumors,” he ordered, waving his hand dismissively. “If the crime has been committed, report to me for further instruction. If it has not, and the existence of false rumors is verified, then both squads may join hands and make clear our Wen sect’s displeasure.”

The Lan might preach If others lose to you, do not look down upon them, but the Wen had always felt differently. Even Wen Ruohan’s ancestor Wen Mao, who’d left his descendants with a whole list of seemingly altruistic sayings to make himself feel better about the vicious conquest he’d enacted to raise his clan up to the skies, had never included anything about having mercy on those that wronged you.

Even Lan Qiren wouldn’t be able to complain.

The subordinate bowed and retreated, shouting, “Sect Leader’s wisdom is infinite!” as he did.

The next petitioner stepped up – based on his clothing, he was one of the disciples surnamed Wen, a kinsman whether born or adopted, rather than merely an outer disciple.

“A report from the army, Sect Leader,” he said crisply, as professional and intimidating as expected from someone who bore their surname, and presented Wen Ruohan with a missive.

Wen Ruohan scanned it over for any unusual elements. It was mostly the usual, though naturally Wen Ruohan would never ignore something from his army – he was the only one with a sect large enough to even have an army, the only one bold enough to force lower-level cultivators into the sort of discipline required to call them an actual militia rather than merely wielding the fighting force of his sect disciples the way other sects did. Not that he could underestimate that: Qinghe Nie, for instance, had made its way into the Great Sects on account of their disciples’ outsized strength in arms.

“What’s this about us sending a squad to deal with a matter near Jiujiang?” he asked, tapping one part of the report. “That’s in the area between Gusu Lan and Yunmeng Jiang, it’s not our responsibility.”

More to the point, it was perilously close to the Quanjiao Liu sect, the target of Qingheng-jun’s upcoming war of conquest. Not to mention only a stone’s throw from Xixiang, where Cangse Sanren was currently heading with Lan Qiren’s precious nephews…

“We received word of a large group of hauntings all in one place,” the Wen disciple said, saluting. “It seemed perfect for a training exercise on a large scale. Permission was received from the local sect that manages the area.”

Wen Ruohan grunted. That was normal enough, he supposed. “What sect?”

“Yuexi Xu.”

He’d never heard of them. A small sect, then, with nothing but their clan to back them up – even with paranoia as acute as his, Wen Ruohan had to admit that the chances of them being up to something that could harm his great Wen sect was relatively low. Still, wading into another Great Sect’s territory was always fraught with risk. It tended to make people nervous, and that nervousness was particularly acute when it was his Wen sect, given the reputation Wen Ruohan had for conquest. Was all that trouble really worth it for a mere night-hunt…?

“Is the prey particularly notable?” he asked. “Something that would gain our Wen sect great fame?”

“No, Sect Leader. However, the general was convinced that the opportunity was worth taking in order to ensure that the army had experience outside of drilling, in facing up against real opponents. In particular, he wishes to develop his protégé…”

Wen Ruohan relaxed. Now that made sense. He’d almost forgotten that he’d sent Wen Xu to be tutored by one of his generals, but naturally they’d want to flatter him by finding a way to show off to his son.

“Naturally my Xu-er must have many opportunities if he is to win fame for himself,” he said indulgently. “Very well, approved, provided they’re quick in handling it and getting out again. I don’t want to run into any trouble. Do you have any verbal reports to add?”

“Only that the general observed a number of sects in the area of Jiujiang making movements of their own recently, in their own names. He thought it unusual, given that they were not chasing the hauntings he was targeting, and thought to inform the Sect Leader of it in the event they were preparing for war.”

Now that would be bad timing, Wen Ruohan reflected. Mostly for Qingheng-jun – if the local sects in the area were gearing up to go against each other, the Lan sect’s little war of conquest risked escalating out of control as other sects leaped into the fray in order to win themselves some advantage over their neighbors. Starting a war to win some land was nothing, everyone would accept that, but kicking off a big clash like that? That would bring down censure and draw criticism from the entire cultivation world on any sect that dared, even if they were as renowned for integrity as the Lan sect. Even his own Wen sect would need to think very carefully before getting involved with anything like that.

Well, it wasn’t his problem if Qingheng-jun would need to delay his war. Wen Ruohan might have carefully negotiated a contract that gave his sect’s tacit support to the Lan sect’s war in exchange for support further down the line to eat away at the Jiang sect’s other subordinate sects, and certainly he wanted to take advantage of the benefits he’d negotiated for, but his real goal of obtaining Lan Qiren had already been fulfilled.

Lan Qiren was his, now, and by the Lan sect’s own traditions, he would never be anyone else’s.

“So noted,” he said, smiling faintly to himself and ignoring the way that it made the disciple in front of him blanch in terror. “Dismissed. Pass my regards to Xu-er, and tell him to plan to return to the Nightless City for a visit when he’s finished with this night-hunt.”

It was really past time for Lan Qiren to meet his children. The only reason he hadn’t met them already was because Wen Xu, who was promising, was far away, and Wen Chao, who was close by, was spoiled and arrogant and more than a little silly. He’d initially planned to wait until Lan Qiren had settled plans for his future classes to introduce Wen Chao, asking him to act as personal tutor in advance, but now it seemed better that he wait until Lan Qiren’s nephews arrived. His younger son had always yearned for the acceptance of his peers, and once they were all in the Nightless City, in Wen Ruohan’s grasp, it would be easy enough to ensure that they got along.

The next report involved even more rumors, this time in a different area – and even more impudent.

“They really said that my Wen sect is only a paper tiger, with nothing but empty roars and past glory to back us up? And they said it in public, to others?” Wen Ruohan laughed in anger. “Do they not want to live any longer? Ridiculous.”

“Should we take action against them, Sect Leader?”

“No, of course not. No one would dare say something like that – ”

And if anyone really was that daring, they certainly wouldn’t be after the discussion conference.

“– which means there’s the chance that someone is spreading the rumor on purpose, to use us as a weapon against their enemies. Do they think our Wen sect is so easily manipulated? Have it investigated.”

“At once, Sect Leader!”

Wen Ruohan shook his head. So many rumors, all at once, and not the ones he’d wanted or expected to hear after the success of the discussion conference. How irritating! It stunk of some sort of plot.

He raised his voice and addressed the room at large. “Has anyone else got any unusual rumors to report?”

Silence, with most people exchanging glances. After a few moments, one of his subordinates, relatively far back in the crowd, stepped forward.

“Reporting to the Sect Leader,” he said, saluting. “I heard some unusual rumors in the vicinity of Yueyang Chang, but was reluctant to share them, absent any corroboration.”

Wen Ruohan raised his eyebrows. Yueyang Chang was the sect he’d absorbed with Lan Qiren’s advice, and which had been suffering from – should he call them growing pains? To go from independence to subservience required an adjustment period, but that wasn’t anything he would call ‘unusual’. “Speak.”

“Sect Leader Chang was overheard complaining by those who I trust, who reported back to me. He claimed he had been tricked – that he was pushed to go out on a limb by someone who knew the branch would not hold his weight.” The subordinate hesitated. “He said that he would never have instigated the fight in the first place if he hadn’t received encouragement from the Lan sect.”

“From the Lan sect? Gusu Lan?” Wen Ruohan was confused. What did the Lan sect have to do with Yueyang Chang? It wasn’t located in their territory. Moreover, the Lan did not have a habit of messing around with other sects, they tended to treat themselves as being better than that. “What was he promised?”

“He did not say. Only that he greatly regrets his actions…the usual sort of thing. It was only the reference to the Lan sect that was unusual.”

That was unusual. Wen Ruohan didn’t like things that were unusual, particularly in politics. Too often, something unusual was an early sign that something was about to go wrong.

“You did well to report it,” he said, frowning. “Anything to do with the other Great Sects is worthy of my attention.”

That got the attention of yet another of his servants, this one right next to the last, and made him step forward eagerly. “Sect Leader, I also heard something unusual,” he volunteered. “Lanling Jin sect sent out many messages in recent days, and I intercepted several. It appears they are contracting rogue cultivators, experienced ones.”

Another surprise. Wen Ruohan was starting to get tired of them. “Mercenaries?”

“Yes, Sect Leader.”

“You said ‘in recent days.’ Do you know when they started? Before or after the discussion conference?”

“After, Sect Leader.”

Wen Ruohan scoffed. Qingheng-jun must have overplayed his hand, then – Lanling Jin was a Great Sect, but not especially known for its military talents. They rarely spent money on arms when they could instead use it on frivolities, like even more gold leaf for their ridiculously luxurious accommodations. The only reason Jin Guangshan would be reaching out to mercenaries was because he’d managed to figure out that the Lan sect was going to go to war, and he wanted to see what advantage he could get for his sect by fishing in troubled waters.

“Good to know,” he said. “Though hardly what I would describe as ‘unusual.’”

“It’s not that, Sect Leader – it was Yueyang Chang, that was what reminded me! One of the mercenaries the Jin sect reached out to was formerly part of the Chang clan, disowned by the last sect leader, so he’s formally unaffiliated with them, though I believe he’s still on good terms with his kinsmen. He wrote back to confirm that he would participate, saying he knew that it was coming, because – ”

The subordinate abruptly stopped, having clearly not meant to say as much as he was.

Or perhaps regretting what he had been on the verge of revealing.

Wen Ruohan’s frown deepened. “Speak. I will not punish you.”

“This – I – I can only report what I have read, Sect Leader, without judgment as to whether it is true or false. I have not had time to take any steps to verify…”

“Speak.”

“...yes, Sect Leader. The Chang mercenary stated that he knew trouble was coming because he had seen both Lan sect leaders in the environs of his natal sect not long before.”

Wen Ruohan blinked, for a moment not understanding. Both Lan sect leaders? There could only ever be one at a time, and Lan Qiren’s father was long dead. The only way such a thing would be possible was if the man was claiming to have seen Lan Qiren and Qingheng-jun together – together, and near Yueyang, which was nowhere near Gusu.

“Impossible,” he said firmly, ignoring the way his stomach started churning and bile rushed to the back of his throat as his paranoia tried to wake up with a vengeance. “Lan Qiren and his brother despise each other, I have seen it myself. They would never willingly spend time in each other’s company. The Chang mercenary must have been mistaken.”

Surely he must have been mistaken. Lan tended to all look quite similar from a distance, with their pale robes and strong family features and identical forehead ribbons. There was no reason to think that it really had been Lan Qiren.

It couldn’t have been, anyway. From the time Qingheng-jun had left seclusion to Lan Qiren’s marriage with Wen Ruohan and after, all of Lan Qiren’s time was accounted for.

Unless he was lying about being in seclusion, his paranoia whispered. The churning in Wen Ruohan’s stomach got worse. No one saw him. Everyone knows how much he dislikes seclusion. And the Lan sect were all so surprised to see him at the conference, weren’t they? Even his own sect…

But there’s no reason for him to lie, Wen Ruohan argued back. And anyway, he’s Lan Qiren. Do not tell lies, remember? He wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t. Not to me.

Wen Ruohan shook his head and stood up. “That’s enough for today,” he said sharply, watching as his subordinates all knelt and bowed before him. “Dismissed.”

That done, he rose and headed out of the main room, still feeling uneasy. He knew better than to listen to the words of some random rogue cultivator who might not know anything, or who might be lying for purposes of his own – and anyway, it wasn’t the first time he’d doubted Lan Qiren, only to see the error of his doubt. Even as far back as the first time he figured out the extent of Lan Qiren’s growing influence as a teacher, he had wondered if it was some sort of ploy, only to conclude it wasn’t.

It was surely the same now.

“ – of course Lan Qiren wouldn’t be concerned! Why would he? He’s got our dear husband wrapped around his little finger.”

Wen Ruohan paused, hearing Lu Qipei’s strident, scathing tones from the next corridor over, echoing loudly against the walls. She was talking with Shen Mingbi, or rather at her, as usual, with Shen Mingbi hurrying to keep up with her pace.

“You won’t believe what I’ve heard about the discussion conference,” Lu Qipei continued, her voice querulous. “The things that man said – and in public – ! He’s far more shameless than I ever imagined. To put such things out in front of the world as if he wanted us to be seen as some sort of farce, the dignity of our great Wen sect reduced to nothing – he’s laughing at us all, I’m telling you, and our husband not the least of it.”

“I don’t think he laughs,” Shen Mingbi said doubtfully. “Not in general, I mean. Not at all.”

“Oh, he laughs all right,” Lu Qipei said with a sneer. “I’ve heard him. Even today! He was looking at our husband from a distance, and he chuckled – laughing at him behind his back, I’m telling you. He’s nothing more than a shameless hussy whose plans are working out just as he intended – ”

Her voice faded away as she passed into the next room, Shen Mingbi’s hurrying footsteps fading away soon after, and all that was left was Wen Ruohan, standing there, feeling cold.

He hated being laughed at.

He’d never tolerated it, not even in his youth, not even with his brothers and sisters – not even the ones he liked. Mockery had always been his reverse scale; once he’d become the Sect Leader of the Wen sect, that great and glorious position, he had finally been in a place to ensure that no one would ever mock him again. He’d wreaked havoc on the cultivation world to ensure it, time and time again. He had always preferred that everyone think him a madman or a tyrant rather than allow them to think him weak.

Lan Qiren wouldn’t, he insisted to himself. He wouldn’t.

Certainly not now. Surely not now, not just after Wen Ruohan had just humbled himself before him, when Wen Ruohan had asked him to dual cultivate with him. He’d asked Lan Qiren to trust him and Lan Qiren had agreed, and Wen Ruohan had been happy, because at last, at last, he had someone who would give him the benefit of the doubt, someone who looked to him first, someone who trusted him who he could trust in return –

He could trust Lan Qiren in return. Couldn’t he?

Surely he could. Lan Qiren was…he was Lan Qiren. For all the (admittedly) quixotic fascination Wen Ruohan had for him, Lan Qiren was still so boring, so dull, so pedantic when he wanted to be – the passion that moved him was only his rules, which he followed with alacrity, and his loved ones, like any proper Lan. His nephews, of course, and…and his spouse, surely. Wen Ruohan, for whom he had promised to be a good husband, for whom he had written his own rules and tried his best to abide by them. He might not yearn for the sex they had, but neither was he repulsed by it, and he’d offered Wen Ruohan gifts, his own pain, given freely.

Surely Lan Qiren wasn’t going to betray him now.

It was odd how much it mattered, Wen Ruohan reflected as he walked towards the rooms he and Lan Qiren had shared since their marriage. He’d always prided himself on betrayal not mattering to him. He’d told Lao Nie himself that he didn’t really mind it when people betrayed him, as long as they did it with style, and he’d meant it, too. He was so powerful, so beyond all the rest, that no one could really hope to harm him, so what did their pathetic little plots mean to him? Let them squirm and scheme; what did he care? At most, all their connivance would do quite well to amuse him, like watching a play in which he was meant to be a character, a small break in the dull apathy of daily life.

He liked watching people plot against him. He liked crushing them in the end, too, when he was done being amused.

He didn’t like this.

Wen Ruohan knew himself to be paranoid, fearful and wary well beyond the normal bounds of men, but he also knew that his paranoia was well-earned. Who in his life had not betrayed him? In his childhood, it had always been that way: his father had been indifferent, his mother had preferred his older and younger siblings, his brothers and sisters saw him as an impediment to their goals. Even his sense of security in the world had abandoned him, courtesy of the supposedly peaceful Lan sect’s great war, where his mother and brothers had left him behind to die.

Nor had it changed as he’d gotten older. His younger brother whom he liked best had had his own interests, separate and apart from his own, and although Wen Ruohan’s own betrayal of Wen Ruoyu had been by far the worse, it wasn’t as though he had been incited to action out of nothing; it had been those cracks between them, the little evasions that chipped away at trust, that had allowed for Wen Ruohan to be deceived into turning against him. And his wives – ah, the less said of them, the better. It had been his first wife, who’d sworn an oath to be loyal only to him, that had first introduced him to the notion of adultery, blatantly telling him that she would take others to her bed to make up for what he did not give her. Only she hadn’t really ever wanted anything he could give, always laughing at him, never appreciating him, never trusting in him or his potential. He had still been weak when he’d married her, and so she had always looked down on him, sneered at him, thinking to herself that she could have and maybe should have done better for herself than settling for the likes of him. It was only later, much later, that she regretted her cruelty and selfishness, only when unexpectedly he really did begin to achieve all of his ambitions and gain the power that was rightfully his.

Of course by then it was too late. Too late for her to win his affection, because by then he knew the truth that she’d only ever wanted him for his power, and he’d hated her for that. And the two wives that came after her…he had long ago found them to be the same as her.

His children, of course, all tended towards their mothers, following in their footsteps. They all wanted his seat, wanted his power – perhaps Wen Xu and Wen Chao were too young to really scheme, but their mothers weren’t, and they’d grow to follow their long-dead older brothers’ footsteps one day, he had no doubt. One day they, too, would turn against him, inevitable and unstoppable, and there was no point in even hoping for more.

Even his lovers were the same! No matter how sweet their words, they all betrayed him in the end, one way or another. Even Lao Nie, who had been so gallant at the start – he’d taken one wife, which Wen Ruohan could understand given the need for descendants, and then another, which he couldn’t. And even now, with both wives gone, he’d turned quarrelsome and suspicious, always the first to think the worst of Wen Ruohan. No, Lao Nie had never been fool enough to think that simply sharing Wen Ruohan’s bed meant that he could trust him…

But Lan Qiren is different.

Lan Qiren trusts me. He doesn’t fear me. He would give me everything, and happily. He’s a Lan! The Lan love deeply, love madly, love only one – it is what they are all like, as characteristic of them as their ridiculous rules. No Lan would ever betray their beloved. It’s impossible!

…though that assumes that I am Lan Qiren’s beloved. Not just simply the one he married.

Wen Ruohan growled in frustration and threw open the door to his rooms.

Lan Qiren wasn’t there.

He should have been there, shouldn’t he? He’d said he was going to go play music for a while. His guqin was there, sitting on the low table he preferred to use when playing, and that meant Lan Qiren should have been there, too. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t here –

“Sect Leader, your lowly subordinate greets you. Forgive my impudence in coming here unannounced!”

Wen Ruohan turned, surprised. It was Wang Liu, his spy from the Lan sect, and he was kneeling.

“You,” he said blankly. “What are you doing here?”

It was impudence to come to Wen Ruohan’s rooms without being sent for. If Wang Liu had wanted to report to him, he should have gone through the usual channels – Wen Ruohan would have summoned him when he was ready and not a moment before, or else gone to meet him somewhere private. Even if it was urgent, there were ways in place that Wang Liu could have made that known.

Ways that didn’t involve bothering Wen Ruohan when all he wanted was to find Lan Qiren.

“I apologize, Sect Leader, but it was a matter that could not wait. It has to do with your marriage.”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes narrowed. His marriage?

“What is it?” he demanded. “Tell me now.”

Wang Liu hesitated, but then squared his shoulders. “Sect Leader, the news I have may be unpleasant – ”

“Did I ask you to equivocate?! Tell me what you came here to say.”

Wang Liu still hesitated.

“Enough of this,” Wen Ruohan said angrily. “Tell me this instant – ”

“It’s all a joke!”

Wen Ruohan took an actual step back. Something was wrong with his balance. “What?”

“Forgive me, Sect Leader,” Wang Liu saluted deeply. “I have discovered that – that earlier reports regarding the dislike between Lan Qiren and Sect Leader Lan were erroneous. There is no such great hatred between them…or rather, the hatred we had observed was all manufactured. It was deliberate.”

There was a roaring sound in Wen Ruohan’s ears.

“It was all planned out from the start,” Wang Liu said. “They worked together on a plan that would allow them to best improve the Lan sect’s future, now that Qingheng-jun was out of seclusion. It was all part and parcel to it: Lan Qiren pretended to retreat into seclusion while his brother established himself, using the time to go look into the various weak points the sect had developed the past ten years. Refreshing alliances with some sects, identifying others as budding threats – Yueyang Chang and Yingping Wang, for instance – ”

“Those sects are nowhere near Gusu,” Wen Ruohan said. His voice sounded dull to his own ears. Shocked. Betrayed. Pathetic. “Why would the Lan sect care about their fate?”

“It is not those sects directly, Sect Leader, but their alliances. They were providing support to certain of the subordinate sects that fall under Gusu Lan, but now that they have themselves become subordinates of the Wen sect, that link is broken, and Gusu Lan’s control is now firmer than ever. I can show you evidence of letters, Sect Leader.”

He fumbled at his sleeve, pulling out some letters and unfolding them – Wen Ruohan could tell at a glance that the writing on them was Lan Qiren’s, even if he couldn’t make out exactly what was written on them. Beautiful but rigid, inflexible, uncompromising…

Not the sort of person who would decide to make the best of things in an unwanted marriage.

Lan Qiren had given in rather quickly, hadn’t he? I will be a good husband to you, he’d said the very first night, and Wen Ruohan had found it funny. He hadn’t complained or yelled or thrown a fit – not until later, not until he’d found the note from his nephews and had that terrible meltdown, which had been so severe that Wen Ruohan had first thought he was having a qi deviation. But when he’d checked him later, Lan Qiren’s qi had been just fine…could he have been faking it?

No, that was impossible. Surely it had to be impossible.

He laughs at him behind his back, Lu Qipei had said. I saw him, just today, looking at him and chuckling.

The mercenary from the Chang clan said he saw both Lan sect leaders in that area, together.

Do not tell lies, Lan Qiren said, and then looked his brother right in the face and claimed, I do not know where your children are right now.

“There’s more, Sect Leader.”

Wen Ruohan turned his head slowly to look at Wang Liu, who looked…apologetic, almost. Like he was pitying him. Looking down at him, the way everyone always looked down at men who had their heads turned by a pretty face, men who let themselves be led around by their lower halves. Men who let themselves be fooled and tricked into doing stupid things because they thought they were in – that they were in –

Wen Ruohan didn’t trust anyone. He certainly didn’t love anyone.

“What more?” he asked.

“Your former spy, Qing Yu. As you suspected, he was a spy for another sect…and he knew.”

Wen Ruohan’s hand shook. “He knew? That – that was months ago!”

At the time he’d had Qing Yu thrown into the Fire Palace, the idea of marrying Lan Qiren hadn’t even occurred to him yet. But it was that conversation that had sparked it, hadn’t it? It had been long enough ago that he couldn’t remember exactly what it was that had given rise to the idea, remembering only that long and circuitous discussion that had first led him to suspect Qing Yu, but…it had been then that the seed had been planted, his idea to marry Lan Qiren for himself, to take him into the Wen sect.

The Lan sect didn’t use spies. But they might suborn one, if they thought of it.

Had it all been planned? Had Lan Qiren and his brother been playing him all along? Him, the great Wen Ruohan?

Had they been laughing at him?

Every time he’d let Lan Qiren have his way – when he’d allowed him to be the one on top, when he’d acted against his own inclinations to indulge him, when he’d taken a loss rather than see his distress…when he’d let Lan Qiren call him his wife in front of the whole cultivation world, and even thought that he was enjoying it. Had that all been a joke to Lan Qiren? A humiliation?

“That was why I couldn’t wait to call on you, Sect Leader,” Wang Liu said, wringing his hands. “I got word that Lan Qiren was going to take action now.”

“Action?”

“Yes, Sect Leader. My men intercepted word that he sent back to his sect, saying that he thought you were sufficiently distracted that he would be able to go rescue Qing Yu from the Fire Palace – ”

Wen Ruohan held up a hand, cutting Wang Liu off.

He was seeing red.

How dare he? How dare he – how dare Lan Qiren laugh at me? How dare he take my goodwill, my sincerity, and throw it back into my face? How dare he think that he can take advantage of me?!

Wen Ruohan was nobody’s fool. He was nobody’s plaything, to be manipulated and used and then discarded – and he was sick and tired of being betrayed.

(Maybe it’s a mistake, something deep inside him whispered, soft and flat and monotone the way Lan Qiren’s voice tended to be. Maybe Wang Liu is wrong?

But how could Wang Liu, who had so much evidence, be wrong?)

“I will deal with this myself,” he said coldly, and swept out of his rooms, heading straight for the Fire Palace.

The walls warped around him as he strode forward, walking as fast as he could without breaking into an undignified run – he was losing control over his power, letting it leak loose in a way he hadn’t in ages. He didn’t care, just as he didn’t care about the way the servants who saw him recoiled and cowered at the sight of him, the way they used to before he had relaxed these past few months. He barely even noticed.

His attention was too caught up in the war inside his head, the roaring that still filled his ears.

Half of him, the paranoid old monster that he was, was screaming in wretched miserable vindication – I knew he was too good to be true, I knew better than to trust him, I should never trust anyone at all! – while the other half was thrashing around in denial, shouting No, no, there must be something wrong, something is wrong with this, Lan Qiren wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, not to me, he wouldn’t –

Wen Ruohan threw open the doors of his Fire Palace.

Lan Qiren was there. He was deep inside, but instantly visible, in his pale robes with white clouds and red suns, immediately recognizable, with that so-distinctive forehead ribbon fluttering behind him.

He was standing next to the cell Qing Yu had been consigned to.

He turned to look at Wen Ruohan and somehow, impossibly, began to smile –

“How dare you!” Wen Ruohan screamed, his voice cracking as he did. He watched in sick joy as Lan Qiren’s eyes went wide and he took a step back. “How – how dare – you betrayed me – ”

Lan Qiren was already shaking his head, trying to deny it, but it was too late, too late. Why else would he be here, if not for the reason Wang Liu had said? He didn’t love the pain of the Fire Palace.

He only liked the pain that Wen Ruohan gave him.

Or so he’d said.

So he’d lied – and all without saying a single untrue word.

“You want to make me a gift of your pain, do you?” Wen Ruohan said, his lips peeling back from his teeth as he snarled. “Very well, let me give you a gift back. My Fire Palace has all the pain you could possibly want and more. I will let you have your fill of it!”

Lan Qiren reached out to him. “Sect Leader Wen,” he said, his toneless voice as urgent as he could make it. “Wen Ruohan…!”

Wen Ruohan would have none of it. No more lies, no more mockery.

He turned his back on Lan Qiren.

“Guards!” he called, and his men appeared quickly, always at his beck and call. He smiled grimly at them, and they quailed back before him, afraid, terrified as they watched his rage-reddened eyes resume the dead look that he had worn for so long. The one that had protected him for so long, and it was only that he had let himself forget that, for a little while. A mistake, it seemed. “Lan Qiren will be staying as a guest of the Fire Palace from this moment on. Please make sure that he gets only the best of our Wen sect’s hospitality…and no matter what he says, don’t let him leave.”

“Wen Ruohan!”

Wen Ruohan left.

[sassyandclassy94]

10 Questions for 10 Writers

Thank you SO much for the tag, @coneygoil !! You have no idea how much I love being included in these things🫶🏻

1. Is writing a hobby or a way of life?

Sadly, it’s just a hobby. My life’s kinda too busy to make it a lifestyle

2. A journal full of notes, or a clean completed manuscript?

A clean completed manuscript, thank you very much. Which is pretty ironic, given I’m a pretty chaotic woman.

3. Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

SwanFire and ThePhoenixFeatherQuill. I went through a Once Upon a Time phase became a huge SwanFire shipper after my first rewatch and one night while I was lying in bed, I looked up SwanFire fanfics. The Phoenix’s masterlist was like, the first or second search result? So I clicked on it when lo and behold! The Spinner’s Son captured my interest. I clicked on it and fell in love. I looked for other medieval AUs but couldn’t find any so naturally, after seeing posts about writing what you went to read, I decided to try my own hand at writing one.

4. Which is worse: Someone you ‘idolize’ reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

Well… I’m not a singer (I sing WITH people sometimes) so, definitely having someone I look up to read my first draft. I remember when Red (an awesome writer who I also look up to and tumblr friend - check out his Into the Woods, it’s amazing!!) told me he checked out Secrets, Lies and Blessings after we met and started interacting during covid. I was mortified and wanted to crawl into a hole.

5. Has writing from someone else’s POV changed your perspective?

Um, maybe….? I delved into OC stuff this year and wrote a fic about Gale Cleven. Two people with totally different personalities and characterization than Baelfire and Emma so, I guess yes? Maybe it didn’t change my perspective but it’s helped me grow as a writer maybe? I don’t know, maybe I don’t understand this question…?

6. Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

AO3 and FFN by far!! They’re my favorites and go-tos. I started out on those babies! I think FFN is slowly dying though😔

7. AO3 word count? And are you satisfied with it?

105,744 - No, I wish it was higher. If it was it’d mean I’m more prolific.

8. What movie/book gripped you irrevocably?

Once Upon a Time started my writing hobby. I needed Neal to be happy and I was gonna write that, darn it! But with running out of ideas, writing SwanFire for 6 years straight, and going through a kind of heartbreak, I got really burnt out and kinda stopped for a while. It was The Boys in the Boat and Masters of the Air that inspired me to start writing again❤️ Don and Gale, man! They have a hold on me!!

9. What’s the highest compliment you could ever be given, and have you been given it?

That my writing is better than I give it credit for. And yes, Red told me that four years ago. He said it more articulate than that though (former English teacher and all, lol!) and him saying that made me feel a little more confident in my writing. I’ve gotten some pretty nice compliments about keeping my characters’ personalities true to canon and that’s pretty high praise too because I go real out of my way to do that.

10. What defines your writing style?

I… don’t even know? Even though most of my stories are romance, there’s also a heavy emphasis on friendship because a good old fashioned friendship is important to me (e.g. Emma and Eleanor). Theyre also very emotional. Whether it’s someone falling in love, preparing for parenthood, or suffering from PTSD, I want my readers to feel what he/she is going through and to be able to relate to them on a personal and intimate level.

Tags: Not me racking my brain to think of all the writers who follow and/or engage with me, and/or are in my notes🤕 @phoenixwrites @ljf613 @solo-pitstop-vibes @okieedokes @swanfireprincessmydear @fictional-at-heart @redbone135 @heatherfield @strangethings-everywhere @plasmabluefire @themeepyfreak And whatever other writer sees this and wants to participate, please consider yourself tagged! You can even say I tagged you. I want you all, especially new writers, to be included🫶🏻 No cliques in SassyAndClassy’s house!!! Oh my gosh is that ten??? DID I DO IT???? We won’t talk about how long that took me to come up with all of you🥴 I hope none of you will be annoyed that I tagged you🫣

[rubyreduji]

hehe i am actually the teacher jihoon anon and also the ceo jihoon anon!!! i guess i am career woozi anon now 🤔 but i just wanted to say thank you for making my thoughts come into reality!! thank you for writing them and i’m glad i could help you get out of a lil writing rut with the teacher idea <3

but 👀 since we are on the topic of jihoon… i recently got his fts carat vers album and in the pcs there is one of him with one of his feet on like something a little bit smaller than a table… if that makes sense, ever since i got it i can’t stop thinking about ceo jihoon or just jihoon fucking you in a similar position 😵‍💫 after you purposely make him jealous too or wear something revealing… phew. i hope i described the position well enough? but i’m sure u can look at the pcs! hehe just some jihoon brainrot i hope i can dump my thoughts in ur inbox 🤲🏻

first off hi im so sorry this took so long (im always saying that but i do feel bad that im such a mess) but i didn't realize you're the same anon haha! i love it sm thank you for all of your requests <<33

secondly so i actually can't find the pc you're talking about 😭😭 i feel so bad and i can't tell if im imagining the position well but i love the idea of jealous ceo jihoon so i hope this suffices (if not maybe send me an ask with the pc and i'll see what i can do?)

pt. 1

[minors dni]

it's been a few weeks since the encounter between you and jihoon in his office and thought it seems like jihoon has stopped his mistreatment towards you, he hasn't alluded to that day at all

he's nothing but proper around you; formal greetings in the morning, considering your ideas in meetings, praising the work you turn in. it's strange and you almost wish he would go back to degrading you every second, at least then you knew he acknowledged you, it's almost like you don't exist anymore

you tell yourself he probably regrets it. he's your ceo for goodness sakes, of course he regrets it. you hate yourself for caring so much because you know jihoon is nothing but a up tight, rude man who thinks of only himself first. the thing is you thought that just maybe it meant something, the other day in his office. he literally called you his favorite how can that not mean something?

well if he's not going to care about you, then you're not going to care about him. it's not like it would have gone anywhere anyways, jihoon isn't worth your worries

"y/n!" you look at the call of your voice to see kwon soonyoung approaching your desk. you like soonyoung, he's upbeat and nice and has always backed you when jihoon was too harsh

"hi soonyoung. how can i help you?"

"would you mind if i ate lunch with you today? it just feels like it's been a while since we've caught up"

"no i wouldn't mind at all" you smile up at the man and he grins happily back at you

soonyoung takes a seat at your desk and pulls his lunch out. you two start a conversation about your lives outside of work. you listen to soonyoung talk about his secondary job as an afternoon choreographer at a dance studio and you can't help but get lost in his stories about his students. you can tell he has a passion for what he does and loves the students he works with

eventually the conversation switches over to you and you're telling soonyoung your own stories when you hear your name shouted across the office

"y/n l/n! my office. now." you look over to see jihoon standing by the elevator, an angry look on his face. soonyoung gives you a worried glance and you quietly excuse yourself before scurrying over to the elevator

jihoon doesn't speak as you two ride up to his office. he doesn't say a single thing until you two are inside his office, the doors shut and locked

"you really do know how to get someone's attention, don't you?"

"i don't know what you're talking about, sir"

"you and kwon soonyoung. don't think i didn't notice the way he was all over you"

"he was just being friendly"

"is that what wanting to get into someone's pants is called these days?"

"jihoon i don't understand what the problem is here. soonyoung and i are friends. it was just lunch"

"the problem is you belong to me" jihoon grabs your face and forces you to look directly at him "you got that?"

you're feeling bold so you spit out "you've barely acknowledge me for the past two weeks"

"so you go and throw yourself at someone else? i didn't take you for a slut, mx. l/n"

"i- that's not- jihoon-"

"do you not want to belong to me?" he's asking permission. in his own fucked up, power hungry way, he's asking permission

you take a big gulp before answering "i- i do, sir"

"that's what i thought. be good now"

with a hand still cupping your face jihoon pulls you into a rough kiss. your lips are messy as they press against each other, desire running through your body

jihoon's hand slides down your neck and to your shirt where he starts to unbutton your shirt. his fingers are nimble and soon your bare skin is exposed to the room. his hands run over your torso, his fingers cold against your warm skin, and you shiver. you feel jihoon smirk at that before his fingers breech the waistband of your pants

his fingers trail against your skin and you gasp into his mouth when his hand plunges deep and cups you over your most sensitive parts. you whine a bit and buck into his hand

"so needy" jihoon tuts

his fingers push back further until his digits trace around your entrance, teasing you

"jihoon please" you beg

"please what?"

"please fuck me. i need it. i need you"

"that's what i like to hear"

jihoon pulls his hands out of your pants and quickly unbuttons them and pulls them down along with your underwear. there's a coffee table sitting in the corner of his office and he points to it

"bend over"

you quickly follow orders, rushing to bend over the table for him, not wanting to prolong him not being inside of you any longer. you feel a big embarassed with your whole ass exposed to the room, wantonly waiting as jihoon takes his time to walk over to you

you hear his own pants drop to the floor before he squirts some lube onto his fingers and shoves them inside of you. you jolt and moan as he fingers you open. he doesn't keep his fingers inside of you for long though, because soon he's pulling them up and grabing your hips to pull them up to meet his cock

without much warning he thrusts into you and you have to bite down on your lower lip to keep your screams in. you breathing gets choppy as jihoon pistons into you, pounding into you fast and hard

his cock is heavy and large and feels even better than his fingers did the last time jihoon touched you

it doesn't take long for you body to start to feel heavy with pleasure, your mind fuzzy with the only thought floating through you head being jihoon jihoon jihoon

jihoon props his leg up onto the table and pulls yours hips into his and you whine at the way his cock digs into your sweet spot at this angle

"only i get you like this, got it? you're my pretty little thing and no one else's. especially not kwon soonyoung's"

"fuck jihoon, only you. no one else makes me feel this good. promise"

"say it again"

"only you jihoon. i'm yours"

"yes, that's it. so good for me"

one of jihoon's hands reaches around to rub at where you ache the most for his touch

"so tight y/n" jihoon grunts "not gonna last much longer"

"sir please cum in me, please"

your words and the breathlessness of your tone is all it takes for jihoon to spill over, filling you full of his seed

your own release comes quickly after as jihoon presses a kiss to your neck, the press of his warm lips against your neck sending you over the edge. you shake in jihoon's grip as your insides pulse around jihoon's cock

you're panting as jihoon pulls out of you. he grabs a tissue off of the coffee table to wipe you both off

you both get dressed again and for a second you're both awkwardly standing around until you turn to leave

"y/n wait" jihoon grabs your arm "i- uhm, i'm sorry...if i came off too strong earlier. i've uh, never done something like this before so-"

"it's okay jihoon, i get it. don't worry. i won't tell anyone either, if that's what you're worried about"

"no! that's not it i just-" you don't think you've ever seen your boss so distressed before "would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

oh. that's not what you were expecting at all

"oh! uhm. y-yes, i'd like that a lot" you can feel your face heat up with your fluster

"good. well uhm. i'll see you tonight" jihoon stands there for a moment like he doesn't know what to do before he quickly leans in to press a kiss to your cheek and then he turns and walks over to his desk like he didn't just do that

you smile to yourself as you head out of jihoon's office, giddy for what's to come later

[aladaylessecondblog]

i embrace what others fear (good tav x gortash pt 2)

TW: Tav is lonely and one of the voices isn't so nice anymore. Smut.

[previous chapter here]

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

to lady gortash, I don't know what you said to the temple but I got to sleep in a real bed with a feather pillow! it felt weird. mother says it's because we was on the road too long and I'll get used to it.

The next three letters were carefully written with the stiff pen strokes of children who were still learning to write their letters but by gum were they going to write anyway.

the teacher says we must say thank you. because there is a publik pubblic a school for everyone because of you. I don't like numbers but we get to play games and i like reading about heroes in the books.

too lady gortash, the new clothes are itchy but they donn't got holes

my flower is not sick anymore! thank you.

When Tav doubted she'd done the right thing, she brought out these letters to ease her mind. Four months had passed since the wedding, and they had been some of the loneliest of her life. Oh certainly she was surrounded by enough people that it need not be so, but her friends, those whose company she wanted most--

--letters were all she had of them, with some colder than others.

You should see what Karlach has done with Moonrise Towers. It's a wonderful if noisy place to spend time, perhaps not best for studying...but I am improving the library. Karlach seems to enjoy reading now she doesn't have to worry so much about setting the books on fire, Gale had written.

We thank you for the restoration of our hideout, but it was not necessary. Please do not feel obligated to shower us with such attentions, especially if (as I guess) your husband may be displeased by it. I am sure you have his concerns very much at heart, Jaheira wrote. But if you travel, I would be happy to see you again.

That sort of thing she had expected from Jaheira, from whom she had never expected that much warmth--she didn't know the woman that long or that well. Shadowheart didn't write at all, but others wrote OF her, and how busy she was learning Selunite magic from Isobel (who was settling into the House of Healing with Aylin). Karlach's letters were always long-expected and always short.

Lot of work to be done, but don't feel obligated to run and help us. You're busy enough as it is, said her last, I imagine you do it to keep out of his way as much as you can. I was in Rivington last month, and they were singing your praises...so I guess you have managed to make something of this.

The only truly warm letter she had gotten of late, from any of them, was from Wyll. She'd written him a letter after Karlach's last, and his reply came with assurances that he didn't see her any differently for what she'd done.

You do what you think is right, you do what you see will help people, and judgment follows. This is unfortunately the way things go sometimes--well I know it. I know I did not sound pleased by it, and really, I wasn't--I don't think anyone was--but I won't judge you for making this deal. You did what you could to save everyone from the tadpoles...including my father. I'm only glad he never knew what I almost agreed to in order to save him.

It did surprise me to hear Karlach didn't inform you she was making a trip to Rivington, especially since Shadowheart came with her...

That had hurt more than Tav thought it would. That two of her friends had been there, had been that close, and hadn't even thought to tell her they were there. She was in Rivington nearly every day for some reason or another...it would have been EASY to get hold of her!

She ached. She ached for a conversation to see how they were doing, for talk of something that didn't have to do with the goings-on of Baldur's Gate, for companionship from those she'd gone through so much with.

But since Gortash, it seemed most of them wanted little to do with her, as if he were a poisoned dagger they were afraid she'd turn on them.

Tav folded her arms on her desk and put her head down. She'd been back in her quarters looking over the letters in her dressing gown, and despite how relatively early in the afternoon it was she found herself tired.

Her mind drifted.

Dealing with Gortash himself had, strangely, been much easier than she thought it would.

Tav did not see him too frequently during the day unless there was some event she was required to join him for. In which case, he put on all the airs and gave off every indication that their marriage was a happy one. A soft kiss on the hand here, a smirking whisper in the ear there...

(She would sometimes hear the ladies at court gossiping about how lucky she was, and the men joking about the hold she had over him)

Had he been Astarion or Halsin she would have been delighted, but as things stood she found herself increasingly hoping he'd stop doing it...

...because she was beginning to enjoy it, and she wasn't quite sure when that had happened.

With as intolerably rude as everyone has been, I suppose I can't blame you for it, Astarion's voice said suddenly, He falsifies affection even better than I did. But do try to remember it's only a trick...

Of course, she thought, of course it's a trick. He wants to ensure he doesn't wake up with a knife in his back.It's not REAL.

Nothing like what you had with us, love. That was something special, something I flatter myself you could never find with HIM.

Gortash had kept to his word regarding the steady flow of coin to do her charitable works, though he did now and then admonish her for not spending more on finery. An Archduke's wife should look the part, he'd said. She had caved just slightly and bought several gowns with a nauseating amount of brocade silk and lace, and to sweeten things further had taken to wearing more gold-colored fabrics trimmed with black thread. An inversion of his own favored color scheme but similar enough that it pleased him.

A thing which followed into their sex life.

That first night Tav had spent with Gortash had set the tone for all of their future couplings and she found (with no small amount of shame) that she enjoyed it. Lengthy days of working at her several causes, or dealing with catty nobles left her mentally exhausted, so yielding without the need to think was...

(And the fact that those lingering voices of her two loves stopped when she was in his bed helped too. Everything painful just...stopped...when she was beneath him.)

Gortash didn't ask it of her very often, either. Usually once a week, sometimes twice. He hadn't been lying when he said he didn't have the typical man's need for frequent sex...at least, not that she knew. Maybe he was going to Sharess's Caress twice a day without her ever knowing. But when he came to her chamber, or ask her to his, it always followed that he was the dominant one--no matter which of them was on top. Soft scolding if she 'disobeyed', praise for doing as he asked...but if she said no to an evening with him, that was the end of it.

I need him to stop making it good, she thought, I need the kindness to stop, I need him to be that vicious evil cunt he's always been.

Why was he behaving like this? It didn't make any sense, but she found herself relaxing over it more and more, growing used to those lingering touches and saucy looks and little orders.

He may not love you, but he certainly likes you, Halsin's voice spoke in Tav's mind, That cannot be a positive thing...

Oh, it is no sin to make nice with the one who could ruin it all if they wanted to, came the reply in Astarion's voice.

But it is to be a bedfellow with evil.

"I didn't want to," Tav murmured, "Believe me, I didn't want to, but there weren't a lot of other options."

You didn't need to go this far, Halsin's voice accused. You could have taken the netherstone yourself.

"He knows how to use them, it was..."

A wounded bird may be caged, but you had the choice, my heart. You have done this to yourself.

Tav took several deep and shaky breaths, but the misery finally overwhelmed her. She burst into tears and sobbed on the desk.

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

...shuffling of paper beside her...

Tav shifted in her seat, and realized she'd fallen asleep. The light that had been merely waning outside was now turned to full night, and the room would have been dark if not for the fireplace at the far end of the room. She sat up, mumbling and rubbing the sleep from her red eyes said, "Sorry, Berlina, I...I had a lot to do..."

But it was not the chambermaid beside her. It was Gortash, and he was holding Wyll's letter.

She reached up to take it and he lifted it just a little higher. She didn't think it a good idea to snatch it, and waited--certain anger would be coming, in some way or another.

It didn't.

"Apologies," he said quietly, handing the letter back after he finished reading it. "But seeing as it was from the Grand Duke, I wanted to be sure you weren't planning anything."

"That wouldn't solve anything," Tav replied, rubbing her eyes. "I have no reason to be plotting against you."

"No reason? Really?"

My heart, are you so blind as to shut your eyes to everything?

No, Tav thought, No, I'm only saying that to keep him happy. To make him THINK I'm being foolish.

Good work, darling, Astarion's voice said then, Men like him are easy to keep happy.

"We've an understanding I don't want to jeopardize," Tav finally said, "And if I WERE to plot against you, I wouldn't be stupid enough to use notes."

There was a dark chuckle then, and as she got up Gortash moved the chair she'd been sitting in aside and stood in its place.

"That almost sounds treasonous, my dear."

That tone, Tav knew that tone. There was an edge in his voice but he wasn't angry...he was playing at it. He was testing the waters, to see if she was...in the mood. Much like the way he spoke out of the bedroom, he danced around the main point of their...amorous activities, and never asked outright.

But if she doubted his intent at all, there would always come a touch that confirmed it. Today it was his hands on her hips and a slight push against hers.

"And if it should be? What would the Archduke do to someone who committed such a crime?" She lay her head back against his shoulder--a returning hint of her own. "Would it be off with my head?"

The exhausted grief was still there, and she was eager to banish it, to feel something that wasn't emptiness.

One hand came up, and she felt a slight prick from the steel claws of his gauntlet teasing at her neck.

"It's possible he would be in the mood to forgive. I've heard his day has been full of politics and fools and rebellious fires to snuff out. So," The claw on his glove's forefinger traced over her pulse, "Perhaps if this treasonous woman makes amends, the Archduke could be persuaded to show mercy."

Darling, he's so utterly predictable, isn't he?

It was easy, so unutterably easy, to stay slack, to cast out the doubt, to simply obey.

(She could practically FEEL Halsin glowering at her from some unseen point. When had his voice in her mind turned so cruel?)

To obey evil is to let it win.

"Or," Gortash took a seat in the chair he'd moved, and tugged her down into his lap, "Perhaps that would be too generous, and he should treat a traitor as such."

"And if that traitor thinks she has done right?"

"Then she needs to be reminded," he whispered in her ear, "That HER sense of right is not the one that matters."

There was a slight laugh then.

"The Archduke must think everything belongs to him," Tav replied in a mildly defiant tone. "He should be willing to prove it, if he truly thinks it is so."

In silence Gortash opened her dressing gown and bared her body to the open air; a second later the gauntlet's claws were gripping at one of her breasts.

She tensed slightly, and felt him smirk against her neck as he went on. The claws were a slight stinging pain and yet--and yet there was something about that pain that aroused her.

"No undergarments at all? My, my, perhaps mercy is in the cards after all. But you're being a bit lazy...I believe you'll need to work for it."

She would've reached for his cock but he was still fully dressed with her atop him. She shifted about to at least move her hand over the forming bulge, but Gortash tugged her hand away with his bare one, and placed it between her legs.

"I'd far rather you be prepared to take me," he whispered in her ear, "So go on. Make yourself ready."

The hatred Tav had felt at first when these things would happen was not as strong as it had once been. What good was it to fight, especially when the result felt so good? When she found herself wanting it anyway?

With his hand still over hers, she obeyed, stroking carefully. Awkwardly at first, with occasional little whimpers from the small pain of being groped by that gauntlet. When she thought she was wet enough, she made to pull her hand back--but he pushed it back down.

The whisper that came next was dark, insistent, and by the GODS did it stoke the fire in her belly...

"Did I tell you to stop? I thought you were eager to please."

A slightly tighter grip from the gauntlet, a reminder...

Tav started to stroke herself again, circling and pressing against her clit. She was breathing a little more roughly a minute or two later, when she brought her fingers down and thrust them inside her. A moan sounded off, and she heard a chuckle from Gortash.

The gauntlet moved up, and those claws traced at her lips, pushed just slightly on her lower lip. She opened her mouth and in two of those claws went--gently, but pricking at her tongue. With nothing else to do with it and the heat building in her core, she found herself sucking at the claws.

"Oh, very good," he praised her, "You see, this is what I enjoy coming back to of an evening."

His other hand pressed at the one of hers between her legs, encouraging her to go more quickly.

"I could pay a whore for this, certainly, but...there's nothing quite so sweet as obedience from someone who does it on her own."

A smirk against her neck.

"But this isn't enough for you, is it?"

Tav was zoning out--pleasure was leaping in her gut the longer her fingers teased her clit and worked inside her. The lusty heat was rising, the pleasure along with it and the desperation to race to climax--

Just when she could practically taste it, Gortash pulled her hand away. She squirmed and tried to bring her hand back down, but he wouldn't allow it. The gauntlet was drawn back, two of its fingers absolutely soaked, letting her finally speak again.

"Please--"

"I've decided it's time for you to stop," he said, gripping tightly at her wrist, using the strict tone of voice he always did at these moments. "Are you planning to tell me no?"

"I--"

Tav relaxed as best she could, but the denial of that burning need was agonizing. Fifteen seconds, then thirty...

"Very good," he praised, and Tav couldn't stop the good feeling that came from hearing those words. What WAS that? She didn't know, but she wanted more of it. Wanted more of the almost gentle way that dangerous set of claws were stroking at her neck, the way he was holding at her wrist. Tenderness and a firm hand at the same time. "Now stand up and lean over your desk."

She moved up, her dressing gown still hanging open, and leaned over the desk. Behind her there was a by-now familiar sound--the slight jangling sound of Gortash removing his belt, followed soon after by the sound of shifting fabric.

(Strangely, while he preferred her either nude or close to it, Gortash didn't seem to favor it for himself.)

A sudden thrust of his cock--no warning--forced a moan from her throat as the sudden intrusion spread and filled her perfectly. It was almost painful to want more, and not to get it. The thrusts that followed were certainly pleasurable, but too slow. She wanted, no, needed him to fuck her faster.

But he didn't. Gortash's easy pace stayed just that as his hands moved down--the gauntlet covered hand stayed at her hip, while the other moved between her legs. Just as he gave another thrust he stroked--

It was like lightning in her belly, the sudden leap of ecstasy. Lightning that struck and brought pleasure with it, but left her wanting when it was gone.

"Oh," Tav moaned, "You...utter tease..."

He pulled back and pushed forward, as hard and deep as he could. The fevered sound that it drove from her lips was even more whorish than the first.

"Just what I wanted to hear. Now..." His uncovered hand moved to one of her breasts, and gripping tightly at it he hauled her up and into a standing position. She was leaning against him now, with his lazy thrusts hitting deep enough that she would've let him do anything if only he kept moving.

(She wanted it, wanted HIM, everything he was going to give her)

"Please," Tav found herself begging, "Please, I..."

Gortash's voice turned diabolical, in a way that made her throb, "What do you want, Tav? Tell me. Tell me."

(Why, why, why was she losing control like this?)

He didn't wait for her reply, merely moved the hand he'd had holding one of her breasts down to her abdomen--and now his voice was that familiar, insistent whisper in her ear. "You want a little lord in your belly."

"Please--"

She had never found herself pushed this far before--cried out to be bred in the throes of passion, perhaps, but never did she want it so badly, and never with him.

And then climax tore through her body, a shock of pure unbridled ecstasy that sparked and spread through her body in a rapid surge. She practically screamed out, and shuddered as he kept going through it. Six, seven seconds, more, Tav didn't know; all she knew was that for that short period all was right with the world.

Or at least, she felt heavenly enough to think of nothing else.

Gortash groaned and suddenly stopped--his body gave a shudder of its own--and there was a sudden warm pulse inside her.

For a few moments they stood there, relaxed, basking in the glow of satisfaction. There was a kiss at her jawline, and a soft caress at her belly. Then an amused sort of sound, maybe a chuckle.

He let go of Tav, she stumbled slightly from the shakiness of her legs, and she realized the small wounds his gauntlet had left on her hip were bleeding. She healed them, and after catching her breath could stand up a little straighter.

"Clearly I have been neglecting my duties," he said in a soft tone, "What a terrible husband I would be, if I didn't give you what you so desperately need."

She couldn't respond, but as she retied the belt on her dressing gown and turned around to face him, there was no need.

He kissed her, and for the first time in months she didn't feel so alone.