It's been a while since I've written a fanfic, so here it is c:
It's a bit dirty, dirtier than my others, and I like it this way. So, enjoy it!
And no flames please. Just constructive critisism, and such, if you may~
I DO NOT OWN KINGDOM HEARTS. JUST THIS STORY, K c:
It's hard being a queen. From the way my long legs gleam in the sunlight, and and my hair falls around my slender shoulders, not a strand out of place. My pink lips pout, and the local boys can't help but watch me saunter by, short plaid skirt, swishing, revealing my full, pale thighs; even the occasional glimpse of white cotton panties giving them something to think about late at night.
They say I'm a princess, but they have it wrong. Only queens shower under the watching eyes of female classmates in gym class, my breasts shown in their perfection, taut rear end causing envy. I love the feeling of them staring, watching my long limbs glisten under the beads of hot water. Every now and then I'll look over at them, and smile softly, before scrubbing the shampoo out of my claret locks. I can see the jealous arousal on their faces, and I know even the straightest girl will go home and fantasize about me.
Still, even as perfect as I am, HE will not leave my head. I lay in my queen sized bed, nude, looking up at the ceiling, as a gentle warmth rushes to my center. He gets to me as no one else has, making me restless and craving for release. It's no surprise I find myself panting quietly, slender fingers searching for that one spot that will make me loose it. My head thrown back, his blue eyes burned into my brain, pushing me closer to the edge.
Once I've achieved Nirvana, it's back to my queenly ways.
At school, I'm an object of desire. The female art teacher even asked if she could sculpt me, and by no means did I say no. During lunch, I sneak away from Selphie's weary eyes looking at me with worry, and disrobe myself to the teacher, letting her feel my curves, so she knows exactly how make me with clay.
More than once, I've found myself underneath her clever, artistic fingers, and soulful tongue, painting me with salvia, and other liquid goodies. I love being everyone's favourite girl, my mock-innocence turning my peers on.
But after a long day of being a goddess, I'm back in my bed, screaming his name, wishing it was him bringing me to this forbidden place.
I'm jealous however. That he's out there saving the World(s), and I'm at home, masturbating and torturing the town. Why can't I be a hero like him?
And the fact that he's bent over for that silver-haired babe, taking it like how I wish I was for him is worth than death.
I wish it was me getting his love.
His touch.
But I'm a queen. And queens are supposed to be perfect and lady-like. So that is how I must stay, until he returns, and I can finally get his embrace.
But until that day, I will stare up at my ceiling, bite my lip, and whimper his name lovingly. Those four letters I worship more than a fake god.
Sora.