#And have been put in those situations since their YOUTH ??
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I feel like we as a fandom don’t tap into the potential of all the ninja having ptsd bc literally all of those mf (except jay) have died or been presumed dead in some capacity
#Like you can’t tell me that watching your partners die wouldn’t be traumatic as FUCK for them#Or personally dying yourself like??#There’s so much fucking potential there !!#ninjago#lego ninjago#cole brookstone#jay walker#zane julien#kai jiang smith#this is specifically about masters of spinjitzu but I’m sure they’re probably put through some shit in DR too 😭#Also the fact that they’re put in near death experiences like every other day??#And have been put in those situations since their YOUTH ??#Like guys I’m sorry but they’ve gotta be at least a little traumatized cmon#It’s still all wu’s fault btw
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ANIMALS | old man!logan x fem!reader
summary: old man!logan catches you trying to finger yourself on his bed...
cws/tags: smut, mdni! literally porn w/o plot. old man!logan. fem!reader. daddy kink. exhibitionsm kink. unspecified age gap. petnames (kid, darlin’, baby, etc). logan calls himself ‘old man’. oral (f receiving). not proofread. wc: 2k
Logan can’t stand you.
Ever since you enrolled as Charles’ caregiver, you’ve been a little bug crawling on his skin–itching him in bits.
Logan fucking hates how your generation seems to put so much trust in life like it isn’t all absurdity. He despises how you always seem to be bubbly all the time; breathlessly giggling at the unfunniest shit he had ever watched in his life. He loathes your eagerness to make him smile or laugh - he detests you and your youth.
Or so that’s what he’s been telling himself.
Logan puts all these decoys to bury what he truly feels under the soil–like he always does throughout his life. Tries to hide how his stomach flutters when you tend his wounds, or simply when you get close to him. It suffocates him, you.
You who cooks the very luscious foods for him and Charles every living day–you who take care of Logan as he has his occurring nightmares–you, who is the life he needed all along.
You who had him ashamed of himself when he thought of thoughts of you. Visions of your beautiful figure flustering under Logan. He bet you were soft under those clothes, every inch of you. Bet you smelled better if he got nearer.
So there you have it, false pretense.
Deep down, he knows he’s doing everything for the sake of you. Including this week, when he has to stay in Texas for a few days just to earn extra pennies–again, for you. That’s why he got your picture patched in the car rear-view mirror, after all.
Today, because of several reasons he had not expected, Logan went home a day earlier than what he told you.
When he got home, by home he meant an abandoned smelting plant in Northern Mexico - he thought you were already tucked in your sheets, deep in a slumber.
Oh, he was wrong because when he gets in front of his own bedroom door, it was slightly open with the sound of sighing now and then. He vaguely creaks the door open to paint a bigger picture of what’s inside as he hears another sigh, no, a moan.
Logan swears his breath got stuck in his throat when he catches the sight of you. Your eyelids shut tightly as your body jerked under the covers, another noise escaping your faintly gaping lips. He also notes the slow bumps and bulges in the sheets, moving in a repeated pattern of up and down–your head thrown back almost hitting the headboard.
Are you touching yourself in his fuckin’ bed? His nostrils fumed.
He called your name.
No reaction.
“Kid.”
Logan enters the dim room and gives the bed a light shake.
His act makes you yelp and jolt in surprise; sitting as much as you could in the unorganized space - your hair configured messily - cheeks flushed red. Your bottom lip was red and swollen as if you had bitten something fierce.
With doe-eyes, you devour the sight of the man before you: Logan in his old white tank top, his belt loosened, his graying beard complemented his face so perfectly, and lastly, his deceitful expression.
“What ‘re you doin’, huh?”
Gulping down your own spit, you shrank in on yourself, “L-Logan! I-I’m sorry! I cannot sleep… it’s just - your sheets. The- They smelled so nice. Smelled like you.” You find yourself spiraling in this humiliating situation, “You’re h-home.”
Logan’s eyes glance down into your nightgown, then to the bulge in the covers. Your hands, he supposed.
Fuck it, he thought. Logan is already sure he’s going to hell after all. Why not grab a sweet treat to pile it onto his stack of sins?
“Show me what you were doin’.” His voice is deep as he gives the order, making you shiver in arousal.
Still, with utter shyness, you kick the covers to reveal your body. You showed the full piece of your sheer nightgown - your white cotton panties shoved down to your thighs - your hands placed on top of your pussy, which was wet and leaking onto his sheets.
Logan stared at you for a moment then lurked forward. Oh, you could see he was starting to bulge up too.
“Keep goin’.”
The high-pitched noise that left you was embarrassing but it did not stop you from doing what you’re told. How can you? When the man you had been crushing on, your employer, is looking down at you as if you’re his last meal.
You pull your legs up as much as you can, before inserting your finger back into your wet hole, letting your eyes linger on Logan’s face. With his aging lines, he looks more angry and grumpy, brows furrowed and nose wrinkled. Beyond that, he’s focused on where your hand moved. It was so hot—you had never experienced something like this and it felt amazing—but it was not enough.
“A-ah, please. Help– I need–” You let out a plea as you try to run your thumb over your puffy clit. You moan; pleasure rushed through you like a strike of electricity, gasping and keening.
Logan’s head falls forward, as if surrendering. Really, fuck it. He can’t hold back anymore.
After a moment, he gets on the bed–making it let out a noise as he gets closer and closer, “Wha’s that, baby? Ya’ need more?” Logan grabs you by the hips and drags you closer to him, “Need Daddy’s fingers, ‘s that it?”’
“Y-yeah! Need you, so so bad.” The tips of his fingers rubbing your inner thighs and the ghosting feel of his hot breath make you lose any of your critical thinking. Burning your cheeks even warmer than they already were.
Logan gets harder as he wonders how many times you have been doing this before. Trying to finger yourself on his bed while he was away—while he was earning money for you.
A ‘mhm’ is all he grumbled out before his mouth was on your pussy, lapping at your labia and you cry out for the hundredth time.
“Ah!” There you finally understand why everyone was all in a rage about getting eaten out. This is everything, indeed.
”Dirty fuckin’ girl. Touching herself in an old man’s bed.” Hearing him, you look down to grab a handful of Logan’s turning gray hair and hike up your nightgown even more as Logan’s tongue pushes inside you. Literally, devouring you.
“L-Logan- ’M gon’ cum! ‘M cumming!”
The older man hums in response, squeezing your plump thighs—feeling like a goddamn animal. Your back arches on the mattress while one of his hands creeps up to fondle your breast, and you explode.
He could feel your cum drizzling out and even got some of it on his scruffy beard. The world is still spinning around you but he does not give you a chance to rest. Logan shoves your legs higher and places kisses on your sensitive button. “Logan…”
“Not my name, sweet’art.” You cry out when you feel one of his fingers pushing into your hole - how it barely fuckin’ fits makes your body tremble with all the pleasure coursing through your veins.
He chuckles in glory as he glances up at your teary-eyed expression, still pushing his finger into reaching deeper, “Yeah- Your fingers too small?” Logan reads you so easily, “Need Daddy’s fingers to the job, huh?” He murmured, teasing his tongue around where his finger stretched you.
When he bobs his head up, you can see how his beard is glistening with your slick under the moonlight, “Y’sure you want this, kid?”
“Y-yeah!” You said embarrassingly quickly. But oh, little do you know, this is the best thing in Logan’s life.
Logan is breathing hard as he gets out of his clothes, nodding and grinning at you, “Been wantin’ do to this f’r a while.”
You gasp when he climbs after you, spreading himself out above you, “Y-you do?”
Legs wrapping around him, the both of you slid together against each other and Logan finally kissed you.
His tongue wrestled around your mouth, nipping and licking—ravaging you so sweetly, “Y’ve no idea.” You could feel his fingers probing at your heat. They pressed inside gently, only the tips of it, teasing you. Making you moan into his lips.
“D-Daddy- Gimme more, please—” He was about to continue teasing you but hearing you say that word so meekly, gives him a whiplash.
He groans out strings of curse words before easily manhandling you into a position, “F-Fuck. Daddy’s gon’ give it t’ya.” Logan rolls you into facing the wall—himself behind you.
“Ya’ like this, darlin’?” You could feel his hips circling, his large cock sliding down between your thighs. He continues nipping at your ear as he rains you with praises, “C’mon. Use your big girl words, baby. Let Daddy hear ya’.”
You can’t even breathe right and end up whimpering in response, “Yeayeayeah… Like it a lot!”
Logan hummed, pleased at your reply—his girl being so fuckin’ obedient, “Aight’ breath for me now. Jus’ let Daddy slip right in? Ya’ want that? Wan’ to make your old man happy?”
Your head bobs erratically as your smaller fingers wrap around his; Logan’s gone, he pushes inside of you with a throaty groan. The head slipped inside easily. You can’t believe how good it feels when he stretches you. As he keeps pushing, his large hands palm your chest and pinch hard your peaking nipples.
“T-Tha’s it, sweet girl. Take Daddy’s cock.” And you’re gone too, your eyes rolled back while Logan ruts into you in short, sharp motions, easing your figure with kisses to your neck and shoulders.
Tears fall down your cheeks in utter bliss, “Feel s’good, Daddy.” Your whole body is slick with sweat, baby hairs sticking on your forehead, and Logan’s chest is glued to your back.
He fills you up into the brim and it is almost like you’re overflowing with pleasure. He moves you again so that you feel more comfortable, “Gon’ go little faster, that okay, kid?”
You sob into his pillows and nod, “Yeah… Daddy, please, yeah—”
He pulls out far enough that even the head barely remains inside. Then he drives in deep again. Hard and fast, pounds into you, making your skin slap as your bodies meet. He sets a mean, cruel pace. He slips out so, so slowly, only to thrust in as hard and as fast as the very first time.
“Ah, fuck, baby, feel so fuckin’ good, so tight on Daddy’s cock,” You blush at how Logan grunts, voice hitching at every thrust.
Logan presses himself up against you, his chest feeling so impossibly wide and thick on your back. His arms wrapped around your body; one hand toys with your nipples, and the other gives your clit rough, hard jerks, ripping even more pleasure out of you.
“Daddy, Daddy, ah—” you plea while turning your head to watch him with hald-lidded eyes.
“Keep sayin’ it, baby, keep sayin’ that,” Logan growls between kisses and latches into you. “Say it. Tell Daddy who’s fuckin’ this pussy open.”
“Daddy!” You whine louder for him. “Daddy, Da- ah!”
Just as you could feel the orgasm being punched out of you for the second time, Logan growls again, snapping his hips for a few last hard thrusts.
You feel how Logan fills you up as deep as he could, his warm cum stuffing you—cock pulsing as the both of you came, hard.
Logan falls onto you suddenly, putting all his bulky figure on top of you, the man’s whole body going lax in the after-orgasm bliss.
The older man huffs over and over; you smile at the sight, you don’t mind at all. His weight feels safe and comforting, protecting you from everything else.
Still, you are relieved when he rolls himself off you. More relieved when his lips finds yours in instant, sensually kissing you—making you know how much you mean to him.
Though, you are not relieved when he comes to the shameful confrontation.
“Y’do this often? Touching y’rself on my bed, kid?”
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#old man logan#old man!logan#old man logan x reader#wolverine smut#deadpool and wolverine#logan by nina <3
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“My name is Nour Saqer, for the name remains when all is lost. I turned 22 years old last November. Yes. My youthful time was wasted on horrible days. Yes. Those days still continue.
My name is Nour Saqer. And I am 22 years old. I am a fifth-year dental student at Al-Azhar University of Gaza. I am an aspiring student. I am eager and passionate about my studies. Until the last minute, I was allowed to stay at my house on Oct. 7th. 2023 I was still working on a scientific research proposal that was supposed to be published by me and my teammates of young researchers late in November, that year.
This picture of me was taken late 2022 during an international dental conference held in campus.
During my college years alone. Me and my family have had to forcefully evacuate, and run out of our house four times. In 2019, 2021, 2022, and finally in 2023. Each time was in fear of the same threat; meeting our deaths under rubble. My name is Nour Saqer. And I have always been a Gazan. Each of those past times. If we were fortunate enough, we would discover that our home was in repairable damage. There would be a roof over our heads still. We were still fortunate. We still had luck.
But ever since October 7th. I haven't returned home. We were among the first families to evacuate Al-Rimal neighborhood from the very first day of this genocide, we had to turn our backs to it and expect no return. Two floors of my family house, along with my father's store, and only source of income, have been severely destructed due to neighboring missiles. And my university buildings were heavily exploded. All forms of life have been reaped from my city. My hometown.
This is what's left of our campus. I was supposed to have my graduation ceremony here.
My name is Nour Saqer. And I had an enthusiastic heart. And an energetic body. I played sports and walked down every street until I couldn't. I loved my family and friends dearly. I wrote poems about them. I spent time loving them and cherishing their presence. I loved life with all its little things. With all its unattainable things. I loved the grass and the tall buildings. And I loved all people. I loved my people. All their faces. All their talents. All their hidden lives. All we shared. Until we didn't. Everything I have ever loved I lost.
This picture of me was taken during a happy moment on the roof of our house.
This is all that is left of that picture now.
I am currently sheltered in Rafah with my family of 7. Sharing a place with 30 other homeless people. By the end of Ramadan, me and my family would have to evacuate and seek shelter for yet the 8th time due to housing problems. I am so tired of not having any sense of stability. Nothing to guarantee. Nothing to call my own. Every passing minute the situation in Rafah gets worse. Every passing minute I am losing loved ones and relatives. Every passing minute costs me my sanity. Costs me health. Costs me my basic rights to simply live.
I have nothing left to lose or pay the price with except for my life.
I don’t know how to retell my life story in limited words, how to make the most ordinary moments sound precious. How do I equate my value to someone deserving a life of safety? How do I shape myself as someone worth saving?
I have been interviewing myself for days. All my stories are choking me. All my grief is piling up and muting me. I keep trying to find a way to present the best of myself. To make myself someone you'd want to look at. Listen to. And even more,
Help.
I am finally placing both hope and faith in your helpful hands. I am asking you. Please put an end to this continuing tragedy. And help me get to safety. Before it's too late.
It should be in your knowledge that:
It costs $5,000 per person to get out of Rafah through the Boarder Crossing to Egypt. The rest of the donations will be to secure my tution money for the fifth and final year of dental school.
Thank you.”
#kindly read this !!#please help nour in any way you can#if you can’t donate then at least ask your friends & family to share & donate#it will count as something#palestine#gaza#free palestine#from the river to the sea palestine will be free#🇵🇸#ethnic cleansing#genocide
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My brain is on fire same I can’t sleep and am thinking of this:
The way she writes about marriage/family/commitment through these different situations across the album is soooooooooo interesting.
You have a very intense first experience of it in “The Manuscript,” where it is first dangled in front of her/the narrator’s young, impressionable self as shorthand for real love in a situation that ended up being smoke and mirrors. She’s being told everything she wants to hear by someone who basically thinks it’s just foreplay. In the end, when it’s clear that the other person has no intention of actually making a life with her, it makes her feel used, but she forces herself to recalibrate and become the girl she thinks he and all the other hes want her to be. Easy breezy cool. But there’s a sense of loss in realizing those hopes were merely banter to the other.
You have the “grown up” version of it alluded to in “So Long, London” and “How Did It End?”, the years of putting in work to save a relationship and the “deflation of our dreaming leaving [her] bereft and reeling” leading to them “calling it all off.” The implication is clearly that they built a home together with plans for next steps at a point in time, but the commitment is shattered. (Obviously to me it sounds like marriage.) She’s bitter at spending her “prime” years with someone who ultimately didn’t want to be there, even if he couldn’t or wouldn’t admit it himself.
She felt like she did everything she was supposed to, but they were learning the right steps to different dances at as it were. Those dreams were at one point shared, but in the end they weren’t right for each other and she admits that, though bitterly (“I founded the club she’s heard great things about” eg the years she put in for him to help him grow up will end up benefiting his new lover, “but I’m not the one,” “you’ll find someone,” etc.). Mixed in with all this of her resentment of him wasting her youth (sacrificing herself at the altar), and his resentment of her for reasons less defined, and insinuations of betrayal in the shadows. The fantasy of the whole package disappears into the ether, yet she still has no answers as to how they got there.
Then in comes the wolf in sheep’s clothing in many of the rest of the songs, the one who promises her all those things she’s dreamed of since she was a kid instantly. After years of moulding herself to other men’s desires, someone comes in and tells her exactly what she wants to hear at the most vulnerable time of her life, as though the universe is answering her prayers, like some sort of cosmic payback for all she’s suffered, and it’s the most intoxicating drug of all. She’s gone from her wish for a family life feeling like she’s in a way being used for her body, to it being used as a chain to a relationship gone sour, to having someone put a metaphorical ring on her finger and tell her he wants to have babies with her, fuck those other guys.
In her grief and stupor, it’s too good to be true, which is exactly why she falls for it. But of course, it’s all an illusion, because this wolf is an amalgamation of the worst of all the men who came before him. He tells her everything she wants to hear not to make her dreams come true, but to make his. He takes the worst parts of these scenarios to make his move: he’ll stand by her, he’ll commit, he’ll do it out in the open under the spotlight’s glare (all things desperately lacking in her last relationship), but after he beds her he stabs her in the back in private and leaves her. He got what he wanted at the expense of her losing everything she wanted, this time as her world caved in seemingly for good. She feels like she gave up everything she thought she might have had for a chance that this is where the universe has been point her all along, only to be left broken for good (you represent the loss of my life as I knew it).
Then there are two sort of codas to this. In “But Daddy I Love Him” we get a sassier reimagining of “Love Story,” where the girl with the scarlet letter is mouthy and crass and tells everyone to go fuck themselves for cursing her in the first place, choosing her love above all else. And no, those haters can’t come to her wedding. Her daddy may have come around, but they sure can’t. Finally it seems someone is choosing her and will someday give her these things, and she’ll be able to show all the naysayers. (Also interestingly one of the more fictionally-veiled songs which ends happily vs the diaristic ones that don’t.)
Then of course there’s “So High School,” our first glimpse into what the future holds. Probably the only unabashedly happy (nay… electric?) song on the album, it’s all about reclaiming the buzz of youth (which is a whole other post) with a new lover. “Are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me? It’s just a game but really, I’m betting on all three for us two.” It’s, er, a direct nod to a certain now-infamous interview, but again, she’s staking her claim on her future, if not certain then at least hopeful again. This time the prospect doesn’t come with a “but.” It’s not, we’ll be pushing strollers but actually you’re too young. It’s not, we had these dreams for our future but actually I can’t move forward. It’s not, I’m going to promise you a ring and a baby but only until my needs are met and then I’m out. It’s, I know what I wanted and I’m not leaving, and thanks to that now she stays too.
The album dealt with the theme not at all in the way I expected, but is absolutely fascinating.
#writing letters addressed to the fire#me thinking too hard about Taylor lyrics#the tortured poets department#i have many thoughts#No brain power
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Text of thread at https://kolektiva.social/@zinnia/110418489814171631:
Yes - this is what is happening in Florida due to SB 254, which was signed into law on Tuesday 5/17/2023, taking immediate effect. This immediately cut off 80%+ of adult trans people in Florida from having their HRT refilled, because SB 254 uniquely prohibits only nurse practitioners from prescribing only gender-affirming medications.
This has already been in effect for 7 days now.
Trans adults in Florida have already been cut off from their HRT refills for a week now, including those of us who have been stable on these medications for years or decades.
This is VERY different from the general situation of trans youth care bans in 19 states, many still working their way through the courts.
This has *already* happened, to *all* of us: all trans adults in the third most populous state in the US.
The number of trans adults on HRT massively exceeds the sliver of the population that are under 18 and are prescribed puberty blockers or hormone therapy.
These laws, advanced under the pretext of 'protecting children', are now directly impacting a far larger group of people who are not children and are not subject to those pretextual concerns.
Other arguments about withholding public Medicaid funding for transition treatment also do not apply here: SB 254 does not even allow receiving this care through private insurance or paying cash out of pocket. The care isn't simply not covered - the care itself cannot be provided regardless.
What is happening in Florida requires special attention above the situation of trans youth care bans nationally. This is having a vastly larger impact quantifiably.
It will have worse impacts qualitatively as well: adults are responsible for taking care of and protecting trans kids and making sure they do not hurt themselves.
Whereas as a trans adult, we have no one standing guard at the brink but our own self and the void to which we are accountable.
These are the facts as they stand right now. These are the facts as they have stood for a WEEK and NO ONE nationally is putting any attention on this because there are 19 trans youth care bans all across the country going on, along with everything else targeting trans people and the LGBT community broadly.
This is a specific harm that is happening now and has been happening for 168 hours.
It is not a hypothetical issue to raise awareness of, as if it were at the stage of some proposal that needs to be fought back. This has already happened and is happening right now. Active harm is happening until this law is rolled back.
For all of Florida's history since the inception of the applicable regulatory and licensing bodies, nurse practitioners have been allowed to prescribe hormone therapy, testosterone blockers and other relevant gender-affirming medications.
That has been the case since I moved here in 2011. There was no reason why this wouldn't be the case. It's also the case in every other state.
This new law is a carveout of prescriptions when used for one purpose, gender-affirming care, from nurse practitioners specifically, in a way that has never been done before. It affects all ages.
It has immediately obstructed access to HRT prescription refills for more than 80% of TRANS ADULTS in Florida.
It has also prohibited first appointments for HRT via telehealth with in-state or out-of-state MDs or DOs - first appointments must be in person. This will require expensive and time-consuming travel that is beyond most trans people's means: driving to Georgia from Florida can take 8 hours.
This was an intentional targeting of almost all trans adults in Florida, and the means by which we have received our generic, FDA-approved medications for years. And it included closing every possible door that would let us find another way to keep taking the medications we have taken for...
Well, for me it was 3,891 days when the clock stopped
#tw forced detransition#detransition#Florida#SB 254#trans care ban#adult trans care ban#transphobia#HRT#transition#transitioning#hormone therapy
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Please make Bruce x male reader who's Ra's al Ghul's Brother? The reader isn't that involved with the league, like Ra's the big brother and shielded him, so he doesn't know that Bruce is batman and bruce also doesn'tknow thta reader's the brother of Ra'd, but at some point in their relationship the reader introduces him and the two only stay civil for the reader.
This is a recipe for disaster... But in every great way possible.
Summary: Bruce and Ra's are connected through (Y/N).
Warnings: Ra's being a good brother, minor cursing, Bruce and Ra's become frenemies lol
Ra's is a well known assassin in those circles. He is a formidable opponent for anyone who goes up against him. But there is one thing that he refuses to let his enemies know. Something he would rather die than reveal. His younger brother (Y/N).
When Ra's started the League, he kept his brother away from it. (Y/N) didn't decide to question what his brother was doing, but he knew what was going on to a certain extent. He was living with Ra's and has dipped himself in the Lazarus pit to stay young.
And (Y/N) was aware that it's not normal to have an army of trained ninjas walking around the premises, but he did not question it. Or the fact that he had to dip himself in the pit every few years to keep his youth.
But there was one thing he was certain of. His older brother would protect him with everything. Thus, Ra's and (Y/N) were very close, despite the fact that (Y/N) didn't know what Ra's was doing. Therefore, (Y/N) didn't know that Bruce Wayne was Batman.
We'll get to that a bit later.
After years of living with Ra's, (Y/N) wanted to see more of the world and move. Ra's nearly got a stroke when (Y/N) said that he wanted to move, but he knew that his brother wouldn't want to stay here forever. He helped (Y/N) move to... Well, (Y/N) has decided to move to Gotham City.
Ra's has warned (Y/N) that Gotham City is a city full of crime, nasty people and just overrun with criminals. (Y/N) has said that he would be fine, since Ra's taught him how to defend himself. Ra's' was still beyond nervous, but refused to show it.
Another problem was Batman. If Bruce found out who (Y/N) was, he could use (Y/N) as a pawn for his attack against Ra's and Ra's fought too hard to keep his brother safe. But he relented, knowing that he couldn't jail his brother forever.
Ra's relented and allowed (Y/N) to move to Gotham. He has decided to help his younger brother get settled in. He bought (Y/N) his place since (Y/N) has found a job in Gotham and normally it would have taken a while to get settled in, especially in a financial situation.
And Ra's is anything but rich so he helped his brother. And may or may not have decided to put a secret bodyguard to keep his brother safe. A guard that will just blend in with Gotham people and just stay off of (Y/N)'s radar.
And Bruce's radar too.
And so Ra's and (Y/N) came to Gotham city, Ra's helping (Y/N) to move his things and make the apartment a little bit more warmer and make a more home feeling.
" Tell me brother, are you sure you don't want to go back home? " Ra's asked as he put a box down in the kitchen.
" I'm sure Ra's. I really thought this out. I thought about it thoroughly." (Y/N) said as he put a box down and plopped down on the couch, tired from the move. He sighed and just plopped down on the couch face first this time.
" I will miss you. We have been through a lot together over the years. " Ra's said as he sat down the couch, smiling at his brother. " I guess I should have known you would want to spread your wings a bit and search the world so to speak. "
" Yeah... And Gotham sounds fun actually. "
Ra's scoffed and chuckled at the same time. " How is it fun? It's ridden with crime and filth. "
" But it's fun when you never know when you'll get mugged or not. " (Y/N) said into the warm black couch.
Ra's laughed and patted his head playfully. " Really? Are you nuts? "
" Nuts? I'm just looking for some new opportunities. " (Y/N) said as he turned on his back, looking back at his brother.
" You are really insane. " Ra's said chuckling, leaning back against the couch.
" Maybe... But I really craved change. " (Y/N) said as he put his head on Ra's lap and sighed. " You are still my older brother and I love you... I just want you to know that. "
Ra's smiled at that. He knew that very well. After all they have been through through the years, they have created an amazing bond and Ra's has swore to protect his little brother for as long as he was alive. And that was something that he has intended to do it for as long as he can.
After all, he is a man of his word.
" How about we order something to eat? And get some wine? You know I live for red wine. " (Y/N) said as he got more comfortable.
" Sure, why not? " Ra's said quietly petting (Y/N)'s hair. It was soft to the touch, the result of the years using the Lazarus pit to keep himself younger and healthier.
" Some Italian food? Or Chinese? Or something else entirely? " (Y/N) asked Ra's, wondering what they could eat.
" Well, before we order, I want to let you know something. A few rules to keep me happy. " Ra's said and (Y/N) sighed quietly, shifting his head in Ra's lap to look at him with more attention, to show him that he was listening intently.
" I'll visit at least once a month, just to make sure you are alive. Secondly, I'll text you every morning and you should respond, just so I can know you are alive. Other than that, I have no problem with you doing anything else. "
" Even dating? " (Y/N) said chuckling and Ra's sighed, shaking his head with an amused smile.
" Yes, even dating. And if something happens, call me. I'll be here as soon as possible. " Ra's said softly and (Y/N) nodded. He always knew that. He knew that Ra's would always protect him.
" I know you would... Thank you brother. " (Y/N) said and Ra's patted his cheek.
" Always my brother, always. "
And that was a little over a year ago. Ra's and (Y/N) were in constant contact and the two brothers were now in (Y/N)'s apartment, sipping some red wine that Ra's has brought during his last visit.
" Anything new my brother? " Ra's asked as he swirled the wine in his wine glass.
" I'm dating. "
Ra's raised his brow and turned to look at his brother instead of wine. " Really? "
" Yes. We have been going out for about 6 months. " (Y/N) answered as he sipped his wine.
" Oh? Is it a he or a she? "
" It's a he. If you can stay a day longer, you can meet him tomorrow. " (Y/N) said and turned on the TV, knowing that the news are going to be on soon.
" I do want to meet the man who stole my brother's heart. " Ra's mumbled, sipping his wine slowly, happy that his brother was dating and he seemed happy.
" I'll tell him to drop by here. " (Y/N) said as he quickly texted Bruce to come by tomorrow at this time.
" Is he treating you well? " Ra's asked, putting his wine glass down on the coffee table.
" He spoils me rotten. " (Y/N) answered with a soft smile and Ra's nodded. Good, as he should.
" And you treat him well too? " Ra's asked as he tilted his head.
" Of course I do. " (Y/N) said rolling his eyes, amused by his brother's questions.
" Just asking, want to make sure you are happy. " Ra's justified himself.
(Y/N) huffed and crossed his arms, playfully turning away from Ra's who laughed.
" Oh please, I know you don't mind me asking those questions. " Ra's said as turned his brother around to face him.
(Y/N) huffed at that, rolling his eyes.
" Oh I know you don't. "
Tomorrow evening came by quickly and Ra's and (Y/N) were patiently waiting for Bruce to arrive. (Y/N) has cooked an amazing meal and put it on the table just as the doorbell rang. He wiped his hands and quickly moved to open the door. Ra's positioned himself so he could see who would enter from the hallway, while waiting.
(Y/N) opened the door, saying hello to Bruce, who in return hugged him tightly and kissed him softly. In his arms he had a bouquet of roses and a bottle of red wine.
After that, (Y/N) led Bruce to the dining room/living room and both Ra's and Bruce froze. What the fuck?
" Bruce, this is my older brother Ra's. Ra's, this is my boyfriend Bruce." (Y/N) said, introducing the men who already know each other, but not for good reasons.
Bruce handed (Y/N) the roses and the bottle of wine and shook hands with Ra's, who could have killed Bruce on sight. His younger brother, with Batman... Oh hell no.
" I'll put the bottle and the flowers away. " (Y/N) said and quickly left and the two men stared each other down.
" What are you doing with my brother? " Ra's whispered to Bruce, anger seeping into his voice.
" I didn't know he is your brother. " Bruce whispered back quickly, eyes glancing at the hall where (Y/N) went to put the flowers and the wine again. " Doesn't he know who I am? " Bruce added, still whispering.
" No, because I keep him away from the League business. "
Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. " Okay, we are staying civil for him. "
" Couldn't agree more. But hurt him, I'll kill you more times than you can count. " Ra's threatened and sat down as he heard his brother coming. Bruce followed suit and (Y/N) came back with a small smile.
Bruce and Ra's glanced at one another. They will be civil for (Y/N) and (Y/N) only.
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Summertime Sadness
Pairing: Dom!Wanda Maximoff x MILF!Reader
Summary: You hadn’t expected the summer after your divorce to be anything more than you simply getting used to being alone and drowning your sorrows in glasses of wine. The sudden homecoming of your daughter brings those plans to a screeching halt, but nothing could have prepared you for the woman that she brought along. Her best friend, the woman you’ve been hearing about in all of her phone calls home, offering you a glimpse into parts of yourself you never even knew were there.
Word Count: 4,891
Warnings: Legal age gap, oral (R receiving), fingering (R receiving), and hints of possessiveness. 18+, Minors DNI.
Author’s Note: I’ve seen a lot of stories with Wanda being the MILF, rightfully so, but I wanted to spin it a bit and make the Reader the MILF in this instance. Hope you all enjoy! (Also, I’m so sorry for disappearing for so long, college has been absolute hell.)
You never truly comprehend how much time you waste, how much had truly slipped through your fingers, until it’s already too late to do anything about it. Until you look into the mirror and see the once youthful face marred by faint wrinkles, a sign of wisdom your best friend would tease, and hair speckled with the vaguest hint of grey.
Twenty-five years... You had been married to your husband for twenty-five years; giving him your youth, giving him your heart and soul, and you never once imagined that he would have tossed all of that away for some floozy at his law firm. Never thought that you’d look down at your left hand and not see the delicate gold band situated on your ring finger. Of course, even now, you didn’t regret marrying him-- for it had given you the house you lived in now, the friends that had flocked to your side when the news of his infidelity spread through the neighborhood, and it gave you your darling daughter. Even if she was not yours by blood, you couldn’t imagine anyone housing the same space in your heart like your beautiful Natasha did.
All you did regret was being stupid enough to trust him so much. For putting your faith, and your dreams, in his clearly incapable hands. It had hurt, and still does hurt, but it wasn’t because you had lost him-- your marriage, in truth, had been dead for years-- but for all the time you had lost in chasing smoke and mirrors; in staying for something that should have been let go of long ago. You hated him for what he did, for getting caught with his pants down in between his secretary’s thighs, but you hated him even more for not being man enough to simply let you go, to give up the fight when it had already been lost after his first thirty seconds with his new whore, and it’s for that reason that you were currently scrubbing every inch of his old office clean.
You wanted to get rid of any reminder of him-- both in your home and in your mind.
The smell of bleach and lemon disinfectant surrounds you, but you had long grown used to the cloying scent. Dark oak floors, and the matching desk, gleamed underneath the antique lighting of the room; it had been a long time since they had been given the proper care they needed. It seems that I have more in common with inanimate objects that I thought, you muse, a sense of bittersweet irony strewn within the thought.
Settling back on your haunches, a sigh escapes your lips, and you roll your shoulders, wanting to relieve the tension that had been slowly building up for the past couple of hours. “I’m not getting any younger,” you mutter, tossing the damp rag to the side. “I just hope everything will get a bit easier.”
Even to yourself you knew that was asking for a miracle.
Before you could delve down into that specific line of thought, you faintly hear the sound of the front door being opened and the familiar sound of jangling keys with the slightly deadpan calling of ‘mom’ permeates the usual silence. The sound, although not unwelcome in the slightest, causes a small frown to furrow your brow all the same.
“Natasha?” You call back, already making your way towards the living room, sure that your confusion rung clearly within your tone. An expression that only grows that much more pronounced when you’re met with the shimmering gaze of your daughter; tousled red hair cut short, falling to just above her shoulders, and her usual penchant of wearing darker colors being tantamount. “What are you doing home, sweetheart? I wasn’t expecting you for another month.”
Her lips twist in a wry smile. “Are you not happy to see me, mother?” She tilts her head, faux hurt making an appearance. “I thought you’d be glad to see me.”
You gently swat her arm, before pulling her into a tight hug. “Of course, I’m happy to see you, Natasha,” you murmur, your lips briefly brush across her cheek before you disentangle from her completely. “I just know how you value your independence too.”
“I knew that you were alone in the house, mom,” she replies, a shrug calmly following her words. “I didn’t want you to wallow in self-pity while that fucker I call a father gets his rocks off with someone half his age across town.”
“Language, Natasha,” you gently chide, well aware your daughter was in her early twenties now and didn’t need to be reprimanded for it. “You know that your father still loves you dearly, and I believe he’s excited to see you whenever you get around to going to his new house.”
Jade eyes roll so hard you’re almost concerned about them getting stuck. “He should have thought about that before he stuck his tongue down someone else’s throat.” Natasha’s lips press into a line, clearly agitated, but she takes a deep breath through her nose and forcibly calms herself down. “But I’m not here to talk about him. I’m here to spend time with you.”
Sudden movement from behind Natasha causes your reply to catch in your throat when you finally focus on the woman standing behind your daughter. Whose presence you were completely astonished you hadn’t noticed before, especially given how electrifying it felt to have her emerald eyes honed directly on you, but your gentle smile doesn’t fall away; even if you do feel it twitch slightly due to your surprise. Your hand, that was near enough to your daughter’s forearm, clenches around it in a silent reprimand, but you try your best to keep the pleasant tone to your voice.
“I see that my daughter didn’t think it best to introduce her guest first.” You gently pinch Natasha once before stepping closer to the unknown woman in your home. “I apologize for not noticing you sooner.”
The woman smirks, the light emerald of her eyes shifting to tantalizing jade as she observes you. “It’s quite alright,” she replies, her voice a husky whisper that’s enveloped in an accent you couldn’t pinpoint the origin of. “I’m not surprised that Nat was too focused on her mother to remember me.”
Subtext is etched into every inch of that statement, but you didn’t have time to even try to sift through it before your daughter’s teasing voice cuts through.
“It’s not my fault my mother is more interesting than you, Wanda.” She slides past you to stand beside the now smiling woman. “You just need to learn to get on her level.”
Wanda’s gaze shifts from your daughter to you once more-- the barest hint of her earlier smirk returning. “I don’t know, Nat,” she teases, amusement, mixed with something else you couldn’t put a name to, laced within her words. “I think I quite like my view from where I’m at.”
Your daughter, once again, rolls her eyes skyward but her easygoing smile doesn’t leave her lips. “Mom.” She turns back to you and gestures towards Wanda. “This is Wanda Maximoff, I’ve talked about her a bit when I’ve called home.”
The name finally clicks into place within your head. Memories of your daughter’s exasperated voice, filled with hints of fondness, come forth from the recesses of your mind. All of the stories, all of the thinly veiled jokes, that your daughter had shared with you, and the clear warmth that she felt for the other woman, brings a fond smile to your lips. An expression that causes various emotions to flicker across Wanda’s face for the briefest of moments before it smooths over.
“So, you’re the one my daughter kept talking about?” You couldn’t keep the genuine amusement out of your tone if you tried. “Her best friend?”
Wanda arches a brow. “I’m your best friend, Nat?” She playfully places her hands to her heart. “I’m honored that you think so highly of me.”
You can tell your daughter just barely refrains from rolling her eyes. Not even bothering to deign Wanda’s teasing words with a response, Natasha turns back to you. “Can we go put our things away, mom?” She rolls her shoulders, and, for the first time, you notice how tired she looked. Of course, it was over a four-hour drive from your house in Westview to her college in Ithaca.
“Of course, sweetheart,” you soothed. “I’m just going to finish up some work down here and then I’ll get started on dinner, okay?”
Natasha smiles. “You’re the best, mom.”
Your heart flutters at her words, a simple compliment to most, but one that you’ve desperately needed in the last few months. Knowing that you may start crying at any moment if you tried to speak, you wave your daughter towards the stairs and step back towards the hallway to continue your work in the office. But, before you could a throat clearing behind you causes you to turn back around-- only to be met by beautiful emerald eyes that seemed to encompass you in a bubble you didn’t know if you wanted to escape from.
“Is everything alright, Wanda?” Your gaze quickly flicks over her body: from the black skinny jeans with holes, to the simple red leather jacket, and the casually tousled way her dark auburn hair fell over her shoulders. “Did you need something?”
Pale pink lips quirk for a moment, before a genuine look of something passes over Wanda’s face once more. “I don’t need anything.” She shakes her head, a low chuckle escapes her, but you weren’t quite sure what was so funny. “I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here with Natasha. Especially since it was clear you didn’t know I was coming in the first place.”
“It’s not a problem, Wanda,” you reply, a smile of your own playing across your lips. “I’m glad that I won’t be alone in this house for however long you both decide to stay. It definitely beats what I was going to do.”
“What were you going to do?”
You shrug. “Just wallow around and get drunk off of some wine.”
Wanda considers you for a moment, emerald eyes cast in shadow. “I’m not so sure about the wallowing, but I’d love to have a glass of wine with you sometime.”
“Oh.” You’re surprised by the simplicity in which Wanda makes the offer. None of Natasha’s previous friends, or best friends, had ever bothered, or seemed that keen, to spend time with you. Not that you’d ever fault them for doing so. Who would want to spend time with the parents of their best friend? “I’m sure you’ll have much more interesting things to do, Wanda.”
A smile, much softer than the one’s she had shown you before, plays at the corners of her lips. “I’m not so sure about that, but the offer still stands regardless.” She looks over her shoulder when the call of her name from Natasha’s room spears through the house, an almost disgruntled look etching itself across her face because of it. “I think it’ll be fun to get to know the woman that raised Nat. Her stories of you haven’t done you justice in the slightest.”
You’re not able to reply before Natasha’s annoyed voice from the upper-level calls Wanda towards the stairs, clearly impatient with how long her friend was taking. Conversation over then, you think, taking a small step back, towards the direction of the kitchen. The action elicits the smallest of frowns from Wanda, an expression that is there and gone before you could even blink, and you offer her one last wave before heading further into your house, vaguely aware that you didn’t hear the telltale signs of footsteps on your stairs until you rounded the corner.
The following week passes quickly, and you easily grow used to having Natasha back home-- Wanda slipping in seamlessly throughout it all. It was nice to have some company in the large house, even if Natasha did tend to disappear to reconnect with friends she had left behind once she went off to New York and left Westview behind, but knowing that your daughter was there, and would continue to be, if you needed her soothed you in a way that you hadn’t even known you needed.
Wanda, despite Natasha’s persistent pestering, seemed to enjoy spending her time lounging around the house, citing that she didn’t know anyone in Westview and didn’t plan on getting chummy with the locals, offering her help whenever she saw you doing something, with an ever present look in her eyes that you still couldn’t place. Although you didn’t exactly mind spending time with the younger woman, her perception of the world was enlightening, along with your shared interests in various topics that had never seem to intrigue anyone else except you-- until now, of course.
You could feel yourself getting close to her, closer than you’ve allowed yourself to be in a long time. Not since college, you muse, taking a small sip of the chilled wine that Wanda had just brought you. Finally deciding, with Natasha going out for friend’s birthday party, that it’d the perfect time to finally share that glass of wine. You didn’t bother trying to argue with her, not when she looked so earnest in her request.
Wanda settles next to you, causing you to shift your position, pressing your back into the arm rest, in order to be able to look at her. Emerald eyes were glued onto you, a smile playing on the edges of her lips, before she shifts into a comfortable position of her own.
“So,” you begin, setting down your wine on the coffee table. “What are you planning on doing once you graduate college? Any idea on where you’d like to end up?”
“I’ve always loved the idea of being a Producer, being the magic behind the scenes if you will,” Wanda replies, a charming grin catching her lips. “And, yes, I do believe there’s a place that’s caught my eye on where I’d like to end up.”
You arch a brow. “Really?”
Wanda simply hums in response, a spark of mischief dancing within her gaze-- a look that you had long since grown used to. It’s clear that she wasn’t going to answer you, not that you truly expected her to, after all what college kid has plans on where they’d like to end up? Ideas, perhaps, but nothing concrete as most go where the wind takes them.
“Well,” you continue, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “I’m glad that you have everything figured out. I definitely envy you for that?”
The younger woman’s brow furrows at that, bottom lip disappearing behind pearly white teeth. “Why do you say that?” Emerald eyes flit over the immaculate expanse of your house, one that you had strived hard to maintain through the years. “I think you’re definitely a few steps ahead of me in that department.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” You wave the pseudo-compliment away. “All of what I have isn’t what I originally dreamed of, or wished for, myself, but when certain cards are laid out in front of you.” Trailing off, you run a singular look over the now empty expanse of your ring finger. “You either fold or raise, I wasn’t willing to do the latter. Not when it had so many other consequences attached to it.”
“What would you wish for then?”
You shift your focus back to Wanda, confusion etched across your face. “What?”
She waves a hand. “You said that all of this isn’t what you originally wished for yourself.” Wanda shrugs. “What is then? What would you wish for?”
“I wish I could find someone that’d treat me in the way he never did, that’d show me what love truly is, and make me forget about all that he’s put me through,” you sigh, taking another sip of your wine. “Of course, with my age, I don’t think that’s really in the cards for me anymore.”
Wanda scoffs. “I don’t think that’s true. I think there are quite a few people that’d love to be with you.”
Something tells you, maybe some deeper part, a more sensible part, of your brain, that you shouldn’t continue forward with this conversation, that you should take her words as the compliment they are, but another, more needy part of your brain, one that desperately needs to feel some form of validation after so long, doesn’t want to in the slightest.
Rolling your shoulders, you level Wanda with a look. “Really?” She hums in confirmation. “And who might those people be?”
“Me.”
If it wasn’t for your back being wedged against the armrest of your catch, you’re fairly certain you would have reared back completely at the calm nonchalance in which she gave you the answer. “Y-You can’t be serious Wanda.” You shake your head, not believing at all what you were hearing. “I’m over a decade older than you.”
She tilts her head. “So?” A salacious smirk tugs her lips upward. “I think that makes you even hotter.”
“You--” You huff out a breath. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Wanda. I think I’m going to get you some water because you’ve obviously had quite a bit to drink already.”
But, before you’re able to even push up from the couch, Wanda’s hand grabs your wrist and tugs you closer. Noses almost smashing together, you’re only able to keep yourself steady by grabbing ahold of Wanda’s shoulder with your free hand. “I know exactly what I’m talking about,” she hisses, warm breath ghosting across your face. “I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you on Nat’s phone and it only grew the moment I saw you in person.” Her hand lightly traces down your face, almost reverently. “You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen. No one could ever compare to you in my eyes.”
The sweets words, coupled by the earnest expression etched across her youthful face, causes your willpower to begin to falter. How long has it been since someone looked at you like that? Spoke to you in such a manner? Have you ever had that? The thought makes something twist within your gut.
“You’re my daughter’s best friend,” you begin, trying to force some semblance of reality into this situation. Trying to make yourself see reason before you did what this was no doubt leading to. “We can’t do this, Wanda.”
“We can do whatever the hell we want. We’re both adults, I’m not some child.” She tugs you closer, nuzzling her nose against yours. “And what I want to do is kiss you the way you’re supposed to be kissed.”
A hitch in your breathing gives Wanda all the information she needs, and seals your fate completely, but, even with that go ahead, at the clear sign that you wanted her as much as she clearly wanted you, her lips still descended onto yours at a snail’s pace, giving you the opportunity to pull away.
You didn’t want to.
Didn’t want to have this moment be ruined by what could potentially come after. For the first time, in what felt like forever, you were going to put what you desired, what you wanted, before everything else. So, when Wanda’s lips finally did meet your own, and you’re able to faintly taste the cherry chap-stick she seemed so fond of, you give your all to the embrace. Mouth easily opening to her questing tongue, a small moan escaping from deep within your chest at the feel of it entangling with your own, and Wanda seems to press even closer.
At this point you’re not even sure where you begin and Wanda ends, being pressed so closely together as you are. All you do know is that you never want this to end, never want to go a moment without Wanda’s warm hands trailing down your body, slender fingers digging slightly into your sides to pull you tightly against her, never want to be without the feelings she invokes within your chest-- the butterflies she causes within your stomach.
With a small snarl, Wanda rips her mouth from yours, making you just barely stifle the noise of disappointment the action causes within you, but the darkened emerald eyes leveled with your own renders you temporarily mute. Wanda’s chest heaving in her effort to get enough air, but she doesn’t once stop running her hands down your body-- seemingly not being able to get enough of touching you.
“I want to see you,” Wanda growls, hands gripping the material of your flimsy shirt and quickly pulling it over your head. Darkened green eyes taking in each inch of flesh that’s been revealed to her-- on any other circumstance you’d be mortified by the fervor in which she was looking at you, but underneath all that hunger, you could see a sense of awe, a spark of reverence, as if you had just made a wish of hers come true. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” Her head dips, pressing a hot kiss against your neck, tongue soothing the place her teeth had dug in. “I’m going to worship you, baby, I’m going to make everyone else before me feel obsolete.”
Your back arches on its own volition, pressing yourself further into the heated touch of the hand trailing down your abdomen. Burning kisses, that feel like they’d send the raging inferno coursing through your veins absolutely haywire, following the path her fingers had just traced-- sharp canines delicately nipping the flesh of your navel before her tongue sweeps over the flesh to soothe the mark that she had undoubtedly left behind. You’re barely aware of when Wanda had been capable of tugging your sweatpants down your leg, along with your panties, before tossing them in a random direction behind her, but you’re definitely honed in on the moment her tongue, that had just done such sinful things to your chest and stomach, made contact with the apex of your thighs.
A breathy whine escapes you then, the feeling of Wanda’s tongue lapping at the wetness beginning to escape you, little hungry mewls escaping her throat, as if you were the most appetizing thing she had ever tasted, brings a whole new high to your pleasure-- something you had never felt before. Digging your fingers through her hair, tugging at the long strands to pull her impossibly closer, you’re rewarded by a breathy snarl, Wanda’s lips latching onto your clit and sucking it into her warm mouth-- slender fingers taking up residence where her tongue had just been, entering you hard and fast. Not giving you even a moment to get used to the new feelings before she’s pounding into you, the slender digits curling up just right to brush the spot within you.
The sounds of your wetness, of the sloshing noises that Wanda’s fingers made every time she pulled out, would have normally made you embarrassed, and it probably would have, if Wanda hadn’t made sure to maintain eye contact with you throughout it all. Emerald eyes, blown almost black with lust, keenly observing every minute expression that flits across your face, tongue lashing across your clit in the precise moment that you needed her to, fingers scissoring inside of you the moment you felt your high coming that much closer. The simple fact that she already seemed to know your body so well, that she could already read your face, in a way that your ex-husband never could, makes the need to have her closer almost like a drug coursing through your veins.
With the fingers still tangled in her hair, you tug her upwards. Seeming almost hesitant to leave, Wanda follows your wordless command after another thorough swipe of her tongue, her mouth latching onto your own the moment she’s within reach. And, the heady mix of yourself and something that’s inherently Wanda, fogs your brain, but you still have half the mind to wrap your arms around her back, arching more fully into her body-- needing to feel connected to her in some way. Moreso than you already were.
Ripping her mouth away from your own, when air becomes a necessity, Wanda groans. “You’re doing so good for me, baby.” Nimble fingers are quickly accompanied by a third. “Taking my fingers so well. Fuck you’re so tight for me, aren’t you?”
You nod, a soundless scream escaping. The stretch, the feeling of being so full, and the warmth of Wanda’s breath across your ear, a combination you never knew you needed until now. The cliff, that you hadn’t been able to achieve by yourself, and rarely ever with your ex-husband, seems to be getting closer and closer; you were more than excited to finally take the plunge.
“That’s right, baby,” Wanda coos, thrusting harder into you. “Just feel my fingers in your perfect cunt. He never fucked you like this, huh? Never treated with the roughness you’ve obviously wanted?”
Something in her voice, in the darkened tone, tells you that this line of questioning wouldn’t be as rhetorical as the first. “N-No--” A sharp whine is pulled from your lips. “Only you. Only you’ve fucked me the way I’ve wanted.”
A sharp grin pulls at Wanda’s lips, her free hand gripping your hip in a possessive hold. “And I’m only ever going to be the one to do it from this point forward.” Her head dips, teeth digging into the sensitive flesh right beneath your pulse point. “Isn’t that right, baby?”
“Yes!” Your back arches, your incoming orgasm nearly blinding you. “I-I’m so close. I-I can’t--”
Wanda rolls her hips, shushing you gently. “It’s alright, baby. You’ve done so good for me. Be my good girl and cum for me.”
At her command your body finally releases the final coil that had been prepared to spring forward, as if it had been waiting for her words all along, and a keening cry passes your lips-- Wanda-- as your world is whitened by your pleasure. Only vaguely aware of Wanda’s lips pressing repeatedly against your cheek, her fingers gently guiding you through.
When you come down from your high, from the toe-curling pleasure that she had given you, and your vision clears enough for you to see Wanda, still hovering over you, with that same look of reverence on her face from before, you couldn’t help the almost shy smile that appears. Something that causes Wanda to dip forward to place a chaste kiss against the smile, so tender from the hungry ones that she had bestowed on you only a moment before.
“How the fuck could he ever leave someone like you?” It’s said in a low voice, one that you don’t think you were supposed to her, but her clear confusion fills you with warmth, nonetheless. Emerald eyes raise to meet your own gaze, softness suffused within it. “Will you give me that honor, baby? The honor of making you forget.”
Your earlier words, said in a mournful whisper, come back to you instantly: I wish I could find someone that’d treat me in the way he never did, that’d show me what love truly is, and make me forget about all that he’s put me through.
“I’m over a decade older than you, Wanda,” you rebuke. “Why the hell would you want to be with someone like me?”
Her brow furrows. “Why wouldn’t I?” She lowers herself, finally pressing her body against yours, allowing you to feel the warmth of her skin, she places another gentle kiss to your lips. “You’re the only woman that’s ever made me feel like this. I don’t give a damn how old you are, I don’t give a damn if Natasha has an issue with it, I’ll talk to her, all I care about is that I get to have you like this again. That I get to love you in the way that you deserve to be.” Emerald eyes sharpen, her grip on your body tightening. “In a way that only I could ever give you.”
Your eyes flutter shut at her words, something you’ve been wanting to hear for so long. Could you actually take this plunge? Allow yourself to take such a huge risk? Potentially cause a crisis with your daughter and Westview at large? What if it didn’t work out?
What if it did? The gentle voice of your conscience counters. What if this is your chance at finally being happy? At finally finding the one person you’ve been searching for? Are you really going to let that pass you by?
You didn’t know how this was going to turn out, how any of this would end up snowballing into years down the line, but as your eyes open and you peer into emerald green, a color that had enchanted you since you first looked upon it, you know your answer instantly-- have known it for longer than the question even being posed.
“Yes.”
Wanda’s answering smile, bright with her happiness, is all you see before she descends onto your mouth again, clearly wanting to show you everything that you’d now be experiencing from this point on.
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x female reader#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff x reader#summertime sadness#mcu imagine#avengers imagine
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Nesting for Omegas
•A Nest is a space an Omega keeps for their heats especially but also for a calming, comfortable space all their own
•No one is to enter that space without express permission from the Omega in question-permission is needed every time you enter unless you’re the Omegas Alpha and you know you’re wanted there-permission will still be needed for an Alpha if the Omega is upset with them
•When an Omega builds a nest they zone out and focus on their task, it is nearly impossible to get their attention and if you do you’ll wish you hadn’t, Omegas don’t take kindly to being distracted while building their nest {Disrupt at your own Risk}
•Do Not wear your shoes into an Omegas nest!
•Young Omegas will always have a nest of their own but when with friends or family outside their home, like at a sleep over, they will often make a nest for them and their friends to sleep in. Alphas and Betas are taught not to intrude on a nest that’s not their Omegas but in this case it’s a community nest, though the Omega will still be particular about how it’s built, often changing little things about how they buid their own nest so it’s not too similar, not wanting people to know what their nest looks like
•Many Betas and Alphas try to build nests when they’re children, wanting the comfort, especially once they’ve experienced a friends nest or been into their parents if they have an Omega parent, though it’s a behavior that doesn’t stick around long very often-only the occasional Beta will continue this practice and it will be different than that of an Omegas
(——However when an Alpha has been put on suppressants too young (usually before presenting) they will often display Omega-like behaviors and one of those is nesting. This action becomes just as if not more important to the Alpha as they grow-especially depending on their situation)
•An Omega will usually build their nest in a small space with surrounding walls, like a nook. Many young Omegas will build their nests in their closet when they’re new to it and instinctually try to hide it from people
•Many Omegas hang curtains around their nests to make them feel safer and less exposed, another reason younger Omegas nest in their closets so often. It makes them feel less vulnerable
•Typical nesting materials include
Comforters. Pillows. Body pillows. Sheets. Fleece throws. Stuffed animals. Mates clothes, or clothes of an Alpha they like that they’ve stolen to make their nest smell like them. -Young Omegas will quite often steal shirts from their Alpha fathers to put in their nest as in their youth it has only ever been a safe and wonderful/comforting smell that often helps them relax and sleep (to the small Omega ‘Alpha Scent’ just smells like Daddy and Daddy is safe-this wears off around puberty and sometimes even earlier) Many use faux fur as part of their nest, the feel of animal fur being instinctually comforting to an Omega as it was one of the only things Omegas had to use hundreds of years ago
•Candles will typically be placed around a nest or incense holders as well as lights, fairy lights often being things Omegas like hanging over their nests as they’re not overly bright and blinding, they offer a dim light that’s just enough without being too much, just enough to be comforting so Christmas lights are often perfect
•Nearly all Omegas will have a cache of snacks. Some have a mini fridge near by with things in it but most will have a box hidden in a corner of their nest containing water bottles/Powerade/gatorade since their heats cause intense thirst, it will also contain snacks. Mostly things that are filling and replace their energy during heats such as Trail mix, jerky, gold fish crackers, peanut butter crackers, granola bars, peanuts, pretzels, but they will also have other treats that they enjoy most for when they need them like fruit snacks, cookies, favorite candy bars, chips, pop corn, Rice Krispie treats
•Every single nest is different, because every single Omega is different. Some are extremely neat, some are hectic and messy, some are all matching and beautiful, some are mismatched colors and complex, made on a mattress, layered on a hundred pillows. No 2 nests are the same but they are all comfortable and perfect to each individual Omega
•A quick way to an Omegas heart is a compliment on their nest, they all work very hard to make it perfect and are more self conscious about it than you would expect since it is so personal to them
•If you are lucky enough to be allowed into an Omegas nest count your lucky stars, it is an honor and a privilege and you should never treat it as anything less
Omegaverse Beliefs
#Omegaverse#Nesting#Omega Nesting#omegaverse lifestyle#omegaverse nesting#omegaverse scents#omegaverse imagine#omegaverse dynamics#omegaverse headcanons#a/b/o dynamics#a/b/o#a/b/o lifestyle#Alpha/Beta/Omega#alpha/beta/omega dynamics#alpha/beta/omega verse#designations when it comes to Nesting
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East Palace, West Palace in ep5 of Blue Canvas of Youthful Days
I have been punched in the solar plexus by Blue Canvas of Youthful Days episode 5. So much happens in that episode that is overwhelming, from Qi Lu setting up a Netflix-and-chill date with the clear intention of making a move, to his putting on the famous film East Palace, West Palace (1996), to Qi Lu hiding Qin Xiao in the closet, to Qi Lu's panic at his father realizing he's been lied to, to the devastatingly practiced way Teacher Liu steps to Qi Lu being abused and handles his father, to the way Qi Lu shuts down, to the way QIn Xiao keeps sending mixed signals and Qi Lu calls him on it directly. And nobody else in this episode let me rest either; Tan Fan trying to ask Teacher Liu to wait for him and Liu brushing him off AGAIN, and Turtle trying to call out
@lurkingshan was already more coherent than I can be right now about what happened in the episode in her post.
So instead I want to focus on some queer cinema history that this episode evoked by using East Palace, West Palace as the film that Qi Lu shows to QIn Xiao.
For those who don't know, EPWP is considered to be the first realistic depiction of a gay man in film by a mainland Chinese production. It is to my knowledge the first time a gay man says "I love you" to another man on screen. It was made before being gay was decriminalized in China (1997), and it was filmed by an independent production company and smuggled out of China to France in order to be finished and distributed. It ended up at the Cannes festival in 1997, but the director's passport was seized and he was placed under house arrest to prevent him from attending. Despite pressure to pull the film, it still aired that year. In 1998, the Film Law was passed to prevent anyone from making films outside of the studio system (and therefore censorship review), effectively preventing anything like EPWP from being made in the future.
The film is about a gay man who cruises in the notorious bathrooms in the parks on either side of Tiananmen Square getting harassed by police officers (a situation extremely familiar to the historical queer experience in Canada [where I'm from] as well) and playing what I'd describe as a psychological game with one of them; A Lan kisses the cop, runs, and then gets caught a second time, and uses the second police confession as an excuse to tell his life's story in the public record, all while pushing the police officer a little further into deviance. As far as I'm aware, this film has been banned in China since being made and never shown (please correct me if I'm wrong about that!).
This is hitting me hard because of the much more recent history of Blue Canvas of Youthful Days itself. As most of you know, but I'll capture here for posterity, episodes 1-4 of this show aired on iQIYI (a China-based app) on August 6, and within 24 hours they were pulled from the app with no information about the future episodes being shown. When I watched episode 5 today, after waiting for it for 3 months, I was immediately hit with a wave of anger that this gorgeous, emotionally moving and powerful episode had been held back from public consumption for months, for the same reasons that the film being shown within the episode had been withheld from viewing in its own country.
Censorship is such an ugly thing, it's hard to articulate but the emotions around it are so strong because we know, when they pull or refuse to show media that depicts our lives, it's because they don't want our lives to be real; they don't want us to exist. It's a very real threat. And to have this episode--which is all about an abused boy who is in very real danger but so bravely insisting that he shoot his shot and take his best chance at love and happiness anyway, using the iconic confession scene from one of the most famous banned films in Chinese queer cinema history to do it--to have this episode be the one that was prevented from airing......I am overwhelmed.
In the scenes they watch in episode 5, A Lan tries to prevent the officer from uncuffing him, and then the officer lets him go, but A Lan doesn't go far and comes back. He declares his love to the officer's face, and demands that his love be acknowledged and not dismissed. And the officer does not know what to do with it and reacts with violence, which is partially what A Lan has been angling at all along. The show really played with this by having all three of the couples in the show stymied by having their overtures dismissed this episode, but we almost didn't get to see it.
I'm so grateful this got distribution now, and on multiple platforms. Blue Canvas of Youthful Days is airing Saturdays and Sundays on GagaOOLala and Youtube (note, as per @thisonelikesaliens's excellent language posts, the subs on Gaga are much better), and on Mondays on Viki. I know there is an avalanche of content right now, but this show is so good and worked so hard to make it to us, please give it some love!
#blue canvas of youthful days#east palace west palace (1996)#typed so that i can stop thinking it#queer history
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hockeyteam!141 headcanons
wanted to write more for this au but i don't have enough creative juices for a part 2 yet, so have some hcs about the 141 + some reader backstory! 💖
price (#35)
has been playing since he was a kid, found something he was good at and stuck to it
skate guards, stick tape, mouthguard, everything is blue because that’s his favorite color
gets really concerned when any one of his guys goes down on the ice, he’s usually right there beside the team medic until they shoo him away
is the first one back in the locker room after a game to greet the others with a fist bump or a high five for a job well done
(ghost thinks it’s corny, but he always asks for a fist bump after a particularly tough match)
ghost (#42)
picked up the sport as an escape from family life, it was an outlet to let out his rage and he took it
carries around a communal bottle of peroxide for washing jerseys
sometimes, the other guys on the team will give him their bloody gear cause no one can get the stains out as good as he can
technically, gaz gave him his nickname first (“you’re like a bloody spectre out there, mate”) but soap was the one that made sure it stuck
is definitely the guy on the team that yells at everyone else when they aren’t paying attention to price
has gotten called the captain’s pet more than once for it, too
really likes the flavor of red gatorade, but he doesn’t like how it stains his teeth
soap (#07)
started playing when he got kicked off of his youth football/soccer team for being too aggressive, parents picked a more physical sport for him
definitely chews on his mouthguard when the game is getting close, will chew on it regardless if he’s been on the bench for too long
gets really annoyed with how sweaty the mohawk gets under his helmet and has fully considered buzzing his whole head multiple times
chirps both on and off the ice, started an all-out brawl by calling another player a “sack of yankee-dankee-doodle gobshite” once (yes, he got it from gordon ramsay)
once he puts those pads on, he will do anything and everything price tells him to do
refill his water bottle? done. grab the whiteboard so he can sketch something out? it’s already in his hand.
speaking of sketching, johnny really likes to draw and has drawn everyone on the team at one point or another
gaz (#74)
definitely was one of those kids that played every sport they could
this man was in hockey, rugby, football, anything that would let him sign up and give him a position to play
price handpicked him for the minor league team after seeing him play in a local match (still had to run it by the head coach, laswell, though)
dances in his seat on the bench in between plays and has definitely bribed the announcer to play some of his favorite songs during the intermissions
is relatively quiet on and off the ice until he sees something he doesn’t like
once, someone landed a pretty nasty hit on price and kyle got himself ejected from the game fighting with the ref over the lack of penalty
bonus reader hcs!
i want to leave most of the physical characteristics vague (gender, hair color, etc.) but i have some backstory for the reader in this au!
decided they want to be a figure skater after watching the olympics with their parents as a kid
they started classes as young as an instructor would take them, and before that, they made their mom take them to the ice rink every day after school
always refuse to compete with a partner because they got burned by an almost-dating situation when they were in high school
as much as their coach keeps trying to get them to do upbeat routines to rock/pop music, they’ve always preferred the more flowy routines to instrumentals
despite that, they always warm up to divorced dad rock
gonna write a pt 2 for the story soon, so stay tuned!
#cod#cod fic#call of duty#reader insert#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#john price x reader#poly!141 (eventually)#hockeyteam!141#figureskater!reader
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begging on my hands and knees for a sequel to the daddy gojo fic but w sugu please please please
a/n: my dear nonnie this is less than u actually deserve but i hope it fuels the stsg daddy agenda im pushing here.
violet, blue, green, red to keep me out… i win.
( ft. suguru geto. )
Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.
< part one.
wc: 3k (proofread? probably not)
cw: [ 18+ explicit content minors dni ] technically this is part two of a gojo fic (linked above) but can be read individually so no biggie. fem reader (female bodied). teacher!suguru meaning he did not deflect here okay, we’re living a happy life away from the pain. first one was gojo action so this is for geto action only but poly satosugu is clearly implied, that’s the whole point of this basically hehe. daddy kink and daddy dynamic so be very careful! minimal to no prep. unprotected sex. p in v sex. mentions of blood. mentions of death. these two pamper reader too much so reader’s a little spoiled but in the good way. geto is a sweet pretty much. if i forgot anything to put here lemme know. enjoy! <3~
From time to time, Suguru wonders about his soul in genuine distress. Perhaps out of guilt and worry and only in moments like these—well past midnight with bloodied nuckles and heavy footsteps echoing through thin walls, dragging himself up the stairs of the palatial home he and Satoru bought together, with nothing but a familiar sense of anxiety building in his chest. But it’s not like his personal cup of remorse is filled with all the haunting thoughts of the bad things he has done and seen in his life thanks to his sinister line of work, or as if such awful thoughts could actually pull some strings within his untainted heart—because that’s far from being the case.
It’s just—it’s just who he is. The blessing and the curse of being a Sorcerer, of swallowing venom as a whole to save the lives of those who live an ignorant bliss.
White marble stains in scarlet as he approaches his bedroom in silence, mind reflecting on the fact that things should be good now, that everything’s fine and danger has been erased. Any man in love would have handled the situation in the exact way he did, wouldn’t they? He wonders about this, too, quite frequently, and he hates to admit that the question lingers on his brain for far too long for his own liking. It makes him dread the fact that he’s not doing a good job in taking care of you.
Yet it doesn’t matter, as Suguru already knows the answer better than anyone—and he doesn’t qualify much for the kind-hearted-person term (or so he’s been thinking since the last blossom of his youth and the tragedies that showered his naive teen years catches him off guard). But he really doesn’t want to either, because then that would mean that he can’t successfully protect the thing he cares about the most in the world. And he can’t let that happen.
But the look Satoru shoots at him as soon as he opens his bedroom door and finds him sitting comfortably in the wide couch—awaiting his return, as usual—has him breathing correctly again, mind turning back from unwanted ideas that bother him to no end.
“You got busy tonight, huh,” Satoru murmurs quietly, head lolling to the side while scanning his best friend’s tired figure.
“I took care of the scum,”
“And didn’t invite?”
Suguru’s lips turn into a devious smirk, heavy body finally falling between the many soft pillows his large bed has.
“Princess was so upset, needed you to stay by her side,” he resolves quite calmly, dried blood forcing a horrid contrast to his charming features. “If I’m not there to hold her, then you must,”
There’s a silent warning to his words, and Satoru doesn’t have to make an effort to catch it immediately. He already knows it by heart, he always has—he always will.
“She couldn’t stop crying for over an hour anyway,” he ends up retorting sharply instead, hoarse voice weighing a tone of suppressed anger. “Hope you gave the bastard a merciless death,”
How couldn’t he after what he did to you?
The day had started quiet, tranquil—the week itself abnormally peaceful for them. Maybe it was the fleeing summer coercing the unpleasant job of Sorcerers into days of calm, long work hours slowing down and making them believe they couldn’t relax a little bit. So they decided that it would be a good idea to take you to that new coffee shop in Shinjuku you were dying to go lately. And it was fine, of course, you were incredible happy to be outside the walls of home as you hold hands with both them in a sea of smiley people.
Until it wasn’t.
That desolated look on your face when you found yourself trapped into the arms of some Curse User seeking vengeance towards them—Suguru memorized it, because it caused him some undescribable pain he couldn’t possibly explain even if he tried to. His heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at the sight of gleaming tears drying in your cheeks and the sound of broken sobs, garbled whimpers of their names coming out of parted lips as you held onto nothing for balance, unable to stop yourself from breaking down at the fear, the horror, the trepidation it forced your body into a shock.
He couldn’t prevent what happened after they took you back and he tried to calm you down by placing you in Satoru’s lap, hurriedly murmuring something about making it right. It’s gonna be okay, princess, you’re gonna be okay. He won’t hurt you ever again. I’m here to protect you.
Maybe—just maybe—you heard the strained tone that bathed his words in that moment. And maybe you didn’t understand it right away, or maybe you didn’t want to.
Because Suguru has always been there to make things right, and nothing else has to matter when he and Satoru are there to protect you from the dangers of the world.
Like they have devoted themselves to do.
Suguru doesn’t remember the exact time you came into his life—he doesn’t really care to, because he knows you’ve pretty much always been there. He has no idea where do his memories begin or end at, but the teary-doe look of your face has been plaguing the tissues of his brain for so long now he can’t find himself to remember a time where it hasn’t been there.
He remembers his first day at Jujutsu High, during the spring of him being fifteen and you a little less than that, when he saw you adverting everyone’s gaze as you walked behind your mother (an assistant director, of all things) towards the offices in silence—floral dress wrinkly as you seated in some chair and patiently waited for your mom to finish off her work. No complaints but with a huge pout, bored to death.
He remembers the first time Satoru made you cry by telling you you were a weak nuisance (and how he shortly laughed at that), and he remembers the sickening feeling of nausea that infected his stomach shortly after—and he remembers how it didn’t disappeared until he handed you a beverage from the machines and you smiled at him like none of them ever harmed you in the first place.
He remembers you admiring your mother’s ivory dress the day she married principal Yaga, and he remembers the way he took your hand into his to give you a little bit of courage as you and Satoru walked down the aisle side by side, carrying the rings of the newlyweds.
He remembers the winter of Satoru’s eighteenth birthday, when the white-haired man accidentally dropped a box full of the school’s Christmas decorations over you, making you trip down the stairs and hurt your ankle. He remembers the tears that stained his posh pajama pants when you shouted at him—immediately, instantly—crying out his name and seeking comfort. He also remembers the way Satoru moved around you like a lighting bolt, reaching and lifting you up in his arms before Suguru could arrive. Soothing sweet words into your ear, kissing your cheek as he darted a glare in his direction.
He remembers that they both shared the same thought at that moment, even though it was never vocalized.
He remembers how you have always made him feel this sick—as if you’re infesting his body and refusing to let him cure himself off you at all. He remembers because the feeling doesn’t really stops, never has, probably never will, and he has now grow a little too familiar with the lingering explosion of things that do make him feel alive bubbling in his chest. He’s now used to you setting his soul on fire and making him sick.
But it’s special, nonetheless. A sugary sweet method of inflicting pain—as Satoru likes to say.
Because Suguru Geto is not exactly a good person by his own perspective—but he likes to believe he’s a good man to both you and Satoru, for selfish that could be. The kind of man that puts your safety and well-being on top of anything else, the one that ensures both of your happiness above his own. He’s the type of man that allows some of his darkest desires to die in a fire, following what he believes is the right thing to do.
Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.
“Sugu?”
He can hear it clearly, so vivid and bright and sweet it makes him terribly sick all of a sudden. Singsong and gently voice, coated in saccharine sugar echoing through his ears as the most enthralling tone wraps around his name like a prayer, the deliberately long uttering of ‘Sugu’ forcing the curves of his lips to fall abruptly, his heart stopping without notice and an invisible punch to the guts knocking all the air out of his lungs.
“‘Toru, Daddy, where are you?”
Suguru waits—pretends he doesn’t really care as your footsteps sound closer, closer, closer, and his posture maintains, seemingly calm, apparently unbothered, somewhat bored. But, oh, Satoru knows.
Satoru knows as he sits by his side on the obsidian sectional sofa, with legs crossed and arms splayed over the border, that his best friend’s mind is going on a haze, a brand new sense of anxiety crawling under his skin like a thousand bugs eating him alive. Satoru’s almost certain, he’s sure that if he gets a little closer, the violent sounds of Suguru’s heart pounding in alarming violence against his ribs would cause him physical pain. It puts him on edge; the mere thought of his best friend’s reaction at what’s about to happen now.
If it were him, he wouldn’t care. He hadn’t care in the past, actually. Satoru has always been more than happy to let you near the side of him that glows closer to hell than heaven itself.
But Suguru is different, he thinks.
“She’s supposed to be sleeping,” Suguru stares at him blankly, a hint of irritation in his voice. “It’s long past midnight, and she gets all cranky in the morning every time she stays up,”
“She was sleeping,” Satoru stands up, a sigh sliding past his lips while moving to the bedroom door. “But you already know how she gets if she wakes up for water and is all alone in bed. She gets all needy,”
Suguru raises an eyebrow.
“And who’s fault is that, huh?”
“It’s not polite to finger-point, Suguru.”
Both of them stay silent for a bit, carefully paying attention to your sounds. Suguru tuts his tongue when he hears you calling his name near the bathroom hall.
“I’m too bloodied for her to see me like this,”
“Clearly. Just stay there, lemme—,” Satoru scoffs, opening the door and then closing it behind him swiftly before you can catch a glimpse of the inside. “Oi, sweets, what do you think you’re doing out of bed?”
“But ‘Toru,” you complain in a hushed whine. “You left me alone, you know I don’t like that. It didn’t felt warm anymore,”
Suguru can’t see you—all he has is a muffled sound of your distorted voice, and he swears he knows exactly the way your lips are pushing the loveliest pout to ever exist, the way you’re looking at Satoru through sleepy eyelashes as you put your little complaint out.
And he also knows Satoru might have rolled his eyes playfully at the sight, pulling you closer to steal a kiss from your frowned lips.
“So needy, my baby is so needy,”
“Is Suguru not home yet?” you ask slowly, perhaps setting your groggy eyes into Satoru, staring at him with that enamored look they both know too well.
“Do you want Daddy?”
“Yeah, I do,” you snort.
“I’m your Daddy and I’m home, so,”
“I want both,” you giggle softly, so sweetly Suguru can feel his insides melt at the sound of your bubbling laugh.
He’s sure Satoru has you entangled in a hug, probably sneaking his hands all over your body and tickling your sides to pull a smile.
“Oh, your dumb Daddy, too. Alright. I dunno where he is, sweets,” Satoru states, as if.
“How mean, ‘Toru.”
“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”
“Mean. You’re lying to me.”
Suguru smirks at that. He stands up from the bed and walks towards the door to open it and find you both in the exact position he predicted.
And the look you shoot his way, the frown that forms in your face and your pretty features contract in sudden worry when his frame appears in front of you—it all has his heart pounding like crazy, he feels so loved, he feels so full of you. He feels insatiable.
“Oh,” you let out a little squeal as you shift from Satoru’s embrace and into his, “Sugu, you—”
“Don’t worry much about this, princess,” he mumbles, catching you inside his arms like the world depends on it. “I’m okay.”
But he’s sure you’re crying anyway.
And you don’t even stop to think about the blood. You don’t even care that he reeks of death and violence and Curses as you hold onto him for dear life, with arms that wrap tightly around him and pull him closer, closer, even closer; as lips caress the skin of his neck and little mewls echoe softly against his throat. Pants of I love you, I don’t want anything bad happening to you, I love you, fueling his mind like a bomb ready to launch.
Satoru laughs it off with a devious smile.
“Poor baby, you have her worried sick, Suguru,” he falsely chides. “Guess you gotta make it up to her.”
“Uh-huh,” Suguru nods. “My poor princess, do you want Daddy to make it alright?”
You nod in between heavy breaths, head still buried in his neck. Satoru gives a soft slap to your ass whimsically.
“So needy,” the Strongest murmurs, but he rapidly turns away and aims for the stairs. “I’m gonna go find a snack though, I’m starving. And then I’m gonna prepare a bath so you both can meet me there in a bit,”
Suguru nods.
“Go on. Let me take this princess to bed in the mean time, then we meet you in the bathtub,”
Suguru takes you to his large bed and places you in the middle of many soft pillows cooing in your ear to wash the concern out of you, but you’re reluctant. You cup his face and scan him looking for wounds, soon realizing the ugly streaks of scarlet that stain his face are, in fact, not his. But even then you don’t flinch. Instead, you let your hands wander all over his chest—desperate to pull him into you, to merge your bodies and never letting him go, never separated.
“Oh?” Suguru smiles at your scattered words. There’s still blinks of sleep tugging at your tired eyes, and he can’t help but fondle your face cautiously. “Are we merging with Satoru too, hm?”
You nod, sulky little look fighting sleepiness with all you got.
“Of course, Daddy, always with ‘Toru,”
“That’s right, princess. Always with Satoru,”
You inhale a deep breath. It’s easy for Suguru to notice every little thing about you, so he caught up on your train of thoughts before yourself. You were struggling with some words, biting your lip, eyelashes fluttering, thinking hard about something.
“What is it, baby?” He wonders carefully, hot breath colliding with your face, nose caressing the soft skin of your cheeks as he inhales your scent.
“Did you do a bad thing, Sugu?”
The question lingers on his brain for a few seconds, mind resisting on reflecting such thoughts. Yet his expression doesn’t change, he maintains serenity as the brush of skin above yours doesn’t stop. He holds you like a priced possession, like your mere existence could ever absolve the decaying all Sorcerers are damned to. Like you could kiss him and save him, like you could hug him and guard him—as if you could turn blood into holy water or death into salvation.
Maybe you can.
“Will you still love me if I did?” He asks, not dreading the answer.
“I will never stop loving you, Daddy,”
It ignites his body. Fire burns at his fists and he kisses you deeply, mouths meeting around a new heat, with tongues slipping and teeth clashing desperately. He has no intention of letting you catch a break, mouth falling to your neck where he bites at the sensitive skin and causes you to mewl.
“Ow, Suguru, that’s mean,” you grumble, but you part your bare legs anyway when his hands drop and brush at your thighs.
“Can’t help it, princess,” he press a chaste kiss to your lips once more. “You gonna let me play a little with this pretty pussy, yeah?” The words flee his throat in a raspy tone, and his hands don’t stop. He hikes up that oversized cashmere sweater, that can only belong to Satoru, barely above the line of your lacey black panties, enough for him graze it and get a glimpse of your puffy lips against the fabric, awaiting for him. Suguru traces a finger along your cunt, causing you to shiver at the cold digits. “How gorgeous,”
You pant. “But—The bath, Sugu,”
“He can wait a little,” he says into your mouth “Gonna make you feel really good, princess,” he breathes heavily, rocking his hip a little as a thumb strikes tenderly your cunt through your panties.
And he notices right away—in the way you shiver under his touch when he hovers completely above you, how a breathless sigh escapes past your parted lips and your fists grab a handful of his shoulders to attach yourself onto him and make his bulge nudge your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, mouth leaving stray kisses in your neck and already throbbing cock humping your covered pussy through his pants.
“Sugu,” you whine at one particularly hard thrust of his hips, involuntary loud moan reverberating from the back of your throat. “‘Toru,”
“Shh, princess,”
Suguru is fast at parting your panties to the side, and he says there’s no need for prepping you tonight, says it’s gonna be real quick so you can both go back to Satoru—with his cock an angry shade of red as its released free from his trousers and it aims for your tiny hole fast, thrusting in one go. You’re whimpering at how fast it happens, cunt burning at the sudden intrusion since he is usually the one that takes his time to properly prep you to take his cock.
You guess he’s feeling off, so you happily comply if that’ll help him.
“Want you, Sugu, I need you,”
“Ah-ah, my good girl,” he grunts lightly, hands steadying you by the ass as he finally bottoms out. “Can you keep doing that for me? Can you be a good girl?”
A loud hiss vibrates through clenched teeth as you wrap your legs around his hips, head nodding many forms of yes as you inch closer to him in distress.
“That’s it baby, take it pretty,”
“H-Hurts a little, Sugu,” you murmur softly, eyes glued to where he’s slowly sliding in and out.
“I know princess,” he pants. “Give it a minute,” He’s practically caging you shortly after, thrusting up roughly as stretched out walls wrap him and suck him deeply. You’re not given a chance to recover or adjust properly, but the burning does start to fade away. Discomfort grows into pleasure and whimpers turn into soft moans as you bury your face on his neck and his hot breath collides sharply against the shell of your ear. “You’re so brave, my good girl. So pretty, my princess,”
You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, dainty fingers digging the flesh of his shoulders when he grunts. And it doesn’t take long for tears to collect in your eyes as heat floods your body once again, the familiar throb of your clit making you aggravate the hump of your hips so your swollen bud finds a little bit of friction. Suguru doesn’t fail to turn you into a needy mess, strong hand coming to cover the cries emitting from your mouth.
Muffled chants of Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, alongside his hoarse grunts and the lewd slap of skin against skin are the only sounds that fly the room when he cums—bruising fingers grasping your flesh harshly as he paints your walls white, and nearly immediately you’re creaming all over the tip of his sensitive cock firmly pressed against your cervix.
“Not leaving you baby,” he pants out. “Not leaving you at all.”
#⊹˚₊⭒ storehouse#satosugu x reader#satosugu smut#jjk x reader#jjk headcanons#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen smut#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo headcanons#gojo smut#gojo x reader#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#geto suguru headcanons#geto headcanons#jjk x you
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In Bloom 1
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, allusions to trauma, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: After wasting much of your youth in a toxic situation, things are starting to look up. That's until you meet a certain flower seller.
Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader
Note: Tomorrow is beach day for me.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
The city streets seem to slant around you, looming outside the car windows, blurring at the edges. Your displacement adds to the effect, making your dizzy, leaving your hands raw as you wring them compulsively. You shrink back into your seat, shying away from the world that seems so scary to you.
Aunt Bev is completely unbothered. She sings along to her favourite 80s bop as she keeps speed with the rest of traffic. She's always in a sunny mood but that day, she beams even brighter. When you asked why, she was almost stunned by the question; 'well, sweetheart, it's your birthday!'
You forgot. Or didn't care. You never really celebrate. Your last birthday you can barely discern from all the other grim days. You try not to think of that life you had before Aunt Bev showed up to drag you into the light. You suppose it's probably been just under a year since.
As if sensing your grey thought, she reaches to turn the volume down. She resumes her firm grip on the wheel and peeks over quickly. She smiles as she stops at the changing light.
"You get a free scoop. You got your ID?" She says.
You nod. That's one of the things that's new to you. Before you never even had a library card. Before, it was like you never even existed. As far as the world was concerned, you didn't.
You look down at the purse in your lap. Your cousin Lena gave it to you. She said she never used it and it suited you better. There was a lot she handed over, though without any real concern. Her and your other cousin, Mason, have so much, they hardly know the difference.
You stare at the embroidered petals on the black velvet. Lena's wrong. It's too nice for you.
You tear your hands apart and lift the flap. You slide out the small wallet within. Another inherited piece. You slip out the ID card and stare at the photo. It doesn't really look like you but you've never really been able to recognise yourself. Your features always struck you as unfamiliar.
You remember when you went to fill out the paperwork. Standing in front of that lens, staring into its black eye, and the sudden flash. You tuck the card away and shove the wallet back in the depths of the purse.
"Lena's making you a cake," Bev says, "she always loves an excuse to make a mess of my kitchen."
You try to laugh, it's more a crackle. That's the thing about Aunt Bev, everything is so careless to her, so easy. It all feels so strange to you. You don't fit but no one else seems to notice.
"Mason should be there but heavens knows he's always late. That's not my doing, by the way, your uncle's always been horrible about time," she scoffs.
You hum to acknowledge you're listening. The mention of your cousin and uncle make you uneasy. It isn't that they're bad. No, they're so nice, like Lena and Bev, but they're men. You try not to hold that against them but you've never been very comfortable around them. Not that you spent much time around male counterparts.
"Twenty-five," she preens, "exciting."
You clear your dry throat, "yep."
You tuck your chin down and fidget with the strap of the purse. Twenty-five. Halfway through your first decade of adulthood and you still feel like a child. It's nothing to celebrate but Aunt Bev sees everyday as a reason.
She puts on her signal and waits in the line of cars. You squint through her side and see the bustling of vehicles and people in a large lot. All this for ice cream. You told her you aren't particularly hungry even but she insisted.
She turns and rolls into the lot, finding a spot amid the tight lines. She sighs and pulls the visor down to check her dyed waves in the mirror. She's always so put together. She tried to help you but you don't like the feel of mascara and you had an allergic reaction to the lip gloss. She didn't try again.
"Alright, ice cream!" She snaps the visor up, "do you know which flavour you want?"
You unbuckle your seat belt and shrug, "I don't know what they have."
"Fair," she tilts her head as she opens her door, "I'm feeling a good old vanilla cone."
You get out and shut the door. You hook the purse on your shoulder and meet her by the hood. You walk in step with her, peering around at the other people streaming towards the other side of the lot. There’s a large archway leading to a large plot of booths and stands. It’s a market of some sort, the kind you’ve only seen on television.
“I thought we were getting ice cream,” you say as you grip your purse.
“They have ice cream. I have another surprise. For your birthday,” she insists, “I wanted to buy you a gift.”
“Oh? I don’t need one.”
“I want to,” she says, “me and Lena used to come here all the time. You’ll like it.”
You don’t argue. You have no right to. She’s doing you a favour. Another one.
It’s crowded but everyone seems happy. You’re not used to all the noise or clamour. A woman pushes a stroller ahead of you as her husband chases a lively toddler past her. You press your chapped lips together and hold in your unease.
You’re not the best in these sort of situations. Too many people, too much going on. Just going down to City Hall to get your ID was a lot. The hospital too. Those stiff, cramped plastic chairs and people filling even the space between them.
You keep your shoulders curled in as you walk with Bev. You end up behind her, following her lead, stopping where she stops, looking at whatever she looks at. She points out a crystal sunflower necklace and you smile and nod. When you see the price, you frown.
“Maybe something else. I don’t wear jewelry,” you say. You don’t wear it because you never had it.
“It would be so pretty,” she remarks.
“No, really, it’s... nice, but not for me.”
You sidle on. There’s a table of soaps so pungent they make your head cloudy, and candles that look like whipped desserts. You cross to another booth and Bev buys some local honey and apple butter. She likes the honey in her tea in the evening. She always makes you a cup too.
She shows you the wildflower honey giddily and points you onward. You stick close, following her direction as it keeps your head from spinning. You go to crocheter’s stand with stuffed animals meant for the children shouting and running around more than you. That whale might be cute but you’re not a child anymore, are you?
You carry on. Bev shows you several other things. A little compact mirror with mother of pearl on the case and a hand-painted wooden chest you could put on your dresser. The dresser she bought in the room she gave you in the house she pays for.
“You really don’t need to buy my anything. The ice creams good enough,” you say as your doubt bubbles over but it’s too loud for her to hear you. And she’s too distracted.
Aunt Bev stands on her toes, though she’s already a tall figure, and waves at someone. She grabs your wrist and you wince as she pulls you through the swaths of people. You want to tear away as her grip makes you itch. You don’t like being touched. You’re not used to it.
She pulls you to another row of stalls and stops before a medley of plants. There's a little chalkboard sign in the corner that reads ‘Cole’s Corner’. Pots line the top of the table, cacti and spider plants and succulents. Their green and lovely and lush.
Bev lets go and you stare down at them. They’re familiar. They’re pretty. You could smile if your ears weren’t burning from the bustling people around.
You’ve always known soil, always known the smell of pollen and the tough roots of unwanted weeds. When you weren’t trapped in your room, you were stranded in the garden, searching for bright petals or nursing wilting stems. Out in the dirt, you didn’t have to worry about anything.
Often Aunt Bev found you in the plot she allotted you among her rose bushes and tulips. The space you made your own with the gnome you painted yourself. That was one of her little crafts she liked to do. She always had an idea for something or the other; waxed-linen to use as reusable bowl covers or tie-dye tee shirts.
You stare down at a pot of aloe vera. The pot is clay; the base is brown and the top is painted white. You admire the jutting rigid leaves as the chaos around you settles into the background. You lean in closer at the burst of colour behind it, a bunch of pleasant pink begonias.
“Cole,” your aunt chirps, “busy today.”
“Sure is,” the man behind the table answers and your eyes flick up as you nearly jump.
You hadn’t seen him. You were too distracted by the fauna. You don’t know how you didn’t. He’s tall and his blue eyes twinkle as they meet yours. You quickly shy away as the sight of his soft hay brown hair lingers in your mind.
“This your sister?” He asks.
“Oh, Cole, don’t be silly. You can flatter me all you like. You’re still a horrible salesman.”
“Usually works,” he chuckles, “daughter?”
“You’ve met Lena,” she chides then introduces you by name, “this is my niece. Hon, this is Cole. He grows these all himself.”
“Ah, the niece,” he snaps his fingers. “I remember.”
As he turns away you continue to peruse. Your cheeks are burning. You’re suddenly not as content to browse the plants. Not as you feel the sting of that man’s gaze nipping at you. It’s just the way he’d looked at you. Maybe just that he’d even saw you.
Suddenly, a pot wrapped in burlap is set down in front of you. You examine the yellow petals and peek over at Aunt Bev. She grins and her gaze trails between you and the man. You gulp and turn back to once more consider the flowers.
“Daylily,” you murmur.
He leans in and lets out a scratchy noise, “that’s right.”
You suck in your lower lip. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Your lashes flick up then down as you can’t figure what to do with yourself.
“You like flowers? Your aunt says you spend all your time in the garden.”
You shrug, then nod, and once more dart a look over at Aunt Bev. She said all that? To him? Why?
“How about that one?” She comes closer as she reaches for her purse, “it’s her birthday. I’d like her to get something nice for her.”
“Can’t go wrong with day lily. They keep bloom for a while but each blossom only lasts about a day,” he turns the pot slightly as he speaks, “symbolic of devotion and forgetting worries. They brighten the place right up.”
“So?” Aunt Bev nudges you with her elbow.
You dip your chin, “um, sure, okay. Thank you, Aunt Bev.”
“Flowers are always a good gift. These ones won’t need much in the winter either. They’ll come right back,” he explains, “is that all?”
“Yep, I think you’ve bled me dry,” Bev kids as she hands over her money, “I only have so much room left in the backyard.”
“Ah, don’t got that problem on the farm. Sometimes, I don’t know what to do with all the land,” he counts out her change from a metal box.
“Must be nice. I swear, living in the city can be so... suffocating,” Bev mopes as she tucks away the coins. “Go on, hon, you wanna carry your flowers?”
You mutter your acquiescence and step forward to reach for the pot. Before you can, that man, Cole, slides it out of your grasp. “Wait, one minute.” He turns and digs around in a crate hidden beneath the perpendicular table, “it’s your birthday, isn’t it?” He pulls out a ribbon, the same colour as the daylily, “just put a proper bow on.”
He ties it up in a drooping uneven bow. You peek up at his face as he gives it a helpless smile and shrugs, “not perfect but... happy birthday.”
He pushes the pot towards you and you cautiously take it. His large hand brushes yours and you quickly bring the flowers against your stomach, recoiling a step back from the table. His fingers fall onto the table and he taps them.
“Oh, wait,” he turns once more and digs around, this time in a bag on the top of the table, “Marvita brough these over from her booth.” He takes out a small box and lifts the lid to reveal an array of macarons in a variety of hues, “I can’t eat them all.” he shoves the box at you, “please.”
You don’t move but Bev eagerly accepts one; a pink one. “Go on,” she urges, “live a little, birthday girl.”
You scrunch your mouth up and slant it this way, then that. You take a cookie; a green one. As you hug the plant with one arm and retract the other, you remember your manners. A tingle runs through the back of your hand, a memory of those lessons, as the ‘thank you’ tumbles off your tongue.
You look up and once more your eyes meet. You blanch and swiftly turn away.
“No problem,” he says brightly, “hey, Bev,” he calls as she goes to shuffle away, “next week?”
“Eh, I don’t know, my husband’s been on me about the spending,” she laughs, “we’ll see.”
“Oh yeah, see you then,” he snorts, “you too, I hope.”
“Uh, bye,” you wave with the cookie and hurry past your aunt. You know he’s talking to you but you can’t face him. He’s just being nice and you won’t be back.
“I love those, they’re so pretty,” Aunt Bev reaches over to touch the petals, “such a nice man, isn’t he?”
#cole turner#dark cole turner#dark!cole turner#cole turner x reader#series#in bloom#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#ghosted
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pixeljade: #it IS very much a complex issue and I feel like saying that has been pissing off a lot of folks on both sides #one fact i would add to the table is that the current actions against palestine DO constitute a genocide by definition #its a word i hear pro-Israel people get very upset by because they think it is inherently comparing this to the holocaust #but its not. some people DO and thats its own discussion. but calling it a “genocide” is simply accurate and undeniable
Speaking as someone who was that pro-Israel person in her teens and very early 20s, the reactions you're describing are 800% cognitive dissonance freak outs. Most of these people, like me, received either directly or indirectly from their Elders in the Jewish community a very trauma-induced and deeply emotional information about the history of this situation, which boils down to: "They tried to kill us all once and they didn't now we finally have returned to the Promised Land, the only place we have to shield ourselves against It Happening Again. Israel's detractors hate that Jews can defend themselves now, and if any of them, including the Palestinians, were to have their way, they'd see us all dead. We must defend ourselves at all costs, and not let anyone ever put us in existential danger as a people ever again."
And then to have some rando 19 year old who knows jack shit about your or your community or your community's trauma to get up in your face and start screaming at you about genocide? It's only going to trigger that intergenerational trauma, and cause the party being screamed at to dig deeper into their defensive, cognitive-dissonance fueled response. Which, if we were to boil that response down to a thought process, looks like "This person hates me and all Jews. They think we're a hive mind who don't deserve to live. Thank G-d for Israel."
What's complex, is that not everything in that trauma response is wrong, and not everything the dumbass 19 yo who has no interest in unpacking their own learned anti-Semitism was wrong.
Israel's actions towards Palestinian Arabs since 1948 does fit several definitions of genocide and/or ethnic cleansing. And many of the Westerners who scream about it the loudest are fairly openly anti-Semitic.
Now, as someone with big Holocaust intergenerational trauma in her family, I am sympathetic to the Jewish kid in this scenario. But cognitive dissonance is just that: the domain of a child. Adults understand that cognitive dissonance is a little voice in our head telling us "Hey comrade our discomfort with this is a little much. Maybe this is a learning opportunity?"
I mean, that's what I did. But it's difficult. Its uncomfortable, and that scares people. It's much easier to believe that "They call it the Naqba because they hate us and think our survival and access to national self-determination is a disaster,"* than it is to understand that "They call it the Naqba because it was the near total dispossession and ethnic cleansing of Palestinian Arab populations from their generational homes and properties."
And again, everything I'm saying here is a result of my journey from a hardcore Zionist-in-the-contemporary-sense child (though always left in terms of domestic US Politics), to a grown Holocaust historian who understands that Israel is no better and no worse than all the other nation states (for new readers, I understand the nation-state as a political entity, the logical end point of which is genocide and/or ethnic cleansing), and openly criticizes it on those grounds.
*A rabbi in a youth group I belonged to told me this almost verbatim when I was 15. And when you're 15 and somebody tells you they love you you're gonna believe them.
#this post is clunky but i have a fever so w/e#i have great love and compassion for my community as an american jewish woman#so much of how american jewry remembers the history of israel is shaped by our collective trauma#sometimes in ways that we ourselves don't understand#i'm not here to shit on them#but i am here to compassionately call them in#and the only groups who i don't expect that compassion from#are actual palestinians
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helloo, first off i love your work ! second, this may or may not be a request but- imagine dark!wanda x spidey!reader, post no way home where r is one of the avengers sent to stop wanda on her rampage. r gets captured by wanda though and turns out wanda remembers r’s identity. she had a crush on r since civil war and now that she has r all to herself…😳
“i’m going to ruin you”
warnings: womb tattoos, coercion, manipulation, spiderperson typical quips in really bad situations, no smut
got a little carried away, whoops!
The last few months of your life have been awful.
Life had been pretty stable for the most part. Trying to balance college, being a superhero duo with your adoptive brother, and the newfound freedom of adulthood was a lot to say the least. Then some big alien freak came along and ruined everything. You and Peter left Aunt May behind for five years.
For better or for worse, you and Peter didn't age. Peter still had his senior year ahead of him and you were only 24. So you both tried to make the most of that.
You were supposed to chaperone your little brother's senior trip through Europe. All you wanted to do was help Peter enjoy the last few months of youth he had before being shipped off to college. Of course, fate had other plans and the trip was interrupted by another cataclysmic event. One unpredictable turn after another. Then suddenly everyone knew your secret identity.
Quentin Beck was a hero and you were half of the duo that killed him.
One edited video and suddenly the whole world was against you and your brother. It was a target on your back you had no way of getting off your back. The magical escape you thought you'd found was nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing. Universes nearly collided. Three versions of your brother. Two other versions of you. Villains the two of you tried and failed to rehabilitate. A moment of complete darkness for your brother A dead aunt. So much fighting. So much pain. All of it for nothing. At the end of it all, everyone was forced to forget about you and Peter. No more full rides to dream colleges and no more "Amazing Spider Kids". It was just the two of you in a shitty Downton apartment at a community college neither of you really wanted to attend, but that didn't stop you two from trying to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.
That need to protect everything and everyone seemed to get you in bigger trouble.
America Chavez. Barely 15 years old, alone in the multiverse, and no one to trust. Her powers and life experience were beyond you — you couldn't even take credit for defeating whatever monster that was chasing her — but you wanted her safe. You foolishly thought that it'd be as simple as finding a hero that could mentor her. Magic wasn't your strong suit. Yet, you still helped America try to escape the claws of the Scarlet Witch along with Doctor Strange.
In the midst of a heated chase, the witch's focus seemed to have shifted. Your mask was ripped by a piece of metal and you could feel the witch's eyes on you. Since you were more focused on protecting America, you decided to send The Scarlet Witch on a goose chase. You and a magical body double of the girl. Unfortunately, you could only run for so long. You didn't bother fighting when you were captured. All you could do was put on a brave face as you were somehow teleported back to your universe. You assumed the witch had gotten a decent portion of America's powers. That worried you, but unfortunately you had to prioritize your personal safety for a moment.
The witch must've known you were too weak to run away because she didn't even bother tying you down. She just stood over you and examined your face. You were nervous and confused to say the least. "So, uh, do you always stand over sacrificial young adults in such a compromising way or am I special?" You quipped. It was a real misfortune your mouth tended to run more when you were nervous. Your heart almost exploded when she reached out for your mask. "Hey, hey! Have some respect for a man's secret identity, will you?" You shouted, trying to push her hands away.
Automatic reflexes were nothing against magic and you were unmasked and it sent your spider senses spiraling.
"You remember me."
"Of course,I remember you. Do you not remember me?"
The airport. Tony had you and Peter flown out for a top secret field mission, that's what he told you at least. You weren't sure what you were fighting for, but you remember the battle clearly. Some guy had grown to a hundred feet tall. You fought some guy with a metal arm. Then someone suddenly started throwing cars. They had all missed you and went straight for Tony, but it was still scary. After the battle, you learned the name of all the people you fought. The weird one, as Tony described her, was named Wanda Maximoff. It's scary how your life had become so eventful that you'd forgotten that whole experience. Well, you couldn't blame yourself for not recognizing her considering the drastic change in her appearance.
"Yeah," You said bitterly, "you threw a car garage at my mentor."
"Your mentor made the bombs that destroyed my home country and had me jailed for powers I didn't ask for."
That was the first time a villain had left you truly speechless. Tony wasn't like that. Was he?It was a lot to process and that wasn't made any easier with the icy cold hand caressing your cheeks. "If you're going to drop an information bomb, can you at least give me a second to —" Your sentence was cut short by her thumb slipping into your mouth. Wanda had managed to slip past your spider senses. It was odd considering you were definitely not calm nor did you trust her.
"I figured he didn't bother telling you the whole truth," Wanda's voice had gotten low and seductive. Her thumb pressed down on your tongue as she continued to monologue. Your squirming didn't phase her at all. "I could hear your thoughts the moment you stepped foot in the airport. So loud and frantic, but nothing but innocence and desire for approval. It's a shame I wasn't able to see you again after that. I was lost in a hex of my own deepest desires and do you know what was there?" A smile spread across her lips as she felt you relax out of curiosity. "The two of us, happily married with two children, and living in New Jersey."
The statement made you jump and start fighting again. Married with kids was definitely not on your list of goals in the next few months, living in New Jersey just sounded dreadful. You managed to get her thumb out of your mouth just long enough to speak. "I'm sorry to hear about your crazy magic thing, I'm not ready to settle down yet. Maybe come back in six years once I've graduated, yeah?"
Wanda binded your wrists with magic. Her hand came down on your cheek with all the strength she had. Despite her frustration, she was happy to see you were still as witty and innocent as the day you two met. "I think I have a plan you'll like." She smirked as she summoned the darkhold. It opened on its own. The book turned towards you and translated itself so you could understand it. "Your innocence," she said before ripping you suit, "and your body in exchange for the girl's safety."
Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. It certainly wasn't a fair deal, even more unfair once you looked over the spell presented to you. A womb tattoo magically etched into your skin that would give Wanda complete control over your libido, orgasms, and a bunch of other depraved things you hadn't even heard of before. Wanda definitely wasn't the woman you imagined would take your virginity, but it wasn't an offer you could refuse. Strange wasn't strong enough to defeat Wanda and letting America die wasn't an option in your mind.
You put on as brave a face as you could before speaking, "If you so much as lay a finger on that girl, the deal is off." Your voice faltered at the feeling of Wanda's lips pressed against your neck. A moan nearly escaped your lips when Wanda's hands began exploring your body. The skin of your lower stomach began to tingle. This was it. This was how you lost your virginity.
Wanda's lips curled into a smile. A real one that showed off her perfectly white bunny teeth. She was no longer concerned with America. You were all she needed now.
"I'm going to ruin you," She whispered, "and you're going to enjoy every moment of it."
You wanted her to be wrong. You wanted so badly to hate the way her hands felt against your bruised skin and the softness of her lips on your neck, but you couldn't. Months without affection left your body desperate for any form of human touch. It is shameful and almost disgusting.
"Shh, I'll treat you right. Just be good for me."
#panther speaks#anon#wanda maximoff#wanda x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff fluff#wanda fanfic#dark!wanda maximoff#panthers drabbles
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Are You Sure?! - Episode 5 observations
7.5/10 ☆
A couple fights over nothing in front of other people, creating an atmosphere full of tension. There's questions in the back of the audience's mind. What is underneath all that bickering? What lies under that perfect initial façade of a couple who knows everyting about what ticks the other one? They are rude, sometimes loud, sometimes they forget there's other people there. It makes a guest uncomfortable. So much so that the guest would rather leave than spend one more second there.
Is this Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf or Are You Sure?!
The Jeju trip has now ended. On a rather anticlimatic note, but a result of a day in which the need to actually stick to a format of a travel show went directly out the window. Another filler, in which the guest was ready to leave from the moment he woke up (which he did).
Episode 5 did not nothing but merely reinforce what we saw the previous day in terms of relationships dynamics. Which was to be expected. People don't change over night and they weren't put into situations that might allow for other facets to rise to the surface. Once again, Jimin and Jungkook are going about their day as a duo, as a team, as a couple, as bj brothers, you name it. The show had already been establishing that from day 1 of their trips around the world. There's the everpresent "we" and then everyone else surrounding them. From conversations at dinner, to spending time together at night, getting ready to go out or just staying indoors while one of them is taking a nap while the other is cooking nearby. Snapshots of a couple life.
One that bickers because of very stupid and silly reasons, but being together on the joke and knowing each other's boundary. A lot of people can spend years together and still wouldn't care when they cross the line.
I wanted a real fight and instead all I got was nonsense over spam or pink sausages. But I won't dwell too much on it because it's not necessary. Although it did add to the neverending list of Tedros not being able to understand the mood. He takes Jungkook's reaction seriously, he doesn't understand what Jimin is trying to say when he calls himself weaker on the boat (when Jimin did nothing but reveal his strength kink). It simply shows that his humor is not the same. And perhaps current mean spirited voices are a mirror of him, unable to take a step back and realize the nuances and meanings behind what people do and say.
There are now five weeks since AYS began. And somewhere between 5-6h of footage of Jimin and Jungkook which come after a long time of not seeing them together, despite knowing that they are together and have been throughout some major events in the last couple of years, which culminated with their joint enlistment (they might be forced to go, but it was a relief to hear them having a laugh about it in late September).
It is a shame though that the result of this show, which for some of us is a real treat as we finally get to see Jimin and Jungkook outside the specific type of silly BTS content, has also become an opportunity for complete denigration of this pair. In part by their own so-called fans. No one is forced to watch it. If the need to look for clues that reveal imaginary conflict or lack of closeness is the thing that gets them off, I'd rather not see it. Unfortunately, it is inescapable. These are people that do not deserve anything nice.
I'm excited for the final segment of the show and I want to cherish those next three weeks, even though it will all be over then. I hope there's a real return to the intimate component. Which doesn't meant fairytale happiness. It just means a glimpse into the last days of youth and freedom to be together in a way that had then to be put on hold as the harsh reality of forced "military adulthood" came knocking at the door.
#m thoughts#jikook#jikook travel show#jikook are you sure#there's lots I haven't covered#but I'll do it through answering some asks anyway
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Storytime : My hatred of shiftok
Hey everyone, I wanted to share a personal story that highlights why I’ve grown to strongly dislike Shiftok (the shifting community on TikTok).
This isn’t about throwing shade at the concept of shifting itself, because I’ve been part of the practice for years and found immense value in it.
However, my recent experience in an online shifting community vastly composed of younger members made me realize just how toxic and judgmental it can become.
I’m not here to stir up drama, but to share my story so that others who may have gone through similar situations can feel less alone. Sometimes, online communities, especially when comprised of younger members, can be less about support and more about mob mentality behacing like mindless sheep. And unfortunately, I found myself at the center of that.
Here’s what happened:
Around 6 months ago,I joined a Discord server dedicated to shifting (made by a shiftoker), but for the first few days, I didn’t really engage much. I’m the kind of person who likes to observe a bit before jumping in. After a while, I noticed they had a voice chat, so I figured I’d join in, thinking I could find some deep conversations and intelligent debate on shifting. I was wrong. Very wrong.
Their debate originally was about race changing, and since this is an extreamly controversial subejct on which the 3 of us in the groupchat agreed with, i though maybe age changing would be the case.
Very fucking foolish of me.Very.
I’ve been aware of shifting for about years, ever since I was 16. During that time, I wrote numerous scripts where I imagined dating my comfort characters, and though I haven’t successfully shifted yet, I’m still determined to experience that so i never gave up trying to shift there. Recently, I started questioning a particular aspect of shifting and decided to ask the community for guidance.
The dilemma? I wanted to know if it would be wrong to shift into a younger version of myself to experience the teenage romance I never had. Growing up, I missed out on those typical teenage expereinces, and I thought that shifting could allow me to relive that part of my life that was denied from me .
Thats is how i discivered shifting when i think about it . I was extreamly sour and bitter at the time seeing people my age going out, having a group of friends a romantic partner while i was sulking in my room still scarred by the years of bullying .i couldnt fucking stand it.
So is started shouting ,cussing, insulting, screaming at the universe that it owed me a debt for all the shit i put me through; that it owed me a debt that it can never pay back. And that i was here to collect that debt.
Next thing i know ? Shifting videos start appearing in my FYP and the rest i supposed if you discovered shifting in 2020 you know how it goes.
I asked the community: Since I’m now over 18, would it be unethical to age myself down and live through those scripted expereinces and relationships? My intentions were pure. It wasn’t about fetishizing youth —I just wanted to experience something I had missed out on. And also i made those DRs long ago so i do not want to give up after trying for years.
I explained that shifting is about exploring realities that differ from your current one, and to aslo expereince things that are impossible for you to do in your current so why not experience a teenage romance that I didn’t have?
I also emphasized that both me and the characters regardless of if i age myself down or i age them up we will have the same maturity so there is no power imbalances of any kind. I beleived that if I script myself as being 16, I would naturally have the mindset and maturity of a 16-year-old without having to script "i also have the maturity of my physical age".
(wich after further research and having shifted myself confirmed it to be true)
Some people were actually helpful, suggesting that I could just age the characters up to match my current age, that there was nothing wrong since your intention isnt "shifting for minors" but shifting for an experience and I thought that was a reasonable statement. However, as more teenagers (13 to 15-year-olds) started jumping into the chat, the conversation took a turn for the worse. Suddenly, they started accusing me of wanting to date minors, labeling me as a creep and even throwing around terms like "pedophile." They insisted I should go to jail, even though I hadn’t done anything inappropriate—just asked for advice.
Mind you, these were the same people who had desired realities where they were 50 something with kids 15 with a highschool sweetheart in another. It felt incredibly hypocritical that they were comfortable shifting to various ages, but when I wanted to explore an earlier phase of my own life in a healty wholesome manner, I was suddenly a villain.
As the accusations escalated, I even suggested aging the characters up, so they’d match my current age. But no matter what I said, they kept insisting I was still in the wrong. They claimed that because I had once found teenagers attractive when I was a teenager, I was somehow a predator now ("because something must have made you attracted to them when they were minors"). It was like they were twisting everything I said, refusing to understand my intentions.
It was infuriating. They accused me of things I wasn’t even thinking about. These were serious claims, and I couldn’t defend myself because they were so quick to misinterpret my words and take everything out of context. They were acting like I was trying to groom people in my desired reality (DR), even though I was merely exploring hypothetical scenarios.
The same people who preached that you could do anything you wanted in your desired reality, without limits,that you had all the time in the wormd to shift so no pressure were suddenly placing restrictions on me—telling me what was ethical and what wasn’t. They told me I was "grooming" the characters in my DR by aging them up, which is just ridiculous.
When I pointed out the inconsistency, suggesting they might technically be "grooming" people in their own current reality (CR) since they shift into different ages, or that their s/o from one of their adult DR is grooming them because in another reality there are a minor, they became defensive started blabbing "its not the same thing" and had no real arguments to back up their accusations.
At this point, it felt like I was being burned at the stake just for asking a question. I realized I wasn’t going to get a rational conversation out of this group, and the mob mentality was too strong. So, I left the server, and honestly, it was the best decision.
If there’s one piece of advice I can give from this experience, it’s this: if you find yourself in an online shifting community made up mostly of teenagers (13-16 years old), run. They can and WILL be quick to jump to conclusions, misinterpret your words, and label you unfairly.
In the end, I found better communities where the members are mature, thoughtful, and open to real discussions. If you’re facing similar issues, I encourage you to be cautious about the spaces you engage with. Make sure you find a community that values open, respectful conversations—where people don’t leap to judgments or throw around serious accusations without understanding your intentions.
Which is why i started making this page and publising these essays in the first place.Because no one provide a clear fucking answers in this types of question just saying "its bad", "because it is" without providing substantial arguments to back up their claims.
So i was "if no one is gonna do it, i will" and i did and it turns out these people are even more pathetic than i thought. Key exemple of that is instead of countering my arguments the only thing they have is accusing me of using Chat GPT.
So things to take from my story are :
-Leave shiftok for good its is not good for information or shifting knowledge. Shifting script templates and inspo ? yes. Information & knowledge ? RUNNNNNNNNNN.
-The most vehement critics within the community are the biggest hypocrites. They will call you a pedo for aging down but on the same vein will age up only to get fucked by they fav dilfs. Those against race changing will still race change just to diff species and races that are fictonal in this reality .
-Do what makes you feel good and do not lisen to these people, they are sour bitter and pathetic individuals its your journey you desired reality not theirs.
So i hope this story of mine will help people understand that you should feel bad about about wanting to shift to those DRs.That it will bring you wisdom and help to all the teenage shifters that are approching 18 and are scared that they are doing someting bad trust me you are not bad you are doing something pure and wholesome do not let them go to your head it will only slow you down in your journey.
Best of Luck in you shifitng Journey,
Alastor Luno.
#reality shifting#shiftblr#desired reality#shifting#shifting community#shifters#shifting realities#reality shift#reality shifter#shifting antis dni
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